#every time someones needed to get their shift changed for whatever reason ive come instead and ive never complained | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

atlafan · 5 years ago

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Night Shift - One Shot

a/n: back at it again with another Halloween themed fic! This was inspired by an ask requesting Harry and Y/N both work/meet in the ER. Slight twist on it, but I hope you like it! Reblogs and feedback are super helpful! (not proofread)

Warnings: friends to lovers, smut at the end

Words: 6.8K

Becoming a doctor took a lot of hard work dedication. Countless sleepless nights, a large debt to pay back, finding a hospital to become a resident in, and countless seminars to go to, to make sure all practices were up to date. At first, Y/N hated working the graveyard shift. She rarely got to see friends or family, she was getting minimal amounts of sleep because, let’s face it, sleeping during the day never worked out the way you wanted it to. However, she stopped minding it so much when one of the nicest nurses took his turn on the overnight shifts.

Nurse Styles was usually the voice of reason. He could calm any patient down, and the kids in pediatrics loved him. He always had a lollypop ready to go. All of the nurses took turns with the different shifts so it was fair for everyone. He had heard of Dr. Y/L/N, but had never met her. She was newer to the hospital, a white coat, but still baby-faced. Harry really enjoyed being a nurse, he didn’t want to be the person in there doing surgery, but he liked being able to get things started, and ease someone into the more difficult things. He had a way of administering bad news, and easing the pain from it. His broad shoulders were perfect for crying on, and if it was a kid he needed to prep for getting their appendix out, he held their hand the entire way to the operating room.

Y/N was just getting in, putting her things in her breakroom cubby when Harry walked in. He smiles at her, and she smiles back as he also puts his things away.

“Chilly out there tonight.” He says as he puts his scrubs on over his long sleeve under armor. She only looked for a second, his arm muscles were certainly defined. “I don’t think we’ve properly met yet, I’m Harry.” He extends her hand and she takes it.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, lucky for you I’ll be your nurse for the next couple of months.”

“You seem a little too chipper about working overnight.” She chuckles as she gets her white coat on and stethoscope around her neck.

“I don’t mind it.” He shrugs. “A lot of the other nurses have spouses and kids they rarely get to see, so it’s only fair I take my turn on the overnight stuff. I usually take it this time of year anyways.”

“Why’s that?”

“The Halloween crazies start trickling towards the end of September. Think the staff likes having me as extra muscle or whatever.”

Her face pales as she looks at him. She had completely forgotten about Halloween. Last year she worked during the day, but she had heard about all of the nonsense from the entire weekend. Drunk people needing their stomach pumped, car wrecks, people on drugs, etc.

“So, what’s your specialty? You’re not a surgeon are you?” He breaks her from her trance.

“No, I’m not a surgeon, just a regular old doctor. I almost ended up in maternity like a lot of female doctors, but it wasn’t for me.” They both walk into the main area so they can get briefed for the night.

Harry says hello to the other nurses at the desk, and he takes his seat to login into the computer. There was another doctor on the overnight shifts, Dr. Gilles, and Y/N really couldn’t stand him. He was one of those doctors who was sort of rude to the nurses because he had been at the hospital for a while, but he was handsome so a lot of them didn’t even care. He would flirt with Y/N when he’d get the chance, but she didn’t really like it. She’d seen Scrubs, she didn’t need the drama that comes with hooking up with a coworker. Not to mention the guy was, like, forty, and she was only pushing thirty. To some that may not be a big age difference, but it weirded her out nonetheless. It weirded her out more when he’d catch her flirting with some of the younger nurses.

“Evening everyone.” Dr. Gilles. “He says as he walks up to the desk. “Quiet so far?”

“Pretty much.” Nurse Halleran says. “Hope it stays that way. You’ve got a couple of people you just need to check in on.” She hands him a few charts and he nods as he takes them. “How are you, Dr. Y/L/N?”

“Good.” She says as she looks over her cuticles. She feels his eyes burn into her, and she fiddles with some of the pens on the desk. “Nurse Styles, back on the graveyard, huh?”

“Yup.” Harry says with a fake smile. He also did not like Dr. Gilles. He felt protective over the other nurses, and none of them felt uncomfortable by Dr. Gilles, but he was a married man who openly flirted with people, and that kind of behavior just didn’t fly with Harry. “Dr. Y/L/N, one of your patients needs their vitals checked. Young thing, coming down from a bladder and kidney infection.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Harry hands her the chart and she looks it over as they walk to where the patient was sleeping.

Bethany Martin, ten years old, bladder and kidney infection. Another doctor wanted to size her up for an appendix removal, but it was Y/N that discovered that it wasn’t the child’s appendix. The girl had told her the pain had moves from the front of her stomach, to her side, and then to her back. She got major brownie points from the administration for making that catch.

Her and Harry slowly go into the room. Her father was sleeping in one of the fold out chairs provided. He wakes up when he hears the door open.

“Hello, Mr. Martin.” Y/N whispers with a smile. “We’re just going to check on Beth’s vitals, see how her fever’s doing, alright?”

“Sure thing, thank you.” He stands up and goes over to his daughter to help her wake up a little.

“Hmm.” The girl slowly opens her eyes, and then she smiles when she sees Y/N. See, Beth was scared that she was going to get cut open, so she was beyond grateful that she didn’t have to have surgery. “Hello.” She says sleepily.

“Hi, sweetheart, I need to check a few things, would that be alright?” Y/N asks.

“Yes.”

“Hi, Beth, how’s your IV feeling in that hand?” Harry asks her.

“It’s itchy, Nurse Harry.”

He smiles at her. A lot of the kids would call him that instead of Nurse Styles, he thought it was sweet.

“Think we should switch it to your other hand then.”

“Why’s it in her hand and not in her arm?” Y/N questions.

“We had a tough time…this one likes to pull away.” Harry explains and winks at Beth which makes her giggle.

Y/N let’s Harry switch out the IV. She lets Beth hold her hand as she winces from the needle. Once he’s done, Y/N checks everything else. She has Beth roll onto her stomach so she can feel around her back.

“I haven’t been as achy.” Beth says as she gets settled on her back once more. “It still hurts a little though.”

“Mm, I bet. Took us a bit to figure things out with you, but you seem to be doing a lot better. Should only need to be here for another few days. We’ll come back to check on you later this morning.”

“Thank you.” She snuggles back into her blankets and slowly falls back asleep.

Mr. Martin thanks Y/N and Harry before they leave, and she they both go to wash their hands at one of the sink stations.

“Nurse Harry, huh? Do all the little girls call you that?” Y/N smirks.

“Why, jealous?” He bumps his hip to hers before grabbing a paper towel to dry his hands. She rolls her eyes at him, and he chuckles. “The kids just tend to call me that, I don’t mind it.”

“It must ease them a bit more to be on a first name basis, I should remember that. I hate seeing kids in pain, I’m glad she’s doing better.”

“I know it sucks, but I actually like working with the kids more. They at least listen to us. Some of these adult patients…they fight us on every little thing sometimes.” They make their way back to the desk.

“Dr. Y/L/N?” Nurse Stevens says to her. “I’m going on a coffee run, would you like anything?”

“You’re an angel, yes”, she reaches into her pocket for some loose singles, “just a regular with a little cream, no sugar, thank you.”

“Harry?” She says to him.

“Brought my thermos, but thanks Ellie.” He smiles at her and she nods before going on her way.

“She’s the best, I’ve worked with her during the day before.” Y/N says to Harry.

“Yeah, Ellie and I came on together.”

“Oh, really?”

Harry hums his response as he types some notes into the computer. Harry and Ellie had a bit of a past, nothing serious, but they had hooked up on occasion. Being a nurse meant working a lot of long days, and that left little room for a social life or companionship. They may or may not have taken advantage of the beds in the room adjacent to the breakroom a few times, but that was a year or so ago. She had started seeing someone, so they ended things amicably.

“Why just the cream and no sugar?” He asks to change the subject.

“Well, for a while I was doing the keto thing, which is absolute rubbish and I never should have done it, but I got into the habit of not adding sugar to things. I don’t like the taste of black coffee, it’s too bitter, so the cream helps. I don’t miss the sugar, in fact, I can’t stand really sugary drinks in general.”

“Why’d you do the keto in the first place?”

“Oh, I was looking to lose some weight before a wedding I had to go to. I was a bridesmaid so I just wanted to look nice in the pictures, you know? It works when you stick to it, but as soon as I stopped I gained most of it back. Deprivation diets are never a good idea, and I knew it, but did it anyways because it was a quick way to do things.” He goes to say something, but decides against it. Her head tilts as she can tell he’s withholding something. “Go ahead, tell me as a doctor it was stupid of me to jump on a fad diet.” She sighs and leans on the tall desk.

“No, I was just going to say…” He blushes slightly. “Well, I just feel bad that you thought you needed to lose any weight because you…well…you must know how beautiful you are as is.”

She stands up straight. She literally just met this man tonight, what was going on? Just as she was about to say something, Ellie comes back with the coffee.

“Here you go.” She smiles.

“Oh, thank you.” Y/N takes the coffee. “I’m gonna go take a walk to the other nurse’s station, see how they’re doing. Page me if you need anything.”

Harry watches her walk away and he groans with his head in his hands.

“Don’t tell me.” Ellie smirks. “You have a crush on Dr. Y/L/N…shocking.” Ellie giggles and rolls her eyes.

“I just met her, I don’t have a crush on her. But I may have just said something inappropriate.”

“You?!” Ellie was shocked. “Harry, you’re, like, the nicest person I know. What did you say?”

“I just told her she was beautiful.”

“It’s not like it’s a lie, she’s rather pretty. Seems to take care of herself. It’s not an easy thing to do, especially on these shifts.”

“I know! It just felt weird after I said it. I don’t wanna be like Dr. Gilles, you know?”

“Please.” She scoffs. “You’re nothing like him.”

Y/N does her nightly rounds, checking on her various patients. A few people come in that need to be checked right away, but other than that things were quiet. Around six in the morning she and Harry go to check on little Beth again.

“Definitely only need you here another couple of nights. Keep getting those fluids in, and this fever will go away in no time.” Y/N says.

The girl nods at her tiredly before falling back asleep. Y/N helps out with some last minute patients before going to the breakroom to change. Harry was in there taking his shirt off. She tries not to stare as he pulls a sweatshirt on over himself. She wouldn’t have minded a few more moments to examine his tattoos. She knew he had a few just from his left hand alone, but shit, he had them all over his chest and stomach!

“Well, see you tonight. Hope you can get some sleep.” Harry says to her.

“Same to you.” She smiles and goes into her locker.

“I hope, uh, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier in the night…” He rubs the back of his neck.

“You didn’t, it’s fine…I’m just one of those people that has a tough time taking a compliment. Um, it happened to me in school a lot too, like, if someone told me I was smart or something, you know?”

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure.”

“I appreciate that, Harry, thank you.”

He nods and heads out. On his way home he realizes he’s far too awake to be able to fall asleep, so when he gets into his flat he takes a sleeping pill, and nestles down with a cup of tea while he watches a little TV. Once his eyes feel tired he heads to bed, getting cozy under his blankets, and eventually passing out.

Y/N does something similar. She definitely takes a sleeping pill before jumping into a warm shower. She pulls her blackout curtains, and gets into bed. Her eyelids feel heavier and heavier as she listens to a podcast, and she slowly falls asleep.

Things went on like that for the next couple of weeks. Harry would often assist Y/N on her rounds. He liked that she wasn’t one of those snooty doctors that discounted the nurses, she really seemed to value their opinions, even consulting with them when she needed to. They became fast friends too, often eating together or taking coffee breaks at the same time. She learned that Harry was a couple of years younger than her, and he had been at this hospital for around five years. He explained he liked working at a hospital rather than a smaller practice so he could help more people, and she said she felt the same way.

“Maybe when I’m, like fifty, I’ll settle and open up my own practice. But only because I might not have the same spring in my step.” She chuckles as they both sit and enjoy some coffee.

“You can really sprint when you need to! You were incredible when that guy came in with that allergic reaction the other night.”

“I was internally freaking out the whole time to be honest with you. I was glad to have you there to help me intubate him.”

“Feel like I can do that with my eyes closed now.” He laughs and finishes his warm drink. “I hate to be one of those people, but you’re looking a little tired tonight.”

“Oh, that’s because I never left this morning. I worked all day, took a nap, and then got right back on it.”

“Y/N, that’s not okay. You can’t do your job properly if you’re tired.”

“I know, but we were short staffed, and I was only going to stay a couple of hours, but I got wrapped up with a couple of people. I’m fine, honest, I’ll have a good sleep when I get home later.”

“Shit like that used to happen to me all the time. I’d work sixteen hour days, and then they’d yell at me because I was getting so much overtime, and I’d tell them to hire more bloody people then. It was infuriating. Then you think the place is gonna fall apart without you when you finally do get some time off.”

“Literally! I think that’s why I got stuck here for so long. I have the next couple of days off, though, so I’m looking forward to that.”

“Yeah? Any big plans?”

“No.” She scoffs. “Not unless you consider binging a fuck ton of television while eating a gallon of ice cream big plans.”

“Depends on the show, what’s on the docket to be binged?”

“I’ve been meaning to sit down and watch Ratched. I’ve heard some mixed reviews, but I’m just so intrigued.”

“Mm, nothing better than a show about a crazy nurse.” He rolls his eyes.

“Aw, feeling a little misrepresented?” She smirks.

“Maybe a wee bit. Let me know if it’s worth the watch, though, yeah?”

“Definitely.” She finishes up her coffee and sighs. “Back to it I suppose.”

“Go lay down if you want, we’re not busy.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m catching a second wind.” She stands up and shakes her body out. “See, awake and ready to-“, her beeper goes off, “Shit, some teenagers were just brought in.”

They both hurry out of the breakroom, and go to where they’re needed. Three teenage boys were laying in hospital beds, clearly in pain.

“Alright, what seems to be the problem here?” Y/N says as Harry works on taking their vitals.

“We…fell off the water tower.” One of them says.

She sighs and starts checking for bumps and bruises. She doesn’t ask why they were there, she was sure their parents would rip them a new one for that. A few sprained ankles, and one broken wrist, but nothing too serious otherwise. Y/N gives her instructions to Harry, and tells the boys they’ll need to switch off between aspirin and ibuprofen to help with pain and inflammation. Harry gets the broken wrist into a splint and sling, and gets the others settled as well.

“Isn’t this a little backwards?” One of them says to him after Y/N’s left. “Isn’t she supposed to be the nurse?”

“Well, considering that she went to school for a lot longer than I did, and probably has a lot more knowledge about the body than I do, I’d say she’s supposed to be the doctor.” Harry says.

“Isn’t it weird being a male nurse though?”

“M’not a male nurse.” He makes some notes on the laptop he was using. “I’m just a nurse.” He closes the laptop and looks at the three of them. “Your parents should be here soon, hope you lot feel better, and be safer out there.”

It wasn’t the first time Harry got a comment like that, and it wouldn’t be the last. He didn’t go to school as premed and then go off to a fancy medical school. He majored in Allied Health in uni, and passed all his tests. That was it, and that was all he wanted to do. There was nothing wrong with that. He was proud of himself. He hoped Y/N was proud of herself too.

Flu shot season was in full swing, and there were usually a couple of days a year the hospital did walk-in appointments so people could come in easily to get them. Harry had picked up a shift to administer them. Y/N had come in to be on call so one of the other doctors could have the day off. She smiles when she sees Harry in the cafeteria at lunch.

“Hey, you.” She says as she sits down. “Weird seeing you in the daylight.”

“Could say the same to you. What’s all this about? Don’t tell me you’re working another triple…” He raises an eyebrow at her.

“No, I swapped shifts with Dr. Jollas so she could have the day with her kids. What are you doing here today?”

“I’m on for the flu shots. It’s an easy enough shift to pick up.”

“Get a lot of people in for that?”

“Sure, tons.”

“That makes me happy to hear.” She sighs.

“How were your couple of days off? Did you watch your show?”

“I only watched about two episodes…there was a lot more gore than I was expecting.”

“Y/N…you’re a doctor…”

“Yes, and I can handle small amounts of blood, especially when I’m in the moment helping someone, but there was literally a scene where they were showing how lobotomies were done and a scene where this kid cut off his own arms, so it was a bit much for me. Not something I should be watching alone, anyways.”

“That’s gross.” Harry grimaces. “Don’t blame you for not getting through it.”

“So I ended up just re-watching The Office for the millionth time. It was perfect.” She chuckles. “Are you working all of Halloween weekend?”

“I am.” He nods. “I hope you’ll add some flare to your outfit. The kids like it when we do.”

“Some flare, huh?”

“I have these scrubs that have pumpkins, ghosts, and black cats on them.”

“Hm, I’ll have to think about what I can add. I have some earrings with witches on them, that could be fun.”

“As long as you get into the spirt somehow. We all decorate the nurse’s station and everything. Ellie usually brings in cupcakes too.”

“Speaking of her…” Y/N leans in a bit. “Did you catch the rock on her finger? I’m happy for her and all, but she said she’s only been with her fiancé for eight months. It’s a bit fast.”

“Well, they were casual before they made things official. She was, uh, seeing a couple of people, and then he asked her to get serious and she did.” He shrugs.

“Oh, I see.” She nods and sits back. “I’m not judging or anything, I mean, I guess when you, you know.” She takes a bite of her food, and then leans back in. “Can I ask you something?” She whispers.

“Always.” He leans in as well. Harry be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy a spot of gossip, and Y/N had become his new favorite person to gossip with. It didn’t take them long to become the two bitches that are always talking shit about everyone else.

“Do people use the bunk room to bone?”

His face flushes, and then he clears his throat.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Because you know everything about this place! I wish it was a singles only room because I swear I saw Nurse Halleran and Dr. Gilles coming out of there, and only one of the beds looked used.”

Harry makes a disgusted face and rolls his eyes.

“I feel bad for whoever he’s married to.” He shakes his head. “Scumbag.”

“Nurse Halleran’s married too! I could never do that. I mean, I’ve been in relationships before, and maybe I’ve thought someone else is attractive, I can appreciate a pretty face, but I would never cheat on my significant other. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“Same here. That’s, like, the ultimate betrayal. How do you even come back from that? I get that our jobs can make for lonely lives, but make the time count at home when you can.”

“Does he have kids?”

“No, I think that’s why he doesn’t feel bad about it. She has two kids, though, I don’t know, I only talk to her about work things if I can help it. I miss some of my girls from the day shifts, like, Shauna is super nice and has this really warm smile.”

“Feel like she’s the hospital granny.” Y/N smiles. “I like her a lot too, the few interactions I’ve had with her.”

“How long do you think they’ll keep you on the night shift for?”

“I have no idea, think I’m just paying my dues as the new doctor. I’m getting more used to it, it’s not too bad. If it goes through summer I can drag my bum to the beach and sleep there.” She laughs and so does he.

“Might have to join you for that, I love getting a good tan.”

“It’s a date.” She says, more so as a joke, but from the way he looks at her he may have taken it a different way, so she clears her throat and laughs it off. “Anyways, I better get back to it. Nothing worse than being in the middle of eating and the beeper going off.” She stands up. “Have a good one, Harry.”

“You too.” He watches her walk away, and he sighs.

On Halloween, Y/N goes in a few hours early because she was told they let the kids go around the halls to the different nurse’s stations to trick or treat, and she really didn’t want to miss out on it. She puts on her witches earrings, and some spooky pins for her coat, and out she goes. She stops off at the store to buy some extra candy, and puts it in a pumpkin shaped bucket. She smiles when she sees Harry behind the desk already in his Halloween scrubs.

“Excellent effort.” He says, and then taps his finger over his mouth in thought. “Could use a little something extra, though.”

“Yeah? Like what?” She sets the candy down on the desk and he walks around it.

“Follow me.” Y/N follows Harry into the breakroom, and he pulls a bag out of his locker. He has her go into the unisex bathroom wither, and she sits up on the counter for him. “I’m working a double today, I did some face painting earlier for some of the younger kids. Sort of a way to give them a costume for when they walk around.”

“Harry, why don’t you just solely work in pediatrics?”

“Because I did some face painting for the elderly too, now hush. I need to concentrate.”

He takes what looks like a black sharpie out of the bag, but Y/N recognizes it as liquid eye-liner.

“What exactly are you going to do with that? Give me cat eyes?” She chuckles.

“No, you dolt, we’d need hours for that. I’m just gonna draw a little spider web on your cheek, alright?”

“Okay.”

Harry had never been this close to her face before. She got a nice whiff of his cologne, and she liked being able to see the few freckles he had. She notices now he’s painted his nails black and orange, he must really like Halloween. She closes her eyes as he starts drawing on her right cheek. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. A slight gasp leaves her lips when his other hand grips her chin to tilt her head.

“Still just me, don’t worry.” He chuckles. “Don’t get jumpy on me.”

“M’not, sorry.” She sucks her lips into her mouth as his hand moves to the side of her neck. Y/N may or may not be a little touch starved.

“Almost done.” He says just as she was opening her eyes back up.

“Harry, has anyone ever told you how pretty your eyes are?”

“Shut up.” He scoffs, and finishes up. “All done, tell me what you think.”

“I mean it!” She says as he backs away enough for her to hop off the counter and turn around in the mirror. “Oh, excellent job. I especially like that you drew a little spider dangling from the web.”

“It’s my signature detail. Now you look perfect.” They look at each other through the mirror. “We should probably get out of here before someone thinks we’re boning.”

She bursts out laughing at that.

“Good one.” She says and shakes her head.

“It wasn’t that funny.” He mutters as he puts the bag back in his locker.

“N-no, it wasn’t.” She clears her throat. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” He nudges her shoulder and they walk back out to the main area.

The trick or treating was a lot of fun, and the kids seemed to have their spirits lifted. Then shit got real when the drunk people started coming in, the people the police had to bring in for psych evaluations, and the people that had too many edibles. It was crazy busy, Y/N had been running around all night. She was given the okay to go lay down for about thirty minutes since she had come in early. She stops short when she sees Harry laying in one of the bunks. He was laying on his side with his arms crossed over his chest. She quietly slips into one of the other bunks, and takes a deep breath.

“You’re awfully loud.” He says.

“Christ! I was quieter than a mouse!” She says, and turns to face him. He opens his eyes and grins at her. “Ah, you were just fucking with me.”

“Obviously.”

“Busy out there tonight. I mean, I expected it, but still.”

“I know.” He yawns and stretches out. “I’ve been in here too long, I need to go back out before I get groggy.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed and slowly gets up. “Have a nice snooze.”

“Thanks.” She chews her bottom lip for a moment. “Do you have any makeup wipes? I’d hate to wake up with a smudged web.”

“Oh, sure, one second.” He leaves momentarily and comes back in with a wipe for her cheek. Instead of handing it to her, he sits on the edge of her bunk, cups one of her cheeks in his hand, and uses the other to carefully wipe off the drawing. Her eyes flutter closed and she sighs. “There.” Her eyes open back up and she smiles softly at him.

“Thank you.”

There was something brewing between them, they could both feel it. He’s about to lean in to kiss her, but he hears the click of the door open, and stands up immediately. It was another doctor who was I desperate need of a snooze. Harry leaves, and Y/N tries to relax enough to fall asleep.

They don’t see each other again until the morning when they’re both getting ready to leave. He chews on his inner cheek, trying to work up a little bit of courage.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sure you’re probably tired, but…I have these, uh, pancake stencils where you can make pancakes look like pumpkins or ghosts…I thought maybe we could celebrate surviving Halloween together, but I’ll understand if you’re ready to just crash or-“

“I’d love to have breakfast with you.” She smiles as she closes her locker. “I’m gonna go home and shower. Text me your address, yeah?”

“Alright.” He smiles and watches her walk out.

Y/N takes a very quick shower so she can freshen up. She wasn’t sure what might go down between them. She felt like she was getting to be a little too old to just be hooking up with someone, but Harry was really great, so she decides to just go with the flow. She heads to his flat after he sent her his address, making sure to buy some orange juice as something to bring over.

He lets her in and she can’t get over how cozy he looks in his sweatpants, graphic tee, and cardigan. She was in a pair of leggings and a sweater.

“It smells so good in here.” She says.

“Thanks, I made some tea too if you want something warm.”

She nods and he pours her a cup. They giggle over the pancakes, and Harry confirms that Halloween is definitely one of his favorite holidays. The two decide it might be fun to watch a Halloween movie, but naturally after a long sift, they fall asleep together on his sofa. She was nestled into his chest with his arms wrapped around her. She would have slept longer, but she woke up to the sound of him snoring. She shuffles a little, but accidentally knees him in the groin, waking up immediately.

“Shit, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize I was laying on you like this.”

“It’s fine.” He says as he reaches for himself. “I’m good.” He knuckles at one of his eyes, keeping his other arm around her. He looks at the TV screen and sees that something else had come on. “Slept through the movie…”

“Guess we got a little too comfy.” She looks up at him. “Forgot how nice it was to cuddle with someone.” She mumbles tiredly.

“We could…go to my bed if you want, have a proper cuddle.”

“Would you spoon me if we do that?”

“Yeah, if that’s what you want.”

She nods yes, so he manages to pick her up, and carry her to his bedroom. She almost didn’t want to let go him when he sets her down, but all is good once he slides in next to her, pulls the blankets over them, and he wraps himself around her. She sighs as his pelvis aligns with her bum, and his arm wraps around her waist.

“Good?” He asks.

“Mhm.” She wiggles against him to get even more comfortable.

“Don’t do that.”

“Why not.”

“Because I’ll get excited, and that’ll make things awkward.”

“Define excited.”

“You know exactly what I mean, Y/N.” He sighs.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“I’ll get hard, and it’s already difficult enough to control that around you, so-“

“You can press it against me if you want, I don’t mind.” She looks over her shoulder at him.

“You’re serious?”

“If I wasn’t I certainly wouldn’t have let you carry me to your bed.” She rolls onto her other side to face him. “I like being your friend and all, but I’ve done this with someone who’s just a friend before. I…I feel like we almost kissed earlier…”

“We did. Can we try again now?”

“Please.”

His hand slides to the back of her neck and he pulls her closer to him. His lips still tasted like the syrup they put on their pancakes, and she likes it more than she really should. Her tongue swipes along his bottom lip, and he opens up for her. Their tongues swirl around each other, and she tugs him on top of her as she turns onto her back. One of his legs goes between hers, and she grunts when she feels his thigh right on her. She wraps her arms around his neck as their tongues still mold together.

She slips her other leg around his waist so he could lay full between her. He groans into her mouth as he grinds himself against her. A soft moan leaves her lips when she feels how hard he is. She could feel herself throbbing for him. He sits up a little, just to get his cardigan off, and her hands slide up his stomach under his shirt. He shudders from her touch, and he just takes his shirt off too. Her eyes widen as she can finally look over his tattoos.

“This is beautiful.” She says as her fingers trace over the butterfly on his torso.

