#freaked out about the blood a little too hard and overheated (with help from the fact that we ran the oven all day) and uh... got sick

[doodledex-project]

I know no one wants to hear anyone say this on Christmas (except from people who don't celebrate Christmas, I guess?), but I had an absolutely shitty day.

Didn't feel much up to drawing, which is bad because I HAVEN'T STARTED YET. Ugh. ;_;

[palbabor-writes]

Hellooo queen I hope you had/will have a great day. This is actually my first time requesting something so I’m very sorry if I do something wrong 🥺🥺... can you maybe write some fluff (OR NSFW I DONT MIND... just love him way too much damn) stuff for dabi?? I don't know if you only take requests with exact instructions or if this request is enough... if you need something more precise i will try to come up with something! Thank you very much!!

Hello, love! You did it perfectly & thank you so much for asking! I can be a bit of a lurker on things, so I totally get how much courage it takes to do one of these.

You did amazing & I love, love this question. I love it so much that I went ahead and took an old outline of mine & made it into a full blown fic for you!

Now, in honor of all the craziness swirling around our favorite flame user, Imma post it a little earlier then I’d planned! So, thank you for the ask & I hope to talk to you again ( ＾◡＾)っ ♡

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7496

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW 18+ only, mentions of blood and gore, heat play, dick piercings, adult language and freaking Dabi. That alone should warn you.

Thermós θερμός   ther·​mos adjective m (feminine θερμή, neuter θερμόν); warm, hot, boiling, glowing

It’s sweltering; the fervor of summer sticky, humid, and oppressive. Japan is in the throes of August, and this heatwave is not letting up. Even at night, it’s impossible for Dabi to get comfortable. He’s been lying, half naked, draped across his narrow twin mattress for the last few hours, sweating. 

His quirk isn’t helping matters.

He’s been trying to recruit new members. Every day, he sets out, pounding the pavement, sifting through the bits and pieces of trash that he runs into. It’s a pity. If those scrubs weren’t so fucking pathetic, he might not be in this predicament. But they are, and now he’s having to suffer the consequences of his temper. 

His phone gleams on his dilapidated side table, a text message chiming across the screen as it flashes a speck of brightness into the darkened room. Groaning, he leans over and snatches it up, his hands slick as he clutches the encased plastic. 

It’s Toga. 

As a rule, he tries to avoid her. He hates her chatter. It’s always some unending nonsense about those UA kids, about Stain, or about fucking blood. It’s always blood with her. Give her five minutes, and she’ll work it into her conversation somehow, even if it’s just blurting it out, a blush staining her cheeks. 

Fucking freak.

[ Blondie: 12:34 am ]

- found smth 4 u. (Y/N) has a place. Keeps it @ like 60 degrees… lol

Well, disgusting as Toga is, she has her uses; he thinks as he reads her text. 

He’d asked her, a few days before, if she knew a place where he could crash. Somewhere that had some goddamn air conditioning. The hideout’s unit is on the fritz again, not that it had ever worked all that well. 

Hmm, well this is something, at least. 

Dabi’s isn’t sure what to think about Toga’s little ‘find’. You were a newer recruit, someone that Compress had brought in. 

He hadn’t paid much attention to you. You didn’t stay at the base and were only around if there was a specific mission, or a task, that Shigaraki set for you. He isn’t even sure what your quirk is. You seemed easy-going, neutral, but he doubted you’d extend that easy-going demeanor to him camping out at your place for the A/C. 

Chucking his phone back on the side table, Dabi flops to his side and tries to drift off, hoping his exhaustion will let him ignore the suffocating heat he’s drowning in.

 Fuck. 

He’d done it again. It was hard to resist the urge when these people spouted such vague fucking bullshit at him. No one, not fucking one of them, could live up to his cause. And if they couldn’t meet that standard? Well, they were better off as ash, melting into blackened pools as the asphalt greedily soaked their blood into its cracked depths. 

There is a heat advisory today. 

He’d heard the news as he scarfed down a quick breakfast at the hideout’s bar. He wouldn’t be out for that long, he reasoned. Besides, maybe today he’d find someone good. 

Wishful thinking on his part. 

His skin feels oppressive and his staples and piercings are scalding, the metal hissing and steaming as he tries to dampen his quirk. It’s harder to regulate his temperature on hot days. He shouldn’t be out here, he thinks, snarling as he pats out a few rogue flames that catch on his dark jacket. Even lifting his arm to perform that simple task makes him grunt, hissing out a mantra of curses.

Shit, fuck, goddamn it fucking all. 

He looks bitterly up at the sun and debates his next move. 

He could retreat to the bar, but that doesn’t solve his problem. No, the viscous heat that radiated along those upper floors would just make his skin feel worse. Hell, it might even result in more mottling, his burns stretching farther along his arms and chest. He’s not going back to the bar.

Where the fuck even is he?

He peers down the alley toward the street. It’s not too busy; just after noon, so most of the foot traffic from the morning has died down. He yanks his hood up, ignoring the ache of his legs as he stalks toward the street corner. 

Carefully, he pokes out, his eyes tracing over the crosswalk, looking for the street signs. Ah. He’s close to that address, your address, that Toga sent him. 

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he saunters along the pavement, careful to keep his head down. 

You were out of town. 

He’d picked up that tidbit from Compress this morning. The masked man had been lamenting that you might be away for a few days, possibly weeks. Something about being on a fact finding task for that shadowy voice that talked with Shigaraki from his tv. 

He didn’t care, still doesn’t. All he knows is that you supposedly keep your place cold, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

You’ve got a nice apartment. 

It’s decorated in pleasing whites, yellows, reds and greens, with clean lines and modern touches. It’s kinda like you, he considers as he shrugs his coat off and breathes in that amazing waft of cold A/C. You’ve been useful to have in the League; efficient and no nonsense about the missions you're given and you can fit in with the outside world. You’d give even Toga a run for her money when it comes to espionage, he’s heard others say about you. 

Dabi tosses a distasteful glare at your narrow couch and pads toward your bedroom, shouldering the door open and stepping into the dark sanctuary.

Your bed looks nice. It’s a good size too. 

Lifting his boots from his feet and stripping down to his boxers, he presses into your clean sheets; shivering as the chilly air hits his overheated skin, cooling and dampening that oppressive sense of heat. He’s out in seconds, his body relaxing, slackening as he falls into the void of his dreams.

Yeah, now that he’s had this, there’s no way he’s staying at that hideout of the League’s unless he has to. 

You’re gone for the better part of a week. 

He’s started asking Compress about you. At first, the older man had given him an impassive stare. Since when did Dabi even know your name? 

He’s asking because he needs to talk with you about… uh… supplies? 

This, apparently, is the correct thing to say, because Compress nods his head sagely and elaborates on your timetable. You’re collecting things for Kurogiri and you’ll be gone for another few days. 

Good, Dabi thinks, slinking into your apartment again, lowering the window behind him. He’s careful to leave things as he found them, his entryway into your place included. You don’t need to know about this.

What the fuck would he even say to you? 

Hey, uh, it’s fucking hot at the hideout, and since you’ve got a working A/C unit and like 3 fans, he’s been sleeping over at yours. No big deal, right?

Even after you return, he keeps sneaking in. 

He’s gotten your schedule memorized, and he’s heedful of the hours you keep. You’re a little more regular than the others in the League. You actually sleep at night; unlike the rest. The others are often out at God knows what hour, combing for recruits and leads, but not you.

So, Dabi shifts into full night owl mode. He crashes at your place in the midmorning, after you leave for the day, trying to ignore the perfume that comes from your sheets. 

You’ve got a nice smell. 

It’s oddly comforting, and he hates when he accidentally burrows into your pillows; nostrils flared, inhaling that aroma that’s all you. While he’s never talked with you before this, he goes out of his way to ignore you now. 

What he’s doing is fucking weird, and lines are blurring. The other week he’d bumped into you coming out of the bar and he’d almost snatched you to him. 

You must have just showered, because that fucking scent was radiating off your skin. It’s nothing too, eh, feminine? No, it’s more like… oranges and sandalwood. It’s a heady blend of rich balsamic and citrus, and he can’t get it out of his head.

August has faded into September, and he’s still sleeping over at yours. 

He can’t help it. It’s not his fault your bed is so downy and, fuck, cool. It’s like the sheets don’t absorb his warmth. No, they’re always cold and they feel so fucking good against his staples and burned skin. 

It’s midmorning, closer to noon, and he’s dozing, his eyes heavy and drooping. He’s exhausted, so bone tired, that he doesn’t hear your door opening. No, he doesn’t even notice you until he hears your voice.

“Um, would you like to tell me why you’re in my bed?”

He’s on his feet in a flash, a slow flicking of blue flames tracing along his fingers. You’re framed in your doorway, eyes wide, stepping away from his aggressive stance. 

“Woah, woah,” you begin, lifting your hands in supplication. “Let’s just… take a minute and talk. I’m not-”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he snaps, his cerulean eyes narrowing, but he dampens his fire, a long curling of smoke framing his face. 

“Uh, I think you got that backward there, bud. You’re not supposed to be here, I live here,” you scoff, one hand propping on your hip, head tilted exaggeratedly. 

Dabi is about to spit something else out when you stride into your bedroom, tugging your jacket off and sauntering over to a tall dresser. He snaps his mouth closed and watches you. He’s not sure how he’s going to talk his way out of this, and he’s grateful for the reprieve. But, he knows an onslaught of anger or, fuck, preserve him, a lecture is incoming. Worst case, he thinks, observing you from his peripheral as you tug out a long shirt and some shorts, you’ll just kick him out and that will be that. 

You glance at him again, your eyes lingering over his exposed chest and legs, and he can’t help the scowl that breaks over his face. He’s not embarrassed, he’s just, well, he’s not sure how to classify that stare. Most people recoil or toss him a glance of pity, their brows wrinkled with worry and distaste. But you? You arched an eyebrow and smiled.

Fucking weirdo. 

Pausing in your doorway, you bite your lip into your mouth and carefully speak your next statement, voice smooth. “Look, while I’d rather you, oh, I don’t know, asked me about staying here. I’m not in the mood to argue with you, and I’ve got a long journey ahead of me tonight.” You take a deep inhale and toss him another smile. 

“Just… just lay back down and get some rest. I promise I won’t molest you,” you tease, and he snaps his head up at that, his chin jutting in agitation. 

You laugh at his sour face and he feels wrong-footed; lost. What the fuck? Who says shit like that? Who is in their right mind is just, oh, no worries man, promise I won’t grab your dick?

What’s wrong with you?

“I’m going to change and then I’m going to go to sleep. You can go, or you can stay, I really don’t care. All I know is that I’m not going to sleep on the couch when I’m in my apartment.” You retort, that grin still lifting your lips as you step away, the wall shielding you from his view. 

Dabi remains where he is; standing in your bedroom, clad in his boxers, his hands clenched into fists by his side. Somehow this is worse than you throwing him out.

You return a few minutes later and he can’t get a good look at you. You slink past him and are under your covers in an instant. Not that he’s trying to give you a once over, he snarls to himself, shaking his inky head. 

You nestle into the comforter and turn to your side, leaving him plenty of room on the opposite end of the bed. He blinks at you, a deep welling of uncertainty nestling in his stomach. 

You’re quiet for a long moment, your eyes closing and shoulders relaxing, acting like there’s not a wanted, deadly villain in your bedroom, paces from your side. Then, you twist, giving him a quick scan, your eyes lingering over his. 

“Either lay down or get out, Dabi. I’m not going to be able to sleep with you glaring at me like that. You look like some kinda ghost.”

Your declaration provokes a huffing, agitated reaction out of him. If there’s one thing Dabi hates, it’s being told what to do. 

He slings himself beside you, splaying out, his body laying on top of the sheets. You chuckle, your head peeking at him over your shoulder. He ignores you and tries to close his eyes. 

It feels strange, resting next to you like this. It’s… intimate, and he’s not sure if he hates or likes the sensation. He chances a glance at you, but you’ve already turned back to your side, your shoulders rising and lowering rhythmically. He shakes his head at your blasé reaction. How can you just, fuck, sleep? 

He can’t get comfortable and his skin feels heavy again. It’s not heat this time. No, now something else is making everything feel too close, too warm. 

He dampens his thoughts, mind frantically focusing on anything but you. As the sun slips behind the buildings across the street, his eyes lower and he fitfully sleeps, your rich smell filling his senses.

He’d left you in the night; tucking his clothes back on and easing out of your window. 

True to your word, you’d relegated yourself to your side of the bed, hardly tossing or turning as you slept. As he paced back to the hideout, he wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into. He just hoped you’d keep your mouth shut. He didn’t want the others knowing about this, it felt, well it’s not like him. Abrasive- fucking spewing anger and vitriol? Yeah, that was him. But this? This was too soft, too gentle. He hated it.

But that’s the problem with hate. It’s terribly close to that other emotion. They’re sisters, really. Usually love and hate exist on two sides, but they’re still the same coin, no matter how you toss them. 

You don’t act any differently after that night.

You keep coming to the hideout, giving him a vague smile and greeting before continuing your day. He’s acting differently, though. He can’t help but watch you, suddenly fascinated with how you move. He tries his best to shake himself from his musings, but sometimes he can’t help it. 

If anything, he grumbles to himself, watching you chatter with Toga, you’re subtly going out of your way to place yourself in front of him. You were never around this much before. Well, maybe you were. He didn’t pay you any mind back then, but now? Now he can’t get enough of you. 

He reacts when you laugh, or talk, his head turning, like a sunflower, toward the light you give off. Ugh. His only hopeful reprieve from this, from you, is the changing seasons. The days are getting shorter and that heatwave is finally, finally breaking. 

It’s his one comfort, his saving grace.

Yeah, he should have fucking never tossed that wish into the universe.

No, another heatwave passes over the island and it’s the worst one yet. The daily temperatures have been hitting the low 100s and the nights aren’t much better. To make matters worse, the A/C at the hideout has given up the ghost and won’t turn on at all now. 

Still, Dabi’s prepared. He’d bought a secondhand electric fan a few weeks ago, and he’s grateful for the tiny slice of paradise that it grants him. It’s not as nice as your apartment, or your bed, but it will do.

He’s laying across his mattress, sweat trickling down his back and shoulders, trying to ignore that ache in his burned skin. The fan is blowing across him and he’s about to crank it up a notch when it gives out an ominous sputter. 

Dabi sits up, his eyes flashing. No, no, no, no. There’s no fucking way.

The fan’s blades are slowing, that sweet, cool air dampening, drifting into the low-lying humidity that surrounds him. He yanks the plug from the wall, his staples stinging as he stands. He stomps over to the outlet and plugs the fan back in, turning on his haunches to see if the blades will start that familiar whirl. 

There’s fuck all happening. 

Cursing, he kicks the shitty thing over and grabs his jacket, storming down the stairs and into the night.

You’re sleeping when he slinks under your window sill, sliding the glass shut and kicking his heavy boots to the floor. It’s that sound that wakes you, and you lift yourself up, your sheets falling from your chest, revealing a bare shoulder and low cut shirt to him. Unabashed by your appearance, you wipe a palm over your eyes, rubbing the sleep away and croaking out a greeting. 

“When I said you could sleep over here, I didn’t mean you could barge in at all hours. And through my window? So, that’s why the hinge looks like that.” 

Dabi considers you for a moment, his blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight. You tilt your head at him and suck your teeth. 

“A, oh, I don’t know, sorry, would be nice?” you scold, that alluring smile lifting your lips. He follows the line of your mouth, his thoughts hazing over, focusing on some other, darker, daydream.

“Hello?” you call, waving your hand beside your face. “Earth to Dabi. What do you want?”

That question slips him out of his stupor and he lifts his eyes back to yours. “The A/C is out. Bought a fan a few weeks ago, but the fucking thing broke and I can’t… it’s hard to regulate my body temperature in this fucking heat. You keep this place like an icebox, so I started crashing here. Wasn’t planning on coming back, but after tonight-”

“Ok, ok,” you laugh, already scooting over and flinging the covers back. “Seeing as you didn’t try any funny business last time, I guess I’ll let it slide. Just, not to be rude, but shut up and let me sleep. I’ve gotta long day tomorrow and as enthralling as this conversation is…”

“Whatever,” Dabi mutters, slinging his damp shirt over his head and pacing over to the side of your bed. You blink up at him and shake your head, that tiny grin lingering. He presses into your familiar sheets, eyes already slipping closed as the fragrance of you pulls at him.

It’s early when he wakes, shuddering out of a nightmare, red flames and crying voices fading into the back of his mind. 

Wincing, he raises a hand to his eyes and pulls at his face, relieved that it’s still cool air that meets him. As he rolls to his side, he feels something trace over his unscarred chest. The sensation makes him freeze, his eyes snapping open again, the cerulean searching, whisking over the dim figure beside him. 

You’re still sleeping, but you’ve shifted, your body curled, facing him, and one of your hands is reaching toward him. Shit, he thinks, heart pounding in his ears. You’re so close. 

He’s never been this close to you. 

Your mouth is parted, delicate lips plush and soft in the early morning gloom. He tries to shift away, but your brow creases when he does, so he stills his movements, gritting his teeth and trying to ignore that flush that is building across his nose.

This is stupid. It’s just you. It’s not like the two of you have even done anything. Fuck, you barely talk with one another. 

He burrows his head into his pillow and the shift of his body urges you closer to him, your hand opening and pressing to his skin. A sigh slips from your mouth as your fingers splay out, tapping against his warmth, and he nearly startles off the bed.

He looks down at your hand, aghast. He wants to move it off of him; can’t stand that you’re touching him, he tells himself, that you’re this close to him. But he can’t bring himself to move. Your hand is so delicate, so…

Unconscious, you turn from him, your fingers lifting on their own, curling back to you. Dabi almost moans as you slip from him, clamping down on the sudden, primal desire that races through him. He wants to grab you; to drag you back to him. 

The hell? What the fuck is wrong with him?

Sucking his teeth, he turns over, facing away from the confusing neediness that’s lapping at his subconscious. He fluffs his pillow aggressively, trying to drown out all the raw emotions that are racing through his mind.

Forget it. Sleep.

 When he wakes again, you’re gone. 

The sheets where you slept are cold under his fingertips and he sits up, his arms resting on his knees. This whole situation is so fucking weird.

He lets himself ease into consciousness before standing and stretching out the leftover kinks in his muscles; stooping to grab his discarded shirt, pulling the fabric over his head and shaking his dark head against the sunlight. Just as he’s slipping his coat on, he notices the note that’s sitting on one of your bedroom chairs. It’s got his name on it, so he snatches it up, flipping open the folded paper. 

“There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge, I won’t have time to eat it. Help yourself. There’s also a spare key on the coffee table. Take it and stop jimmying my window open.” 

Scoffing, he crumples the paper up, tossing it over his shoulder as he paces into your kitchen.

It’s a fucking thing now. 

He’s rarely at the hideout. Why bother? You don’t seem to care if he sleeps over. Hell, you make space for him. There’s gotta be something else to it; there has to be. What kinda idiot is so fucking accommodating? You act like you’re a fucking hostel or something. Well, a hostel where there’s only one bed. 

You even bought another fan. You told him you don’t like to keep the overhead one on in the cooler weather, so he can use this one for his side of the bed.

Yeah, he’s got a goddamn side of the bed. It’s fucking insane.

The other members of the League either haven’t noticed what’s going on between the two of you, or they don’t care. It’s not like either of you talk about your sleeping habits. Fuck, you still never interact with him at the hideout, content to maintain that level of professionalism.

He’s not sure why it bothers him. 

One night, the temperature drops into the low 40s and he’s stretched out on your blankets, enjoying the first real cold snap of the fall, when he sees you shivering. It’s not very noticeable, what with the way you’re turned away and bundled, but it makes him tilt his head toward you, watching. 

Another pass of his fan has you repeating the quake and, without thinking, he pulls you closer, one long arm wrapping around your shoulder and tugging. Startled, you fight his hold, but he calms your movements with a squeeze, grumbling about your stoic reluctance. 

What’s the big deal? It’s not like you haven’t brushed up against him before. Calm down. 

You quiet after that and slowly, tentatively, you lean against his bare chest, your cheek cool against his heated skin. He tucks his chin over your head and tries to keep his breathing even. He doesn’t want you to hear, fuck, feel his heartbeat; it’s slamming its way out of his throat and he gulps when your fingers pull him closer. 

“How are you so warm?” you ask, your breath floating across his pectorals. 

“It’s my stupid quirk,” Dabi mutters, dipping his head down to his pillow, shifting you with him. You nod against his lean muscles and your fingertips trace cool designs into his skin, lingering over his burnt patches and staples. He sighs, unable to resist the low shiver that creeps up his spine. 

This is nice; too fucking nice.

He can’t do without your touch now.

Remember that thing about love and hate being sisters? Well, that hate is simmering into something else for Dabi. It’s not love, he doesn’t know you well enough, but it’s certainly not hate anymore.

He likes touching you. You’re smooth against his jagged skin and he enjoys the contrast. He’s slow when he pulls you against him, careful to not snag you against his staples, but you seem to like his heat. You’ve even started wearing less to bed, slipping out of that baggy shirt and into a thin tank top; he’s pleased that he has more of you to caress. 

It’s getting harder to keep you out of his head. He can smell your perfume, even if he hasn’t seen you for days, and each time he does see you, even at the hideout, his fingers itch to press against you. 

You’d laughed at his sudden, intense, interest. The hell Dabi, are you touch starved or something? You’d teased. What’s up with you? I was worried about you burning down my apartment, not you turning into some kind of cuddle fiend.

He doesn’t care what you say. He knows it’s fucking stupid, fucking dumb, that he’s this desperate. It just feels good. And there’s not much about him that feels good these days, so he’ll take what he can get. Fuck you very much.

There’s a meeting. It’s one of the ones where Shigaraki demands that everyone make their way to the bar. 

Boss man has been tense lately, thrumming with some dark energy, so the room is quiet as Kurogiri elaborates on the smaller details of the mission. Your part is minimal, limited to reconnaissance with Toga. It’s boring shit, and Dabi is only half listening to any of it.  

Besides, there’s something else that’s snagging his attention. 

Dabi is sitting on the couch, his eyes lingering on you. You’re wearing one of his favorite outfits and the color looks good on you. It brings out your eyes. You’re questioning Spinner and Toga about the finer points of your team up. He can’t hear you from here, but that doesn’t matter, he’s still in the best spot to spy you leaning forward, perfect ass on full display. 

“She’s gotten better, more adept at working undercover,” Compress’ voice shakes Dabi from his thoughts and he turns to him, a bland frown on his face.

“Who?”

“Please, you know who I’m talking about. You can’t stop looking at her.” 

He chortles, his laugh a sharp bark. “You’re fucking joking. Her? Fuck, no. I’m gonna head out, not like the boss has anything for me anyway,” Dabi stands, slipping his hands into his trench coat and pacing to the heavy door, shouldering his way into the night. 

He leans against the brick wall, lighting up a cigarette and sighing a thin line of smoke into the chilled air. Fuck, they’re noticing what’s going on. Wait. What is going on? It’s not like the two of you are fucking. Yet, a small voice echoes in the back of his mind, and he smirks at that thought. 

Yeah, maybe it’s time to speed things up.

You step out a few minutes later, your eyes searching for him. He flicks his cigarette onto the pavement and wraps his fingers in your coat, tugging you to him. You don’t fight him; don’t make a sound as he pins you against the brick, his body hot against your front. 

The two of you watch the other, his cerulean eyes roving over your face. Then he’s lifting your chin, his lips sliding across yours. It’s a strange kiss. Usually, he’s too busy trying to get off to focus on his partner. He rarely kisses anyone, even if he’s hooking up. But this kiss? 

Like everything else about you, it’s fucking nice. 

You move with him, your body surging from the brick, breasts flattening against his chest, fingers cupping behind his ears; nipping and sucking at him, your teeth digging into his burned lower lip and pulling. You’re encouraging him to touch you next, rubbing yourself on him until his hands fall to your hips. He’s already half hard, and that warm juncture of your thighs isn’t helping matters.

To his shock, he’s having trouble keeping up. 

You’re already pulling from him when he dips his tongue into your mouth. He gasps at the emptiness, that chilling vacancy that your touch leaves him panting into. Before he can bemoan your absence, you’re kissing at his neck, lifting on your tiptoes to reach the staples on the side of his face. You lick at him, your wet tongue dragging over his burns. He trembles under your hands and you smile, your laugh bright. 

Snarling, Dabi yanks your head back and you meet his hazy gaze, biting your lip; pantomiming a wonton innocence. Immediately, he’s pushing you into the brick, his hands cupping and lingering until you’re whining for him. That’s fucking better, he thinks, his teeth worrying against your pulse. 

Just when he’s got you where he wants you, your hand snakes between the two of you, pressing against the bulge of his dick. Dabi can’t help his sharp intake of air, and his head falls to your shoulder as he ruts into your palm. You keep kissing at the side of his face, your lips roving over his ear as you tug at his covered dick. You’re saying something, but he can’t focus when you’re doing that.

“Dabi,” you try again, teeth ensnaring his destroyed earlobe, sucking at the burnt skin. “They’re about to come out.” 

He knocks your hand away from his straining, throbbing length and leans away from you. Fuck, you look good. 

Your lips are swollen, and your eyes are dazzling. He can’t pull himself away. You smile at his dazed expression and lift a hand to his cheek, your palm cool against his overheated skin.

The door shudders open and the two of you spring apart. A few minutes later Toga is grabbing at your arm and pulling you down the street, away from him.

He’s waiting outside your apartment, another cigarette smoldering to ash under his lips. But he can’t bring himself to go in. 

Not without you. 

Toga’s kept you busy. It’s been over an hour since that kiss in the alleyway. He’s cooled off since then, but that simmering heat that you elicited from him? That hasn’t dimmed. He’s still half hard against his dark pants and he can’t bring himself to care. Besides, Dabi has a very specific idea about how he’s going to have you lessen that pressure for him. 