“Thanks.” He smiles and gets back down to lay on her chest to chest as he kisses her.

He kisses from her lips, along her jaw, and to her neck, all while she’s grinding herself against him. One of his hands finds her hair and he yanks her head to the side so he can get better access to her neck. He licks over the spot just below her ear, and he sinks his teeth in. He sucks on her soft skin, and her mouth falls open. She normally wasn’t super into biting, but whatever he was doing felt really good. When he pops off her she puts her hand over the new bruise.

“That’s definitely gonna leave a mark.” She says to him.

“Kind of the whole point.” He smirks. “Maybe Dr. Gilles will leave you alone if he thinks you’re already getting it from someone else.”

“Not very professional though, is it?”

“That nice white coat of yours will cover it. Wear your hair down for a few days, no one will notice. Or maybe they will, oh well. I’ve never much cared what other people think.”

“That’s because you’re not the one walking around with a mark on your neck.” She pouts at him.

“I could be if you wanted to give me one.”

She bites her bottom lip to contemplate just about every little thing that’s going on between them. She had her legs around him, she was in his bed, and he was shirtless sucking marks into her neck.

“Are…are you going to fuck me?” She asks.

“Do you want me to?”

“Kinda.” She giggles. “You’re, um, really sexy, Harry.”

“Well, that’s very nice of you to say, but ‘kinda’ isn’t exactly a yes, Y/N.”

“Could we maybe just…touch each other? Below the belt?”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

He rolls them both over so they’re on their sides facing each other again, and he pulls her leg up over his hip. She reaches for him first, skimming her fingers along the band of his sweatpants before dipping her fingers him. His breath hitches as she palms him over his boxers.

“You’re okay with this?” She asks him.

“Very.” He grunts. “Go for it.”

She nods and slips her hand inside his boxers, wrapping her hand around his warm cock. She bites her bottom lip as she runs her thumb over his tip, which was already leaking precome, and she slides it down his length.

His hand grips her ass before sliding it around to her front, and pulling her leggings back so he can get his hand in. A moan leaves his lips when he feels her wetness through her thong. He pets over at first, teasing her a little, but she squeezes him a little too tight, and that was signal enough to get the show on the road. He tugs her thong to the side, and runs his fingers along her slit before dipping his middle finger inside her. She squeezes around the intrusion, and then she relaxes a bit for him.

Harry slides another finger inside her, and works them in and out as his thumb takes care of her clit. He leans in to kiss her as they work each other over. She sucks on his bottom lip as she pumps his slick cock in her hand. He finds himself bucking into her grasp, but neither seem to care since she was grinding against his fingers. He curls them up inside her, and that’s when she starts breathing heavily.

“Oh, shit.” Her mouth falls open and she starts pumping him faster. “Fuck, oh my god, H-Harry, it feels so good, don’t stop.” She was nearly gagging for it, and it shocked him to see her falling apart like this just from him fingering her.

“Y/N.” He moans and presses his forehead to hers. “I’m gonna come.”

“M-me too, shit.”

She feels her hand become warm and sticky as she comes around his fingers. She tightens around him to make it last as long as possible, and then she catches breath. She doesn’t want to make a mess of his sweat pants, so she takes her hand out slowly, keeping as much of his come in her palm as she can. They make eye contact, and she licks her palm clean. He does the same by sucking his fingers into his mouth.

“You’re, like, a little kinky.” She chuckles and so does he.

“You literally just did the same as me!”

“I was trying not to make a mess of your sheets!”

“I can wash ‘em.” He laughs more, and then tucks some hair behind her ear. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking you like me a little more than I thought.”

“A lot more, actually. You like me too?”

“Yeah.” She smiles. “I like you, Harry.”

“Thank god, I didn’t want this to be awkward at work.”

“Just don’t try to get busy with me in the bunk room. I will not contribute to that.”

“Listen, when you’re tired and desperate, it’s not such a bad place to get frisky.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She rolls her eyes. “Could I use your bathroom quick? And then if you don’t mind, I would actually love to sleep a bit more.”

“Of course! And yeah, that sounds good.”

She uses his bathroom, and he cleans himself up. He offers some pajama pants a tee shirt, and she happily accepts. She changes and crawls back into bed with him. He spoons her, and rubs at her side, giving her a kiss once in a while on the back of her neck. As she falls asleep in his arms she thinks she had never been so thankful to work on a holiday in her life.

#harry styles #night shift #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #nurse!harry #doctor!y/n

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hongism · 4 years ago

Text

mists of celeste ➻ 35

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 13.0k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba chapter specific warnings: mentions of past abuse, violence, anxiety ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act five ➻ part two

It is nearing nightfall by the time you all return to the ship. Yunho has already gotten Hongjoong settled in the medbay with Jongho’s help, as well as set him up with an oxygen mask and an IV, and to be frank, the sight of the infamous pirate captain splayed out so helplessly was hard to see. Whatever you were feeling must have been increased tenfold for the man who stood at your side during the whole process because you could feel the panic oozing off his bones, a nagging sensation that fell on you as well. As much as he tried to help, Yunho asked him to let him and Jongho take care of it, and Seonghwa caved with a surprising amount of haste. For better or worse, you don’t have to stay long there before Seonghwa is pulling you out to head up to the main airlock. It can only be worse because of who is waiting for you there: none other than Han Jisung come to join the crew for inexplicable reasons unbeknownst to you right now. And that is why you shift to look at Seonghwa’s sharp side profile as the two of you walk to join Yeosang in waiting by the airlock.

“Why are we bringing him aboard?”

“We need Jisung for information, and it will be less of a hassle to have him aboard,” Seonghwa explains through a clipped sigh. “I don’t trust the man as far as I can throw him, but… at least I can keep an eye on him this way.”

“Why can’t we just have Wooyoung help us through the dreams instead?”

Seonghwa glances over at you, and your eyes meet for the briefest of moments before he looks forward once more.

“We don’t know how to communicate with him yet,” Seonghwa explains. His tone is a bit more gentle this time, nothing goading or forced but rather a genuine attempt to ease some of your bubbling anxieties. “You can’t talk to him, ask him questions, or consistently control his body long enough to figure out where they’re being held. Besides, they are locked in a cell, and you can’t very well ask a guard where they are. Until we learn more about this situation and your connection to each other, this is the best course of action.”

“Would Hongjoong let him on the ship?” You inquire. You can already assume the answer, and you’re only asking for some sort of confirmation that this is a bad idea, but Seonghwa presses his lips together to form a thin line.

“Hongjoong would understand how critical the situation at hand is.”

“Would you let him walk away without a fight too?” It is a bit out of line and far too bitter, but the words are already out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. Seonghwa freezes in place, steps coming to a sudden halt whilst you just continue walking as though you didn’t say a word. You can feel the way his eyes glare holes into the back of your head, and the twinge in your chest that pains your heart surely does not come from you. A wave of pain hits you as you turn to look Seonghwa in the eye.

“Hongjoong is different,” he whispers. “You know that. It isn’t that I don’t love or care about you, because I do. I feel both those things when it comes to you, in ways I can’t even begin to describe, which is why I want you to be happy and have a chance at freedom.”

“With someone whom you don’t trust or know?”

“You know and trust him yourself, do you not?” Seonghwa counters without missing a beat. “Am I supposed to decided who you trust now? Was it not you who told me that I didn’t need to worry about you? Shouldn’t doubt your abilities? I’ve already told you that I am not happy about this situation at all, but still I will not decide this for you, even if you ask me to.”

“Then what am I supposed to think? Right now it feels like you only want me gone so you can feel less guilty about going back to Hongjoong at the end of the day.” You turn on your heel, fully prepared to leave him standing there on his own in the heat of your unreasonable annoyance. Seonghwa closes the distance between your bodies with a surprising haste and grabs hold of your wrist, spinning you back around to face him in no time. You hardly have time to breathe before he’s knocking the air out of you by pressing you up against the wall of the corridor. You know what’s coming next before it happens, and it’s for that exact reason that you dip your chin to the side as Seonghwa moves in to plant his lips atop yours.

A dry and emotionless laugh escapes his lips instead, and you stare at the floor with eyes burning more than ever. Seonghwa slams a hand down hard on the space of metal beside your head.

“I should never have been selfish with you,” he mutters. You try not to think about how much bitterness his tone holds. “That was a mistake on my part. There is no security or certainty in a life like ours, nothing I can provide that would give you either of those things. I’m sorry for making you believe that I could ever give you something as certain as that.”

A thought dashes across the forefront of your mind, one that tells you to swallow the hurt nagging at your chest and take comfort in his body instead, but it doesn’t last long. You know better, and you know it wouldn’t fix anything in the long run. It will only make it harder on both of you if you let yourselves get any more attached before your inevitable demise that ends in you leaving with Jisung.

“Do you regret this?” Your voice could not possibly be more quiet than it is now. You lift a shaky hand to his chest, pressing your palm hard against the spot that now emanates the most pain. “Getting close and such?” Seonghwa shifts to place his hand over yours but hesitates at the last second. His lips twist into a strained smile.

“I do, but only because it is ending with you in pain. No, I don’t regret any of the time I spent with you, and I still mean everything I told you. Perhaps this is for the best. I am content with the time I got to spend with you, and I won’t ask for anything more than that.”

“All I wanted you to do was stop me,” you plea as though it will make him change his mind right here and now.

“There’s nothing to stop yet, Y/N.”

“Do you need me to show you how badly I don’t want to go for you to stop me?” Seonghwa exhales a deep heave of air and pulls away from you.

“What do you want more than anything else?”

“San back safely.” Seonghwa barely finishes his question by the time you’re answering, but in your mind, there is no need for any sort of hesitation. If Seonghwa is surprised at all, he doesn’t let it slip through; all he does is smile back at you. You only realize your mistake after the fact, stuttering in your next rush to speak. “A-And Mingi and W-Wooyoung as well.”

“What about after that then?”

His question doesn’t stump you because you don’t know the answer. You know what it is you want when this is all over. You want to rest, to stop running, for all this mess to be done with, and you don’t want to have to worry about your safety at every turn. You don’t want to wake up in a cold sweat afraid that the people you care about could be dead. You desperately want peace, but you aren’t brave enough to make the sacrifices that will get you there. Even so, there is no way you could admit it now because that would only make Seonghwa right.

“Your silence is answer enough for me.”

“That isn’t what I want with Jisung though,” you insist. “He is my past, not my future. I never let myself imagine a scenario in which I would see him again. I’ve made it this far with you all. I don’t want to leave you behind now. And even after we get the others back, I still won’t want to leave them behind either.”

“That may be the case, Y/N, but it’s — the truth of the matter is that no matter what, my first duty will always be to protect Hongjoong as his lieutenant. Perhaps that is why those lingering feelings of love are still present, but it also means that I don’t know if I can give you my love and promise to stop loving him as well. That’s — that’s beside the point though.” Seonghwa shakes his head, hand coming up to comb through his dark locks for a second before dropping back to his side. “If how I feel about Hongjoong is something you aren’t okay with, then I don’t want you to wait on me or my feelings. That isn’t what I want for you. However, this conversation can continue another time. We’ve kept Yeosang waiting long enough.”

There isn’t an opportunity to say anything more because Seonghwa steps away and returns to walking down the corridor without even waiting to see if you’ll follow. You have to jog to catch up with his broad strides, falling into step beside him with a bit more hesitance in your movements this time.

“Has… has Jisung learned anything yet?”

“The person behind all of this is still not guaranteed. Vladimir was merely an instrument for these plans, but according to Jisung, he said that there would be a special exchange on Dorado for Mingi and the others. Since you were originally the one they wanted, there is still uncertainty about what they plan to do with Wooyoung and San. Mingi, on the other hand, is set to be sent to a recreational facility on Dorado that specializes in Berserker training for pirate and bandit crews. They plan to reprogram him back into – into the Brute of Kebos, at which point he will be sent back to Vladimir. That’s apparently the bargain he made to agree to this plan. You were the prize meant for the other party but obviously, that fell through.”

“Why me of all people? With all the people on this ship, why am I significant in the slightest? Especially on Dorado of all places?”

Seonghwa shakes his head from side to side.

“Vladimir didn’t mention anything in the past few meetings Jisung has attended. We don’t even have the slightest clue as to why they want you, and still no word on who these people even are. Of course, the Ghost of Eros is valuable, there’s no doubt about that, but not this far from Eros and the Aurum system. And they certainly wouldn’t go to these lengths to get you.” His words die there, voice falling flat along with the sentence, and you watch him in silence for several seconds before he shifts to place a gentle hand on your shoulder. “It is evident that someone in the universe is looking for you, and they are taking great risks to get you.”

“They will have to try a lot harder than that if they want me.”

Seonghwa blinks back at you, eyes perceptive and searching as always. He seems to figure something out at that moment because his stare widens a bit before dropping to the floor without a word.

“What’s wrong?” You inquire, leaning closer to look at his face better.

“Nothing. Just a hunch. I’ll let you know if it becomes a concern later.” He shrugs off the concern and lets his hand fall off your shoulder to motion down the corridor. Yeosang has surely grown impatient by now, and it’s that thought that causes your steps and Seonghwa’s to increase in pace to meet him at the airlock. Only, once you finally reach that place, you find that he is not alone, and Jisung stands directly across from the taller blond, starkly out of place in front of Yeosang. You don’t need to visibly see Yeosang’s expression to know that the Elitist is glaring at Jisung – it’s evident in the way Yeosang speaks through his body with the tense shoulders and crossed arms, chin inclined just enough to be condescending, yet Jisung doesn’t seem phased by the man in the slightest. In fact, he just turns to you, eyes bright as ever, and grins from ear to ear like a Cheshire.

“Hey, little lady.” Something in the way he speaks those words with that smile that is branded on your brain and hand quickly darting out in your direction triggers a memory you didn’t know you had.

“Stop being a fucking idiot! You know I’m better than you, don’t you?” A hand stretches out towards you, writhing forward like a snake in the darkness, and you flinch away from the touch despite knowing that the man won’t lay a hand on you. “The next person who dares to say that to you will die a painful death.”

“J-Jisung?”

“I don’t care what kind of monster I become in their eyes. If I go to hell, so be it. They touch you, they die. Those are the rules, aren’t they? If anyone other than me lays a single finger on you…” Jisung trails off, lips twisting into a smile that is far too cruel for his gentle and precious features. “I will deliver a slow and deliberate death to each of them.”

Jisung’s hand is about to brush over your wrist – the one that bears the brand of your betrayal – when Yeosang steps between your body and his, hand coming up to knock Jisung’s own out of the way.

“It would be best for you to not cause any issues while you’re here,” the Elitist murmurs. He cocks his head to the side, maintaining that cruel and cocky air about his shoulders as he looks down at Jisung. “I’m not one for forgiveness, and you are merely here as a guest. Someone who isn’t important to the crew and has no place here. You would do well to remember that before trying to lay a hand on anyone in the crew.”

A scowl overtakes Jisung’s expression, and the man steps back to put some distance between himself and Yeosang.

“I knew her for five years. Perhaps you are the one who needs to remember your place, no?” Jisung jerks his chin forward a bit. “Or does the Royal Betrayer still think he has some impact and power over others?”

Yeosang might have lunged straight through Jisung’s throat for that comment if not for the way Seonghwa rushes to clamp his hand down hard on the man’s shoulder. He tugs Yeosang back with as much force as he can, but the simmering expression of anger on the lieutenant’s features is directed solely at Jisung.

“I would advise you to watch your mouth, Han. As acting caption, I decide your place on this ship, and that is as a guest. We need you for the time being but not in the long run, thus you ought to learn your place and remember that well.” Seonghwa plasters a stretched grin over his lips. “Now, if you would please follow me to the bridge, we can discuss in more detail the plans moving forward.”

He motions past Yeosang’s shoulder to the corridor leading to the bridge, but Jisung’s only response is to continue staring at you without saying anything for several seconds. Seonghwa’s gaze flits over to Yeosang, and the pair exchange a discreet nod before Yeosang shifts in your direction. His hand finds your arm, clamping down hard on the skin as he moves to pull you along, but another hand snakes out to push between the two of you.

“Is it not common courtesy amongst royalty to ask a lady before touching her?” Jisung bears a smile but venom drips from his tone in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

“I hate the military. Every single general and commander is corrupt beyond belief. There’s no circle in hell low enough for them. But those higher-ups? The royals who sit on their thrones and sip their expensive wine while prancing around like utter fools as the rest of us folk suffer and die on the streets… they’re the worst scum in the entire universe.”

Jisung has never liked people in positions of power, but his incessant rants about royals were always the worst to sit through because he could go on for hours and hours. Thus, it doesn’t surprise you to see him bearing such a disdain for Yeosang. Even so, you do find it a bit odd seeing as Yeosang is hardly in a position of power now, and he is no longer a royal so there isn’t much he could do with that nonexistent power.

“Think you can just take anything for yourself, is that it?”

“Han Jisung,” Seonghwa hisses, teeth so tightly pressed together that the air whistles through them. “I have no qualms tying you to a chair in the brig and extracting information from you that way. You should consider me to be merciful because if Scourge were here, he would have already dragged you there by your ankles. Learn your place before I force you to.”

One corner of Jisung’s lips tugs upwards as he grins at the lieutenant.

“Aye, aye, acting Captain.”

You can breathe easy again after that thankfully because Seonghwa manages to tug Jisung down the hall without any further disturbances. Yeosang stands completely still and watches the two retreat without saying a word for a short period of time.

“Your taste in men is questionable at best,” he grumbles after a bit, eyes continuing to bore holes into Jisung’s back.

“He just—” You stop yourself before any sort of defense slips out. It isn’t your job to defend him anymore. You have no need to protect him or say anything good about him at all. Yet even though you don’t need to, that inherent need to do so still resides in your gut. “He doesn’t like people in positions of power.”

“Is that so?” Yeosang hums to himself then shakes his head. “Come on. We can discuss the dreams you’ve been having and things you’ve noticed since coming on the ship while they’re discussing plans.”

It’s enough indication for you to realize that he no longer wants to discuss Jisung, and that is frankly fine by you. The silence it leaves you in, however, is not welcome. You don’t realize how vehemently you are rubbing at the brand on the inside of your wrist until Yeosang glances over at you and comments on the repetitive motion.

“You’re going to rub the skin raw if you keep doing that.”

“O-Oh,” you exhale, clenching your fingers into a tight fist and dropping your arms to your side. That’s all he says for the rest of the arguably short walk to his quarters, and he maintains a distance of several feet between you the entire time.

“You can sit on the bed as long as you don’t touch anything,” Yeosang mutters once inside his room.

It’s a basic and unadorned room, something you didn’t expect from a man who grew up surrounded by excessive lavishness, but for some odd reason, it is so inexplicably Yeosang that you can’t be too surprised. The blond heads straight for a small desk pushed into the corner of the room, one that sits beside a tall bookshelf similar to the ones you see in Seonghwa’s room. You do as told and sit on the corner of the bed so close to the edge that you practically fall off. There’s no need to be comfortable if you aren’t going to be staying for long after all.

“I don't need you messing anything else up so just stay put,” Yeosang says as he sinks onto the cushioned seat behind the desk. You pin him to the spot with a glare.

“Messing anything else up? What’s your issue with me?” You spit, arms coming up to cross over your chest.

“Hm? Does there have to be a reason for me to not like you?”

“I don’t get what your fucking problem with me is. Ever since joining the crew, I have done nothing that directly hurts you or puts you in danger, so what the fuck is your issue with me?”

“Is that so?” Yeosang arches a brow in your direction and matches your glare with one of his own. “If not for you, Wooyoung would still be here. Did you forget about that?”

That bites a bit too hard at your skin; it digs its way into your system and buries itself there to eat away at your bones. It’s the same guilt that has been eating away at you for the past few days, and you don’t need Yeosang to bring it up now and make it worse for you.

“Like it or not, I have a connection with Wooyoung and we have to work together to get him, San, and Mingi back.”

“I hate you,” Yeosang hisses. “I hate everything about you. And I especially hate your connection with Wooyoung. You are going to ruin him, and I hate you for it.” The tone he speaks with betrays the fact that there is more to it than that, but you aren’t particularly in the mood to have a tell-all discussion about all the reasons why Yeosang hates you. A pent-up confession, yes, but still not quite all there is to know.

“It’s not my fault that there’s something there. I didn’t ask for this, and I certainly don’t want it. I would be perfectly content being some damn Normie who didn’t have to worry about something like this,” you ramble without stopping to take a breath once. You blink furiously at the man as you catch your breath, eyes still blazing with uncontained rage when you decide to speak again. “It sounds like you are just jealous that you can’t be the one with a connection to him. Did you get everything you wanted when you were a prince? Is Wooyoung the one thing you can’t have?”

Yeosang lifts an old book off his desk and chucks it at the wall adjacent to him. It slams hard against the metal with a clang. You manage not to flinch in the slightest, staring Yeosang down with the same amount of heat as before.

“Allow me to have an ounce of jealousy! I got to choose absolutely nothing in my life while I was a prince, contrary to popular belief. Everything was selected for me, whether it was by my bastard father or the whore that was my mother. Hell, even my younger brother got to choose more than I did! I didn’t choose Wooyoung, but my love for him is one of the only things I ever got to choose back then. Does that let you just waltz in here and have this inexplicable connection to him? When fate told us that we were never even supposed to meet? I won’t ask for your forgiveness in this matter, because I have every right in the universe to be angered and jealous.”

“Then at least stop hating me for something I could not choose,” you demand, nose wrinkling in disgust as you spit the words in Yeosang’s direction.

“Protecting Wooyoung at all costs is the only thing that truly matters to me.” Yeosang lets out a deep sigh and looks down at the desk before him. “I’ll stop hating you when you prove yourself not to be a threat to Wooyoung’s safety.”

“How do you expect me to do that?”

“Getting Wooyoung back in one piece would be a fantastic place to start, don’t you think? Do you not feel that same way about San?” There’s a twitch in the corner of your eye that won’t go away even after Yeosang finishes speaking.

“I don’t like what you are trying to imply with that, Yeosang.”

“Take it as you will,” the man states in response. He angles his sharp chin towards you, blond hair wavering a bit with the sudden motion. “Your feelings might still be a mystery to me, but I have known San for years. I know him well enough to see how clear his feelings are for you and what you mean to him. Is that not what is holding you back from our dearest lieutenant?”

A bitter taste of ambiguity resides in his tone, and it’s something that you cannot get out of your mind. Yet the more you think about it, the more confusing it seems to get because there is no clear answer to Yeosang’s question. All this time, you figured it was Seonghwa who was holding back thanks to how he feels about Hongjoong. Sure, there was a possibility of your past love for Jisung getting in the way too but the realization that you would have to lose this crew in order to go back to him quickly dispelled the romantic notion of returning to him. San was never part of the picture — at least not in the way you think Yeosang is insinuating.

“What do you mean?” You ask after several breaths of terse silence. Yeosang doesn’t answer quite yet; he returns to staring blankly at the wood of his desk, fingers of his right hand coming up to rub at the inside of his left wrist without reason. You’re well aware of what lies under the fabric of his black shirt, the brand on his skin that you bear on your own, and the losses that came along with such a mark.

“In order to give your all to someone,” he starts in a quiet tone, “you have to be willing to make sacrifices. I gave up a lot to save Wooyoung, but seeing the look on his face once we were finally free made all of it worth it. I would never go back unless it was to fully guarantee Wooyoung’s safety. You still haven’t found that moment with Seonghwa have you?”

Your eyes give away the answer to that question in the way your darting gaze slips to the floor and avoids Yeosang’s insistent aura.

“Seonghwa mentioned the deal you made with Han to gain his cooperation in this mess. And how you don’t truly want to follow through with your end of the deal, yet you’re doing it anyway. For what reason?” You open your mouth to respond only to realize that it is merely meant as a rhetorical question when Yeosang continues speaking. “Because you are guaranteeing San’s safety, you would go to a place you don’t truly want to go. You would do something that every ounce in your body disdains to an unbelievable degree simply because it guarantees one person’s safety.”

“I’m doing it for Wooyoung and Mingi too,” you counter with too much haste, and it betrays the truth about the matter and your defensiveness. Yeosang’s lips quirk up into a slight smile. You would almost say that the gesture seems genuine in that moment.

“You say that with your words yet your eyes tell all. It’s on you to recognize it.” He cuts himself short there and shakes his head a bit. “That’s all… that’s all beside the point, however, since this is supposed to be about your dreams.”

“And what exactly is it you need to know about my dreams?” You tilt your head to the side as you ask the question, arms coming up to fold over your chest in a desperate attempt to defend yourself from his scrutiny.

“Well, first of all, there’s something I’m curious about.” Yeosang shifts to pull something from the drawer, and when he resurfaces, he has a small bound leather journal in hand. “Wooyoung has had an incessant dream for years now — all the years I’ve known him actually — of a girl drowning in a black lake. He watches her head go underwater but can’t make out her features well enough to recognize her. He dives in to save her, swims to grab her, does everything he can to save him, but something always pulls her deeper and deeper. He can never reach her. He can never hear her screams. He can never see her face. All he can do is reach out for her hand and that’s it. But when you came aboard, that dream suddenly stopped happening altogether. He hasn’t had it since meeting you.”

“I’ve – I’ve never had any sort of dream like that. Just… one dream about seeing a man with dark hair across a black lake. But h-his back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face. For all I know it was some random person and not Wooyoung.”

“And the other one?” Yeosang asks out of the blue. He arches a brow, eyes searching yours for answers, and you’re a bit taken aback by the question since you don’t recall mentioning a second dream to anyone other than Wooyoung. Ah… “He mentioned that one day in the medbay, where the two of you were late to the meeting on the bridge — you woke up shouting his name and asked him something odd.”

“Well, yes, but that… I had a dream about seeing Wooyoung in chains and the same collar he has now, but it didn’t feel quite like a dream. Moreso a memory than anything else.” Yeosang draws his lips into a tight purse.

“I can’t help you there.” The dismissive nature of his tone sends a sudden spike of rage through you, and you level the Elitist with a harsh glare.

“What do you mean you can’t help me? If that truly is a memory, then I deserve to know what my own past is as much as Wooyoung does!”

“I — calm down, Y/N. I’m not saying that I am choosing not to help you; genuinely I cannot. I don’t know anything about that. Wooyoung’s past — the one prior to when the two of us met — I have no knowledge of it, and according to everything he’s told me, he doesn’t either. Before the batch of slaves he was in came to Aera, their minds were wiped. Just as yours was for the military.”

Several years back, there had been one night in particular with your unit where all of you were up late in your bunks to exchange old ghost stories and legends, but something Hyunwoo had said at the time stuck out to you the most then.

“What do slaves and soldiers have in common? The cost of their service is worth more than a lifetime.”

And at the time, you hadn’t known exactly what that would mean in the long run, but now you think it makes quite a bit more sense. You sacrificed fourteen years of your life to join the military and be their property. Gave up an entire lifetime in service to the crown, and for what? You were no less a slave than Wooyoung must have been. How many years did they steal from him?