He’s just about to light another cigarette when he sees you. 

You walk into your building, and he starts the long climb up the fire escape. His heart is pounding again. He hasn’t wanted something this badly in ages. He’s been so fucking focused on his cause, on making his plans a reality; he just hasn’t had the time. 

But now? Fuck, he wants there to be more hours in the day. He’s hoping the two of you can pick up where you left off. Yeah, he tells himself, scaling the last few steps, it’s just about the sex. 

That sounds better than saying what he really wants. 

You’re already slipping your oversized sleep shirt over your head when he lifts your window. You pause, watching him curl his way into your space. Once he pulls his legs inside he turns to you, his eyes dark, unfathomable, the blue so deep that you feel you’re drowning in it. 

He doesn’t shut the window. Instead, he yanks his clothes off, clattering them against your floor. You smile and a gentle laugh makes its way to him. 

“What did I say about coming in through the window?” you chuckle, already lifting your arms for him. 

He’s against you in a single breath, his warmth seeping its way into your chilled skin. His lips are rough, pressing and lifting, biting and nipping. He’s working you toward your bed and once your knees hit the edge of your mattress, he’s shoving you down. 

You flop against the cold blankets, your legs already spreading for his hips. He’s hot, scaldingly hot, against your hands. Your fingers dip into his hair and you pull him back, earning a low growl and his flashing glare, displeasure written all over his face. 

“Slow down,” you scold, your legs wrapping around his hips, grinding against the hardness you find. 

“The fuck? You goddamn tease. Fucking saying that, then rubbing your wet pussy all over my dick,” Dabi snarls, snatching your wrists and pinning your hands beside your head.

“How do you know it’s wet?” you ask, batting your eyes at his steeled jaw. 

“It fucking better be,” he groans, his teeth sinking into your neck and pressing, hard. 

You gasp at the stimulation and arch for him, testing his hold on your wrists. Grunting, he licks a wet line to your pulse, his hands tightening over yours. “Mmm, why don’t you find out?” you ask, leaning into his lips, loving the contrast of his destroyed and perfect skin. 

He shifts his grip on you, yanking your arms up, pinning your hands above your head. He lifts one of his own hands away once he’s satisfied he’s got a good hold on you. His warm fingers trace down your side, pausing when he gets to the lacy band of your panties. Teasingly, he pulls fabric away from your skin, and lets it snap against your hip. Dabi tips his nose into the curve of your neck and shoulder, taking a deep drag against you. 

You buck your hips, squirming under his weight. “You get lost? My pussy is a little further down.” 

He chuckles darkly, his breath making you shiver. You’re just about to wriggle from him when one long finger eases past your panties and presses into your sopping heat. “Oh,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back. It feels like he’s heated his fingertip, and the skin that’s stroking and thrusting into you is warm, too warm. 

Dabi leans away from your neck, bracing himself above you with his knees, pulling himself into a hunched position. He’s smirking at your awed expression and his teeth glow in the darkness. 

“Like I said doll, you’re already so fucking wet for me. You want more?”

You nod and buck your hips, digging that finger deeper. He groans at your eagerness and you can feel him warming the next digit up, the tip burning against the soft flesh of your inner thighs. 

Once it’s in, he starts to v the two, dragging them along your rippling walls, spreading you open, easing you into his hand. Your slick is sliding down your legs and seeping into the sheets. Still, Dabi keeps on, maintaining that steady stretch. It starts to sting and you shift away, but he releases your wrists, free hand moves to your hip, stilling you. 

You glance up at him, curious. His eyes are hooded, the blue a velvety sapphire. He looks like he’s holding himself back from something. Almost like… like he’s handling you with more care than he’s ever given anything. It’s a strange thought, but the idea of it makes you reach for him, your fingers running down his discolored skin, lingering over the staples and piercings. 

“I’ve gotta stretch you out,” he informs you, his eyes closing behind his trembling eyelids, savoring your gentle caress. 

“Hmm, you that big?” you joke, fully expecting him to react, to silence you with a kiss or another well-timed thrust of his fingers. But he surprises you. He opens his eyes and fixes you with a rough stare, his digits continuing that aching pull. You’re throbbing around him, your arousal easing his passage, his extensions. 

“I don’t want to… hurt-” he stops, his eyes narrowing. With an inaudible sigh, he slides down your body, only halting once he’s face to face with your sleek cunt. His breath heaves against you and you wrap a leg over his back, holding him close. 

Dabi laves his tongue over you, latching onto your pulpy clit and giving it a soft suck. Your hands sink into his hair, curling into the spiky tendrils, urging him to give you more.  

He rewards your needy moans with another lick and he flicks his eyes up to yours, watching you over your shaking curves. 

“I’m going to add another finger,” he tells you, preparing you for another deep stretch. When he enters you almost pull from him, your hips bowing away at the pricking of pain. Sensing your distress, he keeps his lips around your pulsing clit, distracting you with kisses and low blows of air. 

Finally, you can feel yourself loosening. Your feet brace against your bed and you use the leverage to maneuver him deeper. You feel, you feel so…

Dabi, realizing that your cunt is quivering around his intruding digits, shifts closer, his piercings rubbing against your thighs. He’s sloppy now, less controlled. His tongue is circling your clit with furious laps and he lets a canine trace the bud. His fingers are still spreading and he’s found that spongy spot now. He taps against it, teasing you, making you clench and gasp around him. 

Just when you think you can’t take it anymore, when it seems like all the sensations are too, too, much; it snaps. The coiling in your core pulls free and you’re moaning, so loudly you’re worried your neighbors will hear. His name is falling from your lips at a rapid rate and you can feel his smirk as he lifts his fingers from your cunt. 

Dabi leans away and you shake at the loss of him. He was so warm, so hot against your damp skin and you miss it. He watches you, tucking his fingers into his mouth, lapping the final bits of your release from him. 

“Take off your clothes,” he demands when he’s finished, his hands already dropping to his tented boxers, slipping the elastic down his trim waist. 

You shift to obey, your hands yanking your shirt, bra and soaked panties off of you. You splay under him, indolently admiring the sight that is revealed to you. Oh, you think, unable to contain your small gasp, he is big. 

His cock is long, thick, and curved, and it’s dripping with pre-cum. There’s a crossed set of piercings at the tip of his length and you watch, mesmerized, as a shimmering strand of his arousal catches on the shiny silver, leeching down the smooth length of him. He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, and that thought makes you shiver with anticipation, and a small sliver of worry.  

Dabi grins wildly at your flushed face. “Like what you see?” 

You nod, and he laughs, fingers snatching your legs, tugging you toward him. You spread for him, so eager and fucking turned on you can’t think straight. His hand lowers to his cock, and he strokes himself as he rechecks your silken cunt, gathering some of the gossamer strands of your arousal on his fingers as he ensures that you’re ready to take him. 

“I’m not going to go slow,” he warns you, his eyes lifting from your folds. 

Gulping and biting your lip, you nod, a shaking exhale escaping your lungs. He shifts himself nearer and begins to press. He’s right, you think, wincing at the sting of his intrusion. He’d stretched you out, licked you until you were leaking all over the bed, but it hurts. 

It takes him a moment to bottom out. Once he does, he groans and gasps above you. “Fuck (Y/N), you’re so damn tight.” 

You flop your head against your pillow and let out a long sigh. He’s holding still as you adjust, and, despite his warning, he’s being careful with you. It makes your chest squeeze. After a few more pained breaths, you can feel a low tingling radiating from your core. It’s like an itch. Experimentally, you cant your hips, your legs wrapping around his waist, cautious of the stapled skin across his lower back. 

Dabi mutters a soft curse and pulls back, his length sliding out of your drenched pussy. When he glides back in, you feel that same tingling sensation. Distantly, you realize it must be those piercings of his, but you’re too overwhelmed by the sensation to process it fully. 

“Hold on,” he groans, his hands bracing beside your head. You lace your arms around his bowed neck, and he starts to pounds into you. It’s a calculated motion, but- ah- he’s taking the extra second between his powerful pulls and thrusts to scrape his pelvis against your pulsating clit, stimulating you, ensuring that dim blaze pleasure within you keeps building. Whimpering, you arch your back, your ankles locking around him, encouraging him to keep going. You feel so good, so full, filled to the brim and practically begging him for more. 

Sloppily, his mismatched lips find yours and he nibbles and kisses at you. The sheer heat of him is making you both slick with sweat. You don’t mind the salty, dampened feeling, if anything, it eases his motions. 

You’re so wet now that he’s gliding easily into you; that piercing of his heating up, and the rapid fire thrusts he’s giving you create a smoldering inside you; like he’s catching you on fire from the inside out. 

His hips stutter and he lifts one hand from the bed, his thumb easily finding your clit. He presses a tight circle across you and you see spots. 

“Come on,” he groans, his voice hoarse, strained, “cum for me (Y/N). Fucking cum on my dick.” 

That desperation in his tone is all that it takes. 

Seconds later, you’re arching and shaking so much that he has to hold you still. He eases into you a final time, his frantic thrusts slowing, spacing out as he enjoys your rippling channel, and the fiery feeling of his own release almost hurtles you over the edge again. You curl against him, panting into his burnt ear, licking at the damaged skin.

Dabi leans heavily against you, one large hand pressing into your lower back, lifting you to him. Once he comes back to himself, he kisses at your shoulder, his warm breath making you shiver. He eases himself out of you and your legs clamp together, holding his cum inside you. It still feels so, so hot, and you’re not ready to let it drip out of you, not yet. 

He untangles himself from you and adjusts some of his staples, wincing against the sting of his marred and clean flesh. Realizing what he’s doing, you slip from the bed and pad into your bathroom. You clean yourself off and grab a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, dampening a clean cloth with the solution. 

“Here. It’s got some peroxide on it,” you tell him as you reenter the bedroom, tossing the rag his way. He catches it easily, dabbing it over himself, careful to not snag it on any of his loose skin. While he’s busy doing that, you snatch up his discarded white shirt and sling it over your head. He looks at you and scoffs. 

“What’s wrong with yours?” he asks, tossing the cloth onto the floor.

“Yours looked better,” you inform him, returning to his side and leaning close. He rolls his eyes at you and you shift into his open lap, straddling his hips. Grinning, you kiss at his neck again, sneaking a few groans from him. Sighing as you give him a particularly hard nip, he bats you off of him, tumbling you down to the sheets. 

“Give me a fucking minute,” he complains, shaking his head as you wrap around him, pulling him into your arms. Once he’s settled onto the bed you turn, pressing your back to his chest, relaxing into the familiar hold. He snorts, amused by your sudden change of mind. 

Dabi lowers his forehead to the back of your head, a small smile rising along his lips. Your breathing evens out and he listens to the sound, trying to memorize each little detail of you.

Yeah, this is it, he tells himself as he drifts off. The rest is just extra. Oh, it’s nice, to be sure, but this, this right here is what he really wants.

Notes: Soft, soft Dabi. I like him like this ꒰ ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱ ˖°  

Tags: @evesmores, @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx

[rebeccccccaaa]

ι’м нєяє ƒσя уσυ

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вυ¢ку вαяηєѕ χ яєα∂єя 

Rєqυєѕт: (ANON) hi! i absolutely love your work!! i’m not sure if you’re doing requests but if you’re up for it can you please write a fluffy bucky x reader fic? maybe something along the lines of the reader kinda going through a rough patch and bucky and the team notice, bucky talks to you and helps you feel better and then later the team has a movie night and just some real tooth rotting fluff lol. it definitely does not need to be exact to my request !!! thank you so much <333

ωαяηιηgѕ: mentions of anxiety (possible attack), depressive episode, and insomnia; major angst but tooth rotting fluff!

αυтнσя'ѕ ησтє: i freaking love this request so much. i’m doing so much smut in my stories it’s nice to just sit back and cuddle bucky lol [as per usual timeline has everyone alive and well because i reject *nf*n*ty w*r and *ndg*m* ;)]

___________________

You sat alone in the dark just as the day before; and the day before that, and the day before that. 

Recently, there’s been a higher demand for the Avengers help and truthfully it’d been extremely draining for everyone. Thankfully thought, this entire week nobody had called an avengers level threat. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t been able to get any shut eye. 

Now here you were again wide awake in the early hours of the day. It was dead silent in your room; you could hear the blood rushing in your ears and the soft thumps of your heart beat. Your breathing was irregular since you were so aware of everything little thing your body was doing and feeling. 

The clothes you wore felt gross moving along your skin with each breath you took. The blankets overheating your legs. Everything was becoming overwhelming and your anxiety spiked. 

You practically jumped out of bed and turned your light on. You went to open the curtains to let some source of light in; the moon was bright that night. But when you did so your eyes shut involuntarily from the brightness of the morning sun you weren’t aware of. 

“It’s morning?” you said to yourself. 

“What the fuck,” you mumbled, tears brimming your eyes.

You breathed out heavily, sighing, and went to your dresser to grab some day appropriate clothes. You went into the bathroom and fixed your appearance applying an extra amount of concealer and blush to hide that desperate tiredness in your face. 

When you felt you were approachable you put on a happy face just like the day before, before heading to the kitchen to grab some food. At least you were still feeding yourself and had somewhat of an appetite left. 

When you came practically the entire team was down there. 

“Good morning!” you said cheerfully.

“Morning!” everyone said back matching your enthusiasm. 

“How did everyone sleep?” you asked. You usually ask this almost to vicariously live through them; wishing for the restful nights everyone described. 

“Great.”

“Like a baby.”

“Pretty good, you?” Bucky said. 

You paused because usually no one asked you the same question, which was why you kept asking. You supposed that of course some day, someone was bound to ask about your night.

“Oh, um… could've been better,” technically that wasn’t a lie.

“Sorry to hear, doll.”

“Oh, it's fine,” you smiled and waved off. 

“Anybody got plans for today?” Nat asked everyone; no one answered except for a couple of shrugs and head shakes.

“You guys up for a movie night?”

“Yeah, sure,” everyone said. 

Everyone stayed almost the entire day in the common room watching movies, eating snacks, and talking about funny stories from missions. You stayed quiet not having any energy to converse with everyone. You felt like you were running on fumes.

You were so out of it you hadn’t realized the looks exchanged throughout everyone that knew something was off for you. Although you weren’t the loudest or most enthusiastic person on the team, you also weren’t one to not engage in conversations.

Every question or involvement of some sort in each conversation was always quickly dismissed or validated by you. Eventually you checked out entirely, holding what was possibly your seventh cup of coffee of the day. 

“Huh?” you didn’t hear the question asked by Nat.

“Y/n, you doing ok? You look sleepy,” Nat said, smiling softly.

“Uh, yeah I’m a bit tired. I think I’ll head to bed.”

Everyone looked at you strangely as you got up.

“Is there a problem?” you asked, feeling slightly more insecure.

“It’s six p.m.,” Steve said, “Pretty early for bed, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t that like your tenth cup of coffee?” Nat started.

“Are you alright, Y/n?”

“What’s going on?”

“You look pale.”

Everything was getting too overwhelming, voices echoed in your head. Tears started to form in your eyes as you stared down at your coffee before setting it down; your hands were trembling. You wanted to run away, so that’s what you did.

“Sorry, I-” you ran off hearing your name being called by some of the team.

You got to your room and slammed the door behind you. You felt humiliated and embarrassed. Your body was still shaking and you breathed heavily trying to calm down before you have an anxiety attack. 

Suddenly, a knock at your door scared the hell out of breaking you momentarily from your trance. You swung the door open to find Bucky standing at your door, worrisome written all over his face. 

“Can I come in?”

You couldn’t say anything. You wanted to but just stood there frustrated with yourself. 

“It’s ok, doll. I’m here,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull you in a warm hug. 

“I don’t know why I feel like this. I hate it. I can’t sleep, I barely eat, I’m so tired,” you cried to him.

“I know,” he said.

“I just wanna- I just wanna disappear for a bit you know? Like go somewhere where I don’t have to worry about everything bad.”

“Me too,” he comforted.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a moment of silence.

“For what? You don’t have to be sorry.”

“For this,” you sniffled, “For getting boogers and tears on your shirt.”

“It’s ok,” he chuckled.

“Y/n, I know exactly how it feels. And I know that bottling all that up just makes it worse; makes you feel horrible and gross. I don’t like seeing you like this. Not sleeping, you hardly talk anymore; and it’s not just this past week we noticed your shift. I know things are hard and you feel like telling people is just gonna make them think you’re weird or a burden, but I promise you you’re not. We’re here to talk, be there for you because we know you’d do the same for us. We’re family, and we love you. We all do. I love you. So talk to me ok?”

You were a mess. Thinking about it again, you hadn’t had a restful night in a very long time; you couldn’t remember. You weren’t taking care of yourself as you normally would and it was true you spent more time alone afraid that you’d be a bother if the team noticed your upset attitude. 

Tears were falling heavily down your cheeks to your neck; some dripped to the floor. Your hands were practically gripping Bucky’s forearms pulling close to you. You wiped away the tears quickly and sniffled.

“Thank you Bucky,” you whispered, and he hugged you tightly.

“Can you sleep with me tonight?” you asked him.

“Ok,” he walked over to the bed with you and climbed under the sheets. 

He was already wearing sweatpants but you weren’t. Without any care, you pulled your bottoms off for they would’ve been uncomfortable to wear to sleep and crawled beside Bucky to fall asleep. 

There was no tension between you, it was quite domestic almost. You curled up to Bucky’s side cuddling his warm body before closing your eyes. Bucky’s fingers traced along your arm that laid across his stomach while the other rubbed your head delicately. 

You opened your eyes once more and looked up at Bucky and leaned in to kiss him softly. You rested your forehead against his own and gingerly bumped your noses.

“I love you too Buck,” you whispered.

Bucky smiled and kissed you again. You closed your eyes and for the first time in too long you had a restful night; limbs tangled with Bucky’s, someone you love and trust more than anyone in the whole world. And thankfully, he felt the same way for you. 

The next morning, you actually woke up. You felt rested. You stretched your limbs out before remembering about last night and Bucky. You looked around the room and didn’t see him. 

You looked at your clock on your bedside table and noticed it was already eleven in morning; almost noon. You got change quickly and went downstairs to find everyone laughing and eating breakfast.

When you got down and joined the team Bucky looked at you and got up to hug you and kiss you gently. He smiled and sat with you at the kitchen counter where there was a plate of breakfast waiting just for you.

“Morning, how’d you sleep?” Nat asked, cheerfully just like you do to them.

“I slept,” you ended your sentence making everyone chuckled and smile.

“Seriously though, I slept very well,” you looked to Bucky and gave him a little kiss before digging into your food. 

“Oh, you guys?” you asked after a couple of bites.

“Sorry about yesterday.”

“Don’t be, we talked about this,” Bucky rubbed your thigh softly.

“I know but I still feel kinda bad for kinda ruining movie night. Can we try again tonight?” you asked.

Everyone smiled and looked to each other as if to see who had plans and eventually nodded. They came forward and huddled around you to give you a big group hug making you laugh as their cheesy antic.

“You guys are so cheesy,” you laughed.

“We love you, Y/n!” Nat shouted.

“We love you!” everyone followed.

“I love you guys too. Very much.”

[slashersins]

how you met thomas . . .

part four

( part one ) ( part two ) ( part three )  ( part five )  ( part six )

thomas was thankful that you seemed to settle after the meeting with hoyt . the one with monty being just as difficult if not a bit more when the amputee started trying to get vulgar . luckily you hadn’t noticed , and monty was lucky you hadn’t . tommy had been ready to grab the chainsaw and amputate another one of the man’s limbs for his talk . 

somehow he’d managed to urge you into the kitchen , choosing to sit close to the entrance in case one of the other men came in snooping to looking to cause trouble . he wasn’t going to take a chance on either of those stubborn old bastards bothering you any more than they already had .

“ you have a really protective family , tommy . it’s kinda cute . reminds me of my family a little bit . even if mr hoyt seems a bit grumpy . ” thomas gave a blank look , brow raised as he snorted a laugh . grumpy . that’s something no one had called hoyt before . certainly not what thomas would call him . “ is this why you’re so big tommy ? because you’re full of sass ? ” you laugh again , teasing him as you sit across from him , pulling your legs into the chair to sit cross legged . 

“ i gotta admit . i feel kind of bad . miss luda sure is offering a lot . i don’t have much to repay you with all with . but i’m really grateful that she invited me to dinner . and i’m happy you made sure i didn’t get the chased off the property . i just - ”

thomas reach out , turning his palm to show you the bandage around it . red brown with blood that had dried since you wrapped it up . with a soft smile you took his hand , gently running your thumb over the gauze . “ i don’t really think helping someone who’s hurt is deserving of dinner and a nights rest . any decent person would help someone who’s hurt . why wouldn’t i want to help you ? besides , it was my fault - don’t go rolling your eyes at me sassy pants , it was my fault . i was staring too hard at you . ”

thomas grunted , telling you that yes , it was your fault for making him drop the jar of jam . and hell , if he didn’t look a big smug at blaming you . you stuck your tongue out playfully , giggling a bit , “ well it’s not all my fault . it’s your fault too . or maybe your momma’s and your papa’s . how am i not supposed to stare at a true born and bred country boy . ”

the compliment takes him by surprise , his face flushed so dark that you can see it on his ears . seeing such a reaction and the sudden shyness that envelopes thomas as he gently pulls his hands away has you flushing just as hard . feeling embarrassed about saying such a brash thing . he shifts uncomfortably in his seat , glancing away from you , a small frown on his face . were you only picking on him ? or had you been genuine ? no one was genuine . they called him a freak , ugly , too big , a beast , a monster , an animal . was that what you were doing ? he closed his eyes , trying to force down the painful memories , only to open them to see you staring at him confused and worried . a hand reaching out to touch his knee . 

“ no one’s ever told you something like that before ? ” thomas shook his head no . not bothering to look at you , arms crossing and leg bouncing , hyper aware of your fingers still resting on his knee .” i’m not lying . thomas , your huge . huge . you’re tall and got big arms and legs and you you like a mountain . do you know how many boys back home act like they are your size ? all of em . and none of them could even compare . you’re certified texas tough . you’re momma should have named you ford because you might just be the best in texas . and i’m not joking . i’m being serious . you should be proud to be so strong . ”

thomas felt like steam was going to come out his ears . he felt so overheated by every word that came from your lips . he swallowed thickly , finally glancing over to your face . you looked so serious . you looked like you believed and meant every word you just said to him . and tommy felt his stomach to a flip and his heart hammer against his ribs . he could only manage a slight nod , accepting your words as truth . as your truth . maybe you just didn’t get a good enough look at him . he didn’t know , but whatever the reason he was thankful . he hadn’t realized how it felt to hear something so nice be said about him . 

with a shaky inhale , he moved his uninjured hand down , placing his thick fingers over the ones you pressed to his knee . a silent thank you . an excuse to tough you . to make sure you were real and he hadn’t just been dreaming . you beamed up at him as he rested his fingers over your own . you’d been worried this big man would of rejected your words or laughed at you , or gotten mad . but he didn’t . and part of you felt that he really needed to hear it .

“ i see you made it back home safe . ” thomas jumped up , startled as the back kitchen  door slammed shut and luda walked in . he nodded , standing stiff and awkward , his fingers flexing as he tried to remember and forget the feeling of your hand under his all at the same time . you merely perked up and smiled , welcoming luda home and moving to help her with the bags she’d brought with her . 

“ oh , none of that now , i’m capable . but thank you , honey . now , did hoyt or monty give you any fuss or trouble , darlin’ ? i know they can be a bit much . ” she glanced between you and thomas , watching how her son shifted and stole glances at you . she’d been waiting by the door when she heard the tail end of your conversation , and she had to admit that she’d made a good choice in keeping you off the dinner table . she was sure as hell that her tommy thought so too .

“ oh . um , no ma’am . they were fine . no trouble or - ”

“ uh huh . no use lying to me , darlin’ . tommy , did hoyt and monty mind themselves ? ”

you flushed , sputtering as you tried to come to the defense of the two men who had in fact been rather rude to you . you looked at tommy and he gave you a dead stare and rolled his eyes before shaking his head . honestly , he didn’t know why you were trying to defend them . the grunt and crossed arms he gave his momma was enough to have her slap down the slightly damp kitchen towel she’d been dying her hands with . 

“ those old fools . honey , excuse me , i’m gonna go give my son and brother a stern talkin’ to . they ain’t got no mind on how to treat guests . ”

“ miss luda , it really isn’t any trouble . they weren’t - ” 

“ now what’d i say , darlin’ ? none of that . you just sit here . when i come back i’ll put hoyt to fixin’ dinner and we’ll get you cleaned up and outta that messy shirt . ”

there was no way you could argue with luda mae . her word was law in this house , and well , you’d been raised better than fight a momma on a mission . so you nodded and thanked luda , flashing a pout at thomas who shrugged and leaned against the wall , looking smugly at you .

“ sassy sassy man . ” you teased at him , only to jump and squeak when you heard luda mae going off on hoyt and monty from the other room . thomas only laughed under his breath . it felt nice to hear the hoyt be chewed out for once .

[slashersins-abandoned]

how you met thomas

part four .

part one . part two . part three . part five . part six . 

thomas was thankful that you seemed to settle after the meeting with hoyt . the one with monty being just as difficult if not a bit more when the amputee started trying to get vulgar . luckily you hadn’t noticed , and monty was lucky you hadn’t . tommy had been ready to grab the chainsaw and amputate another one of the man’s limbs for his talk .

somehow he’d managed to urge you into the kitchen , choosing to sit close to the entrance in case one of the other men came in snooping to looking to cause trouble . he wasn’t going to take a chance on either of those stubborn old bastards bothering you any more than they already had .