“Wooyoung knows fairly little about his time before coming to the palace on Aera. Even saying fairly little is being more than generous. Perhaps the only thing I genuinely sympathize with as it concerns you is that. Your pass was stolen from you, and there is no guarantee that you will ever get it back. While my childhood was far from pleasant, it always pains me when Wooyoung asks to hear about the times before him because I know that he doesn’t that. There is no ‘before me’ for him, just the day he stepped off a slave vessel and greeted my family.”

“You don’t mean — how long exactly have the two of you known each other?”

“Since we were nine years old,” Yeosang replies, a soft and genuine smile painting his lips. “Fourteen years. We’ve spent over two-thirds of our lives together, yet it’s still not enough to take away the fact that Wooyoung has a chunk of his life missing entirely in memories.”

“Were you… his master?” Your mind can’t move past the fact that they have been together all this time, through the years that Wooyoung was a slave and onwards. You haven’t had anyone be a steady rock for such a long time; the longest you’ve ever spent with someone to your knowledge was four years at best. But fourteen? That is the amount of time missing from your own memories. Is it possible that you had someone the way Yeosang and Wooyoung had each other for so long? A foundation in your life meant to ground you?

“No, never. He was assigned to my side, yes, but my mother was his true master.” Yeosang’s expression grows grave in that moment, and you know the look in his eyes well enough to guess that it is a sensitive and touchy subject that you should avoid. Thus, you shake your head ever so slightly to dispel the curiosity and move to a separate question.

“Then how did the two of you come to be here together?” You know a vague telling of the story of Kang Minhee, the Royal Betrayer who abandoned his dying father when it was his time to take up the crown, but nowhere in those stories is another person mentioned. No slave, no Wooyoung, no trace of any other name besides Yeosang’s original one.

“My father was sick, and the stress it put on my mother’s shoulders made her more cruel. I couldn’t bear to see her harm Wooyoung anymore, and thus I did what I thought was best and set him free in the night. Told him to go off and gain passage on a merchant’s ship to get off the planet. Then, as a stroke of vengeance against my mother, I stole documents concerning one of her many affairs and threatened to bring them to my father so that he would know she was a cheap whore on his deathbed. But even princes can’t get away with such things. My mother swapped the documents and told the guards that I stole highly confidential war declarations among other things instead, and thus I was charged with treason, given my brand, and stuck in jail.”

“Obviously you got out,” you murmur, leaning a bit closer as Yeosang tells his tale. “And met up with Wooyoung at some point.”

“Wooyoung is the only reason I got out. Rather than leaving the planet as I asked him to, he caught wind of how Kang Minhee had been placed behind bars for treasonous actions, and he thought it was because I helped him escape. He made a deal with a pirate crew to help gain my freedom, and Wooyoung personally set me free after six torturous nights of separation. I… being apart from Wooyoung for even that long was worse than treason itself. As my assistant, Wooyoung had a bed in my room so he could be at my side no matter the hour. He came with me anywhere and everywhere, even when it came to shadowing my father on his military tasks.”

There lies an unspoken cry of desperation in his words. You aren’t too dense to miss it, but the acknowledgment of said cry leaves a searing pain in your chest.

Yeosang drops his gaze to the desk. Something melancholy and sad takes over his expression, like he’s turning the pages back in a book and revisiting older chapters of his life that are less than pleasant, and for a moment, your heart goes out to him. The person he has had in his life for fourteen years — no doubt someone he never parted from even for a week — is no longer by his side. Again you feel that pull to bring Wooyoung back if only for Yeosang’s sake, for the sake of a faulty Elitist who found something more powerful than sheer reason and logic.

“We’ll get him back, Yeosang,” you whisper. “I’ll make sure of it.”

…

Your eyes open to a thick and palpable darkness that leaves you more than a little disoriented for several seconds. The scenery refuses to change around you even as you blink against the shadows to adjust to the shifting light. You blindly feel around for Seonghwa’s presence, stretching your hand out to find his form since the two of you were supposed to come to the Dreamscape together, but you can’t find him anywhere around you.

“Seonghwa?”

“Y/N,” he exhales, bringing an immediate wave of calm over your shoulders. A hand brushes over yours in the shadows, and you clasp tight at the fingers without second thought. “Something isn’t right.”

You don’t need to be a scholar or have infinite knowledge about this place to recognize that, but Seonghwa’s confusion brings a knot of panic to your gut.

“Where are we?”

“The Dreamscape but…” Seonghwa trails off as something collides with wood, echoing a hollow sound, and his body stops moving immediately upon impact. “Hold on, there’s — it feels like a door.” Seonghwa fumbles around a bit at the wood before the panel slides open, disappearing into the side of the wall, and pale yellow light filters over you. You can’t see past Seonghwa’s broad shoulders, but the slight pulse of his fingers squeezing yours tighter doesn’t bring any relief to your bones. He keeps you there behind him even as he steps into the dimly lit room.

A small fire crackles somewhere ahead, the only sound in the den of silence you’ve entered. When you at last step around Seonghwa’s back to stand at your side, your heart practically stops dead in your chest because of the form that sits before the fireplace.

“What’s going on?” Seonghwa asks before you have a chance to get anything out. None other than Daichi sits in front of the fire, hands clasped tight over his lap as he watches the flames dance before his eyes. Upon hearing, Seonghwa’s question, the old man jerks his chin to face the two of you. A heated glare greets you before anything else, along with a rage you haven’t seen from the man in a long while.

“I warned you, Kazuya.” Unless you’ve suddenly occupied another unknown form, there is no way that Daichi is speaking to you, and the way the old man’s gaze shifts to your companion only confirms that suspicion. Umiko, Tsukio, and Kazuya? What significance are those names supposed to hold? “I told you both, in fact. I said not to go looking for more Sirens!”

Daichi pushes up from his chair all of a sudden, seeming to grow in stature without warning as he looms over the fire, and crude shadows twist his features in ugly shapes and patterns.

“It is your job to guide Sirens to each other,” Seonghwa hisses as he pulls forward to match Daichi’s heat.

“And yet I told you not to do exactly that! It may be my job, but it is not my duty to do so. I too am allowed to have free will.”

“Then we have the same luxury! Who are you to keep us from finding others of our kind? Have we not been alone for long enough? Was it not you who guided us to find each other in the first place?”

“That was a stroke of faulty luck!” Daichi counters, and it causes Seonghwa to falter a bit. “Let this serve as a lesson in cruelty, boy. This place, this Dreamscape, it is mine to shape and mold. I have let you walk around too freely without consequence.”

If Seonghwa has anything else to add to the argument, he does not get the opportunity to say it because Daichi pushes forward, body contorting and melding into a blur before your eyes as he steps through the fire and out of sight. You can hardly stand and gape at the scene that just transpired in front of you for long though; new voices rise to your ears, soft and warm tones that speak in hushed whispers. You turn as Seonghwa does, finding two new forms who seems utterly oblivious to your presence in the dim room. A young woman, hardly older than thirty by the looks of it, and a tall child with jet black hair stand on the creaking floorboards near the door. They don’t face you or even spare you the slightest of glances, too caught up in their own little world to breathe in your direction.

“Darling, it’s time to run off to your hiding spot. Your favorite one, you remember?” The woman combs a few long fingers through the boy’s hair, brushing it off his forehead. “I’ll count down from ten, and by the time I’m done, you must be completely hidden. You know what to do, my angel.”

She nudges his shoulder once, and it prompts the boy to lunge into action, little legs working hard to dash through the room and out of sight before she can even begin counting.

“Ten…”

“Seonghwa, what is this?” You murmur. Your gaze is so transfixed on the scene unfolding before you, and Seonghwa seems to be in a similar predicament but his face wears too much concern for you to feel at ease in this place. There lies an odd tension in the air, one that tells you this is not some fun child’s game that the mother and her son are playing.

“Thr—”

“Where the fuck is he?” The door jerks and wobbles as it is flung open, and in its place stands a man nearly as tall as the doorframe with similarly dark hair and a fair complexion. His brows are so closely knit that you can’t see the skin between them, evidence of the rage that falls off his body in waves.

“Donghy—” The sharp and resounding smack of an impact too cruel for words interrupts her, and you turn away with a gasp on your lips. Seonghwa’s body jolts forward in their direction, but you snatch him by the wrist before he can move far.

“Th-They can’t see us, Seonghwa,” you huff out, unable to look over your shoulder again. “They would have seen us by now if we could do anything.” Seonghwa offers no response but his hand tightens into a clenched fist that causes his knuckles to bleed white.

“Where is that little brat? I finally worked out a good deal on the bastard, a quick trade for slave traders.”

“I – I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. H-He ran away earlier because I was yelling at him!”

“Did the fucker break another of your dishes?”

“No, no, he just – he wouldn’t shut up while I was trying to read. I… I don’t know where he is. I went out looking for him but couldn’t find him anywhere!”

“You’re just as useless as he is! Can’t even keep the fucker inside for two seconds while I go out and get the money for us?” Seonghwa tugs his arm out of your grasp, pushing away from you as best he can, and you follow him blindly to another door off to the side.

“W-Where exactly are we, Seonghwa?” You inquire, falling into step beside him. “What’s going on? Is this — is this a memory? Wooyoung’s?”

“No. It’s mine.” Seonghwa twists at the waist. You inhale so sharply that the air burns your throat and lungs, eyes blown wide at the shock of the revelation. A single long finger reaches out to point down to something near the fireplace, and you squint hard at the spot before realizing that a small vent sits at that exact spot on the wall. “I hid in that vent for four days to avoid my father at age six. By the time those four days were up, the slave dealer he had made a deal with had grown impatient and left the planet. And my mother took the brunt of my punishment for me.”

Seonghwa turns back to the door before him and pushes through it. You follow close at his heels, hand hovering over the center of his back. The memory seemed less than pleasant for him, and you didn’t miss the disdain in his tone as he spoke about it, but offering comfort right now feels a bit out of place. The scenery shifts as you pass through the door, but only enough for you to realize that these doors aren’t going to get you anywhere. You now stand in a different house, one that is much more run-down and decrepit from the looks of it. The young boy – the young Seonghwa, to be more accurate – stands in the doorway at the front of the room, rain soaking his skin and dripping from his dark bangs. There isn’t time to look around and take in the surroundings more because the same woman from the first memory comes rushing into the room.

“What do you think you’re doing, Seonghwa? You’re supposed to be at the military base training with the other recruits! Why are you here?” She stops in front of the boy and clasps her hands tight around his shoulders. All the boy can manage in response is a small shake of his head, and silence envelops the pair for so long that it grows uncomfortable.

“I-I was rejected,” the young Seonghwa says at last. “They… they turned me away. I’m s-sorry, Mother, I’m so—”

“Shh, my angel, it’s alright. Let me see your face.” The woman stoops to be eye level with the boy, hands reaching up to cup his face. As she lifts his head, you get a clearer look at the state of his face; it’s littered with bruises along with a split lip and a cut along his cheekbone where the skin has broken. “What happened!? Seonghwa, honey, wh-what happened to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The boy shrugs his mother’s touch off with a huff of air.

You shift to look at the real version of Seonghwa by your side, but his gaze remains locked on the scene unfolding in the room with glistening eyes that hurt to look at.

“The other recruits… at the time, they took me to an alleyway and bean me down like a dog,” he explains over the discussion between his memories. “All because I was born in a lower class, born in the Slums, not one of the Elitists who came from the Upper Echelon like them. Not good enough for the military even at age ten.” He exhales a loud scoff, teeth sinking into his lower lip so hard that you think he’s about to bite straight through the skin there. Seonghwa says nothing more; instead, he pushes back through the door you two just stepped through, only to welcome a new scene that causes him to freeze so quickly that you knock against his back.

“Go, Seonghwa! Why can’t you just go?” His mother is on her knees before the figment of his memories, an older version of himself that is not much taller than the one you just saw. “Do what they want! For my sake, if nothing else. They offered so much money for you, more money than we’ve ever seen in our lives. If you would just go, they’ll give it to us! I’ll have enough money to live happily for the rest of my life without having to go out on the streets and sell my body. Don’t you want that for me? Doesn’t my own son want me to have that freedom? Ever since your father passed and left us alone, I’ve been suffering so much. Can’t my angel just go with them for my sake?”

“I – I don’t want to go with them. They want me to – I don’t want to sell my body to them, Mother. I-I’m too young, please.”

It’s not the response the woman wants to hear, and she throws her hands down on her son’s shoulders, shoving the boy back until he stumbles and hits the creaking floorboards harshly. The Seonghwa at your side doesn’t let the memory continue past that point. He steps around you, fists clenched tight by his side and chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths. You aren’t sure how much more of these memories you can take, and that feeling must be increased tenfold for Seonghwa since this is his life he’s being forced to relive. There doesn’t seem to be an end in sight, this cruel torture of Daichi’s making returning again as you follow Seonghwa back through the door. This time, however, you step out into a rainy street, cold droplets painting your skin and sticking to your white gown.

There stands another Seonghwa in front of you, one that is a bit more like the real one who is at your side but still holds a bit of youth and innocence to his features.

“It was pointless to try to keep you safe,” a voice hisses through the din of the rain. It’s his mother again, and this time she stands in a doorway completely shielded from the rain as her son takes the brunt of the barrage from above. “This was the only chance I had at a decent life. I could’ve moved to the Upper Echelon with all that money, but you just had to go and ruin it for me. Like you always do. You should never have been born! Look where it’s gotten me! That plague my father had was passed down to you and I have suffered every day because of it. I should have thrown you to the wolves the moment I learned what you are. You won’t be my fucking problem anymore, though. Go! Get out of here and don’t ever come back! You are not my son, you never have been, and never will be!”

“Imagine a child’s worst crime being that he was born to a world that didn’t want him.” The man at your side shifts to look you in the eye now, face contorting with disgust as he watches his memory play back. “All because I was born as a Siren. I spent sixteen years of my life being hated and turned away because of what I was. Even by people who didn’t know my identity. No one wanted me, and the only ones who were willing to pay for me were people who wanted me for my body and not what or who I was. And then…”

Seonghwa turns away with a smile. He pulls back once more and reaches back for the door behind him. You follow him without comment, unspoken curiosities at your lips as you step into a room full of overwhelming noise and the stench of alcohol. A bar, no doubt, and one that Seonghwa recognizes in an instant based on the way his shoulders fold back and he perks up at the sight of it.

“And then I found Hongjoong,” he whispers, dark eyes swimming with waves of emotions. You mimic his line of sight to find a near unrecognizable version of Hongjoong standing before a run-down bar counter with a mop of long brown hair styled in a messy mullet that runs down the back of his shoulders. And sure enough, another version of Seonghwa stumbles in as well, seemingly a continuation of the last memory with the way his hair is damp and sticking to his forehead.

“Are you the one looking for recruits?” He pants as he comes up to the counter, stopping beside Hongjoong’s form.

“Depends on who’s asking.” Hongjoong offers a shrug and swirls his drink around a bit, watching the golden liquor inside jostle. “And it seems like some morally right asshole is asking me now.”

Seonghwa pushes his shoulders back a bit and frowns at the man before him.

“I ask that you give me a chance.”

“Then prove yourself. Are you truly prepared to do whatever it takes to be a pirate? Especially one on my crew? If you know how to shoot a gun properly and could kill an innocent with no qualms, then I suppose you could join the crew.”

Seonghwa moves in a flash. His hand snatches up the pistol on Hongjoong’s left leg and lifts it to the young captain’s temple, pressing the cool barrel against his skin without a drop of hesitation.

“I asked for an innocent, and I am anything but that.”

Seonghwa’s arm shifts to point the gun at the bartender across from Hongjoong, and he doesn’t even blink before firing the gun just to the left of the man’s head. The din in the bar falls to a hush at that, all eyes moving to where Seonghwa stands and where the bartender has now fallen to the ground in a state of shock. An airy laugh leaves Hongjoong’s lips, and his head tilts back in amusement.

“You’re hired. Here, old man, some extra credits for your troubles as well as another drink for my new companion here.” Hongjoong slips a credit chip across the counter, eyeing the bartender with wary eyes as he pulls himself back to his feet. The din behind them picks up once more without any issue. “What’s your name and age? You hardly look older than me.”

“Um, Park Seonghwa, sixteen.”

“Kim Hongjoong, sixteen.”

“Aren’t you a bit young to be a pirate captain?” Seonghwa asks, head falling to the side in curiosity. Hongjoong pushes himself to his feet and steps around his barstool. He stands far shorter than Seonghwa, but that doesn’t seem to faze him in the slightest as he crowds Seonghwa against the counter. The taller boy grabs the wood and leans back over it to put some distance between him in Hongjoong, inhaling sharply as the other pushes further in. Hongjoong’s hands fall on either side of Seonghwa’s and effectively pin him to the counter. Seonghwa has to tilt his head down to see Hongjoong properly, eyes wobbling as one corner of Hongjoong’s lips twists upwards.

“Are we going to have a problem with authority, Seonghwa?” The words are like honey on Hongjoong’s tongue. The taller simply gives a sharp shake of his head. Hongjoong hums to himself, tongue peeking out to drag over the front of his teeth. “I think we’ll get along quite nicely then.” Hongjoong leaves him with one more cruel smirk before pulling back completely and returning to his seat. He motions to the empty space beside him, which Seonghwa fills almost immediately. The bartender returns at that moment, setting new drinks on the counter with a hushed whisper.

“Keep mum about the alcohol, I can’t be going out of business now.”

Hongjoong just smiles and flicks another credit chip over to the man, then raises his glass to Seonghwa.

“To a new partnership.”

“Cheers,” Seonghwa echoes in a mumble, mirroring Hongjoong’s motion.

The man at your side cracks the slightest of smiles.

“To think that at the time, my worst nightmare was merely existing.”

“And now?” You ask before you can stop yourself.

“Not being able to save Hongjoong from himself.”

You hardly realize how lost in the memory you are until something resounds behind you, almost like a voice crying your name in the darkness behind that door, and you don’t pay the man at your side any notice before turning to face the wood. It’s clearer now, the voices behind it, the soft mumblings that blossom into something loud and bright, and once you realize who those voices belong to, you waste no time in grabbing the handle and pushing your way into the memory. Seonghwa must notice your movements because he follows close at your heels, although this time it isn’t one of his memories that you step into. It’s something different, something you can’t quite recall but you recognize the faces strewn throughout the room nonetheless.

You’re suddenly back on Eros, home with your unit, all of them except for Hyunwoo. Jisung stands over a table that is littered with maps and old papers as the others stand around him.

“Why are you leading this when it’s not your place, Jisung?” Juyeon is the one to pose the question, and you can’t keep from just staring at his features to drink in the sight of him since it’s been so long since you last saw him before you like this. “We all agreed to appoint Hyunwoo as leader, even you.”

“Hyunwoo isn’t here, is he?” Jisung snarls, reeling on his friend with a fire in his eyes. “He’s off mooching with the generals because they love him so fucking much! He doesn’t have to worry like the rest of us do; he’s no pathetic runt like the rest of us are.”

“Careful there, Jisung,” Soojin scoffs from Juyeon’s side. Her hair is just as bright and daring as you remember, a stark red that stands out against her skin and accentuates that natural beauty she always held. “That’s your inferiority complex slipping through.”

“What she means is — listen, Sung, I know you want to get this done, but we can’t make plans without Hyunwoo. And frankly… no one is going to follow you.” Juyeon exchanges a quick glance with the woman at his side, then another with the youngest of your troupe, Ash. “Let’s call it a night and wait for Hyunwoo to come back.”

Jisung doesn’t get to speak another word. Juyeon leads the way out of the room, disappearing into the darkness along with Soojin and Ash, and suddenly it’s like you and Seonghwa are left alone with just this weird figment of Jisung. A noise echoes from the corner. You shift to find the source, but when you do, your throat closes in on itself. It’s you. Some version of you, at least, one that you can’t even recognize well because of how young you seem to be. Wide, doe eyes that hold no hurt in them, features not marred by the harshness of your life that followed. Even if you don’t recognize this memory, you know for certain it isn’t one that happened after the ordeal with Hyunwoo and the king.

“You aren’t allowed to leave,” Jisung mutters, barely sparing your younger form a glance. “You can’t leave, Y/N. Out of all people, you have the least right to walk out that door. You’re just like me, just a runt who isn’t good for anything. The two of us need to stick together.”

“What’s the plan then?” She asks, and Jisung grins back at the girl.

“I’ll explain everything.”

“T-This isn’t right,” you choke out, reaching for Seonghwa’s arm. “This never happened. I don’t — I don’t remember this at all.” An odd sense of impending doom overwhelms you as you watch yourself approach the table beside Jisung, and you decide right then that you cannot handle being in this place any longer. You stumble backward, hand hitting the door hard and shoving against it in a desperate attempt to get out of the room.

The new scene you find isn’t any better than the last. Jisung sits in the middle of a monotone room, arms and legs bound to the chair under him. Some tall old man stands in front of his chair and Hyunwoo is at his side, looking as alive as can be, so much so that you choke on air and fall to your knees in an instant. Seonghwa’s hand finds your shoulder and clasps at it to offer some sort of comfort. In the corner opposite where you’re kneeling, the younger version of you is drawn tight into a ball with arms folded around her knees. Hyunwoo pulls away from the man beside him to come closer to the young girl – you, the innocent and young you who didn’t know how cruel the world could be at that point.

“Don’t watch this, Y/N,” Hyunwoo says as he folds an arm around her shoulders.

“Why is this happening? What’s going on? Hyun, I don’t understand why – why is he being punished?”

“Jisung was out of line. He… killed fourteen people. That wasn’t the mission, the mission wasn’t to kill anyone. It was just a simple recon mission. No one was supposed to die, especially not innocent people.”

“And why then are fourteen people dead?” The old man asks. The question is obviously directed at Jisung, but all he offers in response is to spit on the general’s feet with a sneer. The man swings his foot up, catching Jisung in the chin with a sharp kick that sends the younger sprawling across the floor in his chair.

“I did nothing wrong! All I did was get rid of more competition that would stop us later on. People are afraid of us now. Our team is gaining a name for ourselves at last, and you fat fucks in power feel just as threatened as the rest of society, don’t you? We’re fearsome now. Ruthless, bloodthirsty, cruel. That’s what we’re known for.”

The old man presses his foot down hard on the side of Jisung’s face and leans over his body.

“That isn’t what you’re supposed to be known for. You are part of the military. You are supposed to obey the law and uphold the rules like everyone else. Not murder innocent people who weren’t even in the crossfire!”

Jisung’s eyes blaze with unbridled rage, bringing a bit of a crazed gleam to his dark orbs.

“They called Y/N a runt! A useless slave! I’m supposed to sit back and allow that disrespect to happen? They had to pay for their crimes! They were far from innocent.”

You turn to Seonghwa, desperate for him to help you to your feet and get you out of this hell, but as you move, his face bleeds to white. Next thing you know, the ground disappears out from under you and you enter a freefall. A brilliant blood-red moon shines above you, taunting you with its glow as you drop, and it grows smaller and smaller the further down you fall. Your freefall only stops when you collide harshly with a body of water, and the black waters swallow you up and pull you under with no resistance. You thrash against the darkness, fighting your way to swim back up to the surface, but it’s to no avail because you can’t move. Something constricts your throat, chokes the air out of your lungs, and you watch helplessly as air bubbles float up to the surface without you.

Something sharp closes around your ankle. Looking down offers no help because of how dark the waters are. You have no time to tug away from it before it pulls you down further, and the red light of the moon grows fainter and fainter with each passing second. As a last-ditch effort, you push all the air in your lungs into a scream that rings through the water. And that must do the trick, because as the sound pulses through the lake, something blindingly bright appears above you like a small beacon of hope in the night. It grows larger as it swims closer to where you continue to sink, and just as it starts coming into focus, whatever has a hold on your foot lets go of you as though burned. Hands wade through the murk to cradle your face, soft thumbs combing over your cheeks, and the light dulls just enough for you to see the face of your savior.

And when you do, your heart nearly quits functioning right then and there because it’s none other than Wooyoung who floats above you, hair bright and glowing a soft lavender around his head. His cheeks are puffed full of air and his eyes are so wide that they look like round gems in the glittering light. He doesn’t speak, nor does he give you any indication whatsoever of what is going on; all the man does is slip his hands lower to fold around your waist before he begins to swim back up to the surface. The lack of air in your system has you reeling and dizzy, along with the overwhelming confusion that radiates through your body as well.

When the two of you finally breach the surface of the water, you are close to losing consciousness. The sudden intake of fresh oxygen keeps you conscious for now, and you let your body go completely limp in Wooyoung’s grasp as he pulls you to the edge of the water. The light from his hair fades back into a muted black, wet strands clinging to his forehead and neck. You only bring yourself to use your muscles again once you reach the shallows, knees coming to rest on the sand so you can sit up straight and face the man. He doesn’t wait even a second before clasping your face in his hands again.

“I know you,” he chokes out, voice too thick with emotion for your liking. The statement is startling enough as it is, although you have a sneaking suspicion that he doesn’t merely mean he knows you as Y/N L/N. “The girl who appeared in my dreams for years. The – the one I couldn’t reach. I can finally see you. Y/N, I…”

“Wooyoung has had an incessant dream for years now — all the years I’ve known him actually — of a girl drowning in a black lake. He watches her head go underwater but can’t make out her features well enough to recognize her. He dives in to save her, swims to grab her, does everything he can to save him, but something always pulls her deeper and deeper. He can never reach her. He can never hear her screams. He can never see her face. All he can do is reach out for her hand and that’s it.”

“I finally found you, Umiko.” Something about the way Wooyoung speaks and the glistening tears in his eyes brings you to tears yourself, a choked sob forcing its way out of your mouth for some reason unbeknownst to you. The moment leaves too soon.

A hand grasps your shoulder and yanks you back before you know it, tearing you away from Wooyoung’s grasp. Your attacker solidifies it with a kick to the center of your chest, and you slam back against the shallows. Daichi stands above you, a rage to his aura that you have never felt before. That’s all the warning you get from him. He swings his foot back down at your head this time, and you roll away from the attack only to be swung at by his fist.

“Why are you doing this?” You yell as you dodge the powerful attacks as best you can.

“Tsukio is the Siren I warned you about, you fool!” Daichi shouts back, heel clipping the edge of your shoulder. The comment puts enough confusion in you for him to gain the upper hand, and he hits the side of your head with the back of his hand. “Do you not remember? ‘Someone near you is a dangerous threat, one that you’ve never encountered before. You must be careful. Guard yourself wisely.’”

Daichi pushes you flat against the sand and clasps his hands around the middle of your throat.

“Tsukio can find you anywhere, even while far away! This mental connection you share, this link — the two of you are a dyad, a yin and a yang, a pair that cannot be severed. No matter how far apart you are, the two of you will always be able to come back to each other.”