“ you have a really protective family , tommy . it’s kinda cute . reminds me of my family a little bit . even if mr hoyt seems a bit grumpy . ” thomas gave a blank look , brow raised as he snorted a laugh . grumpy . that’s something no one had called hoyt before . certainly not what thomas would call him . “ is this why you’re so big tommy ? because you’re full of sass ? ” you laugh again , teasing him as you sit across from him , pulling your legs into the chair to sit cross legged .

“ i gotta admit . i feel kind of bad . miss luda sure is offering a lot . i don’t have much to repay you with all with . but i’m really grateful that she invited me to dinner . and i’m happy you made sure i didn’t get the chased off the property . i just - ”

thomas reach out , turning his palm to show you the bandage around it . red brown with blood that had dried since you wrapped it up . with a soft smile you took his hand , gently running your thumb over the gauze . “ i don’t really think helping someone who’s hurt is deserving of dinner and a nights rest . any decent person would help someone who’s hurt . why wouldn’t i want to help you ? besides , it was my fault - don’t go rolling your eyes at me sassy pants , it was my fault . i was staring too hard at you . ”

thomas grunted , telling you that yes , it was your fault for making him drop the jar of jam . and hell , if he didn’t look a big smug at blaming you . you stuck your tongue out playfully , giggling a bit , “ well it’s not all my fault . it’s your fault too . or maybe your momma’s and your papa’s . how am i not supposed to stare at a true born and bred country boy . ”

the compliment takes him by surprise , his face flushed so dark that you can see it on his ears . seeing such a reaction and the sudden shyness that envelopes thomas as he gently pulls his hands away has you flushing just as hard . feeling embarrassed about saying such a brash thing . he shifts uncomfortably in his seat , glancing away from you , a small frown on his face . were you only picking on him ? or had you been genuine ? no one was genuine . they called him a freak , ugly , too big , a beast , a monster , an animal . was that what you were doing ? he closed his eyes , trying to force down the painful memories , only to open them to see you staring at him confused and worried . a hand reaching out to touch his knee .

“ no one’s ever told you something like that before ? ” thomas shook his head no . not bothering to look at you , arms crossing and leg bouncing , hyper aware of your fingers still resting on his knee .” i’m not lying . thomas , your huge . huge . you’re tall and got big arms and legs and you you like a mountain . do you know how many boys back home act like they are your size ? all of em . and none of them could even compare . you’re certified texas tough . you’re momma should have named you ford because you might just be the best in texas . and i’m not joking . i’m being serious . you should be proud to be so strong . ”

thomas felt like steam was going to come out his ears . he felt so overheated by every word that came from your lips . he swallowed thickly , finally glancing over to your face . you looked so serious . you looked like you believed and meant every word you just said to him . and tommy felt his stomach to a flip and his heart hammer against his ribs . he could only manage a slight nod , accepting your words as truth . as your truth . maybe you just didn’t get a good enough look at him . he didn’t know , but whatever the reason he was thankful . he hadn’t realized how it felt to hear something so nice be said about him .

with a shaky inhale , he moved his uninjured hand down , placing his thick fingers over the ones you pressed to his knee . a silent thank you . an excuse to tough you . to make sure you were real and he hadn’t just been dreaming . you beamed up at him as he rested his fingers over your own . you’d been worried this big man would of rejected your words or laughed at you , or gotten mad . but he didn’t . and part of you felt that he really needed to hear it .

“ i see you made it back home safe . ” thomas jumped up , startled as the back kitchen  door slammed shut and luda walked in . he nodded , standing stiff and awkward , his fingers flexing as he tried to remember and forget the feeling of your hand under his all at the same time . you merely perked up and smiled , welcoming luda home and moving to help her with the bags she’d brought with her .

“ oh , none of that now , i’m capable . but thank you , honey . now , did hoyt or monty give you any fuss or trouble , darlin’ ? i know they can be a bit much . ” she glanced between you and thomas , watching how her son shifted and stole glances at you . she’d been waiting by the door when she heard the tail end of your conversation , and she had to admit that she’d made a good choice in keeping you off the dinner table . she was sure as hell that her tommy thought so too .

“ oh . um , no ma’am . they were fine . no trouble or - ”

“ uh huh . no use lying to me , darlin’ . tommy , did hoyt and monty mind themselves ? ”

you flushed , sputtering as you tried to come to the defense of the two men who had in fact been rather rude to you . you looked at tommy and he gave you a dead stare and rolled his eyes before shaking his head . honestly , he didn’t know why you were trying to defend them . the grunt and crossed arms he gave his momma was enough to have her slap down the slightly damp kitchen towel she’d been dying her hands with .

“ those old fools . honey , excuse me , i’m gonna go give my son and brother a stern talkin’ to . they ain’t got no mind on how to treat guests . ”

“ miss luda , it really isn’t any trouble . they weren’t - ”

“ now what’d i say , darlin’ ? none of that . you just sit here . when i come back i’ll put hoyt to fixin’ dinner and we’ll get you cleaned up and outta that messy shirt . ”

there was no way you could argue with luda mae . her word was law in this house , and well , you’d been raised better than fight a momma on a mission . so you nodded and thanked luda , flashing a pout at thomas who shrugged and leaned against the wall , looking smugly at you .

“ sassy sassy man . ” you teased at him , only to jump and squeak when you heard luda mae going off on hoyt and monty from the other room . thomas only laughed under his breath . it felt nice to hear the hoyt be chewed out for once .

[bokunowritingacademia]

Original Character Corner: Lilith, Samael + Dad

@humanransome-note: Okay so I actually made a little OC family, and I’m not all that active in BNHA at the moment but I still love them. Five whole pages

-

First there’s the dad. Dishonorably discharged and court martialed, former US Army officer. He’s 36, and was SUPER OP when he was younger. His quirk was basically alchemy from FMA mixed with the fluidity of bending from ATLA. Contact with whatever he was moving was how it worked, but he figured out how to transfer his quirk through /atoms in the air/ so he was just hoping around bending the physical world to his will. (Like I said, super op.)

He can’t do much of that anymore though, because after the army used him, and a few others, to test out a long term low dose quirk enhancement drug, that he was told were vitamins, he accidentally OD on them. 

He wasn’t taking them everyday, and he thought “whatever their vitamins” he never thought it was weird that they’d get their pills counted out every month. But, ya know, hindsight. 

So when he realized inspection was coming around and he had too many pills, he just popped them all, expecting an upset stomach at worst. 

He nearly leveled the equivalent of about 10 city blocks, he was giggly, a bit high on power, and suffering from delirium caused by heat sickness. One side effect of overusing his quirk was his body overheating because (something something, physics, something something transfer of energy produces heat)

It took getting smacked by a live power line to put him down. He’s got a chunk of flesh missing from his left shoulder, and some gnarly Lindinburg figures projecting out from it. His left hand is considerably weaker and he’s blind in his left eye. 

He came to, in a public hospital. Some paperwork issue or something prevented him from being transferred back to base. 

(He doesn’t know this, but one of docs’ quirks was being able to tell the chemical composition of anything he tasted, a bit of a biohazard, but useful in a pinch. He threw up after getting just a small lick of blood, so they ran some tests, and found an unidentified chemical cocktail. They intentionally stalled to get the results and to see if he knew what he was taking)

After finding out that he was being used as a guinea pig for something that messed with his quirk (he tries not to see a person’s quirk as a judgement of their value, but a huge portion of his self esteem rested on his own quirk) he threw a fit, demanded to see his CO and promptly punched said commanding officer as hard as he could in the nads.

On paper, he was court martialed for assaulting a commanding officer, but in truth it was an excuse to discredit him so anything he said would be met with skepticism. 

That didn’t entirely work though, the amount of damage done to himself and the areas around him after having a squeaky clean record made a bunch of people think something was up. 

They were right. 

So that left him with two options:

keep fighting tooth and nail to blow the whistle on this thing, ruin his life, publicly and financially, and probably not have anything happen. Because something this dangerous and unethical had to be approved from pretty high up the food chain. 

Sign an indefinite NDA, get secretly subsidized by the US government and live out the rest of his life wherever he can find himself in relative peace. -also work as an on call black coat operative, his quirk may be jacked but he can still get some damage in from close range, and he’s pretty handy with a handgun-

He spends the first few months or so, just losing himself in drugs and alcohol. They had left him alone with his morphine drip, he got addicted and switched to opioids but quit when he found out he was pregnant. (Did I mention? My mans is trans!)

He didn’t want kids, but he couldn’t get a procedure in his current state, (both the actual state and coming down from a probably days long bender) and by the time he’d cleaned up he was ready to pop. 

So he had the kids. Yep, twins. A girl and a blob. Literally, the one he’d start calling his son when the little goo ball got a concept of gender was born with his quirk. Shapeshifting, down to the cellular level (with enough practice) unfortunately little dude had to know what he wanted to change it and having no experience besides swimming in embryonic fluid, and wiggle to irritate sister he was just kinda there. 

That was fun, 13 hours of labor, followed by the panic of a room full of doctors freaking out because they realized that thing was not the afterbirth but in fact another child. 

The doctors freaking out made him realize he’d do anything for those kids, so that’s when he decided to keep them.

The first few months were a lot. He spent more time in the hospital than at home, they had to put the kid in what was basically a sensory deprivation tank that was set up to be a pseudo womb. 

He couldn’t name them yet. The little girl got a name, Lilith, but he was scared that if he’d name them, something would happen, and they’d be filling out a death certificate immediately after the birth. He knew it wasn’t rational, but it made him feel better. 

Speaking of Lilith, either she was born with her quirk as well, or it came in a few months after being born. 

He was curled up with her, against the tank, when suddenly alarms started going off. 

He looked inside and saw her, and for a fleeting, terrifying, exhausting moment he thought he had a teleporting infant on his hands. But she was still in his arms. 

Puppeteer is what he called her quirk after things settled and some more testing could be done. Controlling people via contact through skin, (or conductive material, apparently)

And since all she knew how to do was be herself, she’d inadvertently made her brother a clone. 

It took a lot of talking with specialists and pediatric Quirk scientists to approve, under intense supervision, that Lilith use her quirk on her brother and hopefully teach him to inadvertently stay human shaped and functional.  

Almost their first birthday to the day was the first time that he stayed human shaped, on his own, for a whole day!

Baby blob’s first birthday present was a name, Samael (Sam or Sammy for short), and going home for the first time.

(are these OC’s named after biblical figures, both of which said fuck this, gave god the finger, and did their own shit? Yes, I’ve got a personal philosophy about names and that showed up here)

The first roughly three years, he’d been on call for some super shady shit before he realized that a lot of the places he was called to were pretty far from East Asia.

So with minimal planning, a favor, and a phone call to a friend they made working black coat, they had passports, plane tickets, and a decent apartment in the Mufastsu prefecture of Japan.

Elementary school was okay, Lilith (no you don’t get to call her Lily, you don’t have the friend privileges) and Sam (just Sam, maybe Sammy if he likes you) had the novelty of being from America to outweigh any bullying that may have been thrown at them because of their Quirks.

That would come later.

Middle school was bad, kids saw the two of them as scapegoats because of their “villainous Quirks” 

“It wasn’t me! Sam did it while looking like me!”

“Lilith made me do it!”

Samael turned inward and started getting into tech, robotics, and support equipment, theoretically, you need permits for that.

Lilith got violent, only in instances of defense, but still violent. The two of them went to a different middle school for every year of it. Their second to last year they actually went to the same school as Midoriya and Bakugo.

Sam had a bit of a crush on Midoriya, and Lilith was ready to throw down with Bakugo the second she got the opportunity, this isn’t some tsundere thing, she just wants to see him eat dirt. 

Their last year of middle school was pretty okay, considering the first two, and Lilith redirected her anger into helping Sam with his tech. Herself finding an interest in it as well.

They both applied for UA’s support course, (“You just wanna go cause Midoriya wanted to.” “I do not-”)

Lilith got in by the skin of her teeth, her record of fighting put her on a six month probation and prevented her from participating in the sports festival that year. She was devastated when she learned she lost an opportunity to make Bakugo do the chicken dance.

[ladyautie]

get to know me more!

@funyasm​ tagged me and I’m bored after writing my chapter, so here it is!

✨ what do you prefer to be called name wise?

My name’s Sophie. My friends call me Spencou or Spence. We met on a Role-Playing game forum where I played a character named Spencer. We’re used to call each other by our characters’ names and nicknames, most of the time. My brother calls me Sis’.

✨ when is your birthday?

15th november 1993.

✨ where do you live?

Paris, France.

✨ three things you are doing right now?

I’m watching an episode of AT4W on youtube, scrolling on Tumblr and I’m drinking a coffee.

✨ four fandoms that have piqued your interest right now?

Definitely It and especially Eddie Kaspbrak and the ship Reddie. I’m kinda obsessed right now, writing fanfic, reading fanfic, daydreaming about it and all.

I just played the Last of Us 2 and I’m currently watching a let’s play from my favorite youtubers, Mari and Stacy from Geek Remix. I’ll probably read a few fics as well.

The tv show Barry (HBO) is a definite special interest for me. I’m probably going to watch it all once again real soon and I’m planning on writing a fanfic or two in the future. I’m dying for the third season to come.

Finally, I’m probably going to be super into The Umbrella Academy once again, when the second season will be released. I’m just really into Vanya, Klaus and Allison and I can’t wait to see more of them.

✨ how is the pandemic treating you?

None of the people I know have been contaminated, so I’m lucky about that. I’m not quarantined anymore, back to work, and the transition is not easy. 

I feel like I’m more openly autistic than I used to be and that I can’t stand the rest of the world for a long period of time. I’ve experienced multiple meltdowns and shutdowns and I have real difficulties to socialize with most people or to focus on my work.

I feel incredibly naked and vulnerable whenever I’m leaving my flat without my mask on, so I think that’s definitely something I’m gonna have to work on in the future.

Leaving Paris and meeting my folks for my mother’s wedding, I found myself surrounded by people who mostly didn’t care about the virus, kissing each other on the cheek in true french fashion to say hello, hugging, not wearing a mask, not respecting any kind of social distance. 

I was quickly overwhelmed by all of that, plus the noise, and I had to isolate myself in my parents’ car, sobbing hysterically and willing to suffer in a overheated car if it meant having a bit of peace.

There are definitely going to be long-term consequences. I can only hope that my physical health will remain okay, though.

✨ song you can’t stop listening right now?

Keep On by Sasha Sloan. I just really love the lyrics and the message.

✨ recommend a movie.

Whenever I have to think of a movie to recommend, Frank by Lenny Abrahamson is the first one that comes to my mind. This movie is an obsession for me since the first time I watched it and I often find myself watching it again and again. Despite its heavy subjects, it’s definitely a comfort movie for me.

Too often, movies featuring mentally ill characters will aim for the characters to “get better”, which doesn’t mean for them to find healthy ways to cope with their issues, but usually for them to look more “neurotypical-like”, if you know what I mean. Frank  doesn’t go that way at all. On the contrary, it pushes the viewer to empathize with the main characters and to understand their point of view, their way of being.

It’s so incredibly comforting to watch a movie featuring mental illness realistic and not romanticized and to have the movie say “you’re different and you have issues, but you’ll find your tribe someday and be able to find your own happiness, even if it’s unconventional by society’s standards”.

I don’t know, I just have so much feelings about this movie. Plus the music slaps, the humor is hilarious (kudos to the random French guy who can perfectly understand English but refuses to utter a single word if it’s not in French) and the actors are truly on point (I can only salute Domnhall Gleeson, among everyone else who is also worthy of praise, because he definitely managed to make me hate his character in a way I almost never hated a character before).

Watch it!

✨ how old are you?

I’m 26 years old.

✨ school, university, occupation, other?

I used to be a librarian, but I couldn’t find a stable job in this field, so I passed an entrance examination and I’m now working in the tax administration. Yeah, not really glamorous, but it pays the bills and I’m accommodated for my disability, so it helps. 

✨ do you prefer hot or cold?

Definitely cold. When I was a kid, I used to swim in mountain lakes, at temperatures close to 13° celsius, and I still take my showers mostly cold. I can’t stand heat, I get headaches very easily when it’s sunny and I’m getting confused easily whenever it’s too hot. I recently had a nosebleed at work so intense that I found myself spitting blood (it went better once I got a fan, making the temperature bearable).

✨ name one fact others may not know about you.

I used to be allergic to my own sweat when I was around 18, until my early twenties. Whenever I was doing a mild physical effort or getting stressed out, I would get hives and itchy skin rash all over my whole freaking body, which was so exhausting that I would fall asleep immediately as soon as the rash was gone. 

It disappeared as suddenly as it appeared, without me ever doing something about it. I still don’t know why I experienced that and if I’m going to experience that ever again. I hope not.

✨ are you shy?

My autism makes social interactions complicated, but I’d say I’m mostly impaired by my social anxiety and the various traumas I’m dealing with daily.

Traumas I got after having been bullied pretty badly by kids and teachers during my school years, my stepfather being borderline abusive and different traumatic experiences, including my childhood crush dying from a ski accident when I was 15 or so (and me never being able to tell him that I loved him) and people betraying me so many times that I can’t even recall every little thing.

As a result, I find myself doubting constantly that I’m worthy of love, affection and respect and I often wonder when I’ll do or say the “wrong” thing that will cause me to lose everyone I care about. I also have a hard time knowing who I am and, as a result, allowing everyone to know who I am as well. 

I often don’t know what to say and will find myself keeping my mouth shut, even on topics I’m knowledgeable about, because I’m scared of people shutting me down, among other things. My friends make it easier for me to talk about things I like and all, but I’m still heavily doubting myself.

I try to challenge myself regularly. I’ll force myself to take part in events that are taxing or that are forcing me to perform in front of people. That’s how I found myself taking part in the casting part of the french equivalent of “American Idol” (I merely met the pre-judges, but I did manage to sing my whole song in front of them). I needed to prove to myself that I could do it.

✨ do you have any preferred pronouns?

I’m using she/her, but I don’t mind people using they/them to talk about me if they don’t want to be gender-specific.

✨ any pet peeves?

I hate how people can freely and openly be homophobic, racist, ableist, transphobic, sexist and so on, but as soon as I open my mouth to let them know that what they said/did wasn’t appropriate, I’m labelled as one of those “hysterical feminists” or a “party pooper”. s/ Sorry if your antisemitic joke isn’t making me laugh, my “dear” colleague... /s I hate whenever people infantilize me, especially my mom. She’s still keeping an eye on my bank account, despite me telling her that I didn’t want her to do so again and again. I don’t dare to block her out, because I’m scared of her emotional reaction.  I hate the ugliest parts of fandom, notably the obsession with “who’s topping / who’s bottoming” whenever there’s a gay pairing or the racism / ableism / transphobia / homophobia I’ve witnessed again and again.

I don’t dare to engage in the Last of Us 2 fandom because of that and the way some people describe the character of Abby (a very muscular woman), focusing on her physical appearance and calling her awful names (being downright transphobic when they thought that she was the transgender character that Naughty Dog announced there would be in their game). 

✨ what’s your favorite “dere” type?

I had to google it, because aside from Yandere and Tsundere, I didn’t know a thing about it. I guess you could say I’m a Dandere (someone who is quiet and asocial. They are afraid to talk, fearing that what they say will get them in trouble.). 

My favorite type is Kuudere though, when it comes to anime in particular (someone who is calm and collected on the outside, and never panics. They show little emotion, and in extreme cases are completely emotionless, but may be hiding their true emotions. They tend to be leaders who are always in charge of a situation.). 

My favorite anime character, Kiyotaka Ayanokōji from the anime Classroom of the elite, is the most extreme case I can think about. He’s completely expressionless for most of the anime, talks with a very dull voice and it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking about at all times or what’s his overall plan. His hidden depth makes him all the more fascinating. He managed to keep me interested in a mostly meh anime.

✨ rate your life 1-10. 1 being really crappy and 10 being the best you could ever be.

It’s a bit hard, but somewhere around 5 or 6? I went through tons of crap in my life but I’m still here and able to live on my own, even if my quality of life isn’t all that good. I live with nearly daily suicidal thoughts since I was a teenager and have to compose with my meltdowns and anxiety attacks as well. I feel “other” most of the time and I can’t relate to most people I’m meeting and interacting with, which can sometimes feel very lonely.

On the other hand, I have wonderful friends who are willing to put up with my trauma crap and are overall amazing to talk to and be around. I have a cat I love dearly. They’re the reason why I’m still alive to this day, giving me a reason to say fuck off to my suicidal thoughts. 

✨ what’s your main blog?

My main blog is Ladyautie and is about autism. I have another blog, reddie-4-more, focusing on the It movies and Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier.

✨ is there anything you think people need to know about you before becoming friends with you?

So, uh, don’t be weirded out by the kind of things I can tell you about my past. Even if it seems a lot, all of it is definitely true. 

For example, I was almost kidnapped when I was around 8 or 9 by a random guy, while I was camping with my father. 

My father and my paternal grandmother actually kidnapped me and my brother when I was around two and I stayed with him until the social workers determined that my mother had to raise us again because our well-being and overall life were threatened. 

Lots of events of my life seem far-fetched or out of a movie / a book or something and I had people telling me that I must be lying or that I’m over-exaggerating, something that always hurts deeply.

I’m terribly awkward and more or less openly autistic, so you’re definitely going to notice something different about me. I can’t change for you and I’m not willing to hide my traits only to make you feel more comfortable about frequenting me, so if you can’t handle my socially anxious and disabled ass, then just leave.

I need people to actually tell me what they think or feel. I’m very “first degree” and I’m pretty bad at guessing what people are thinking about. Don’t be afraid to be frank.

Finally, never, and I mean never, infantilize me. I’m a 26 years old woman. I’m not a kid.I’m fine with my friends offering to help or making sure that I’m okay or so, but never assume that I don’t understand something and don’t force your help on me if I say that I’m okay.

That’s it, those who want to take part in this exercise, don’t hesitate!

[aka-willow]

Ghosts

gif

Words: 1668

Characters: Willow Wren, Peter Parker

Prompt/Tag:

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“No one can know about this.”

Summary: Willow finds out who Peter is

Timeline: February 2016

Song: Beautiful Ghosts - Taylor Swift

A/N: this is going to be the last update for a bit! i’m working on the next arc and need to write it all before I start posting chapters to make sure the plot all works :) in the meantime, comment predictions or something? would love to know thots/thoughts. also asjdfhalsjdfh the code here is based on one my friends and I used back in the hackr days it was so stupid but also like... iconic

—————————————————————————–

I almost didn’t see him, that night in February as I soared high above the city, letting steam off. Someone was sitting on top of a building under construction, as they stared down at the street below. Red and blue sweatshirt. It baffled me because there was no way anyone should be able to get up there, and they didn’t look like a city worker. Plus, working construction alone at this time of night?

I descended just a little and wondered if I should put a mask on or just improvise. No mask. Whatever they’re doing up there, it’s something. Which means they won’t snitch. I landed on the other side of the roof, out of view, and tried to think of what to do next. Wings in. Close my fists. Easy steps.

“Hey?” Something nearly hit me, and I ducked just in time just as a ball of something splatted on the radiator behind me.

The voice took me by surprise, and I jumped, stumbling back against the HVAC units on the roof. “Jesus, dude,” I said. “I just wanted to know how you got up here. You scared me.”

“Willow?”

Oh, fuck. I recognized the voice, and the figure pulled off the homemade mask he was wearing. “Peter?” I asked. “What are you doing here? I-I didn’t know you could do that.”

“What… what… what are you doing here?” His voice got higher as he spoke, struggling to piece together the question.

“How did you even know someone was here? And what are you wearing?”

He patted his outfit self consciously and tucked his mask into his pocket. “Um. It’s a suit.”

“It’s a hoodie.” We stared at each other in silence for a moment, both of us without words. As the moon came out from behind a cloud, I noticed he had blood on his face. “What happened, man?”

“Um… I… tripped? I tripped.”

“I already used that excuse last month,” I said quietly, my mind racing. “Okay. No one can know about this—”

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” Peter pleaded at the same time. “Please. Not even Ned.”

I drew a shaky breath and sat down on the roof. The air stirred unnaturally, and I clenched my fists, even more, trying to steady myself as I hugged my knees into my chest. “Peter,” I said, staring at the ground. “Uh… there’s a lot I haven’t told you.”

He sat down next to me, leaning against a beam. “Me too.”

Neither of us wanted to talk first—I didn’t even know where to start, or how to start. How much do I say? How do I explain all this? Do I let him go first? Maybe he should go first. Just so I know—

“Um… remember a few months ago when I texted you and asked if we could hang really late that one night?” Peter started, jumping into it. “Yeah. That was when that started. I think the bite I got… changed me somehow.”

“You sure it’s not just puberty?” I asked, trying to make a joke, even though it sounded so stupid as soon as it left my mouth.

He laughed nervously. “Uh… I’m sure. I-I started sticking to the walls and ceiling,” he said. “Um… and I got stronger? Do things I was never able to do before. And it’s like my senses are dialed to a ten now, all the time.”

I can relate to that. “All from the bite?” I asked. “So, is that how you got up here? Wait, what was that stuff—"

“Web fluid,” he said. “I made it myself.” He rolled up his sleeve and showed me a device that extended onto his palm. “It’s really strong… you know… like…”

“… spider string… no… silk,” I finished. “Holy shit. And the suit?”

Even in the dark, I saw his face redden as he looked down sheepishly. “I’ve been helping people. Trying to help people. But I’m not very good at it yet. But Willow, you can’t tell anyone about this. My aunt would freak and—”

“Relax,” I said. “I’m not telling anyone.”

“Right. Cause you’re…”

“Here as well.”

“How?”

I sighed. “Peter… uh… what I’m about to tell you… you have to promise not to freak out and just… let me finish. Okay?” What’s the game plan here, Willow?

“I’m not going to freak out,” he said. “I promise. I mean, I just told you I’m Spider-Man—”

“Spider-Man?” I interrupted. “Is that what you’re going with?”

“Yeah?”