“Come – come back? W-What do you mean?” The pressure around your throat increases just enough for you to cough, but you continue to push words out of your mouth like your life depends on it. “Did I know him before? Did I know Wooyoung somehow? That d-dream. Was it truly a dream or w-was it a memory?”

“I’ve always told you that you were something unique and special, Umiko.” Daichi squeezes harder, and black spots fill the edges of your vision. “You assumed I meant that it was your identity as a Siren and were too bitter to listen to anything I told you. Both you and Kazuya should not pry for more answers. I will tell you absolutely nothing.” With that, Daichi pushes your head under the water, and it’s just deep enough for you to not be able to breathe. “Consider this to be your one and only warning, Umiko. Next time, I will end you.”

You jolt back into a state of full consciousness by choking on air and throwing your body upright. The room swirls for several seconds before coming into focus, and you find yourself seated on the floor beside Seonghwa’s bed with no recollection of falling off at any point. There is a body in front of you and another on your left side, but their faces don’t process in your mind until you’ve caught your breath a bit. It’s Jongho at your side, who presses a hand to your sweat-slick forehead with so much concern in his eyes that it’s overwhelming, and Yunho is knelt by your feet with a similar expression of concern.

“Wh-Why are you here?” You ask, throat burning from the few words. Yunho glances over at Jongho, and the pair exchange unspoken words in their eyes.

“You pinged all our wristbands, Y/N. Called through the comms and said you needed help and that Seonghwa wouldn’t wake up,” Yunho murmurs.

“Where? Where is Seonghwa?” Yunho motions towards the bed on your right, and you peer over the mattress to find Seonghwa sitting at the opposite edge of the bed with his head in his hands and elbows propped on his knees. Yeosang is in front of him, squatted to be eye level with the man, and he rests a hand atop one of Seonghwa’s knees.

“Seonghwa… when we came in, his body was in a state of shock, and his heart w-wasn’t — he was completely unresponsive. I almost couldn’t get him awake at all. On top of everything else we’re dealing with, why does this have to happen too?” Yunho drops his chin and exhales a shaky laugh. It’s a haunting reality that Seonghwa almost died in his sleep because of Daichi and his warning, but nothing ever felt quite as real as it did this time. “This must be some sort of bad omen.”

Yunho drops a hand to your leg before pushing himself to his feet. He steps around the bed and makes a beeline for Seonghwa now, leaving you in Jongho’s care for the time being.

“What the hell happened?” Jongho asks once Yunho is out of earshot.

“I… it was – just a bad nightmare.” You can’t look Jongho in the eye when you speak the lie, too ashamed to even be lying in the first place, and it’s only when your gaze wanders around the room a bit that you realize one person in particular isn’t present. “Where’s Jisung?”

“We saw him to a spare bedroom after dinner, so I’d assume he must still be in there.”

“He didn’t come out with the commotion?”

“What could he do even if he did?” Jongho shrugs a bit and lets his hand drop to your shoulder. He makes a good point in his statement, and it’s enough to shut you up and not prod the subject further.

“I need Seonghwa to the medbay with me so I can run some sleep tests and make sure everything is normal in the brain and heart,” Yunho states, peeking over to where you and Jongho are still seated. “Y/N, I’m a bit concerned about you not remembering calling for help, so I’d like you to—”

“No,” you interject, swallowing roughly. Yeosang looks at you over Seonghwa’s shoulder, and your eyes meet for the briefest of moments. He inclines his chin a bit as though trying to tell you something, but you can’t decipher what the hell he’s trying to say in the slightest.

“Jongho, you help Seonghwa to the medbay with Yunho. I’ll stay with Y/N for the time being.” Yeosang’s suggestion seems to catch everyone off-guard, including you, but based on the look in his eyes, there’s something else going on so you can’t find it in you to fight it. Jongho glances down at you.

“Is that – will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Jongho, I promise,” you murmur back, placing a hand over where his rests on your shoulder. “Go with Seonghwa and make sure he’s okay first. I just feel exhausted right now honestly.”

“Okay, if you need anything—”

“I’ll call you, Jongho. Okay?” You press a weak smile onto your lips. The Berserker seems content enough with your words, and he helps you to your feet before stepping around the bed to do the same for Seonghwa. You sink back onto the mattress almost immediately, watching with a heavy heart as Jongho loops Seonghwa’s arm around his shoulders and helps carry the man out of the room. You wait to speak again until after the door slips shut and leave you alone with Yeosang. “What happened?”

“You didn’t call the others right away,” he says, tone so quiet you have to lean in to catch it. “Wooyoung called me asking for help.”

“Wooyoung — he what? In m-my body?”

“Yes, I thought – I thought it was a joke at first but he confirmed it was him, so I came over as quickly as I could. He said that you were crying out for his help so loudly that he passed out to come to you. Did you go to his body?”

“I was unconscious the entire time. But Wooyoung… he came to me in my dream.”

“Wooyoung was brief in his explanation to me, but he seems to think that it can only happen when one of you needs help too. He only heard you when you needed him, and he said that just before you came to him the first time in the cell… he was crying out for some sort of help. Then you showed up.”

“No, I don’t mean that he came to my body in my dream,” you say as you push yourself further onto the bed and face Yeosang head-on. “I was drowning in a black lake, and Wooyoung saved me.”

“His dream?” Yeosang’s expression melts into one of shock. He draws his lips into a tight ‘o’ then stares down at the floor. “He mentioned finding someone. He kept ranting on and on about how he finally found her. I was trying to get him to focus on the issue at hand, but he just wanted to talk about that.”

“But he didn’t wake me up. How did he help then?” Perhaps he was trying to pull you out of the dream before Daichi interrupted. But Wooyoung couldn’t have possibly been in your body at the same time that he was in your dream, so it must have happened after Daichi attacked you since Yeosang said Wooyoung mentioned finding you.

“It wasn’t about helping you, Y/N,” Yeosang whispers. He glances down at the spot where Seonghwa was just seated. “You asked him to help you save Seonghwa.” It hits then that as you were fighting for your life between drowning in a lake without relief and being attacked by Daichi, your subconscious was only worried about whether Seonghwa was okay or not. “He had to take control to call for help, but before he called me, he pulled Seonghwa’s body out of shock at least enough to get his heart going again. He stalled the shock long enough to get Yunho over here after talking to me first. He called the rest through your wristband after. Something must have happened on his end though because as soon as he finished speaking, your body dropped and went unconscious again.”

“Did Seonghwa mention what he saw?” You inquire, but a large part of you is too afraid to hear the answer.

“You weren’t with him?”

“We… were separated at some point.”

“He didn’t say anything about what he saw, but he was too shaken up to even speak. One would think that based on the visceral reaction his body had, it was something far beyond his worst nightmare.” Your body moves before your mind does, and you are suddenly on your feet again upon hearing Yeosang’s words. He regards you with a puzzled stare for a moment, eyes watching you move around the bed and to the door on unsteady feet. “Where are you going?”

“I need to talk to Jisung. I… I have some questions about my past.”

✧✧✧ a/n: hi hi HI guess WHO yeah its me its been a minute im SORRY this chapter just did not want to cooperate no matter what every time i sat down to write until today it was like No. but then i hit my stride and wrote like 6k today oopsie anyway hi info dump im so sorry about how much info there is in this one and sldfjlsdkf there’s a lot of backstory and symbolism and im afraid it’s a Mess but it iz what it iz so we’re rolling with it and im kinda delirious so that’s All i’ll say so yeehaw let me know how you feel what you think i love u all!

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit @babydolljo @scintillating-souls @khjssss @felixity @rawrrainn @hewwo-from-the-other-side

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #mists of celeste #mingi x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #jongho x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #yunho x reader #ateez angst fluff smut #ateez series #ateez pirates #ateez space pirates

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padfootagain · 5 years ago

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Always With You, Always With Me

This new Clone Wars trailer got me so fucked up, I had to write something for my precious baby Ahsoka!! So here we go for my first piece for her!

This is 100% of the fluffiest fluff, I am making my own heart melt with this.

Gif not mine

Word Count : 2069

It was the same and yet it was completely different.

Same pain. Same violence. Same blood spilled.

Different war.

You remembered the Clone Wars well enough, you were a teenager then. Some had called what had followed as a "new peace", but it wasn't. It was the war changing its shape to better linger on.

There was a lot that you had lost since the beginning of the Clone Wars. Actually, there was little you had left at all. But if there was one thing in this messed up galaxy that you wanted to protect and keep, it was the woman lying by your side.

When you met and discovered who Ahsoka was, your first thought was that a former jedi was the last thing you needed. Stars, how you had changed your mind in just a couple of years…

Ever since you had lost your family, you had promised yourself that you wouldn't get attached to anyone again. Love was too much risk to take during a war. And then, Ahsoka had stumbled into your life: an exhausted, out of breath, wounded woman all wrapped in a long blooded cloak. Helping her back to health was the best terrible decision you had ever taken in your life.

Outside, the rising sun painted the tired ruins of Yavin IV with gold. Most in the base were already wide awake. You had signed up long ago as a pilot for the rebellion, and Ahsoka had always been tracking down Sith Lords and fighting for the light, although, most of the time she came to Yavin, it was to see you. She was visiting you here now and then, while she wasn't travelling through the galaxy herself for some obscure reason she always kept hidden from you. Stealing a few moments together whenever you both could was all you could ask for. And as you looked at her sleeping under the golden sun, you were grateful for this moment you shared.

Deep down, you knew it would be a lot to ask to the Force to get another morning like this one. Still, you made the prayer.

Sounds of voices reached you, coming from the corridor. You checked the time: two hours left before your meeting to brief you on your next mission. Two hours left, you wished there could be an infinity instead. Ahsoka seemed to finally wake up by your side. She stretched, very much like a grumpy Loth-cat would have, and the thought brought a tender smile to your lips.

She hadn't opened her eyes yet, but her hand travelled across the bed nonetheless, looking for you through the sheets. Your smile widened at the sight, and you took her hand.

She smiled, turning on her side to face you, her eyelids still closed. You snuggled across the bed closer, until you could kiss her sleepy eyes.

"Morning, beautiful," you whispered, your voice a little raspy with fatigue.

"Hmm… mornin'," she mumbled back, playing with your fingers and moving her body to press against yours, skin against skin.

"Slept well?"

She chuckled.

"Don't recall there was that much rest involved."

It was your time to laugh, but you couldn't deny it, she spoke the truth.

There was still noise coming from the corridor, but you blocked it away from your mind. You had two hours left with her, you didn't intend to waste a single thought on the outside world.

You raised your hand to caress the white forms drawn across her features, and she wrapped her arm around your waist to pull you even closer. She smiled as your fingertips travelled across her forehead and then her cheek. The sunlight made the white areas of her skin golden, like the sky, her eyelashes catching yellow droplets too. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful like this, bathed with dawn.

"So… are you gonna keep your eyes closed all morning then?" you teased, and were not disappointed by her cheeky grin.

"Maybe," she teased.

"That's very cruel of you. What if I want to see your eyes?"

"I guess you'll have to convince me to open them."

"I could carry out a very violent tickle attack. That could do the trick."

She chuckled, her fingertips tracing circular patterns on the small of your back, delicate caresses that made you forget all your scars and all your pain and healed every inch of your broken soul.

"You wouldn't dare. You know how terrible my counter-attack would be."

"I'm reckless, haven't you established that by watching me fly yet?"

"Oh, I know you're reckless, flygirl."

"And you're unable to follow orders."

"Hey! Only unfair ones!"

You both burst out laughing.

"But I think that a kiss would be convincing enough, no need to threaten me with your terrifying tickles," she said mockingly, and if you hadn't loved her that much, you would have been annoyed by that smug tone. But then, you did love her that much, so instead, you complied and kissed her lips.

Which… turned out to be a little more than only one kiss, and more to be a lot of kisses. But then, it was to be expected with the two of you.

Over the kisses, you shifted position and as you finally pulled apart, Ahsoka rested her head against your heart, and listened to its steady rhythm.

Life. Beating. Pulsing. Strength, energy, existence bursting through your veins thanks to this tiny piece of muscle that she was listening to and was all hers. She could feel the force flooding through you, she had always felt it steady and peaceful around your frame. Some used to say, when she was a padawan, a lifetime ago, that the force surrounding a person could show the deepest part of their soul. She was not surprised to find out that yours was full of light.

You remained like this, cuddling, for a while, merely enjoying being together as minutes flew by. But eventually, you had to break the soothing silence that had settled in.

"When are you leaving?" you asked in a whisper.

"Probably when you leave for your own mission."

"Where to?"

"The stars."

That was always her response. The stars. In the end, you knew it would be to do something against the Empire, more or less. You didn't know what, you didn't where. It didn't matter. She just couldn't tell you.

She couldn't tell you how fast she was running. She couldn’t tell you what her former Master, this man she trusted, and loved, and admired, had become. She couldn't tell you that she felt like it was partly her fault, that for countless nights she had stared into the shadows of her room and wondered what would have happened to Anakin if she had remained in the Order as his padawan. She couldn't tell you she was running from her past just as much as she tried to repair whatever she could because she felt like it was her who had destroyed it all. She had always felt like it was her fault, maybe because she was one of the few jedi still alive, at first at least. But then she learned about Anakin, and the guilt gnawed at her soul with renewed strength. You knew the truth though, you knew who Vader really was, under that mask and buried beyond all that hatred. You were the one to pick up Ahsoka's pieces and put them back together when she had learnt the truth during that duel. Nevertheless, she had never mentioned it again, and didn't intend to. You were the bright side of her life, she longed to let her demons behind thanks to you. Just like you hoped that by loving her, you would escape these ghosts that followed your every thoughts.

But then, you were there. Bright as a sun, tough as kyber. A strange combination of love and rage. You longed for peace, and wanted revenge. You were not afraid to admit the two sides of your soul. Maybe it was what had attracted her to you so much at first. How fiercely you wanted to destroy the Empire, to avenge all those you had lost, but also to save the ones who remained. You were fierce, just like her. A bright woman too selfless for her own good. Throughout these past couple of years though, you had been more than that to her: you were her home.

She couldn't stay for long. She was too afraid Vader would find a way to trace her back to you, and she would never forgive herself if anything happened to you because of her. She couldn't imagine how to live without you now… But still, she loved you too much to stay away forever, she needed you like she needed air, you were a part of her flooding through her veins, a constant presence more soothing than the Force itself.

She had been trained to avoid these feelings. She had heard what it was supposed to feel like to love someone so much that one's own self wasn't important anymore, only the other. To love someone so completely that your life depended on this love. She hadn't thought it was true.

And then, she met you. And now, despite the risks, she couldn't live without you.

"I'll come back soon, don't worry," she reassured you. "Just… be careful during your mission, alright?"

"Alright. But you ought to be careful too, yes? Investigating Sith Lords business can't always be easy. And I know you won't tell me anything, but I'm also not an idiot, and I know perfectly that's what you're truly up to."

Your voice was a little shaky. She chuckled.

"Worried are we, Ms. Y/L/N?"

But your expression grew more serious, and she knew you weren't trying to joke when you answered.

"Yes. Very."

She gave you a tender smile, moving up to rest her forehead against yours.

"We made a promise to each other a long time ago, I intend to honour it."

"Me too."

"I'll always come back to you."

"And I'll always come back to you."

Before you could add anything else, she was kissing you, deep and slow and loving, making sure to pour all her feelings for you into that kiss. It was like opening floodgates for love to run free. It was opening the door to let out the deepest secret of one's soul, and it was all love and light and care, and you wanted to cry before so much beauty offered to someone like you.

For years you had been certain that all you were was an orphan, one of billions that the wars had created, a fighter in a larger army, only one expendable pawn set on a game of chess the size of a galaxy. You had never thought your life important, not since you had lost everything. You thought you would end up dying alone, forgotten among the count of victims, and you were fine with it. But then Ahsoka had come, and she looked at you with so much love, and so much pride, and so much care, it was painful the way she made you feel so loved. It was too much for your untrained heart to take, this beating organ in your chest that had known nothing but pain for years wasn't ready to be adored. It still felt like all this love was too much, that it made your heart swell and almost burst, almost break your ribcage with all these feelings, to a point that your lungs didn't have enough room in your chest to let you breathe anymore. Like your life mattered all of a sudden. Because she loved you, and if someone like her could love you, then it had to mean that you were someone special too, after all.

You had thought for years that you weren't meant to be loved. But then, Ahsoka had proven you wrong. You reckoned that the best you could do to thank her, was to love her back just as fully and unconditionally as she loved you. And it was the easiest thing you had ever done.

"We'll always be together, right?" you asked her in a breath.

She ran a hand through your hair, offering you the softest of smiles.

"Yes, Y/N. We will. Even when we're apart, I'm always with you, and you're always with me."

**************************************************************

Taglist : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @wangmangagavroche

#Ahsoka #Ahsoka Tano #ahsoka x reader #ahsoka tano x reader #ahsoka imagine #ahsoka fanfic #ahsoka tano imagine #ahsoka tano fanfiction #sw #sw fanfic #sw imagine #tcw #star wars tcw #sw rebels #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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evanescentdawn · 5 years ago

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Fanfiction of Fanfiction!

On Top Of An Upside-Down World by @thelegendofwinchester (which everyone should read because it’s AMAZING and everything.)

She doesn’t have anything against Sam. It’s simple. The wound doesn’t look good at all, it’s infected. And just not that—he’s too skinny. Malnourished. There’s a very low possibility he wouldn’t survive. And Dean wants to use up the last antibiotic they have on him.

He doesn’t listen to her rational reasons.

He narrows his eyes, when she tries to show any kind of protest, squaring his shoulder, all tense. His voice clip and dark as he says, “Yes?” Challenging her to disagree.

And she wants to, for a brief, brief moment—there’s anger. Sharp, boiling anger, the words are begging to get out. No. I am not going to fucking get it. He’s going to die, it’s so clear—you can shove your words back up your fucking—

“I’ll go and get it,” Brenda says, instead, biting the words down. “We don’t have IV tubing or cannulas, so I’ll have to use a syringe.”

“There’s only enough for one course, Dean.” She adds, reminding him.

Dean, of course, ignores it. He shifts his attention to Sam again. She had never really seen him like this before. So intensely focused on a person. He hadn’t been like this with a person before. Not even with Jo. Or...Ellen.

(She can kinda understand it. And doesn’t want to at all—it hits too close for home for her liking.)

In the end, Sam doesn’t die. Not yet. He’s getting his strength back, slowly. It’s a good thing. The antibiotics were not wasted up.

Brenda remembers, vaguely, of the time that she was a student before all this shit hit. Before the end of the world and Walkers. She had family, siblings. She too had a life.

They’re all gone now.

She liked helping people, getting them back alive and seeing them getting stronger.

When she looks at Sam and how he’s laughing and fitting in and living, holding on Dean’s arm—there’s a part of her that hates so much. It’s unfair. So fucking unfair.

Why does—

Brenda shoved away the thought. It’s never done her any good to dwell on the past.

(She never stops though, it’s one of her problems.)

And then, Kyle happens. He trips and gets hurt and infected—that stupid, fucking idiot—and there’s no antibiotics for him because Sam used it all up.

He’s going to die and Brenda can’t do a thing to save him.

She had to watch him die.

It’s an all too similar situation.

“It’s just a cut, Brenda.” Kyle says, carefree. “I’m sure, it’s fine.” Smiling up at her, and she hates how her heart jumps at the sight of it. She presses her lips together and doesn’t say anything, focusing on her cleaning and stitching up his wound.

Stupid, fucking idiot.

He doesn’t even know that he’s going to die. And Brenda can’t bring herself to say it. She tells them, there’s a risk of an infection—when it’s painfully obvious. She leaves, tears prickling hot between her eyes, chest tight. Why.

She snarls kicking the stones beside her. Why.

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.

Brenda allows herself this moment, letting the tears follow before she rubs them away furiously and moves on to deal with the other people who need her attention. There’s always people who do.

She’s exhausted and furious and done, when she comes out of the store and runs into Dean and Jo. They’re smiling. They’re smiling and joking around when Kyle is dying.

When it’s all of this is his fault. And Dean even has the gall to tell her how to do her work. It takes restraint and self-perseveration to keep herself from lashing out at him. She bites down her anger.

“I’m just—stressed.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair.

They, of course, don’t believe her.

Dean accuses her of thinking that the antibiotic was a waste on Sam. And while Brenda immediately denies it, she thinks it was. An absolute waste to spend it on some guy she doesn’t know, an outsider, because Kyle may die now because of it.

Just like everyone else Brenda loved.

Kyle develops a fever and his wound gets more and more worse. Infected. And the fact he’s going to die is more certain now. Brenda watches him struggle in his bed, and hates so much.

It’s all Dean’s fault. Her mind latches on to. Dean’s and fucking Sam’s.

She marches up to Dean’s place and slams the door open and spits out. “I hope you’re fucking happy, Dean. Kyle is going to die now because of your little stunt.”

Jo shouts something but Brenda doesn’t hear it, hands fisted and face aflame with rage. She’s shouting and screaming and doesn’t quite hear what she’s saying except the rush of her blood and heartbeat and Kyle’s struggling breath.

“—If you had been able to compartmentalise!—”

“—What, so that your little boy could live?—”

Boy toy? Is he being for real—

Jo’s sharp voice interrupts them and talks like Kyle could be saved. Brenda snarls at her and Jo says—“Just give him what you need.” Carelessly, like Brenda hadn’t thought about it.

“No harm in trying.” Jo adds. And Brenda fucking had enough.

“You want me to let the Amoxiclav and Metro run out too?” She doesn’t want Kyle to die but she’s not stupid. There’s other people that’s gonna need them and they—want her to waste them on Kyle who’s already done for. No harm in trying. Do they even hear themselves?

What the fuck? Who the fuck let them run? She slams the door on her out.

Jacob meets her when she ducks back into Kyle’s hut, wearing a grim face.

“He’s not going to get better is he?” Jacob asks her when she kneels beside Kyle, trying to do whatever she can to elevate his pain and make this any easier on him.

Brenda chooses not to answer which is an answer in its own and he says, “What about the antibiotic—we had one, didn’t we—”

“You mean the one that Dean used it up on his little brother?” The sharp words are out of her mouth before she registers. Brenda raises her head, angry and done and those were never a good combination for her. Jacob is staring down at her, like he can’t believe it. He will though. Just like everyone else.

The story passes around the whole compound by the time that Kyle is nearly—Brenda swallows the word, closing her eyes and squeezing Kyle’s hands. She can’t say it. Not now.

No one wants to believe it but all the evidence is spread out right there for them. Especially, after there’s no word from Dean when the funeral takes place.

Kyle dies that morning after, and Brenda’s there right beside him as he takes his last breath, struggling to the last minute. She bends her head down and sucks in her inner cheek and god, no matter how many times—it hurts every single damn time.

This time it digs a little harder, since it’s someone she knows.

They have a quick and swift funeral and she watches his body burn up with stinging eyes and an ache so big inside her chest, she can’t breathe. There’s whispers and demands about Dean but he’s already gone, taking away any doubts they may have had at what she said to them. She could hear Jo trying to calm them down and putting some bullshit into their heads about how Dean wasn’t—

Brenda ignores it all, dragging herself to her hut and flopping down on the bed. There’s a moment of silence, of everything sinking in before it crashes down and she’s sobbing and crying hysterically. Curling into her knees and thinking about every single memory she had with him and how—

at least he didn’t die a walker, she tells herself, at least he didn’t die a walker.

(That one is always worse.)

When there’s a knock on her door, hesitant and quiet, Brenda gets up immediately and rubs at her face, despite how she desperately doesn’t want to because—there’s someone hurt and they need her.

She keeps on moving with that sharp, sharp thing piercing in her chest and pressing onto her lungs because if she stops, what’s left for all of these people.

It doesn’t get better as time passes—it never does—everywhere she looks there’s that memory of Kyle, her siblings, her parents and every fucking person she failed and she’s so, so tired.

“Thanks, Dr. Brenda!” Rob gives her a crooked smile when she finishes up his arm.

She gives him a flat stare in return and he cringes under it. Good. That should tell him not to mess around and get hurt in the first place and joke about later. When Brenda turns to leave, she hears Rob and Jacob whisper to each other and curls her hands into fists when she catches her and Kyle’s names.

Things have been different since Dean has left and she wants to say better but—it hasn’t. Not really. Jo taken his place as the leader but the betrayal of Dean still lingers. And Dean’s always been good at giving orders and controlling the order here in the Camp, she reluctantly acknowledges through her bitter hate of him.

Ash’s arrival changes things. He stumbles into their camp with new ideas and changes. And it’s—getting better. Slowly.

Brenda almost forgets about Dean. (He’s never going to come back anyways.)

Then, she wakes up to noises and comes out from her hut to Dean fucking winchester and his brother standing there. She narrows her eyes.

Things escalate, and everyone is shouting, pointing their guns at each other, ready to shot and then, Sam’s in front of his brother and lifting his shirt up to reveal—

A bite. A Walker bite that’s healed over. Brenda doesn’t register it first, stuck on the image of the teeth marks on his skin, eyes wide. She had seen that mark, too many times. More than she ever wanted to.

How—? Brenda never thought it was possible. Immunity. But it’s right there, in front of her eyes.

“Are you really immune?” She asks to him, later. because she still can’t believe it despite everything as she draws out his blood. This is the answer they’ve been looking for. All the possibilities that his blood could give them—

“Yeah,” Sam confirms. And It takes effort for her hands not to shake. Her mind is racing. If they could find out what actually find out what exactly is making him immune—it would be the answer to everything.

Despite her effort, her hands slightly shake.

This could mean...the end of this apocalypse.

(Freedom.)

#supernatural #brenda!#I LOVE HER SO MUCH #this got....longer than I ever expected lol #it was v fun to write #BLARGH. there are so many other stuff I wanted to include in here but I just got Brain Tired #(didn’t even include that last scene where they kind-of reconcile) (which is my FAVE)#maybe I’ll write it some other day #my writing

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all-cursed · 4 years ago

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Meet my first OC to have a specific fandom they’re attached to!

So I’ve never created an OC specifically for the universe of a show before, they’ve always been fandomless, but I was excited to create one for Wynonna Earp. I’m going to give him a proper page on the muse list as well as give everyone more detailed biographies eventually, but for now, this should work.

DISCLAIMER: to anyone who may have concerns, please know that I myself am Native American (Blackfoot and Cherokee), and did a lot of research while creating this character to make sure I do them justice and create an actual Native character that isn’t just a stereotype. Some parts that might seem stereotypical - such as the name this character chooses to go by - just comes with the modern era the universe is set in and the character’s own reasons. Several of the struggles he faces as well are specifically chosen because I hope to raise awareness in some small ways to the struggles that IPOC face even today. None of it is meant to be fetishising or stereotypical - some of it just exists in that space as an unfortunate reality.

Alright! Here we go.

[ i. STATS ]

NAME. meecha wo’i " crow " redwolf .

AGE. 23 as of 1x01 .

DOB. nov 29th , 1993 .

GENDER. gender-indifferent cis male : prefers he/him or they/them pronouns .

PREF. pansexual but has a preference for men and nonbinary individuals

SPECIES. human , witch , skinwalker .

RESIDENCE. the ghost river triangle .

OCCUPATION. former cashier ; former lead guitar in an up and coming rock band ; current bartender .

ETHNICITY. in simple terms: native american. specifically: hopi and creek. some scottish but not by much.

[ ii. INTROSPECTION ]

POSITIVE TRAITS. curious , adaptable , perceptive , creative , passionate , loyal , perseverant , open-minded , compassionate .

NEUTRAL TRAITS. persuasive , withdrawn (at first; nervous about other’s intentions) , secretive , free-wheeling .

NEGATIVE TRAITS. temperamental , unrestrained , spiteful , reckless , capricious , hedonistic .

DISLIKES. sounds of traffic or loud machinery in general & the sound of metal on metal & the smell of cheap perfume/cologne & hot weather & dust & houseflies & being told (instead of asked) what to do & rap music & wool scarves & fluorescent lights & lack of hygiene & orange flavoured candies/sodas/anything that’s not an actual orange & deep dark waters he can’t see the contents of & mistreatment of animals & having assumptions made about him & mathematics & onions & football .

LIKES. the scent and sound of rain & physical touch & candles , lighters , and controlled flames in general & the smell of cedar , pine , and the forest & music and playing musical instruments & italian food & raving about attractive people with others; intoxication is a bonus & leather; wearing it and the smell of it & glasses clinking together & late night talks & stargazing & drawing / sketching & records and record players & animals & 'stealing’ and wearing the clothes of people he’s close with & running & card games & dancing and singing & creating something out of nothing & getting the last word .

HOBBIES. drawing & singing and playing instruments & exploring / learning as many places as they can like the back of their hand & people watching & drinking and bar hopping & seeking pleasure and adventure wherever he can find it & collecting random things he enjoys / likes .

WEAKNESSES. he’s standoffish until he knows he can trust a person and can come off rude or aloof & the inability to let go of most grudges & his tendency to follow his desires and his heart before logic or his mind & impulsivity when emotional .

STRENGTHS. independence and ability to function and thrive alone (even if he would prefer to have company it is not mandatory) & ability to be resourceful and adapt to new situations quickly & handles time-sensitive situations well due to his tendency to act quick and think later & stubbornness to stick to a task and see it through & quick thinking & agility and speed of inhuman proportions (thanks to his less than human side) .

HABITS. clicking his teeth together repeatedly when annoyed & flexing fingers & playing with his hair in absentminded / lazy moments & silently staring at someone when he’s done with a conversation until they catch the hint and stop talking & if there’s music playing within earshot he always ends up swaying to the beat & will often make less than human sounds (growls, etc.) when angry if he doesn’t catch himself .

EDUCATION. average student throughout elementary , middle & high school . graduated with an equally average gpa of 3.0 , & decided against college, choosing to seek education in less typical places . fed up with his family and much of the treatment of his peers, he began to learn magic from a witch he met on one of his regular trips to wander the ghost river triangle and explore & learnt magic and about the more mystical parts of purgatory - ultimately becoming a skinwalker via the witch’s guidance and training .

[ iii. APPEARANCE ]

FACECLAIM. booboo stewart .

HEIGHT. 5 ' 8 " , though when able to he wears combat boots that add a few inches to his height .

EYES. a very keen and observant hazel when he’s in human form . when shifting , eye colour can range from yellow to red to green to blue depending on many factors - location , how far he shifts , etc . always alert and bright unless intoxicated or in very rough shape emotion-wise . often wishes they were green or grey and has considered wearing contacts to change his eyes (human-wise) to those colours.

EYEBROWS. defined arch but not so much so that it’s dramatic . not too thin and not too bushy , and naturally neat - he rarely has to tend to them and usually only does so to shave a tiny slit or two through them as a stylistic choice .

HAIR. long and dark ; sleek with an ever so slight wave to it . typically worn either down or in a loose ponytail , occasionally sections are braided . falls just a few inches above his ribcage . every so often he’ll dye streaks into his hair but has never dyed his whole head .

SCARS. many . he has a variety of smaller scars from a rowdy childhood; a few faint ones on his hands and arms from scratches borne of cats and dogs . the typical scars that come from falling off bicycles or off swings ; scraped knees and cuts on chins . his forearms especially are covered in scars he prefers not to speak of . there’s a scar on his forehead from a fight with his cousin as well as a few long scars on his back .

DRESSING STYLE. it varies depending upon mood and whatever job he has at the time . especially fond of punk / alternative styles , likes leather , and enjoys the comfort of loose and flowing garments. whatever style he happens to choose at any given time , he wears well and somehow always manages to draw attention - whether from the jewelry he accessorises with (varieties of bracelets and cuffs , rings , pendants with gems , etc.)

LIPS. naturally full , scar at the right corner of his lip , occasionally sore or split when he goes through anxious phases and tends to chew at his lips .

SKIN. smooth , tanned . he doesn’t have much body hair , a fact that doesn’t tend to bother him much. he rarely engages in a skincare routine and much like his eyebrows generally stays neat and well-kempt without much effort . does not wear much makeup but enjoys eyeliner from time to time . if not for his skin tone, the dark circles beneath his eyes would be much more visible .

CHEEKS. defined cheekbones , not easily flushed . sports the occasional scars due to nervous picking when he was younger.

[ iv. ABILITIES ]

LANGUAGES SPOKEN. english [ fluent ] , hopi [ conversational & spellwork language ] , spanish [ conversational ] .

THREAT LEVEL. mediocre to high .

WEAPONS. fairly efficient in his understanding of magic and can easily hold his own with either combative or defensive magic , but prefers when possible to rely on his own physical skills ; is proficient in hand to hand combat thanks to the speed , agility , and strength bequeathed upon him by his skinwalker nature . very skilled in knifeplay , whether throwing or up close . has little to no practise with firearms as of 1x01 .

MAGIC. magic learnt by his mentor was primarily elemental based and neutral in that it could easily be manipulated for defensive or offensive ; he was never extremely proficient and left before he could complete his training so he is still learning his limits and the heights he can reach , and wants to branch out . as for the magical abilities granted by his status as skinwalker - he is able to shapeshift , which saps him of certain levels of energy that depend upon what creature he takes the shape of . he is also granted higher than average speed, agility, and strength because of this which he keeps with him even when not shifting.

[ v. DETAILS ]

➣➣ he was born in georgia originally to a loving but struggling mother and father - his mother was hopi and his father was creek, and while both parents had originally lived on their own respective reservations, they had met one another by chance during a trip and fallen in love, eventually deciding to seek out their own home outside of the reservations. his parents loved him but struggled financially; eventually his mother’s sister offered to take him in. as that was the better option rather than the three of them becoming homeless, crow’s parents sent him to live with his aunt in arizona on the rez. while they stayed in touch, his parents needed to stay in georgia, and as such he only would see them on the occasional holiday.

➣➣ while his aunt meant well, his cousins were another story. living with his aunt and uncle would have been fine had it not been for their two children; a son and daughter who constantly bullied him behind their backs for not being pure hopi as they were, often harassing him about being a ‘halfbreed’. a quiet boy at heart to boot, he faced bullying in school as well all the way through high school. his cousins, in tenth grade, snooped in his room and found his journal - which they used to out him as pansexual to the school.

➣➣ the moment he graduated, he spent as much time off the rez as possible, avoiding his cousins. on one of his frequent trips to simply explore nearby cities and towns, he found himself in purgatory. one drunken night led to following a mysterious woman into the woods. as it turned out, she was a witch. intrigued and excited at the idea of learning magic and having a way to defend himself, he quickly took her up on her offer to teach him. after a few months, she let him in on her secret - she was a skinwalker.

➣➣ she talked up how powerful she was because of it, and how no one would ever hurt her again. the more he heard about it, the more he wanted it. still unhealed from the way he was treated growing up and too caught up in the concept of never having to be beneath someone ever again, he agreed to let her hold the ceremony that would make him one as well without thinking of the consequences. when she told him that the final task he needed was to kill a family member... he almost faltered but agreed and went back to the rez.

➣➣ he almost didn’t do it. it was night when he returned, and he could see his male cousin drinking on the porch. the concept of killing someone - even someone like his cousin who had treated him so poorly - was daunting. he might have changed his mind had his cousin not seen him arriving and was immediately being malicious; using homophobic slurs and accusing crow of having run off with a lover, talking about how disgraceful it was. and it all was a blur from there.

➣➣ bringing back a lock of his cousin’s hair to the witch, she finished the rituals and he became the creature she had promised - powerful but at what cost? still wrought with guilt despite having made the ultimate choice, crow left the forests on the outskirts of purgatory where he had been training and into the ghost river triangle itself, unable to go home after what he did and unable to stomach facing the witch. living out of his truck, he went from odd job to odd job, eventually landing a stable job as a cashier at a grocery store. around this time he chose to begin going by the name crow - both to distance himself from his past, and because if someone were to want to control or destroy him now as a skinwalker, they could do so if they knew his true, personal name. as such, a nickname seemed the safest bet.

➣➣ fastforward to present day (1x01). after a few years of cashiering and attempting to rent rooms and apartments without success, as well as a stint playing guitar for an up and coming rock band, crow landed a job as a bartender at one of the local bars and instead of attempting to rent rooms or apartments, ended up moving into the trailer park. it was sketchy to say the least, but he couldn’t afford anything fancy and clearly didn’t handle having roommates well. a trailer seemed like the next best thing, outside of living in the woods or in his truck. his tendency to mind his own business and expect that of others meant that he mingled with normal purgatory residents and the revenants equally, pursuing his hedonistic nature as he pleased. which was all well and good, until things began to get... a lot more chaotic due to a curse and an heir he had originally had no knowledge of.

[ MORE TO COME THROUGHOUT CHARACTERIZATION DEVELOPMENT ]

#temporary biography tag

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orcinusorca1617 · 5 years ago

Text

Favorite Star Wars Fics

REBELCAPTAIN

Floating, Sinking shuofthewind

Somewhere in her is the sinking feeling that they weren't supposed to survive.

[In which they all live, in a manner of speaking, and they keep going, in spite of the odds.]

[Post-Rogue One. Runs through A New Hope. Eventual Rebelcaptain.]

whetstone shuofthewind

They're finished with their first mission. Now it's just the matter of downtime.

[Part of the floating, sinking universe. Mostly just fluff.]

Restless jenniferjun1per

Jyn needs to sleep, but she can't seem to get comfortable.

You Still Are leralynne

The scar zigzags down her side, puckered white along the ridges of her ribs. Cassian’s fingers still the first time they brush over it. With her head on his chest, she can feel his intake of breath.

A Long Pause leralynne

“Be quiet!” Jyn hisses. “I hear something!” Cassian stills. And then slowly, very slowly, he lifts his lips from Jyn’s collarbone.

slowly, and then all at once caramelle

It's probably sheer stubbornness, Cassian thinks wryly.

Even so, it doesn't mean he's just going to leave her like that.

Or, the one where Jyn has a habit of falling asleep around the apartment, and Cassian develops a habit of carrying her back to bed, because he's a Gentleman, and a Good Friend.

There For You guineapiggie

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flight lessons ignitesthestars

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Or, Jyn is slightly impaled and Cassian sees to her wound. Emotions are had.

Won't You Let Us Wander (series) angel_deux

Cassian came back for her. Again and again. After Scarif, that complicates things for Jyn, who's used to running | 13 part series.

Cuddling for Warmth leralynne

“Jyn is shivering,” K2 observes, with the kind of bland indifference only possible when one is a droid incapable of experiencing just how goddamn freezing this planet is.

Bloody Little Worms Kobo

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A white hot grip on her lungs? This marks the first time she’s awoken to that.

Closer muggleindenial28

"They don’t speak on the way down.

They don’t acknowledge the distant shrill screams of TIE Fighters and X-Wings outside.

They don’t think about how they’re not going to get out in time."

They make it off Scarif, but not without scars.

like real people do mollivanders

“I have an idea,” she says, mind whirling as she steps towards the room. “We need a reason to be here like this.” He follows close behind her and she can practically feel the tension washing over him. In contrast, the plan forming in her mind has provided her with a calm clarity. He closes the door behind them before she props it ajar/

They need to be caught.

Beach House lyresandlasers

“Never say I don’t support you,” Jyn lifted his head into her lap, cradled in crossed legs.

cover me, i'll cover you mollivanders

“Are you hurt?” he asks blindly, reaching for her only to snatch his fingers back as she lurches away. He forgets she’s like a feral animal when she’s injured, used to being the only person having her back. “Let me see,” he says, trying to force authority and calm into his voice, both to reassure her and take control of the situation.

Inside, he’s anything but.

I hear the revolution rebsrising

The babble sounds through the baby monitor, soft and quiet, but enough to wake two well-trained soldiers still adjusting to the safety of peace.

Bodhi's Perspective rebsrising

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After Scarif, Jyn starts over, with a new mission, and an unexpected friend.

Fifteen Days clashofqueens

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Lay Down My Shields katsumi

Jyn comes down with a strange reaction to a foreign plant, but it doesn't seem like a big enough deal to bother anyone with. That is, until she faints in the middle of the hallway.

Run to Me in the Rising Dawn katsumi

Jyn has never had anyone stick around before. The battle is over now, but the war rages on and Jyn is already preparing for the day when she loses Cassian, too. (She doesn't realize he's terrified of the exact same thing.)

the quiet we hold ithacas

After Scarif, Cassian wakes up broken. He and Jyn learn to fix each other.

We Should laurie2000ann

Jyn could have died trying to save Cassian and he’s pretty angry about it.

Let's Give 'Em Something to Talk About astoriamalfoys

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It’s meant to be an easy conversation, but she says, “I was worried about you,” and his heart stutters to a staccato instead.

Han x Leia captainkitten

Important Thing of Awesomeness™ meets Dumpster Fire of a Human Being™

REYLO

we could plant a house, we could build a tree Like_A_Dove

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Rey presses her lips together to keep from laughing. She plans her next words quickly and carefully, determining what will get her the best reaction. “Really? Looks like you ruined a bedsheet to me.”

His reaction does not disappoint. “Get out.”

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Rey: Mechanic, blissfully unaware of Ben Solo's very existence.

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The End of a String Silvershine

A bridge still exists between the Supreme Leader of the First Order and the rebel known as Rey. As the connection winds tighter, the line between enemy and friend continues to blur, and Rey's loyalties are called into question. A force bond can bring companionship and support, but it's not without its dangers... or delights.

No Ill Will Castiloar

His face set into a resigned expression before tapping his phone with a final flourish, sending whatever excuse he made. She almost jumped when he squarely met her gaze. “Me? Your hostage? I’d almost think you like having me here.” Even with the congestion he managed to drop his voice low enough to make the quip weigh heavy.

variations on a theme of you disasterisms

"Who knows?" Luke darted a faint smile at Ben and Rey as they stewed in silence and disbelief. "The two of you might even learn to get along. Right, Leia?"

"Like a house on fire," the General deadpanned. "Complete with screams, flames, and people running for safety."

"Indeed." Luke's blue eyes twinkled. "There may be no survivors."

As Hard As I Try... KKetura

When her friends find out about her force bond with Kylo Ren, Rey finds herself more alone than ever. But in her forced solitude, she slowly discovers a better understanding of herself and the man to whom she's inextricably linked.

lying restless (as the dawn comes near) TheJGatsby

They have a tradition for nightmares.

you gotta stop doing that semi-hiatus

She caught herself right before the words ‘you gotta stop doing that’ slipped from her lips, saving her from having the explain why she randomly started talking to herself in the hallway.

Why Her? Aramenialys

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Quiet issueswithjedipedagogy

He wasn’t sleeping. She had caught sight of him in the darkness, blinking awake to the strange vacuum the bond created around her; the quiet focus on two souls that seemed to make everything else fall away.

Soft Things catmusing

Kylo Ren wakes up aboard a familiar and yet unknown ship. His body aches and it hurts to remember but there is Rey of light.

Aphelion ambiguously

Stranded on a barren planet together, Rey and Kylo Ren have only each other to help them survive.

Vulnerability and Soft Hair smallenoughtofit

After two years with the Resistance, Kylo Ren still lacks any real security or relationships outside of his tenuous whatever-this-is with Rey. And Rey still wonders what his hair feels like.

the remedy is the experience (i won't worry my life away) TheJGatsby

Rey gets sick, and she isn't very good at letting people look after her.

Proper Sleep tearoomsaloon

Much to her frustration, Rey can no longer properly sleep unless she's snuggled between Ben's glorious pecs

ad infinitum hyperphonic

for the prompt: Rey and Kylo telling Leia, Rey is pregnant. Leia had no clue.

any way you want it thegoodlannister

rey helps ben begin to work through the process of making decisions - even really simple ones - for himself. rehabilitation is a slow process in the aftermath of the mess snoke has spent three decades making of ben's mind.

It Will Come Back ReyloTrashCompactor

“Honey, don’t feed it. It will come back”

A Series of Firsts Tandy

Ben (or is it Ren?) and Rey sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love and then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage.

A story told in firsts.

Dark Prism whythokylo (OpalElephant)

Rey awakens again, except this time it's to a life she can't recall with a man she only knows as her enemy. My attempt at a long form, dark AU. (Formerly titled Aphelion)

A Few Small Repairs TourmalineGreen

Rey buried her face in her blankets. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t going to allow herself to feel anything. Rain was just water, and so were tears. It would all dry, in time. The storm would pass, and then she’d keep going. That’s how it always had been, and that’s how it was going to be.

She would be alright, after this. She would find a way, find something…

what ails you thegoodlannister

or: three times ben solo was sick and one time kylo ren was. unabashed reylo and even more unabashed hurt/comfort.

100 Ways to Say I Love You AquaWolfGirl

Taken from a list on Tumblr of 100 Ways To Say I Love You, 100 little oneshots leading up to Valentine's Day.

I'm always in this twilight (in the shadow of your heart) disasterisms

Coded on a secondhand datapad in a run-down motel room in Mos Eisley, deleted and never sent: Everything about us was a whirlwind.

Written on a scrap of durasheet in a Tion Cluster outpost, the words fading after a while into air and ghosts: You shouldn't have forgiven me for any of it.

Scraped into the bark of an oak tree on the Argazdan homeworld: You won't believe the dreams I have about you.

the one with the lust writing-reylo

She has bigger things to worry about than that.

The most pressing of which is reclining in her bed, shirtless.

“Can you move?” She asks, unwinding her scarf and shrugging off her huge jacket.

Milking It thewayofthetrashcompactor

“Rey.”

The voice was deep and familiar, rough with exhaustion, and echoed across the gap closed by the Force.

She ignored it, hunched over on the edge of the cot she'd been sleeping on. She wanted nothing more than to lean back and curl up into an unconscious ball again, but another voice, this one much closer, called her name again.

morning in the burned house disasterisms

Leia's not really surprised at all, to be honest, but, for the sake of his pride, she should probably pretend to be.

find a thread to pull, and we can watch it unravel again_please

The war is over, Snoke dead at Rey and Kylo's hands. The two of them find themselves feeling a bit out of place as the Resistance celebrates and decide that the answer is a bit of good old fashioned Corellian whiskey. Enjoyed responsibly, of course. And in private.

Because You're There disasterisms

Three years ago, Rey had not yet climbed Everest.

Presenting the first half of my fic/art trade with the lovely lilithsaur, based on her trash triplets x 2 universe. The gist is that there are three Solo boys— Kylo, Ben, and Matt (the character from Adam Driver's SNL skit)— and three Kenobi girls— Kira (dark Rey), Rey, and Daisy (undercover Rey).

Sword of the Jedi (series) diasterisms

“What do you think?” Luke asks his nephew. “She has potential.”

“She bit me, Master,” is Ben’s stiff response. “Any opinion I give would be biased.”

Or: Everyone is connected, even if, sometimes, it's just by the skin of our teeth. Even in the midst of darkness, still, luminous beings are we.

Reign OptimisticBeth

Alternate Ending to "The Last Jedi." Rey accepts Kylo Ren’s offer in return for the lives of the retreating ships.

Political maneuvering is not Rey's forte. She must adjust to life as the First Order's first lady, making friends and enemies along the way and indulging in sweet awkward romance with her Ben.

Burgeoning Hope crossingwinter

#ShesPregnantAndHesDumbAndHasntLeftHisJobYet

miles from where you are mooncactus

After an argument over Star Wars fandom with a "gatekeeping, entitled monster" with the cryptic username of KyloRen, Rey finds herself stuck in a series of unavoidable video calls.

Prisoner orphan_account

Rey has been running all her life. She had known since she was a small girl that she was born with the powers that had been cursed and labeled evil by the galaxy. Running had worked for so long, that she was almost surprised when the bounty hunter Kylo Ren had caught her trail. But they might have more in common than they both originally thought.

Hand of Fate sweetestcondition

Rey is offered a choice at the end of Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi. This time, she takes the hand of Kylo Ren, grasping at the chance to transform the First Order from the inside. She hopes to create a Resistance from within, starting with the heart of Ben Solo. | feat. KoR, Kezzik

keep me in your clouded mind hi_raeth

Flu season has claimed its latest victim: Rey’s roommate, Ben Solo. But it’s fine. She’ll get him dressed, bring him to the hospital, and everything will be okay. Things are totally under control.

Except for the part where Ben has completely lost his verbal filter and keeps babbling about his feelings for her.

Exile Ernzo

The war is over and the First Order has fallen. Ben has returned home to face his consequences.

A story of Rey and Ben finding peace in the aftermath of war as Ben accepts his punishment.

made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter disasterisms

The First Order does not exist, what is dead stays dead, and they grow up together at Luke's Jedi Academy.

Or: The one where everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

(Then again, it's Ben and Rey, so maybe things hurt a little.)

A little ginger, a little honey Areah51

Rey is sick, and Ben shows up where he's not wanted, but in the end, we all need someone to take care of us when we're ill.

my wildest wind (come blow into my room) meritmut

“Would it have been so terrible?” he asks. “Staying?”

Could we have had this? she thinks, like she always does.

Non-consecutive ForceTime vignettes in the days, weeks and months after Crait.

Play to Win Enterprisingly

Ben Solo – aka KyloRen – is a professional gamer, playing the first-person-shooter StarKiller for the internationally ranked eSports team, The First Order. He’s made a name for himself as a ruthless competitor with a ferocious temper and top-notch skills that can’t be beat. That is, until a mystery player named ReyOfLight begins thoroughly trouncing him whenever they cross paths.

Unwell AquaWolfGirl

Jakku was cold, but nothing compared to Hoth. While staying at the old Rebel base, Rey catches a cold, and someone is a huge worry wart over the woman who denied his offer.

The One Where He Decides writing_reylo

He’s on the bridge and he’s alone.

The First Order are no more.

It only took him a year, carefully manipulating every weak mind he came across, emotionally manipulating the ones he couldn’t.

Embers sciosophia

All the myriad things he’d been—someone who made her laugh; the warmth on the other side of the bed; her best friend—those things, Rey had buried.

Rey left Ben two years, three months, and sixteen days ago. But who's counting?

Interstellar Transmissions LovelyThings, ricca_riot

Rey’s interrogation at the hands of Kylo Ren triggered an awakening in the Force, as well as an unwelcome bond that links them across the galaxy and grows stronger every day.

What Stays and What Fades Away astra_inclinant

Her feelings for Kylo Ren are quiet, not acknowledged, but deeply felt. She cannot make peace with them and send them from her mind.

Or, everyone is emotionally stunted and no one has healthy coping skills.

Our Heaven is Just Waiting FrostedFox

It's his turn to fall wounded before her, and her turn to decide where to go from there.

If only she could convince him to stay alive.

make it look just the way i planned TheJGatsby

Ben buys the painting on a brokenhearted impulse, and somehow it ends up being exactly the right choice.

(Based on the song Paint Me a Birmingham)

#reylo #rebelcaptain #star wars #sw tfa #sw tlj #kylo x rey #ben solo #cassian x jyn #rogue one

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oswednesday · 5 years ago

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could we possibly get an update on your tmasona :3c i feel like maybe some things have changed, or i'm just getting confused...

omg yeah i need to update their art ref! ill get to it, i have to finish up some other stuff first! omg yeah ive been adjusting things as i go, making themes clearer i guess! or w/e fits the setting better a i listen again, omggg thank you for asking, also im so rendered playdough soft that youre keeping track enough to feel confused like,o mg ;x ;, okay so updates!:

-theyre born in america to a beholding cultist group, their parents are like Teachers With Doctorates, they have six other siblings (who also all go different ways) the upbringing is like zero privacy 100% authoritative, they live on the compound which doubles as like a high end Alternative Schooling, i imagine they would have called their parents ma'am and sir more than mom and dad, its competitive family dynamic and theyre being Trained to take the archivist position on the off chance that gertrude dies of old age (i think given that a branch in china had a guy lined up thats a reasonable thing to assume the cult does as a whole?), they attend like a compound boarding school with other cultist children (like, america has A LOT of cult compounds,, so i think it would be def a thing for dread god followers, and since tmi has like Some kind of academic standing, with american culture there’d be some kind of accredited legitimacy to the school)

-they go to whatever fancy university for a weighted accelerated library sciences program that their family has a connection to, with like the smallest bit of experienced freedom they also take art classes at a Less Nice For Profit liberal school thats just a block or so away from the other as it tends to be in small american cities that are designated college towns, theyre like so paranoid about being caught and watched and judged that they go through the whole trouble of fabricating a whole entire different person to be for the other school which does not check anything ‘cause theyre getting paid, which like the money dries up a bit enough for them to start up some Fraud, i think the very start of like the identity theft is the End, but before that they would keep track of everything like taking notes about different places different selves needed to be, keeping track of lies the best they could, theyre the only one of the siblings left who havnt made it Super clear theyre with a different patron, so they feel the obligation to keep it up, i also think there’d be a lot of, wow no one can ever know anything about my terrible fucked up monster life so no one can get close, i cant even get close to me, vibe going on with all that

-this is the lead up to the psychotic break they have, and it Looses them up enough to experience the spiral, during the break down they find a book that Feels Familiar and its like, transcribed recordings of children in therapy conversations accompanied with art from the patient , it probs has a Misleading title like “my wonderful changing body and me!” like one of those youre going through puberty and instead of helping you emotionally im going to toss a book at you and leave the room kind of thing

-so they get lost a while, read a book in peace, break a mirror in a way thats v symbolic, like a representation of their sense of self becoming fractured, they use their blood to mark where theyve been, its all very trans formative and dramatic, (like they def arnt using they/them before this, they embrace the multiplicity of it all)

-their Purpose is to lead victims through, they create and maintain narrative mazes for people to get lost in and lead them to madness (so, like the metanarrative function of pyramid head, or like the bartender+delbert grady in the shining, or like the night clerk in the first downfall game? i guess the second one too but the first one has that vibe im going for and is less symbolic over all), this also means they like vacuum up after a messy meal

-the title that old fashioned people use is the minotaur, but stuff about their role within the cult as a concept is like jaws of madness, the teeth, the porter, doorman, caretaker, maid, whatever nondescript jobs victims see them having

-happening simultaneously to that metaphysical stuff, their physical self drops out of everything and a distant aunt offers to take them in which their family is Fine with cause their a disappointment and all, but it turns out their aunt is a house that like uk buzzfeed and travel blogs calls the mouth of madness, its like a winchester house, m takes it over and converts it to a bed and breakfast tourist spot for the income and it just, becomes a legit hotel business (but i think thats after the great twisting fell through)

-so timeline wise its, breakdown, impulsively marrying the physical embodiment of the lonely,the great twisting, hotel

-like cause they had no place of their own there was no place for them to go after the twisting fell through so they went no where, it was real upsetting tho

-things that not every minotaur had but some could do so this is like personal quirks! is they can move the understanding of physical things to create obstructions as long as its repetitive,so making mazes and labyrinths! and sometimes their fabricated spaces are like noticeably fake, they also cant balance a lot of victim plots and make new space like the first purpose comes first even when the second function would benefit

- they look however you expect them to look whatever that means for you but they also have a static like base self that they can like, replace with other selves

-like seeing the pure concept like how the distortion is that weird long fuckhands thing, their True shape is like a vitruvian man in constant motion like a photographic blur, you could probs see how a leg could be a tail and how shifting heads and shoulders could be horns and how weapons held by many hands are hooves of a beast

-there’s not always time for any of that so sometimes they have to just lock someone up, let their mind fill in the blanks and do them an insanity, box cutters have a nice sound but power drills are more appropriate for quick jobs

-they can fully Check Out of their physical body and just leave it there, they eventually have to go back and get it tho, it can do its own thing but its primarily customer service auto pilot

-their dreams are like realistically mundane, with the occasional interruption of something that catches up with them (like if they cut their hand off irl itll be fine but theyll eventually have a normal dream where their hand gets severed) (they also do a lot of work in dreams but they like differentiate between like im consciously doing stuff in the dreamscape and im a victim here dreams but theres no real, difference, thats not really their thing to be in control of)

-i think the sum of their personality would be like someone who exclusively talks in customer service voice and when theyre not working theyre a nervous wreck, they hide behind stuff when ever they can and feel more comfortable with something between them and other person like a wall or a magazine or a counter desk, that sort of thing

#sona tag #thank you omg #long post #uppermanhattanhobo

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anarkhebringer · 5 years ago

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hi i'm back, can i get some more modern felix stuff please? just anything you can think of would be perfect!