“What, like an alter ego?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just never thought about that sort of thing before. Alter egos, I mean.” I picked at a hangnail and tried to decide what I was going to tell him. The truth? Part of the truth? Do I lie? I can’t lie, he just told me his secret. So, this was what he was hiding. “Um… I was born…” Why is this so hard? I stood up and paused one more time. “Promise me you won’t freak out?”

“Promise.”

I slowly extended my wings, not taking my eyes off my shoes, feeling sick, and as if I were overheating even in the cold. There’s no coming back from this. You can’t take this back. “…I was born like this.” I finally gained the courage to look up and search his face. He was curious and surprised, with his mouth opened and eyebrows lowered, but not weirded out. Of course, he’s not. He’s Peter. “And when I was six, I was taken to a place called the Facility. It was government-run, up until… HYDRA took over the project,” I said in an exhale, barely saying the word HYDRA.

“Oh. That’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Um… they did a bunch of experiments on us there until I ran away last fall. And then I came here, to New York City. And met you guys.”

“I had no idea… how did you… is that why you always wore a jacket inside?”

I nodded and swallowed. “The thing is… they had us do stuff there… back at the Facility… things that I couldn’t control.” I gestured to my head. “They did… brainwashing? I hurt people, Peter. Lots, I think.”

“But you couldn’t help that. If they brainwashed you…”

I know. But I don’t know what’s brainwashing anymore and what’s just me. There it was. Both of our secrets out in the open, months of speculation put to rest. “Did you know?”

“I mean, after what you said to me that night, I knew something… wait does Kate know? Is that why she…?”

I nodded. “Not all of it. But enough. That night Marty died… she saw. It scared her. She said that…” I swallowed again, this time feeling the growing lump in my throat. I tried to push it away. “She said that she was scared. That I scared her. But maybe she was right.”

“No, Willow, you’re not scary.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done. Whatever you’re thinking, I promise it’s worse.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Neither did Marty.

We talked longer, late into the night. He explained how he had been developing the web fluid in chemistry class. I told him bits and pieces about what Marty had found and who had come after him. I told him that HYDRA was still looking for me, and that others were as well. “If they come for me, if I disappear,” I said. “Now you know. If that happens…”

“It won’t,” Peter said, his eyes wide. “It won’t happen.”

“But if it does, if anyone you don’t know asks about me… you have to tell me. Anyone. Government, SHIELD, HYDRA, police…”

“Police?”

“Just… please.” We devised a code to text to each other, something that even if I were being surveilled wouldn’t get picked up on. “What’s something you’d never say?” I asked.

“I don’t know… something like… are you going to the game tonight? Sports?”

“All right,” I said. “Texting that means we need to meet as soon as possible, in person. This roof can be the meetup spot. I’ll text back yes to confirm that I got the message, and then ask the time to meet before the game. Pick a time two hours after you want to meet and a random meeting location. So, if we said MSST at six at night, it would be here at four. And make sure to turn your phone off.”

“Are you sure all this is necessary?” Peter asked. “I mean, it’s cool, it’s like spy stuff, but…”

“Marty died,” I reminded him, feeling the familiar anger as I ruminated on the injustice of it all. I never asked for this. Marty never asked for this. And now Peter… “I’m not losing anyone else because of me,” I said. “If someone comes asking about me, that’s a code red. So, text me something like will you be at decathlon on Saturday?”

“We… don’t meet on Saturdays.”

“Exactly. And I’ll know to get the hell out.”

Peter tapped his fist against the palm of his other hand as he thought. “Okay. Same goes for me.”

“Deal.”

Peter told me more about his new abilities as the night wore on, about the people he had saved in our neighborhoods. He seemed so excited to be able to share it with someone. I tried to give him a few pointers so that I wouldn’t get beat up so bad next time he confronted someone, and Peter asked me about what it was like to fly. For a moment, I was softened, a little piece of my heart worming its way out of the shell I had built around it in the last few months, before I pushed it back in, where it belonged. Opening up to Peter helped, but I was now more worried than ever. Worried about him, and myself. Mostly him. I can’t afford this. I have to finish this mission I’m on. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

[dearlazerbunny]

Fever Dreams

Pairings: Poe x Reader

Genre/Ratings: None

Words: 1700

Summary: A loooooong time ago one of my favorite followers asked for a sick reader/Poe story, and this has been sitting on my computer unfinished for too long and I’m sick of looking at it so here it is! 😂

Coming home was always a huge sigh of relief,  even from a routine run such as this. As you extended your landing gear, you couldn’t help the little flare of warmth that expanded in your chest. Home. Rest, probably; Leia was good at not running your team too hard too many times in a row. You remove your helmet and run a hand over your sweaty forehead as your X-Wing shudders to a stop on the tarmac. Another successful mission. You had to smile a bit. Your squadron of newbies and try-hards was coming along quite nicely, and from the looks of the gathering crowd below you, everyone else was seeing it too.

Cheers erupted as your cockpit opened and mechanics ran over to help you out and run checks over your ship. Medics were standing by, but you waved them off. This had been a clean run, the only problems you’d had were a few members overheating a bit from the humid jungle climate and some sunburned scalps. Nothing a good dose of water and aloe couldn’t solve.

“Hey there!” Lost in thought, you hadn’t noticed your boyfriend sneaking up behind you, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a hug. “Congrats, Miss team leader. Another run under your belt!”

“Poe, stop it!” You giggle despite yourself as he kisses you on the cheek. “It was a friggin drop off on a resistance-controlled planet. Hardly a daring mission.”

“Still. Proud of you, babe.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him, lightly booping his nose with yours, before pulling away and tugging at the sleeves of your orange jumpsuit. “I’ve gotta get out of this thing, I’m burning up.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “Is that an invitation?”

“Oh for god’s sake, we are in public, Poe!” You glance over at General Leia, who was talking to some of your other recruits on the side. Proudly, based on the look on her face. “Besides, it depends on what Leia has in mind. We might be going back out-”

“Oh no you’re not.” Poe grins in that way that makes your heart drop. “I’ve already talked to her, both our squadrons are cleared for leave for the weekend.”

“In that case-” you make sure no one is looking too closely before whispering into his ear- “that is absolutely an invitation.”

…

Moonlight is streaming through the window when you wake in the middle of the night, bedsheets and a still naked Poe wrapped around you like beautiful poems. You have to push the covers away though, because for some reason you’re still insanely warm. You look around for your pajamas and slip them on without waking your softly snoring bedpartner, making your way to the bathroom. Splash some water on your face. Feel your forehead. Definitely hot. And a little nauseous? Weird. You were up to date on all your birth control, so god knows it wasn’t that. All of a sudden, you feel woozy, and you sit on the edge of the small shower, palm to your forehead. Everything aches. How hand you not noticed this before? Maybe that landing was harder than you thought.

You sit there,  just trying to breathe, when an overwhelming sense of anxiety pours through you. Something was wrong. You could just feel it. Your heart was beating way too fast, there was sweat pouring off of you, and the pit in your stomach seems to deepen every second you sit there. As you open your mouth to call for Poe, all you manage to choke out is a handful of blood, splattered across your hand in bright red fury. You stare at it, feeling it drip through your fingers.

“P-Poe? Poe!” You cough some more, feeling the nastiness rise up in your throat.

When he finally gets to the bathroom door, he finds you curled up on the bathroom floor, shirt stained red and trembling against the cold tile.

“Oh my god, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Is that blood? We need to get you to medical, come on, up you go-” you try to stand but collapse under your own weight, knees hitting the floor hard. You clutch his hands for strength as you land, desperately trying to hold on to something as the world spirals from underneath you.

“Something’s wrong,” you whisper wide-eyed, swimming in red. Then you close your eyes, and you don’t see anything anymore.

…

The next time Poe sees you after dragging your lifeless body out to the hallway, screaming for help, you’re hooked up to too many machines to count in medical. Pale as death, with clammy hands and a fever that won’t seem to break. He grabs your hand from underneath the tightly wrapped blankets and squeezes, promising in his head to never let go. How had things gone this wrong this fast?

“Dameron?” The doctor comes in, stone faced, and Poe can’t help but wince. There’s still some smears of your blood on his otherwise pristine white jacket.

“Doc. What happened? One minute she’s fine, and the next-”

“She has an incredible amount of internal swelling, including in her brain and spinal cord. We’re giving her steroids for the inflammation and a broad-spectrum antibiotic, but there’s no guarantee it’ll catch whatever is making her react like this.”

“I don’t understand.”

The doctor flips open your chart on his clipboard. “Has she travelled in the past thirty days?”

“Travelled? She’s a pilot, of course she’s travelled-”

“A fever of this severity, marked by the thinning of the blood and the swelling, seems to be consistent with a virus contracted on a jungle-based planet. Does that ring any bells?”

Poe pales. “Y-yes. She just got back this afternoon.”

“There’s your answer then.” Poe looks at him, shocked, and he softens his demeanor when he sees the terrified look in his eyes. “Look, it manifested early, and it doesn’t seem to be contagious. Those are good signs that point towards a recovery. We’re working to get the swelling down as quickly as possible. Otherwise-”

“Otherwise what.”

The doctor looks at you, noting the vital signs beeping on a machine at your bedside. “She’ll most likely be brain dead within 24 hours,” he sighs.

“No- no, that’s not possible! You have to help her, you have to-!”

“Dameron, get a hold of yourself!” The doctor places one hand on his shoulder. “We’re doing everything we can. Only time will tell now.”

Time seemed to be something you were quickly running out of.

…

Poe was making promises to god when you surfaced from a hazy dream. I promise I won’t be as reckless. I promise I’ll tell her I love her more. I promise-

“Poe?” your voice is thin and raspy, like you haven’t had a drink of water in days.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m right here.” He moves closer to your bedside and squeezes your hand. “How are you feeling?”

Your eyebrows scrunch up. “Bad. Weird. I’m burning up.”

“You have a pretty high fever. The doctor is trying to break it.”

“Am I gonna die?”

Poe grimaces. “No, sweetheart. ‘Cause if you die I will personally revive you just to kill your ass again for leaving me.”

A small smile works its way across your face. “That’s… that’s good.”

“So don’t worry. Everything is going to work out just fine.”

You cough low in your chest, and Poe is quick to wipe your mouth with a tissue so the flecks of blood you spit up don’t freak you out any more than necessary. “Then why does everything hurt so bad?”

Poe sighs, gripping your hand even tighter. “It looks like you picked up something from the planet you visited. Nothing major, they’re keeping a good eye on you.”

“Nothing major?” You’re dizzy and not thinking straight, sure, but you can comprehend enough to know that all these IVs and machines and beeping things aren’t a good sign. “Poe, just give it to me straight.”

He stalls. “I don’t want to scare you.” Those few words make your heart drop, but you look him dead in the eye and stay there until he sighs. “They told me internal swelling of the brain and spinal cord.”

“Oh.” You’re quiet for a moment, not sure how to process that. “That’s bad, right?”

“We have about-” he glances up at the clock- “sixteen more hours to see just how bad.”

“Sixteen hours.” For some reason, that round number is a comfort. “I just have to make it through the next sixteen hours.”

Poe smiles a little at that, such a determined stance spoken at such a sickly whisper. “That’s right, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

You eye him frantically as you begin to feel yourself slipping away. “Don’t leave me.”

“Not in a million years.”

…

Those next sixteen hours are some of the worst of your life. You float in and out of consciousness, plagued by strange dreams and hallucinations. You sweat out fluids as fast as they can pump them in you. Despite your 103 temperature, you shiver so hard your teeth clang together like bells, and you have more blankets draped over you than the entire base has on their beds.

But the whole time, Poe is there to hold your hand, and murmur comforting words no matter if you’re awake to hear them or not. He refuses to leave your side to eat or sleep. You’re all that matters, and he wants to be the first one there when your fever breaks.

Which it does, eventually and slowly. Ticking down by degrees over hours, but you eventually stop shivering. Your hand becomes less clammy as he interlocks your fingers together even tighter. You’re able to open your eyes, and even smile at him, which feels like the sun coming out after a hurricane.

“Hey.”

“Hey there.” Poe sits forward in his chair, brushing a piece of hair off of your forehead. “How do you feel.”

“Like I can breathe again.” Frowning, you paw at the layers piled on top of you. “Can you move these?”

“Gladly.” He returns to his seat once they’re piled on the floor at the foot of the bed.

You lay back onto the pillows, exhausted from that small amount of effort, and sigh. “I guess I’m gonna be okay, huh?”

Poe smiles. “You sure as hell are. Sorry, can’t get away from me that easily.”

“It was so hard,” you whisper. “It would have been so easy to just slip away. I could feel it…”

That sobers him, and he brings your hand up to his lips to kiss. “But you didn’t. You’re here, that’s all that matters.”

You smile. “With you.”

He smiles back. “Always.”

[thewildwaffle]

Abduction - Chapter 12

Chapter 1     Previous Chapter      Next Chapter

***

The creature had the audacity to point its own blade threateningly at her. It would pay dearly for that. She would make it pay.

It became a deadly dance of sorts between the two. Strike. Miss. Swing. Duck. Shuffle. Repeat.  Neither seemed to gain or lose any ground. Neither showed any signs of letting up. It didn’t take long before both were breathing heavily. Ever so often, one of them would make contact with the other, purple blood started showing up across various cuts. Red blood oozed out of the creature’s nose and along its arms.