Hiiiii nonny, welcome back~~~

But anyway yee, you may have a lot of random modern Felix stuffs. I’m always happy to deliver. I’m gonna try to not make it too long, but it’s already a mile long now by the time I’ve made most of the main points so I might as well just roll with it a bit. This is definitely gonna be a very long read.

Living with his aunt for the number of years he has eventually led him to developing an occasional southern drawl when he speaks, since his aunt has one. It’s a very rare thing though, and almost never happens. When it does though, he HATES IT.

The influences on his speaking from his aunt mostly shows in his wording of things, since sometimes when he gets spirited about something he says “y’all” and such all the time. One time when Sylvain was just being Sylvain, and neither Felix nor Ashe could calm him, Felix just muttered “y’all’re gonna bleed me dry someday…” Sylvain and Ashe thought it was the cutest fuckin’ thing, and Sylvain calmed down after that. Neither mentioned the drawl though since they quickly learned from hearing stories that Felix will get really pissed if you tease him about it or even mention it too much for his tastes. Which is just mentioning it at all.

He’s not easily scared at all, but just walking past him wrong can make him jolt from being startled sometimes. That’s something from his traumas that’s finally starting to come to the forefront that couldn’t before, since he could suppress everything that hindered his progress in combat, but he can’t do that anymore.

He’s gotten to be a person who can really enjoy his leisure due to his really deep dive into depression that happened after he got his ability to be in combat taken away from him. He and Linhardt could have had a competition to see who can fall asleep while standing up and stay standing the longest. He has medication that helps keep him awake enough to not be able to do that anymore though, but he has really bad insomnia now as a result of his completely chaotic and inconsistent sleeping schedule. His stress wrinkles in the inner corners of his eyes are completely covered by the dark circles under them now that really shows his wear and exhaustion.

He won’t at all complain if he’s given a task to do by someone that isn’t in his household, and it’ll keep his mind active and keep his mood in a positive place if he isn’t overworked. He does get drained way easier now though if what he’s asked to do involves socializing or interacting with anyone in any way too much.

When he’s drained socially, he becomes very aggressive and unstable. He’ll get like he used to be and completely isolate, and lash out if you interrupt what he’s doing and you don’t want to actively participate. He’d still get mad that you interrupted him though, and he probably won’t let you participate unless you’re among a certain handful of people.

Ashe and Claude are the only two people who don’t mentally drain him whatsoever, and he could see them literally every day if they wanted to do that. Ashe because Felix cares for him so much, and Claude because they’re so similar. He and Claude don’t drain each other because they can go literal months without speaking, then pick up on what they left off on like they only stopped talking for a day or two. Same with Ashe, though Felix becomes slightly noticeably more down and sad when he doesn’t see Ashe for too long a timespan.

He has a secret love of cuddling, and also hides his full support of platonic PDA, cuddling, and even kisses and such if there’s enough mutual trust between the ones involved. He’s very touch-averse and sensitive to others touching him, so he only really lets Ashe, Claude, and Sylvain touch him to show affection. Only Ashe can do much, and he only really tolerates Sylvain’s occasional one-armed hugs or quick pats on the shoulder as he walks by. Ashe however can hug him (after making his desires to do so known of course), hold his arms, and even his hands, since Ashe is the kind to show affection by physical means whenever he’s allowed to do so. They even cuddle at night when Ashe stays overnight at his apartment.

He actually lets Sylvain cuddle with him too when Sylvain really needs the affection during hard times, though he never returns it unless he does so while he’s asleep. It’s become a comforting thing to wake up to, feeling the warmth of Sylvain against him and his arms wrapped around Felix’s frame, even though Felix didn’t really want it to become that. At first, anyway.

His depressive rut wasn’t all bad in some cases, and because of the isolation he went into, he’s become extremely artistic and tech savvy since he didn’t have much to do to occupy himself. Being extremely brainy as is really helped him get going with these things.

He’s also learned to hack and code on the computer from that rut too, and he could get you into anything you wanted him to. He knows all sorts of ways to hide himself under all sorts of circumstances, and clear his tracks if he’s found, so he could actually be extremely dangerous if he were to use this knowledge and skill for anything shady. The most he uses it for is to make modifications to games and explore the Dark Web as anonymously as possible when his morbid curiosities get the best of him, though.

Well, there have been times where he’s used his skills to scare people. There have been times where people have threatened his friends (namely Claude and Ashe), and to scare the bullies off, he hid himself and hacked into their devices to make text documents warning them to stay away or else there would be trouble, because they’re always being watched. That always managed to scare them off on the first try, and he’s never done anything more than that, because there was no need.

He’s super protective of what few friends he has. He’d willingly put himself in danger for them all the time, unless of course they got themselves into the mess they’re in and he feels they don’t really deserve to be helped out of a situation that’ll be them learning their lesson. Otherwise, he’s borderline obsessed with his friends’ safety and happiness. It’s hard to really see that outside of sudden outbursts from him, since he’s so averse to socialization and unable to understand/express emotions well, but if he’s really needed and he can mentally handle it, you’d best believe he’d be completely focused on doing whatever he could do to help a friend in need for as long as they needed him.

Stuff like this has his friends really knowing who he is eventually, and he doesn’t like that. He’s actually really nice, but his way of showing it isn’t exactly common. Onlookers would think he’s just indifferent unless he’s feeling particularly chipper and/or manic, but his friends get to be on the receiving end of conversation and see him do more personal things compared to others, so they know he’s far nicer than even he thinks he is. He’s become oddly patient compared to his old self, and can hold a conversation for a while longer than he used to. If you get him talking about certain topics, though, you could manage to talk with him for literal hours on end.

He’s overall pretty chill now. Depression has taken the constant explosive anger out of him. He’s still always angry and bitter to some degree, but not to the point of lashing out at every little thing that upsets him. He’s still just as blunt as he was before, but he’s become a lot more passive-aggressive and/or condescending when it shows, instead of sudden outbursts and hurling insults around at all turns. And to those who have received both from him, the current version of his aggression hurts them a lot more, since he shows so little emotion during the times he throws something out to hurt them. All they see is (sometimes) in his body language, and the bitter fogginess in those eyes from how empty he’s become. Even his tone has changed. He’s not as aggressive sounding unless he’s more angry than usual, but he’s got a bitter tone. Or worse, he sounds almost monotone, like he feels absolutely nothing. If he’s got the tone of voice he used to have before, know that he’s on the verge of snapping and lashing out, and that goes from angry sounding to yelling at any time. And he yells loud.

He tends to cry a bit more than he used to now, since he gets overstimulated really easily. He can hold it in around other people most of the time unless it’s particularly overwhelming and getting even worse. It sometimes reminds Sylvain of when they were kids, but then he feels bad thinking of it like that since Felix has more going on in his head than he did back then. He’s trying to work on stopping that association, and he’s starting to get better at not thinking of Felix when he was a kid when he cries.

He used to parade around talking about how he wasn’t one to laugh and joke, but nowadays he’s not like that anymore. He still won’t joke often, and jokes go right over his head and he doesn’t get it and may ruin it usually, but he lets himself laugh at things he finds funny. Not around other people, though. Unless it’s from something else he finds funny, like a YouTube video. His laugh is like an odd mix between Vinny from Vinesauce, Bluesdank, and FPS Diesel. He’s the rare kind of person that’ll laugh in 10 different ways in one sitting and them all be real laughter. The sound of his laughter isn’t too consistent at times.

There’s another reason he can’t do much anymore aside from his depression, and that’s because a year or so ago he had a fit of smaller seizures that shocked his system really bad because of how long it lasted. After that, his mental regression that was already happening because of what he has has gotten much faster in its progression.

Despite these new growing limits he has, he’s still doing his best to keep going and existing on doing what he can do with what he has, and he’s shifted from being solely focused on a person’s skills in battle to how much heart they have due to it. He won’t care about combat skills anymore if you aim to impress him, he cares more about what you bring to the table. Your skills with a sword don’t show what you put your heart into in life and what you do for yourself and others. If you wanna impress him, give him a gift from the heart, not anything store bought. Do something nice for someone. Draw him a picture, write him a letter, pick him some flowers you think he’d like. Maybe take him to the park? Talk to him about your interests, voice your opinions on what you enjoy. Something that you can put your heart into, and I can’t stress it enough. He cares about a person’s core more than their fighting prowess now. He’s sworn off of focusing so much on fighting forever since he got the ability to do so himself taken form him, and he refuses to still dwell on it with others, too.

Alright, that’s gonna be where I cut it off for now. Hopefully that was a good read. I’ve made Felix go through some shit in this AU, but hey, he’s one of the characters I picked to put a theme of healing and strength onto, so I gotta give him some lore to get him to the point of being so different now. Plus a softer Felix makes me warm inside, so I wanted to incorporate that in, too.

#asks #anonymous #long post #Fire Emblem AU #FE Modern AU #Fire Emblem Three Houses #Felix Hugo Fraldarius #FE3H Felix #AU info #AU headcanon

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firekissedpiper · 5 years ago

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— ✗ PUNISH ME.

— ✗ Time Period: EARLY FEBRUARY, 2020.

— ✗ TW: Pregnancy loss, mugging/robbery, death of a loved one, rape.

It had been almost a week since Piper had first woken up, strapped down to the bed. Her first few days had been spent drifting in and out of consciousness. She’d been pumped full of a cocktail of both pain meds and then whatever other mood stabilizers they were putting into her system. For the first few days she’d heard murmurings of being ‘high risk’ and a ‘danger to herself’. She had tried to say that she didn’t do it, that she hadn’t tried to hurt herself. But she either found herself unheard or they told her that she was where she needed to be to get help.

For the last four days, she’d been released from her restraints and her pain medications had been reduced to something else. She wasn’t sure what it was, just an inflammatory she thought. It wasn’t knocking her on her ass the same way the last had. She still felt groggy, as if she was underwater, but she didn’t feel like she couldn’t quite stay awake anymore. Honestly, she’d rather that at this point.

The last days had been spent in her room. They had tried desperately to encourage her out of her room. Coaxing her with various promises of snacks, ‘fun’ activities and group meditation programs. She didn’t want to go out there. Sure the nurses were nice enough and the people who she heard from her room didn’t seem like the foaming mouthed ‘crazies’ she saw from the movies. But she wasn’t one of them. She was fine. She’d been mugged, that was it.

A day ago the psychiatrist had checked in on her again. He was just a normal looking man too. A little on the plumper side and seemed to have an endless supply of grey dress shirts. She honestly was starting to wonder if he simply just walked into stores and asked for the most plain and boring shirts. There were not a whole lot of white coats on the doctors in the hospital she was in. It all seemed so normal. The normality irked Piper more than if there’d been metal barred windows and patients slamming themselves against the doors.

The psychiatrist had been trying to coax her into talking to him about her mental issues. He kept prodding with questions. He read like a survey. Which is probably what it was. One of those papers with multiple choice questions meant to read a result of what brand of insane someone was. She kept quiet, just stating over and over she hadn’t tried to commit suicide. Every day he came, she watched him with hazel eyes, spoke the same words and watched him leave.

Today they’d informed her that since she was feeling better physically, she was going to have her first therapy appointment. She didn’t want it, but she was beginning to get the idea she wasn’t going to make any leeway with getting out of there if she didn’t cooperate with them. She wasn’t about to speak the lies they wanted her to. No matter how much she was pressed she wasn’t going to lie. It was probably the first time in her life she wasn’t entirely okay but living in a lie.

Piper played into her usual cycle. She woke up early from the nightmares that terrorized her sleep, often muffling screams so that the nurses didn’t come in. She’d learned that while she’d been out of it she’d come into consciousness in moments, often screaming and wailing in terror. Given she didn’t want to draw attention to herself, she’d wake and attempt to crush any panic before the nurses could come interfere. The last thing she wanted was them getting another reason to believe something was wrong with her. Or risk the chance that they might try to dose her up.

The next hours upon waking were spent in bed, sitting up - back pressed against the cold wall as she watched the door. It made her feel safer, to watch the door. Part of her had accepted that this wasn’t like what she’d seen in the horror movies, but other parts of her was still on edge, waiting for something to happen, ready to defend herself. She’d listen as the nurses switched shifts, hear the patients in the other rooms rise and began their morning routines. The rounds would begin. Soon there would be a knock on the door. A nurse walked in with a small white cup of pills.

She’d take it from her, swallow the pills with the water. She didn’t want them. But she had learned that the nurses were watching more closely than she thought. For the first few days of lucidity, she’d tried spitting some of the pills. After being threatened with another IV drip, she decided to swallow them the less invasive way. She hoped swallowing those pills and agreeing to see the therapist would eventually win her the ability to sign herself out. Then she could go home with her kids.

When the nurses left, she’d sit for a couple hours. When she was sure they weren’t looking, she would take off her shirt and eye up the large gauze pad on her chest. Every time she saw it, she felt like she was back in that moment. She felt her hands against the cool steel of the gun, felt the tugging and force from her opposition - desperately trying to break her hold on it. She heard the echo of that small click that somehow seemed so much louder. Somehow, she didn’t remember the sound of the bullet leaving the chamber. She just remembered that click.

There wasn’t a big blast. Maybe she’d blocked it out. Just that small simple click of a pulled trigger. Just like it was yesterday, she saw the blood soaking through her shirt, spreading out and radiating from the point of entry. She felt the faint burning sensation, then the pain. She could almost feel the weakness in her legs as they buckled. The blackness had taken her vision then, but not her hearing. She heard the shifting, felt something being placed in her hand. Then footsteps taking off.

By the time she’d pulled herself out of the memory, she was shaking. She’d pull her shirt back on and try desperately to forget ever thinking of the horrible occurrence. For brief moments of calm, she’d pretend as if it did not happen - tucked it away in a box with the other traumas she endured. It was better than the alternative. She didn’t want to accept her own stupidity, or the fact she deserved that wound to the chest.

She was in the middle of trying to calm the shaking when a nurse had walked in. Piper steadied herself. While it was hard to dull the panic, she often found her own stubborn nature made such things far easier on her. If she had a goal to put her weight behind, she could pretend for just a little while longer than everything was okay.

“Are you ready for your appointment?” The nurse asked.

Piper wanted to respond with a bitter and resounding no, but she knew that wouldn’t get her anywhere. “Sure,” she commented instead, unable to bite back on the sarcasm in her tone as she rose to her feet. The whole thing was dripping with reluctance, but she forced one foot in front of the other, following the nurse out of her room and down the hallway. In the corner of her eye she caught sight of the other patients. They sat in the common room, playing games or watching one of the flat screens. Some just simply lurked, eating the lunches they’d been brought up.

Some seemed happy, others she could obviously see were struggling with something. There was a mix of people. Men and women. She imagined they were all of different backgrounds. They didn’t seem so strange. She questioned why they were all there. Honestly, she wondered why she was. She found herself borderline shocked she hadn’t been swooped off to spend some time in some fancy hospital in Switzerland by her mother.

She preferred this. At least doctors here lived by a code, not simply doing what they were paid for. Certainly her mother would have bribed any and all doctors she could come across to treat her wickedly. As much as she would have rathered not be there at all, she’d choose this over some hospital where her parents held the doctors by the short and curlies. She knew her dad wouldn’t do something like that, he was not cruel, just naive. He still let her mother run the show.

“Have you gotten a chance to leave your room and meet some of the other patients yet?” The nurse inquired.

“No,” Piper said, certain the nurse already knew the answer to the question. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to make genuine small talk or if she was simply filling the silence. Some people did that around her when they remembered that she was a princess. She’d never cared for her title, but somehow it followed her.

“They’re doing a Bingo game with some treats later tonight if you’d like to join,” the nurse started in. There it was, the little attempt to coax her out from her bubble. Piper wanted to sneer at it. Bingo. Such a mundane activity. Here it probably was another word for a chance to be lectured by the nurses and bond with her ‘wellness community” as it’d been put to her.

“I’d rather not,” she said rather coldly. The last thing she wanted to do was settle in here. The only thing she really wanted was to just leave and go back to her daughters.

“Well, I’ll come knock on your door when it starts in case you change your mind,” the woman told her. She didn’t seem amused by Piper’s unwillingness to participate.

“Don’t bother.” She hoped her voice was cold enough that the nurse would simply drop the topic. Surely enough, she had. They walked in silence the rest of the way down the hallway. The nurse used her pass to buzz them through a door. Piper followed the nurse through the door and saw it was another small hallway full of offices. She counted four doors.

The nurse led her to the second door on the right. It was cracked open slightly. Pushing it open the rest of the way, the nurse poked her head in. “Piper is here for her appointment,” the nurse said simply.

“Tell her to come in,” it was the voice of another woman, this one was sharper, more deep and cold cut. The nurse had a more bubbly attitude whereas the therapist didn’t seem to bother carrying the same lightness.

The nurse nodded and opened the door the rest of the way. Reluctantly, Piper forced one foot in front of the other. She was not looking forward to this little session. The only thing that kept her from tucking tail and running was the fact that if she refused to see anyone they’d only keep her there longer.

The door closed behind her. Piper was grateful for that. She didn’t want to run the risk of someone listening in on the verbal review of her history she was sure she was about to get. The brunette stood by the door, watching the therapist carefully with hazel eyes. She didn’t let her gaze wander, as much as she wanted to look around and get a feeling for the room.

“You must be Piper, I’m Dr. Osweld,” the woman introduced herself. She didn’t hold out a hand to shake. A good thing, Piper didn’t want to touch this woman. Dr. Osweld glanced down at the folder she carried. Honestly, it looked like a novel, which it probably was. “You can sit,” the woman said absently, not glancing up from her book. Piper was almost surprised she was looking away. Some of the nurses looked at her like she was going to launch herself at them. Clearly the doctor didn’t fear an attack.

“I’m fine,” Piper said briefly, holding her spot.

“Alright then, we’ll just begin. You know my name and I know yours. How about you tell me something about yourself?” Dr. Oswald asked, lifting a sheet from what she assumed was her chart and reviewing it before looking back at Piper.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Piper said, her voice flat and monotone. She was on autopilot defense mode.

“I’m not sure if I can help you if I don’t know who you are,” the woman raised an eyebrow briefly, watching Piper’s actions carefully.

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t need help now, isn’t it?” This time the words came out with some certainty. She knew she didn’t need help. Maybe after days of ranting at the nurses and the psychiatrists this woman would finally hear her.

The woman scribbled something down in her notebook. “Why are you here if you don’t need help?”

“Because no one is listening to me,” Piper said simply. She’d been shouting for days that she had not tried to kill herself. She hadn’t. The man had held that gun to her head and in the desperate scramble to angle it elsewhere he’d shot her in the chest.

“I am. Why don’t you tell me what happened?” It was the same line everyone had been feeding her. They were all ‘listening’ but no one paid any mind to truth, just what they thought to be the truth.

“I left the hospital and I was having a cigarette in the alleyway,” Piper was honestly a little ashamed to admit that part. She’d quit for so long, she was a little disappointed in herself for smoking. “These two guys came in asking if I wanted to buy some weed off them,” she continued.

“Why were you smoking in the alleyway and not in front of the main part of the hospital?” The woman asked, scribbling something down.

“I didn’t want to be the dick who choked up every one else’s lungs for my dumb decision,” she commented rather quickly, a little irritation in her voice. It wasn’t the truth. The truth was she’d been ashamed, and she wanted to not be seen, to go somewhere where she couldn’t be judged for her decision.

“Fair enough. What happened after that?” The woman wrote something else down.

“I told them I didn’t want anything they had,” also true. She hadn’t wanted whatever they were selling. Even if she did decide she was going to go on a bender, it certainly wouldn’t be with whatever dime bag they were selling. God knew what they laced it with.

“Why did they offer you marijuana in the first place? What happened before that?” Dr. Osweld inquired.

“They made some comment about the hospital reaming people, I told them that I didn’t have to worry about medical bills denting my bank account,” Piper said easily, not thinking a whole lot about it.

“Ah. Go on,” she wrote down something else.

“I told them to have a good day and turned to leave. Then I heard the click of them cocking the gun,” Piper said carefully. She could hear the sound once again, ringing in her ears, taunting her. The memory of Tomas and those two men floating through her minds all at once. The gun held to her head had not scared her nearly as much as seeing Ella in danger had though. She clenched her hand a little, squeezing it and opening it. The pain from the improperly healed blisters bring her back down.

“What did you do?”

“I did what they told me to. I turned around and asked them what it was they wanted,” Piper explained. She could see the scenario as clearly as if it was happening to her right then. The wound in her chest felt like someone had lit it on fire.

“And what did they want?”

“They asked for my wallet and cellphone,” Piper said simply. It seemed basic enough. It was what most of those robbing others seemed to want. The valuables.

“And if you gave it to them why did they shoot you?” Dr. Osweld questioned.

“I didn’t. I told them no,” Piper said simply, as if it was the most basic thing in the world. Realizing what she’d done when she saw the surprise on the doctor’s face, she made up a lie, “I heard that telling them no jars them enough that they leave you alone. It worked, the guy holding the gun was distracted. So I reached for it and tried to knock it out of his hands. And when we were fighting it went off.”

“So in this - metaphor, shall we say - why didn’t you run when they were shocked? Why didn’t you simply give up your cellphone and wallet? If what you said is true it wouldn’t have hurt your funds. You could always cancel the cards,” Dr. Osweld commented. Piper felt the irritation rising.

“It’s not a metaphor! It happened,” Piper insisted, her tone growing rather fiery.

“You’re avoiding the question, why didn’t you just give them what they wanted? It was that easy, surely they would have just walked away. You could have thrown the bag to the ground and ran off while they were distracted,” the woman insisted. Piper stayed silent, but she felt the flame of rage starting to burn in herself. “If this was indeed the case, why didn’t you simply just do as they asked. You can get new things. Why did you choose to refuse and fight with someone who had a loaded weapon?”

“Because they weren’t just things! It was all I had left, everything has been taken from me by men far worse than that and I was not going to let more people take from me!” She shouted at the woman, her tone vicious and infuriated. Piper was fuming, she could practically feel herself shaking.

Dr. Osweld didn’t seem frightened. She seemed - satisfied. She scribbled something else down in her book and turned her attention back to Piper. “What had been taken from you?” The woman asked. Piper was thrown for a loop for a brief moment, why the subject change? It didn’t impact her fury much, but it distracted her - at least for a moment.

“What?”

“You said worse men had taken things from you, who were they and what did they take?”

“That’s none of your business,” Piper cut the conversation short. She wasn’t about to put into words what had been done to her. She wasn’t going to indulge this woman and dig up the darker memories of her history. Despite her attempts at calming her mind, memories of Tomas had melded with the ones that played in her mind of those men who’d mugged her.

“Okay, let’s start with something simpler, why were you in the hospital?” Once again, Dr. Osweld was throwing her for a loop. She wished that for once she’d choose an easier topic to traipse across. Piper almost wished she’d decided to take up this hour trying to distract her by gushing about favorite colors and foods instead of trying to plead for a case she didn’t think anyone would be taking on any time soon.

“Why bother asking? You have my medical file. Surely you already know everything there is to know about what I was doing there in the hospital,” Piper pointed out, still consumed by her irritation.

“I would like to hear your take on it,” Dr. Osweld pointed out.

“They transferred me there from the hospital where I was taken after the plane landed,” Piper said, giving the most plain description of what had happened that she possibly could. Without talking about it. She ignored the images of looking down at the blood that had been spreading along her thighs flashing through her head. She pretended they did exist.

“Why did they land the plane?”

“Because they felt they needed to,” an answer that wasn’t really an answer.

“And why’s that?”

“I don’t know, perhaps the medical attendant wasn’t fit to handle the situation,” Piper commented.

“What situation? What happened on the plane?” The woman kept pressing her. Piper was shaking by this point. She thought she might throttle the therapist given the opportunity. But she couldn’t. She had to get out of here. “What happened on the plane Piper?”

Piper had balled her hands into fists. All she could think about was the first image of that ultrasound, when she’d seen the tiny little life on the screen. She had seen it move. And then she remembered seeing that blank screen. An empty, barren plane. She remembered them saying what a good thing it was. That it meant she wasn’t risking infection that way.

“What happened Piper? What happened to you?” Piper thought she was going to explode. All she wanted was for the woman to stop talking.

“My baby died is what happened! The last living piece of someone I loved died, and now my baby is dead and someone I cared about is gone and I am lost! I am lost because everyone in my life either leaves or dies. They slip through my fingers because I open my hands. They leave because of me,” she shouted once more. Piper had quickly lost her thin grasp on her control. She was slipping and weak. The medications messed with her head, her body was fatigued. There was too much going on in her head. She didn’t feel like even pretending to feel nothing would help anymore.

“You feel guilty, for this person dying and losing your child?” The therapist lightened up.

“Of course I feel guilty it was myself. I drove Gabel away, I called him a monster and yelled at him. I was unkind and cruel. He wouldn’t have walked away - right into the arms of whoever killed him if I was not the way I am. My child would still be alive if I was more careful,” her grip on things were slipping. She was being slammed by one trauma after another. She clawed desperately to reach something solid, but she was just knocked under with one wave after another.

“Do you feel like you deserve to be punished?” The woman wasn’t relenting. Perhaps Piper deserved that too, to relive all the horrid things. That would be her penance.

“Of course I do,” Piper did not shout the words this time, she did not rant the words maddenly. She said them quietly, but with certainty.

“Well,” the doctor cleared her throat. “We’ve made some great progress today Piper.” She scribbled down a few things on her notepad. “You may see the nurses if you would like to seek some comfort.”

Piper looked up at her in some shock. Was that it? She’d just completely break her down and then have her go on her way, ignoring the damage she had just caused. “Is that it?” The brunette questioned sharply.

“What do you mean?”

“That’s it, you’re just going to write in your book and tear me down?” Piper inquired, her voice growing agitated again.

“I’m here to analyze and help you make sense of your tangled thoughts. I’m not here to share my input on your inner struggle,” the woman said simply.

“That’s not good enough. You’ve got me stuck here, you’ve chosen not to believe me. Pills are being shoved down my throat and I cannot leave to see my children. You tore me down and you expect me to what, pick up the pieces myself without even knowing how they fit together? That’s it? You’ve got nothing else for me besides that it’s the end of session! Sorry for breaking you a nurse will clean it up?” Piper was out of breath, she’d barely taken the time to intake any as she’d gone off on her rant.

“What would you have me do?” Dr. Osweld asked with a raised eyebrow. Piper stood there, fists clenched, breathing ragged. She couldn’t make sense of anything going through her head, and maybe some of her rage was misplaced, but it didn’t feel that way in the moment.

“Something! How about you tell me what you’ve been writing down in that stupid book of yours?” Piper knew she was definitely crossing some boundaries with the patient and doctor violence clause. She wasn’t physically abusing her but she was certain her yelling was somewhere in the behavioral manual the nurse had gone through when she was lucid. Despite that, the doctor didn’t seem too worried about it all. “Well! What are your thoughts on my mental state, what do I have to untangle?” Piper exclaimed.

“You really want to know what I think?” The woman looked rather uncertain with her. But she seemed like she’d give up the goose if Piper wanted her to.

“Yes,” Piper was certain.

“I think the scenario you constructed is a way to cover up your guilt. I think you lost a person you loved, you lost your baby and then you lost your mind. I think you went out back to end your life and in order to cover the guilt of leaving behind your loved ones. And I think to protect yourself from the fact you created the fantasy that you bravely fought off two criminals-,” Piper cut the woman’s word off.

“It’s not a fantasy!” Piper exclaimed, irritated.

“Okay, say it’s not a fantasy. Say this happened. Let me tell you what I think of that. I think you went into that alley to isolate yourself, but I also think you hoped to find trouble there. I think you were just hoping something would happen because you know things keep happening to you. And you think you deserve them. So when you saw those men you sabotaged further, you took chance and chance again to irritate them, to coax them into getting violent. Because you wanted to be punished, but you were also done. You wanted to go out hurting. But even though you were ready to go, you couldn’t do it, you couldn’t hurt the ones you loved. When it became simple to survive, you just kept sabotaging until you knew you could go out viewed as a hero, battling off some low lives instead of going out a coward who killed themselves and hurt their entire family. Say your scenario wasn’t real, you didn’t attempt killing yourself, but you wanted to. And you wanted to do it guilt free.”

Piper looked at her in shock. Her whole rant had set something off in her, had broken her. She stood in silence for a moment, quivering slightly. For a moment she just stared at the woman in front of her.

“You’re wrong,” Piper said before doing what she did best, tucking tail and running out of the office.

Piper had returned to her room that night with absolutely no intention of leaving. A nurse had been close on her heels by the time she’d fled back to her room. She refused to give anything but monotone answers. The brunette had gone to bed that night without bothering to properly move. Sleep wasn’t easier, instead she had been plagued by nightmares. There was new peace at all it seemed. She couldn’t count on both hands how many times she woke up in a cold sweat. Desperate to prove she wasn’t what they kept accusing her of being, she tucked herself into bed as best as she could.

She was up by the morning. At four in the morning when she finally gave up and sat up in bed. She picked at her fingers idly, twisting a hairband on her wrist. Piper didn’t think she could find a way to make the time pass any quicker. She was going stir crazy in the room. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could deal with being stuck there. At first, she’d hoped she could camp out into her room until she gained freedom.

At around five in the morning, there was a knock on the door. Piper perked up after hearing it, her eyes quickly moving to the door she’d taken such liberty with closing. “Come in?” She asked with a question at the end. Nobody ever knocked this early, not even the nurses. Her meds were not due until about seven thirty in the morning or so based on her observations of the past few mornings.

Piper brushed the blankets off herself and sat up in bed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. A couple of people filed in. One was a police officer, one man and one woman wearing a suit and two people she noticed as nurses. Piper was half wondering if it was from the incident of yesterday if she was honest.

“Princess Mykonos, our deepest apologies,” the woman in the suit said. “It would appear our staff may have made a snap judgement,” the lawyer tapped her on the arm briefly, as if reminding her not to say what she was about to. She coughed briefly, “your case presented in a way that could have been misinterpreted.” Maybe it was the lack of sleep but Piper couldn’t help but feel confused.

“We’ve found the criminals. They were found using your credit card at an atm and retrieved your wallet and cellphone. Their prints matched the other set on the gun,” the police officer cut in, deciding he had had enough of the legal nonsense.

Finally, after days of shouting her case to the staff, they finally were hearing. They knew the truth. She hadn’t tried to end her life. But at the same time, she didn’t feel the excitement she thought she would. She didn’t feel satisfied. Piper didn’t feel like she’d won. Somehow it felt more like a loss than a win.

“The nurses are writing up an official discharge and incident report for now. You’ll be released as soon as we can possibly manage, for now, I do hope you’ll choose not to take legal action,” the woman said carefully.

“You’re saying I can leave?” Piper questioned, raising her eyebrow.

“Yes, you can leave.”

Piper walked through the same door she had entered just yesterday. Only this time, it was so different. Yesterday, she’d walked unwillingly through the door, being led along the way by a nurse. She had been internally struggling with herself not to just tuck tail and hide in her room. Every movement had been reinforced with wanting to eventually get out of the hospital by cooperating. This time, it was quite different for her.

She walked willingly, a free woman, just waiting on a couple more papers to come through before she left. Something about settlement papers. Piper had been looking for the quickest way out of there. Yet at the same time, she couldn’t help but find herself not so eager to leave. Her former desire to just go and never turn back wasn’t there. Something had been holding her back. It’d been bothering her since leaving the office of her therapist yesterday.

She saw the four doors and headed to the right one. This time she knocked, waiting semi-impatiently for the response of the woman inside. She hoped she wasn’t interrupting. After all she knew the nurse was just trying to give her what she wanted on the orders of whoever owned the hospital. Piper heard movement in the office and stepped back slightly from the door.

“Piper, I’m surprised to see you. I thought you’d be gone by now. Did you have some questions about my discharge sheet?” The woman asked curiously. It had been one of the few sheets that didn’t ramble with apologies. There was no dancing around the truth with her note. It’d been a sheet on coping mechanisms of all things. “Would you like to come in?”

Nodding, she crossed the threshold into the room, fighting internally once more - but this time it was to find the strength to speak, not to find the strength find a way out of it. She shut the door behind herself. She wasn’t sure she was ready for anyone else to bear witness to what she was about to do. Even if she knew the truth, it didn’t mean she wasn’t ashamed.

“What did you want to know about the sheets?”

“It’s not that,” Piper said rather awkwardly, her voice uncertain. “I…” once more she trailed off, trying to find the strength to speak. “Yesterday, what you said,” she started, failing to take off on her train of thought once again.

“Yes?” Dr. Osweld prompted.

“You were right,” it was hard to admit. “I didn’t try to kill myself. I didn’t hold the gun to my body and shoot it. But I wanted to die,” it hurt to say out loud. There was a rush of sadness, of shame and guilt, of anger at herself for being so weak, anger at the doctor for revealing her emotions, but most of all confusion as she tried to make sense of it all. “I need help, and I think I need to stay here to get it.”

#royalpainsrp #Rp #solos #readthetriggerwarnings

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crqstalite · 5 years ago

Text

drabble, rain. [theron && tri’ama]

a little drabble i wrote over the course of two days because i finally finished shadow of revan and rise of the emperor, and i’m in loving theron shan hours. mostly, tri’ama remembering that she’ll never see him again.

written: 11.4.19. word count: 2,628

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"20. as we huddle together, the storm raging outside"

song file: chains, nick jonas.

character file: tri'ama amarillis & theron shan.

tri'ama doesn't like admitting weakness. whether that be in a duel, or out in the jungles of yavin iv, the emperor's wrath is never quick to give up a fight. you can believe she'd much rather die than say someone else or something else conquered her first.

but some armor doesn't always do the trick for the cool and damp nights of yavin as the coalition leaders break off from their meeting, and she can finally rub her temples without seeming annoyed with one faction or the other. she has no problem with the jedi at this very moment, nor is she particularly angry with the sith. a surprising balance, really. but, she is rather upset that the temperature dropped so quickly on the planet.

she tries to avert her eyes from where the republic allies reconvene off to the side, the red of theron's jacket taunting her, as if saying 'come over here'. shaking her head, she tries to ignore the bickering that most likely will erupt eventually between marr and lana. shivering, she figures there isn't much better to do than to go to sleep on the fury and get ready for whatever tomorrow brings.

but quinn was supposed to return from leave today, she remembers as she grits her teeth. the absence of her wedding ring and replacement with her grandmother's still weighs heavy on her mind as she frowns. so maybe not the fury tonight, not with how much it still smells like him and his cologne. there isn't much else to get up to on the outpost, and it's not like she can go forward without official orders from marr or satele. sleeping on the station seems like the best option today.

satele is so terrifyingly calm, it shivers her down to her very core as she picks up a datapad, scrolling through the current mission reports. most of which she herself had submitted, high concentration of massassi near a temple, lots of potent wildlife to keep at least one eye on at all times, and spirits wandering the caverns. nothing new or too concerning, so she's content to wander deeper into the jungle near the meeting alcove, still shivering as water soaks her hair through and plasters it into a near unrecognizable version of her previous style as it hangs down in front of her eyes.

wonderful. it was due for a wash anyways.

hiding under a low-hanging tree and pushing a particularly mischeveous blonde curl out of her face, she continues to scroll past paragraphs and paragraphs of hastily written aurebesh and she tries not to be remembered how cold she is. she's originally gone ahead and believed yavin was a jungle and would be as humid as warm as one, but clearly, she was mistaken because of the emperor's presence everything seemed to change. adding notes where required, she tries not to get too annoyed with the hurried mispellings of field agents and whatnot.

she wondered if the hand would come after her again if she badmouthed the emperor out loud instead of shouting at him every time something bad happened to her because of him. she chuckles, teeth audibly chattering. let them, she'd cut them down and then the man himself.

the light of the moon shines off the pond nearby, and she's happy to gaze into it from her perch nearby. should it not have been so cold, she would've been happy to take a dip, maybe not in the presence of the coalition forces, but swimming had always been a passion of hers. something that the incident on manaan had nearly taken from her, but she digressed. something about being eveloped by water and letting the waves take you or simply being content to sit at the bottom of a pool or pond was relaxing. nearly along the same lines of gathering fury for a fight.

oh ew, she sounded like a jedi now. maybe satele and the barsen'thor had more of an effect on her than she'd thought they had, with all their talks of rationality and actually thinking your problems through before acting. horrible ideas, really.

slicking her hair back into a messy bun, she unclips her respirator from around her jaw and breathes in the rainy air. now unfiltered, the air doesn't smell like the ocean, or really anything she's smelled before. dromound kaas is technically a jungle, but she's spent so much time in the concrete area that the smell is rather new to her. not yet comforting, but still oddly calming. the leaves of the weeping tree above her tickle her head and back as she shifts to a more comfortable position.

she's quick to hear the footsteps that are supposed to be quiet, and the even more recognizable force signature of none other than theron shan. she's sure she's not supposed to know he's coming, but she's also very sure that the man knows just how far her force powers extend, especially as the literal emperor's wrath. he is an sis agent, and her file must be a few hundred meters long and just as thick. out of the corner of her eyes, she can see he has his arms wrapped about him, his product filled hair starting to droop (she knows there's product in there, it's a lot of the same that mal-quinn used, same smell). "darth amarillis."

"what is it, shan? couldn't get on without me?" she asks, finally lifting her head as his surname crosses his lips in that deepy and husky voice of his. he rolls his eyes and she uncrosses her own arms and stands up straight.

"no, i thought i'd just seen you disappear up this way, that's all. wondered why, you usually head back to the station after missions." he answers indifferently.

"stalking me, shan?" she smirks, raising an eyebrow before he realizes what he's said. admitting to knowing her schedule is rather interesting, but he is a spy. he's trained to know these things about people. she smiles on the inside, he cared that much to learn her routine.

"you just...never come up here that's all. wanted to make sure you were alright." he's embarassed now, not meeting her eyes as he shrugs, looking everywhere but at her muscular, if not also short, frame. so confident, yet turns into a mouse when the two of them end up alone together. she'd find it funny, if she and quinn hadn't just ended the only relationship she'd ever been in.

"you don't have to apologize for being concerned, theron." her tone takes on a softer melody, trying to get him to look at her again. "it's more relaxing out here than it is on a hectic station. i didn't wish to fly all the way back to vaiken either."

"yeah, course." he says, in near agreement. she wonders whether this a point where she should press for the real reason he came over here, because if that was the case, lana probably would've wandered up here first or with him. the woman was a wonderful friend to tri'ama, and many had already mistaken them for siblings or distant family. but the nervous energy he has isn't fear, but some other anxiety of some sort. maybe the upcoming fight against revan is getting to him, she knows that's one of the few things racing through her mind.

he's a sight for sore eyes. on manaan, she was still trying to figure out all her issues with quinn, trying to figure whether grass was greener on the other side of the fence, and on rishi? after he'd been captured and interrogated, she was quick to find that she cared for the man, a lot. even if his faction had tried to kill her multiple times, and she'd killed millions of his in return. the heat of her cheeks just thinking about the kiss on rishi is nearly enough to keep from shivering.

he must've noticed because in less than a second he's shucked off his red overcoat and has tried to discreetly put it around her shoulders. the sleeveless armor is quickly forgotten as her neurons nearly stop firing and she sticks her arms through the sleeves. "cold out here, isn't it?"

"definitely." he responds. his shirt is a long sleeve, though is quickly getting soaked through by the rain. frowning, she's already got the jacket on and she is rather warm. giving it back doesn't seem like an option she wants to take right now either, but she also doesn't want to take advantage of his kind heart too much (bleh, light side talking again), so as he moves to leave, she pulls him back and instead puts her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his toned chest. he tenses, obviously, as she puts just enough fury to get her body warm again, and without the cold the blow out the flames, it's successful.

"tri'ama..." he nearly has a warning tone to his voice before visibly relaxing a bit, his heart rate slowing down back to normal as his body warms alongside her own. "you didn't need the jacket after all, did you?"

"i can't exactly generate enough myself when i'm below freezing, theron. so yes, it was necessary." she says smoothly, pulling away just enough to look up at him with a playful if not also dangerous look crossing her eyes. he's quite a bit taller than her, which is annoying enough, but not too much taller that she can't easily peck a kiss to his lips without too much trouble.

which she does, because her middle name is trouble.

he doesn't even move, shock evident before his cheeks turn a dusky pink, looking away as she grows closer again. with his face turned away, she plants another kiss onto the exposed cheek as he turns away again, another kiss on the other cheek. she finds it funny, he doesn't apparently. "would you quit that?" he says, trying to bat her away without success.

"i suppose, if that's what you want." she says, letting go of him immeditaly, he stumbles as she flips the collar of his jacket back up so she can hide her face in it. mostly, to hide her own crimson cheeks. it wasn't unusual that she'd do the same with quinn, if only to pull him away from work for just a moment or two. theron, however, is different from the imperial fanatic. flustering quinn was hard work, getting him away from his datapad was a struggle and a half, but theron? not so much.

her, even less.

the rain is pouring now as the two eventually come to their senses, tri'ama standing rigid under the leafs of the tree, only the occasional drop of rain managing to find it's way to the duo. assignment long forgotten, she tries not to show her interest too well, "after all this, where will you be, theron?"

"wherever the sis needs me." he sighs, as if really thinking about the extent of his job. she wondered what it was like, to not be force sensitive and rely on a secretive job to pay your bills and even possibly kill you in the process. the way his face is marred with bruises and scars, she withholds her hand to caress his face. she wonders where each one has come from, what the story behind each one is. "hard to predict where they send a secret agent."

"yes, of course." thunder claps in the distance as she really processes that after all this she may never see theron again. at least, not on the same side of the battlefield. "of course." she whispers at the end.

"what about you?" he finally asks, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes just barely flashing a verdant green before staring back out at the landscape. "i mean...just where are you going to be posted?"

"i'm posted wherever i choose to be posted. but with the brewing war, i suppose i'll be seeing more rain on dromound kaas than the sunny skies of anywhere else." she says pointedly as she grimaces. what if she does have to fight against theron one day? his squadron, his troops. even him, if worst comes to worst. they'd dueled before, but not to the death. never to injury.

what if one day she has to?

"you uh, really like the sun, huh?" he asks, as he furrows his brow in concern, turning towards while she'd been mentally monolouging. she must've become all jaded again without realizing it. "thought sith could just go anywhere they went, anytime they wanted to."

"i have my responsibilities to the council. once i get back it's going to be 'jedi this', 'sith that', intelligence this or that, the sis...." she trails off, realizing if she kept talking she'd give away more than a few secrets that the council had to an sis agent of the opposite faction, "getting away and working for the coalition was really vacation enough."

"hmph." he says, grunting in response. he shuffles on his feet before standing sturdily in front of her, a serious expression falling over his features, "whatever's...uh..going on between us, you know it's all over when the coalition ends, right? i just, don't want to get your hopes up..."

"i'm rather aware." she deadpans, trying to put too much more thought into it. static buzzes in her head as she considers the matter, frowning. going home to quinn with the stench of another man on her, without another person sleeping with her at night. without the little things, tri'ama wasn't sure she could survive going home to the fury without theron, even with vette, pierce and jaesa seperating the two as much as they could. she'd have to face the fact that the mistakes she and quinn had made wouldn't easily been forgotten, or fixed, "nothing lasts forever shan. as much as we wish they did." she trails off.

"yeah." there's a sense of finality behind that. period, not a comma or a semicolon, the end. "can't holocall, can't send each other anything. won't see each other ever again."

"i'm not a child theron. i was aware of the consequences when i kissed you on rishi."

"i know, i know." he responds, before she grows ever-closer to him. he isn't quick to take her in his arms, but eventually allows her to hug him back. "just, i know what happens to people who accidentally take a sith to bed."

she stifles an eyeroll and a chuckle at the comment. while she's never been one to indulge people's stereotypes about sith, she would admit to knowing quite a few part of the order who'd later killed unsatisfactory lovers, "you've never taken me to bed shan, is that a request i hear?"

"just...you're a real minx you know that?" he asks, as she smirks. pressing a kiss on his lips, he presses back surprisingly before tightening his grasp on her. he's rougher than she expected, but she can be just as rough back. when he eventually pulls away, her still in his arms, she's still smiling, something's that's unusual as the compromising position she's in now.

"if i never see you again, theron, then i'll make what i have now last as long as possible." she says, making to wander away with his jacket still around her shoulders before shucking it off. handing it back to him and picking up her datapad, she kisses him one last time before whispering something so quiet she's sure over the rain he can't hear.

however, she may have underestimated his perception because the poor man's having an aneursym over three little words that have just shaken him to his core.

“i love you.”

#swtor #star wars the old republic #swtor oc #oc #original character #tri'ama amarillis-quinn #darth tri'ama amarillis-quinn #darth amarillis-quinn #theron shan #female sith warrior #sith warrior #female sith warrior/theron shan #yavin iv #yavin 4 #shadow of revan

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whitewolfbumble · 6 years ago

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Needed Touch (Bucky x Reader)

Summary: They needed you, and he needed you most of all. You became his addiction until it was taken away, and then you were something else to him entirely.

Anon Request: Can you do a platonic!avengers x wolf!reader, maybe a specific ship like bucky x reader would be fine as well! Since the reader can turn into a big wolf, she often cuddles with the avengers to help them relieve stress, and they all really like her, and once they sent her onto a mission something really bad happens and really angsty stuff?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Wolf!Reader

Warnings: Angst and fluff!, things get intimate for a hot minute

Word Count: About 6k

A/N: Thanks for the request darling! One of my favourite Bucky lines I’ve written is in here, and it makes me weak my dudes. Still a lil wrecked from surgery/pain meds so sorry for any typos, I’ll come back a fix this sometime

MY MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

Tony had an anxiety disorder. Bruce had, let’s say, explosive anger issues. Steve struggled, however valiantly, with depression. Natasha was obsessively striving to undo a past that couldn’t be undone, losing her identity and life in the process. Thor- when he was here- was in denial of the brutal grief he had suffered. Sam had a crippling case of survivor’s guilt that would strike hard without warning and stop him dead in his tracks. That was just scratching the surface of your team members, and there were more damaged people where that came from.

And then they added Bucky. You couldn’t even begin to get into the near century of trauma there.

But at least they all had you.

However much love and loyalty there was among you, you were what was holding this team together. Mentally and emotionally they needed you as much as they needed oxygen, being the balm and breath of air to them, outweighing their combined trauma.

You were human and wolf in one, each side of you forming one whole. A mutation, curse, and gift wrapped together, much like the various parts of the others on the team. And quickly from week one you had found you belonged among them.

Maybe it was the protective wolf in you. Or the feeling of companionship you exuded with every encouraging word or soft smile. Or the loving brightly, happy feeling those around you felt when you laughed and played, young and free like those cute little puppies in those cute little videos. Or maybe it was the ferocity and barred teeth you showed on the battlefield, unwavering in your aggressive defense of your team. Or maybe it was your other ability that did it.

Whatever the combination, it had made you a perfect- and necessary- fit to this team.

Tucking back your hair, you absently brushed fingers passed your subtly pointed ears. Settling into to a grey afternoon and a cushy couch had been easy enough, with a half decent book in one hand and the other placed on Clint’s head.

He was lying down on the couch, head on a thin pillow in your lap, feeling the calm of your other distinct ability seeping into him like custard into bread pudding.

Your legs crossed, Tony pressed a pleasant pressure against your knees, his anxiety held at bay by both you and the focused energy of tinkering with a delicate piece of paper-thin metal and razor-thin wires in his hands.

The people changed, the positions changed, but the constant presence of your team- your pack- around you was constant and most welcome.

As the slow afternoon silence stretched, you flipped to the next page in your book but didn’t continue reading. Head shifting slightly you paused, brow raising up ever so little before settling back into place as you understood what your senses had zeroed in on.

“Wonder when they’ll be back,” Clint said lazily, eyes closed and breath easy in his chest.

“They just pulled up,” you said absently back, eyes back on the text in front of you.

“Hmm,” he replied. “Hope it went okay.”

“Yeah, seems like it went just fine,” you said, shrugging a little. “No blood anyway.”

But in the back of your mind and in your ears you felt a nagging. Something off. Something not exactly quite right.

The wolf in you wasn’t separate like Bruce was to the Hulk. Your appearance may shift as you directed it to something akin to a large and black apex predator, a wolf in body and eyes and fangs. But that didn’t mean you were any less you in that state. Even now, human form with only little touches of something slightly “other” marking you like your ears, you still heard and smelt and saw with the enhanced senses of the shadowy beast you formed into. Not exactly as enhanced as in your other form, but still there nonetheless.

And sitting on the couch, listening intently to the sounds of Steve and Bucky return from their mission while your eyes were down in your book, you thought you could hear someone... limping maybe? The metallic, distinct smell of blood was absent though at least. Or maybe there were just too far away for you to smell it yet.

“And how would you know that?” Clint said, stretching and leaning up a bit to lock those hazel eyes to yours.

You wiggled your nose at him from behind your novel in teasing exaggeration.

“I can smell them,” you said, though Clint well knew that by now, though he loved to hear it. He was endlessly fascinated by who you were. That or he had taken a knock to the head too many times and really was that forgetful. “Sweat and quinjet exhaust, but nothing else really.”

Sitting in wait while Clint moved off you, you heard one set of footfalls approach nearer.

Now, however terrible it sounded, you hoped it was Steve that broke his leg and had sent Bucky to find you to help him. That would make this easier.

So, so much easier.

But when the blonde walked in your lips ticked down with a bit of a frown for a split second. Steve sat down beside you, limpless stride firm and precise though clearly a bit exhausted. He grabbed your hand as he sat and the both of you broke out into a smile.

“How’s our resident second super soldier?” you asked, subtly squeezing and moving your hand in his, caressing his palms and fingers. Comfort visibly eased into the lines of his friendly face and liquid light blue eyes.

“Hurt, but not much help there,” he admitted. “Unless you want to try again…?”

“Try again” made it sound like you had only attempted to corral Bucky once to indulge in that other specific ability you had. The man was unwavering like a marble statue, though you’d find a way to whittle him down. Or maybe he would do that himself.

“You know I will, Steve,” you said, standing up with a last pat to his hand and pat to Tony’s head as you shimmied passed him. “He’s one of us, even if he doesn’t yet think it.”

Because Bucky wasn’t the only one who could be considered unwavering and stubborn.

______

The door was open slightly like he was expecting you. He always expected you because let’s face it, he was smart enough to know persistence when he saw it. They others saw it as caring, but you didn’t think Bucky was quite ready to use that word just yet.

His room was somewhat clean, low lamps on instead of the main overhead lights, exuding a softer glow and casting darker shadows. It was small and comfy and how Bucky liked it, despite those descriptors being the opposite of the man himself.

He was peeling off his thick leather coat, arriving just before you did for one glaringly obvious reason. He had been slowed down to a snail’s pace by the broken leg that had somehow managed to make his whole body scrunch up tight and coiled. It was supporting no weight as he stood, held at just slightly an odd angle. Not to mention what you knew to be a pale and pain-hardened face if he were to turn around.

You leaned against the door frame, arms crossed with a bit of a huff you weren’t sure was from sympathy or exasperation.

“I could help with that, you know,” you commented, nodding to his limp as he glanced behind his shoulder to you, though his eyes remained low and didn’t yet meet yours.

You were tired of playing this game with him, but you knew by the weary lines and stiff way Bucky held himself that he was always far more weary of it. He had the ability to end that weariness and strain, if only he would reach out and simply touch you.

“I’ll heal,” he said, short and gruff.

Not because he was mad which you knew, though a flash of something- maybe guilt- sprung up through the pained look, and he took the time and effort to swivel on his good leg to face you more.

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he said, trying again and sounding a little more like himself. Seemed to take effort though. “You don’t need to keep checking on me.”

“I’ll stop checking on you,” you said. “When you stop leaving the door open for me.”

You stepped in silently under his watchful eyes, moving and sitting on the bed, back resting against the backboard. You didn’t snuggle down or sprawl out, wanting to be just a little respectful of his space you were invading, but clasped your hands in your lap and crossed your ankles neatly.

Bucky waited for a time before, with a bit of pain crumpled look on his face, turned to the bathroom and closed the door. You closed your eyes as you heard the shower, tried not to listen to him struggle and groan under his breath. When the streaming sound of the water stopped, you flicked the switch beside you and the lights went off, leaving you in semi-darkness with blinds closed tight.

The tiny amounts of grey light that came in was like that of the moon, beaming in cool and gentle. That was his kind of comfort. Bucky still enjoyed the darkness, able to move and stay shielded by the black murky shadows. To hide away from enemies and people and pain.

When he emerged from the bathroom, the light from it shone bright before he clicked it off, his frame clad in a black shirt and grey sweats turning shadowy. Though it was the afternoon, the room itself looked like it was the dead of night, with just those soft beams pooling on the ground at his feet.

“Are you going to wolf out on me?” he muttered through the space between you, though it was good-natured in tone. As much for him as for you.

You snorted quietly under your breath, a smirk on your lips.

“I’m not the Hulk, I have some control over myself.”

There was some hesitation after that from him, wavering there with weight on the one leg. It heavied the air that had been briefly lightened with jokes and teasing a second before.

You didn’t push or pry more than you already had by simply being here, but just waited. After another few moments the pain of standing seemed to outweigh the emotions keeping him from you.

Very slowly, he walked to the bed as you moved up your feet, giving him space to sit awkwardly but firmly on the edge.

He faced out for a few moments before placing his hand in the small space on the sheets between you, eyes refusing to turn to your own. Gently you placed your hand on top of his, ever so carefully entwining your fingers in with his. A minute passed before your other hand moved slowly and measuredly to the middle of his thigh and was held still.

He tensed as you did, but for much different reasons. He flinched at the contact of your fingers brushing his thigh. You at the familiar feeling of this process as it hit you, stark and bare and shook a little bit of your soul as your ability begin to work within him.

“Why do you do it?” he said quietly, face hidden in the darkness. “Why care?”

Everyone here knew what your ability was, even Bucky, though he refused to speak it.

It wasn’t healing, exactly. It was just taking the pain, giving them time to rest for their muscles to ease, for their teeth to stop grinding as they gritted through the pain. They could rest and their bodies would better heal themselves.

They sensed it when they were close to you. Felt it when they touched you. Relief and comfort and freedom from torment.

But the pain had to go somewhere. It couldn’t just evaporate and you couldn’t push it out, you could only pull it into your own body. So you took on their stabs and wounds, feeling the invisible injuries on your skin and in your muscles. At least with you, the second the connection was broken, it was gone. So you just breathed and you bore it.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Bucky,” you started softly, taking a moment as you felt like your femur was snapped in half inside your leg. “It’s not “why care”, but because I care. I know that’s foreign to you. Uncomfortable. And that’s okay for now.”

Your words were met with silence as there was no real answer for it, and none needed. It was truth and that caring he would call persistence. Because you weren’t going to let him live a pained life. Not when you could take it away from him and even if at a cost.

But for now, this was was okay. You could go one step at a time and nudge him along with you.

You stayed long beyond that, until the troubled man unclenched his muscles and his eyes drooped where he sat. Until his breathing became slow and deep and his head lulled. Until you gently laid him down when deep sleep took him over, painless and free.

_______

From there on, things started to change. Bucky had a hard time with your ability at first, clearly. He wasn’t particularly touchy or trusting to begin with, however cordial, which was pretty essential for your ability to work.

The next time it was a broken arm. How a super soldier could keep breaking bones like this, you didn’t know.

You went to his room and waited in the doorway just like before but you didn’t fully enter, leaving him alone instead. He was probably confused as he clutched his lifeless looking flesh arm, probably wondering and hoping you’d be your usual persistence self and silently insist again. But you hadn’t been.

You had gotten through a little to Bucky, even if only once. He had felt it and accepted it. Felt and accepted you, in that moment, finally. It was his turn now, to make the next step and you weren’t sure he would do it. But later that next night you heard a knock at your door.

“Can you help me?” he had asked, quietly, still holding his arm which close up looked almost shattered.

After the next mission and the next injury, he asked when you came to his room as you always did, almost steely look like he was fighting himself on saying something so vulnerable again. But the second he spoke that melted from his face, as though the words would have killed him to say but he survived, relief flooding him once uttered.

“I’m in pain, Y/N,” he had said, gruff and almost desperate. As though through all the years of pain he had reached his limit now that he knew what real comfort felt like. “Can you take it away?”

Soon enough as the weeks rolled by, he was coming to you for everything.

You expected this really, it had happened to everyone for a time.

Everyone hit a point where they clung to you at first, however subtly or not, until they realized both consciously and subconsciously that you weren’t going anywhere. That you were here to stay and this feeling was too. That you could be a reprieve to their pain and demons.

Bucky was different though. He had had no comfort, innumerable demons, and exclusively pain for much of the life he could remember. Now to be able to have physical hurts relieved and not inflicted, and with a simple touch feel comfort in his soul not anguish? It was massive for him.

He was addicted to you now. You were like the sweetest of drugs without overdose or side effects. Though you were beginning to wonder about withdrawal...

“This is really why you need me right now?” you said, in his bright bathroom on one late evening, months after that broken leg.

Bucky found quiet, intimate moments alone with you when he needed you close, always away from the eyes of the team. Pain he could admit to you now, but not them just yet, if ever.

But now whenever you walked into a room you saw the way he twitched, as though his automatic physical reaction was to reach out for you and it took his conscious mind a moment to stop himself.

But in moments alone with you he didn’t hesitate anymore. He let himself touch you and be touched, like a craving filled and peaceful contentment enjoyed.

“Yes,” he said simply, pleasant sigh on his lips as he sat on the bathtub ledge, head leaned up to you, standing in front of him. His eyes were still waters, glassy and serene, framed by those long lashes that matched his deep chestnut hair.

Your hand was placed on his neck, thumb moving across the line of his jaw. Just above your stroking was a small cut from shaving of all things, almost unnoticeable. You were surprised he had even felt himself do it.

This was a man who had been tortured. Shot. Stabbed. Forced to fight. Forced to kill. You would think one little nick would hardly be enough to call on you so late at night.

But a smug unheard purr settled somewhere in your soul, finally and truly having him trust you. The others could sit down beside you and hold your hand or give you warm smiles as your presence eased their soul. But from Bucky you had needed more. You had needed this.

And obtaining it was that same kind of hit Bucky got off of you.

“I think I’m just spoiling you now,” you smirked, his slow blink matching pace with your slow, caressing fingers.

“Then please keep spoiling me,” he whispered, leaning into you.

He rested his head on your stomach, nose and breath and lips pushing gently into the thin fabric draping your soft skin.

Steve had always ran hot, made into a super soldier in the warm New York summer heat. Bucky you thought was always deliciously cool, like the chill of Russian snow where he was made, clinging to him still. It reminded you of clean ice, fragrant pines, and a cloudless moon.

You could feel it all on his breath now, the cool air he sighed into your stomach making your skin tingle underneath. Without thinking your hands found their way into his hair, moving through the thick chestnut strands. Absently his hands moved up your calves to behind your thighs, hooking you lightly into him.

A slow sigh released from him into you, and you slipped one hand under shirt collar at the base of his neck, hand and nails lightly trailing down his spine. He clung to you all the more, a groan caught in his throat as you felt the delicate quiver of his skin under your fingertips. An arm wrapped around the small of your back, the other at the top of your thigh, constricting and binding you in.

You and he practically hummed in sheer contentment at this connection, a shivering pleasure between you both. Countless minutes rolled by, and also no time at all it seemed.

It was only when you pulled away that you saw his blissed and beautiful face, his hand moving up and bunching his shirt above his heart as he stared back at you. Those serene eyes were bright now, with a bright and beautiful smile to match.

“G’night Buck,” you murmured as you stepped back, voice with a bit of a wobble.

You turned, a little off kilter and touched down on the bathroom counter to steady yourself. As you walked out you caught a glance of yourself in the mirror above the sink, eyes half-lidded, a lopsided smile on your face. And it wasn’t from sleep-drunkenness.

It was from comfort.

It was from him.

“Then please keep spoiling me.”

The words ran in your mind like cool water lapping at a shore or warm fingertips trancing delicate lines on soft skin. That was what you dream of that night. It was only when you woke up, room filled with darkness and that comforting feeling gone did you respond to them.

Okay, you thought in silent response, I’ll keep spoiling you.

_______

“Good, we’re just about to start the new mission briefing,” Clint said to you as you walked into the small group by the couches.

When you entered the lounge the next day, several of the team had already gathered.

You expected that telltale flinch from Bucky where he said, wanting but stopping himself from reaching out to you. You had wondered after the closeness of last night if it would be worse. If your junkie would be craving you all the more now.

But he didn’t. He saw you, blue eyes behind brown hair sitting to himself on the side. But didn’t acknowledge you beyond those glassy ocean eyes connecting to yours. Not a flinch. Not a hello. Not a nod.

A frown fell on your face as your heart fell in your chest, and head filled with confusion.

Had last night gone too far? Should you have stopped it?

Well the answer to both of those was probably yes, but he had wanted it and you had wanted to give it, so why would have have been bad?

“We’re moving in on the Serpent Society tonight,” Steve said, looking out to everyone.

You achingly turned from Bucky, a shame and heat on your face now, looking instead to Rogers. Your eyes were intense and trying to hide it, focused on the blonde before you, but you weren’t seeing him.

You weren’t hearing the shuffles or sways of the team as they listened into the briefing. Didn’t smell the gunpowder coming off of Natasha, the steaming coffee in Tony’s novelty mug, or the clean crisp lemon of the freshly scrubbed floor. You didn’t notice anything outside of your focus: Bucky Barnes.

Steve talked on, background noise to you as you focused your senses to a sharp, steel point. Your body altered in response, the wolf in you showing in slight form little by little as you balanced walking the lines to stay on the right side of human-looking so as not to give yourself away.

A golden hue to your eyes began to shine, that liquid gold bright and deep. Nails grew and pointed, turning ever so like claws. You could hear and feel your body change just enough for your sense to enhance enough to zero in on the man you held last night. The one who had held you.

Then you heard it, a deep bass sound vibrating in your ear. A beating, low and rhythmic and pulsing.

A heartbeat, sped up and beating loud. In that moment you heard nothing else.

But you couldn’t feel eyes on you so you cleared your throat, and Bucky flinched, eyes snapping to you as you kept yours dead ahead on Steve, looking down and slightly away to hide the telltale glimmers of the something “other” always under your skin that was starting to show.

The moment his eyes were on you, the sound of his blood pumping and heart beating became thunderous, like the pounding beat of the drum. You heard him swallow, could almost hear his skin tighten, and lungs expand and deflate at a rapid speed.

All because he was looking at you.

You could feel his eyes detached from you, reluctant and pained like dropping a weapon in a fight. His breathing rightened, muscles unclenched just a touch in his shoulders, That modicum of calm was shot to hell when Steve spoke.

“Y/N,” he said, the shift in Bucky palpable to you, practically make you clenched your own muscles. “You’ll be on the west side with Bucky and Clint. They’ll sharp shoot if needed, you’ll watch their backs.”

At your name Bucky’s eyes were transfixed again, thunderclap heart beats almost filling the room and drowning out the sound of the others. You felt him swallow again, heard the creak of his chair as his hands gripped it tighter, felt the heat radiating off him like a heavy summer sun.

All because he heard your name.

You turned and left immediately once the briefing was over, under the excuse of prepping for tonight, but once out in the hall you rested against the cool wall. Again you eyes glinted gold, sense focused on the man inside that room.

He had walked closer to the door- perhaps following after you?- but had stopped. You heard a sigh, the wisps of fingers through chestnut hair as he stood on the spot, stopped by some thought or feeling.

You could hear the downturn to his voice as he answered a question, hear the shuffle of his feet where he stood. You could almost see his expression now, a miserable look, one trying to hide under a blank stare.

You walked down the hall, for the first time not knowing exactly what to do with feelings someone had about you.

This wasn’t about seeking your touch for ease. This wasn’t about comfort or calm. It wasn’t about a physical reaction to you at all, this was about you.

You could sense it, feel it, hear it, see it.

Bucky had feelings for you.

_______

“Are you going to stay like that the whole night?” Bucky said, peering to his side.

The woods were quiet, and most likely through decades of practice, Bucky’s voice lowered and morphed into a tone and volume that matched his surroundings. The forest was old and dark, with near-black greens from the tree mixing with near-black ground and sky.

In this space both you and he found the familiar darkness reassuring, both battle tested and trained to the bone on nights just like these ones.

Right now this wasn’t training, but a mission. You were a sentry and guard for Bucky and Clint, either positioned a distance apart with a gun or arrow pointed towards their targets base.

Bucky had found a bit of a cliff to set up on, body on the ground with sniper rifle pointed diligently and ready.

“Not that I don’t like it,” he continued quietly. “But I did want to talk with you.”

You made no movement or even acknowledgement that you heard him, though there was no way you wouldn’t have.

Tonight you were the wolf in full form, changing into a black beast of the night as soon as was possible. The rest of the Team had barely stepped off the quinjet when you were feet into the woods, shifting with ease like the shedding of clothes.

Black fur, long and silken, lined your frame and blended like a shadow into the half mooned night. Only golden, glowing eyes could be seen now, some feet away from Bucky, half watching his back and half watching for an enemy to emerge.

“I had the distinct impression…” he started after a minute of silence followed, pausing briefly before continuing, turning from his position to look behind himself at you. “That you ran from me this morning, and have been avoiding me since.”

The shift was silent, the darkness still hiding you. A human form, still hidden, save those golden eyes, was your form to answer him. Claws were still out and extended, ears at a point, senses picking up everything.

“What makes you think that?” you said, low and quieter than the wind.

Bucky’s jerked back to you in surprise, trying to find your golden eyes in the black.

“Well, usually you at least acknowledge me.” At that your eyes narrowed a little, and he caught their gleam.

Was he upset like you had been that he didn’t even say a simple hello or give a nod to you this morning? Not communicating had not been you forte, as guards tended to come down around you, making speaking and opening up easier. So this may was just a small thing, but it didn’t feel like it. And that explanation didn’t seem like it was the whole picture…

Bucky’s finger went to his ear piece as he stood, eyes locked on yours. “Clint, I’m moving positions. I won’t have eyes on this for minute. Will confirm when I’m back in ready position.”

“I’m not… I know when…” Your sigh came out almost as a hiss, struggling with the words. You focused back up at him, his shadowy frame in the darkness just an arm’s length away. “I’m not exactly clueless about what… feelings and attraction are. I can sense when someone has them for someone else.”

“And?” Bucky said. You went sure if he said that cluelessly or brazenly.

“And,” you said, quiet and firm. “You have feelings for me. I felt it this morning- I feel it now as you look at me- your heart catching and beating like thunder in your chest when you hear me or sense me. Your breath quickens, your skin flushes, you can’t stop blinking, you can’t help but move to get closer to me… I can practically smell the rush or hormones and chemicals racing through you when I’m close. It’s- it’s overwhelming.”

“You can sense all of that?” he said, before stepping closer. “What about now?”

You swallowed, brows pulling together, confused. “I… well, yes.”

“And now?” he asked softly, taking another step. This time it set his body right against you, his framed pressed to yours.

You had touched him before. Held him. Felt his skin to yours in quiet moments together. But this was much different.

You didn’t respond, just watched with throat tight and eyes wide as Bucky gazed down, nose brushing ever so lightly against yours. You felt his hand move up, slowly and deliberately up your arm, across your shoulder until it rest on the pulse point just under your jaw.

“Your heart’s racing too,” he whispered, fingertips pressing into your skin.

Silently he dragged them down, slow and smooth, stopping in the middle of you chest.

“And so is your breath,” he whispered.

You almost had a mind to huff and roll your eyes at him, your once distant Bucky long gone. But that reaction was quite lost to the one that was overwhelming you. It burned and tingled you skin and in your soul, it poured out of you in hot breaths and every pounding heartbeat, it rattled your soul as much as his touch did to you now.

Moving back up, his hand held your face, feeling the heat there that was threatening to boil you over now.

“Your skin is flushed too,” he said, voice smooth and soft compared to the intensity of those blue eyes he had.

“You can stop there,” you managed to say, not exceptionally wanting him to go through the rest of the checklist.

A small smile escaped from him then, forehead leaning down to yours. You closed your eyes as he did, soaking in the feeling of him and the smell of him which somehow seemed more intoxicating than you remembered.

“So what if I have feelings for you,” he said eventually, so whisper quiet you could have dreamt it. “You have feelings for me too, Y/N.”

You could have said this wasn’t real, that this was Bucky just being addicted to a comfort he was deprived of. But someone like Bucky wouldn’t admit to feelings unless they were real.

You could have said you were just reacting to someone being this close or happy with how much he was opening to you, and accidently maybe took things too far. But that also wasn’t true.

All you could do was nod your head up in agreement, your lips brushing delicately against his as you did so. You heard almost a sighing growl as you did, and before you could decide if it was coming for you or him, his lips connect with yours.

In that dark woods you were sure the spark that erupted inside you at his kiss could have been seen for miles. It was like a slow burning fire, bright and intense and eternally warm. The pressure and feel of him against you, his lips moving and sealing against yours heating your soul enough for this lifetime and the next. It was a bliss and comfort you had not yet known in another person and it made you see stars that his connection to you conjured up.

“I’m spotting movement, north west of my position.” The voice over your comm came, breaking the two of you part if only your lips. “Y/N, is that you?”

“No,” you said, sounding as breathless as you felt and hoped Clint would chalk it up to trying to be quiet. Your eyes remained on Bucky though, seeing the same burning fire and pleasant heat in his blue eyes that you felt. “But I’ll check it out.”

Wordlessly you broke away, the cold air seeping across your body where Bucky had just been. But the cold couldn’t penetrate into your soul. That remained a cozy, toasty wash of heat. Taking several steps back, you kept your eyes on him until it was time to go. He gave you a nod by way of goodbye, unable to keep the lightest of smiles on his lips. You reciprocated it quickly before you were off.

You vanished into the dark in a shadowy blur, the change from human to wolf happening in less than it took to take a step. A moment after, you were running.

The pines and trunks of tree whooshed passed you, your paws hitting ground for only the briefest of touches before bounding for the next step. You wove and maneuvered through the forest as though you had made this trek a thousand times, your senses focused and guiding you to where you needed to go.

But a gun shot in the dark, far away from where Bucky was or where Clint should be stopped you mid-sprint. Claws dug into the ground, trying desperately to slow yourself down, until slamming side first into a tree did the job, bruising ribs and jostling your head as pine needles fell down around you.

Ignoring the shots of pain and careening to your right, you took off again, paws stumbling to get traction for several paces until you were back up to speed.

Voices rang out in the comms, all teams checking it. They came concerned, questioning, all converging on the various shots they heard around their respective positions.

You heard it first. It was a snap and then scream that turned to a thunderous roar.

You could feel it in the ground, feel the vibrations in the air. Bruce was gone, and the Hulk had come out. In the distance that roar sounded again, furious and unhinged.

“Pull back!” Steve said in the comm. “No one move towards the gunfire!”

But it was too late.

You didn’t have time to slow down before you heard that snap again, this time at your own feet.

It was like a crack of metallic lightning, and you felt the exploding of your eardrums before you felt the exploding of anguish. The sudden assault stopped you dead again, sending your body rolling and tumbling out of control through the woods then down a short hill.

You slid to a stop on your side, unable to speak or move or scream. Wrapped from your stomach up to your back was a metal set of jaws, like a lethal bear trap with jagged, biting teeth as wide as you palm and as sharp as you teeth. The death trap practically encircled around your whole body.

The pain doubled, then doubled again, poisoned tips of the metal releasing into your bloodstream. That was when you shrieked louder and more torment-laced than you had ever heard. Unable with this trap around you to change back into your human form, the shriek came out as a howl, reverberating through the air loud, unbridled, and broken beyond what you thought you could stand.

The pieces stabbing into you made you howl til you felt you felt you could no longer survive it, the poison made you convulse until you thought every venom-burned piece of you would melt away, the anguish of it was beyond your capacity to understand or function.

But then you felt steps moving closer to you. You heard voices. And why set a trap if you weren’t going to come back for your prey?

Your eyes glowed bright, edged on by the pain and fighting instinct. Your jaw snapped and growled mingled into your whimpers and howls, a pitiful warning at best.

You heard voices you thought you knew, but you couldn’t make them out enough above your own pain. It overtook everything. You thought you saw through the blinding haze of torment a hand reach towards you in the darkness, a slow and soft thing, trying to reach out to you and connect. Maybe to help and comfort, or maybe to hurt you all the more.

Instantly a feral part of you lashed out in ferocity, trying with mad snaps of your brutally strong jaw and sharpened fangs to cut off the hand offering you the unknown. The basic, primal part of you needed to keep hands and touches away from you, terrified and railing against any more danger.

There would be no comfort from someone else, even through your pain you wouldn’t allow it.

But at some point sharp stabs took your breath away yet again before you felt a telltale sign of release. Someway and somehow once you were released, you were like a bat out of hell, running under some hell-driven necessity to try and out run this all-encompassing anguish.

It clung to you as you went. The faster your tormented steps went, the even worse it became. Eventually you were breathless, whimpering and howling all over again, collapsing onto the ground in a blacken, blood-matted mess on the ground.

Digging claws into the ground you tried to move forward, tried to get more distance between you and pain, but you just couldn’t. You whimpered and begged for the pain to end, but it didn’t. Relief didn’t come until the pain overwhelmed every single ounce of your body and soul, and unconsciousness overtook you.

_______

That primal part of you, that frantic and brutal part of your mind that refused to let in any possibility of danger, clung to you like a vice. It gripped you as fast and unrelenting as the pain that would not leave your body.

“Y/N, please,” Tony pleaded, coming up from behind Bruce, one of several in audience on the other side of the glass from you. “Let us help you.”

But you could still feel it. Even curled up on the floor in a small med bay room, you couldn’t escape it.

The feel of metal locking you in, poisoning your body and mind, stabbing so deep into you that it felt like it split you apart. It left you open and exposed and vulnerable, the jaws of the trap sinking down into intimate places that should never have been touched.

You had the feeling of waking up on the quinjet, restrained and furious and unable to fight it. You were locked down and unable to move or run. You were powerless to know what was happening, too out of your mind to put anything together. All you felt was pain and voices and hands touching you, digging into the intimate places all over again.

You felt it when they tried to get you to shift back to human form at the med bay, hands and metal holding you down while you struggled. You felt pressure on your open, bleeding body, hurting you all over again in attempts to heal you. But you didn’t know healing or rational thought, the poison and your instincts taking over and blaring a red alarm of warning and danger and the need to get away.

You felt trapped. You felt locked in. You felt any touch, any subtle brush of feel against your skin would snap and instead you would feel the cutting, stabbing pain all over again.

Your breath came short and hard and shallow, trying desperately to get in enough oxygen to push out the pain, but it never did. You heart still raced, your blood still boiled under your skin, sweat dripping down it. Your claws, fully extended in your human form, matched your sharp teeth, with golden eyes swirled with blood red now.

Those eyes saw through the glass, protecting the others from you and you from escaping. You saw the massive needle with unknown liquid in Bruce’s hand, the braces and shackles in Steve’s hand, Tony suited up in his Iron Man suit. The pleading in their eyes you didn’t see. The pain in their eyes you couldn’t acknowledge.

You used to notice it before. You used to hold their hand when they looked like that. You used to comfort them.

When the door open your body shook with the simultaneous need to break free from this room and them, and recoiling back at the presence of someone approaching.

It was Bucky, hands up, feigning calm and submission, edging closer. He squatted down a few feet from the door while you growled and strained, claws shrieking out a high pitched sound as they scratched along the tile.

“You’re in pain, Y/N,” he whispered to you. “Let me help you… Please.”

There was second of giving in. A second where you would have agreed. But the pain inside you reared its head again, sending out shooting pains that spanned your whole body. Your eyes went red and deadly, snarling at the man.

“No,” you snarled, this time finding your voice, low and venomous, before the pain threatening to pull you into unconsciousness again. “I’m the family pet… and you should... you should just put me down like one.”

You felt the tears falling and the shaking sprouting out from somewhere deep, taking over you. You breathed faster as snarls turned to sobs, feeling him move closer. The darkness creeping on the edge of your vision kept you from moving or fighting him back.

You could feel him beside you, body so close he was almost pressed up against you. But before unconsciousness took you, all he did was place one hand over yours, and the other on your knee.

When you woke, it was more of the same torment.

And again, after that.

Soon you were functioning, but only just. The pain wouldn’t release you, not fully and perhaps not ever. You cringed when people came close. You yelled and snapped at them, you screamed for death sometimes and space from all of them other times.

The whole team was at a loss without you really, giving you the space you snarled and demanded out of pain.

Tony had more panic attacks. Bruce had a harder time reigning in the Hulk. Steve smiled less and frowned more. Natasha threw herself into more missions. Thor plastered on a fake smile and talked as though everything was fine. Sam was more withdrawn.

But Bucky stayed with you.

Once you were on the bathroom floor, claws scratching the side of the bathtub and teeth sunk into your lip to keep from screaming in pain. Bucky found you though, arms wrapping around you as you were hunched and crumpled. You fought him for a moment, struggling and twisting with your tears splashing over the bathroom floor and walls at the effort. But soon enough you gave into him and his gentle touch. In that moment he held you together while you broke apart.

Sometimes he couldn’t though. Sometimes you pushed him away, yelling at him and shutting him out, pain lashing bitingly and bitterly against every cell in you.

But you always left your door open. And he always came back.

To place a hand on yours. To whisper something soft and gentle in your ear. To gather you up off the ground and hold you close. To ease your trauma bit by bit in hopes it would eventually dissipate, just as you had once eased his.

_______

A/N: So if that ended too angsty for you, just reread the “Then keep spoiling me” part up until they kiss then just stop there lol. Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know??

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