Her muscles ached and screamed, but to stop would be death. She had to continue until the alien tired, slipped up, gave an opening, something. It had to, eventually, right? Right? Something was happening to it. Beads of water or some clear liquid was starting to collect across its face. What the heck? What was that about?

It was hot. The day had started out hot and muggy and only had gotten hotter and muggier since. It was usually felt nice but under the circumstances… not so much. Limbs burned and felt heavy, but there was nothing to do but keep moving, keep swiping, keep dodging. How was this thing not overheating?

This went on for a while, each until another voice echoed out through the foliage. Both froze. Now was the chance to strike while her opponent was distracted. Or it should have been. She took advantage of the break to rest. Oh krag, it felt good to pause for a bit.

The voice came again, a little louder this time. The bipedal creature frowned, looked toward the source of the sound and back to her - its face changed shape to a very interesting expression. It muttered something in its weird language. She didn’t need a translator to know it was some sort of curse.

Before she knew it, the creature sprang away, disappearing into the foliage towards the clearing. It left a trail of broken branches and snapping twigs in its wake. At first, she felt relief. The monster was gone!

Oh, frewan.

It took my blade.

Not only that, it would, more than likely, go back and regroup and come back with reinforcements. She ran to her pack and reached to pick it up. No. She paused. No, she wouldn’t be able to make it back up out of this gorge in time. That alien and any companions would be on her trail before she’d get far, especially while carrying her precious cargo. But leaving the pack was out of the question.

If flight wasn’t an option, fight was all she had left.

The creature had seen her, even though she’d been standing perfectly still among the foliage. There were some creatures who had eyes that could see in what they called “colors” and normal methods of camouflage were rendered useless by an ability to differentiate certain light wavelengths. This alien might be able to do so as well. That would explain it. Or maybe it had a great sense of smell? Or maybe some other weird sense? Well, maybe. In any case, trying to ambush it when it came back was not looking like it’d be a great plan, or at least, not on such short notice.

No, she’d take the fight back to them, before they could regroup. Before they could expect anything. If she could just get that blade back, she could make quick work of the other one.

“I don’t know why I bother,” Wenona muttered under her breath before she yelled out again, “Miiiiiiiike!” Nothing.

“He’s probably ignoring me, off exploring or doing something stupid,” she said to herself as she leaned against the hull of the pod. Jebannuck may want him to come back, but she didn’t. Not right now. She was mad and was not interested in making nice. “If he wants to go off and pout like a child, then I say let him. Koko used to always do this too, it’s just a tantrum.”

She frowned. Koko, her little sister was about nine years younger than her. She hadn’t thrown a tantrum in years, she’d grown out of it long ago. But she still remembered the way her mom had dealt with them, let the anger burn out, give space, cool down.

Wenona’s nose prickled and she felt tears coming on. She hadn’t thought much about her family lately, being kind of busy with everything else going on, and it was kind of painful to think about when she did have a moment. Her family. What was the last thing she’d said to her parents? Either of them? How had they reacted when they found out she was gone? She’d been gone so long, had they given up looking for her yet?

She was torn away from her memories as she saw Mike across the clearing, tearing through the undergrowth and sprinting as fast as he could, a look of terror on his face.

“Mike?” she called out, confusion overtaking any feelings of anger from before.

“Montauk!” He gasped as he got closer, “Montauk in the woods!” Mike nearly lost his footing on some uneven ground but righted himself before he completely lost balance. He looked like a hot mess. His face was red and covered in sweat. He had bits of leaves, twigs and dirt patches everywhere. His nose was bleeding, as were several nasty gashes along his arm.

“What the…” was all she could get out before another shape appeared from where Mike had emerged. The sight of it made her stomach feel like she had just swallowed a boulder. She had hoped she’d never see that familiar shape again.

It charged at them at full speed, it’s dark exoskeleton took on a greenish iridescent shine to it as it burst into the full sunlight. With only a few strides, it started closing in on Mike, who had lost a lot of momentum from nearly falling on his face.

She started forward, the Montauk was closing in on Mike and was completely focused on him. It never saw Wenona charge and full-body tackle it to the ground. The both rolled into a bush, the montauk midsection crashed into a hard trunk base and let out a wheezing gasp. Wenona hit the ground hard, the breath completely knocked out of her. That would bruise. Probably. But there was no time to tend to that now - she got to her feet as soon as she could see straight again. Mike was back up too. They’d fought montauks before - heck, they’d fought off an entire ship of them. One should be a breeze between the two of them.

It really should have been, but the alien was certainly not backing down and was quick on its feet to deal with both the humans as they tried attacking on opposite sides. The montauk dealt a high blow to Mike and spun to quickly to sweep Wenona’s legs out from under her. Wenona fell hard onto her side, but Mike was able to remain standing, though he was now bleeding from his shoulder. He stumbled back, regaining composure when the montauk returned its attention to him and sprang at him.

“Mike, look out!” Wenona screamed.

Mike fumbled with the makeshift blade in his hands. By the time the attacker was on him, he only just had time to raise his blade in defense. They cut into each other before falling back in pain, neither wounded very deeply, but still nasty. Before the montauk could recover, Wenona had jumped up on its back and wrapped her arms around its neck in as tight of a headlock as she could manage.

The montauk struggled under her weight, stumbling backward toward the pod and crashing into its side, attempting to crush Wenona as it bashed desperately against the outer wall. It managed this twice before she was able to get a grip on the wall with her feet as the montauk pulled away to try to slam her again. She used her step to push herself up and over its head. She held onto its neck, forcing it to now bend down. It struggled to get back up, thrashing, trying to knock her off, but she held on, finally trying to get purchase on something to help not be thrown into the air, maybe even pin the monster down. Her grip was slipping - blast her dumb hand - she couldn’t grip with it, and all the exertion it’d been through was taking a toll. She tried shifting to help take the pressure off her hand, but by doing so, the montauk finally was successful in throwing her. She hit the ground and rolled. Ow, freak, no. She cradled her arm tightly, streaks of light flashed across her vision.

***

The second strange creature was down. Finally. Krag, it had a grip! Now, where was the first one? Oh, there it was, struggling to get back on its feet. Its arms were trembling as it tried to push itself up off the ground. That was a lot of red. Her knife was still being held in its grip.

Not for much longer.

Before she could coax her legs into moving towards her injured opponent, the door to the pod opened suddenly and a new, tall, familiar-shaped alien stepped out. He was clothed in a Confederation uniform as well, though with the colors and marks of an officer. What was the name of this species again? Sefra. Yeah, sefra. Tough. It looked badly wounded already. Good. She stood a good chance.

Frewan, it had a blaster.

She dove and rolled just in time to avoid being hit by a yellow blast. While still on the ground, she kicked out her backmost legs into the sefra’s knees. He tried dodging, but his movements were slowed. He’d obviously sustained some serious injuries. She could see that now. He stumbled to his knees with a pained groan.

Her chances were looking better and better.

This could be it. This was really happening. She’d beat a Confederation soldier. She’d beat the two deadly aliens. She’d take control of the pod and get away - find a place at some market in some out-of-the-way colony world, save up enough to get revenge on those heg-heads who left her to die here. She stepped toward the fallen sefra. First, things first. She lifted her remaining uninjured forearm, ready to cut through sefra flesh, her soon-to-be victim grunted as he struggled to look back and up. She caught the flash of fear in his eyes.

“Know this, sefra, you die by the work of Simmo Montauk of Karcheer.”

Before she could deliver the blow, she was hit hard in the side. The first alien?! How? It looked like it should have been on the verge of bleeding out from its wounds! Reeling from the blow, she felt more than saw - powerful alien hands wrap around two of her legs and spun her off the ground. She flew through the air briefly and rolled into a dusty pile of spores. Immediately, her skin began to crawl and itch.

Flarg. Gerchrung wood. No, no, no, no. Her mind raced in panic as she tried to shake loose as much of the spores and dust as she could. Before she could get far in doing so, she was hit again. The alien was relentless! Or wait, no, it was the second alien, the one with the long fur on its head. How were they both still on their feet?!? What did it take to kill these creatures?!

She struggled as long as she could, but her wounds were getting the best of her and her energy was draining fast - not only from extended exertion but also from the burning she now felt all across her body as the spores did their work. Her attackers, however, seemed to have found some new energy reserve, seemingly out of nowhere.

I never did stand a chance, then. I almost did, but I had no idea what I got myself into.

Then everything went dark.

Previous Chapter     Next Chapter

[thiamlife]

Rivals AU

Chapter 1: Flashbacks and Sticky Situations

Chapter 2: The Climates of Hell

**Trigger Warning: Mentions of abuse**

Theo clenched his fist to keep from saying anything at hearing the word freak being thrown at Liam. No matter how much the two of them disliked each other now, he knew how insecure Liam was about his IED and would never harass him about it. The guilty feeling was gone just as quickly as it appeared when Liam hadn’t hesitated to tell him he played poorly. The slight remorse for the prank he and his teammates had set up and had gotten to school so early for this morning slipped away as well. Fuck Liam he thought, he was going to get what he deserved for comment! He already got it at home from his drunk ass dad and he sure as hell didn’t need to hear it again from his used to be friend. 

                                                     ~~~~~~~~~~~

He waited patiently on the adjoining field for the lacrosse players to take off, or rather try to take off, their helmets and was met with sweet satisfaction when the conceited players were allowed their first water break. Theo couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face after hearing his name bellowed from Liam’s frustrated lips. His teammates expressed their pleasure as well by smacking him on the back for a successful mission and made snide comments behind him as they watched the lacrosse team hastily approach.

“You called? Trouble in lacrosse paradise?” Sarcasm dripping heavily from the permanent smirk he had etched on his face, not ready for the harsh shove Liam dished out. He bristled at being caught off guard and charged forward tackling Liam to the ground.

The bodies around them were moving and clashing as they stood up, both fighting for the dominant hold. Theo caught an elbow to the lip from someone and momentarily lost his hold on Liam, granting Liam the opportunity to wrap his arm around Theo’s neck. Theo looped his arm around the younger boy’s head as well putting them both in a bent over position fighting for the upper hand. Whistles and shouts were blaring from coaches trying to separate everyone. He caught Liam’s eyes and saw the pure fury rolling through the electric blues. He had only seen that look one other time and it had ruined everything.

“Figures you would let your pathetic little boyfriend fight all your battles for you.” His dad slurred after Liam ran out the door, leaving him in his constant living nightmare. “ ‘Least he’s got some balls and will accomplish things. More than I can say for you.” He sneered and stumbled off to find the half-empty bottles Theo had hidden last week.

At the memory Theo let rage boil up within him and threw an uppercut punch connecting with the side off Liam’s ribs. He was roughly pulled off Liam and vice versa, he struggled, trying to get back to the person who had made him feel inadequate that morning. He called out his wrath as his coach hauled him towards the locker rooms and heard Liam’s vengeful voice call back. Oh I’m ready, baby boy, I’ve never been more ready he thought to himself. 

“Alright Raeken, cool it.” His coach growled out as he threw him down on a bench. “We can’t afford to have you hurt this week, not after last week’s game.” Theo let the sound of the quiet locker room and hum from the overhead fluorescents calm him. “Get your ass back on the field when you’re ready.” He nodded and watched as his coach walked back out the way they came in.

 He wasn’t supposed to let people get to him, he wasn’t supposed to show how people and their words affected him. After his mom left he learned quickly at home, the more you react the worse it got. However, Liam had broken through his façade again. The walking distraction had managed to get under his skin, twice in one day. He stood up with a roar and kicked the metal bench over.

 “Fuck!” He yelled running his hands through his slightly sweaty hair and down his face. His left hand came up with a trace of blood from the split lip he had gotten at some point. He let the pain fuel him; he had to play better, had to be better. With that thought he swiped the back of his hand over his mouth ridding it of the leftover blood, righted the tossed metal bench, and stormed back out to the field ready to prove his worth.

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

 While everyone looked forward to the weekend, he hated it. It just meant two full days of being locked in the cage of hell he called home. This weekend was no different.

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

 Theo squirmed in his hard plastic seat. He was hot, the last of summer hanging on for dear life, and the long sleeve shirt he was wearing to cover the new bunch of bruises from the weekend was making him sweat. What was worse was that apparently Beacon Hills High didn’t believe in turning the air on anymore. So as Theo sat through his first class on Monday morning in the sweltering heat, he uncharacteristically couldn’t seem focus. Biology normally intrigued him, he wanted to to know how and why the body functioned so he would never have to watch someone die helplessly in front of him again. He shuddered at his thoughts and didn’t see the hand coming at his face before it was pressed to his forehead.

 “Theo are you feeling alright? You’re burning up.” Mrs. Finch exclaimed. She moved her hand to his arm and squeezed lightly over one of the fresh contusions. He gritted his teeth and forced himself not to quickly pull out of her grasp. He pushed out a smile and nodded.

 “May I go grab some water? I’m just a little thirsty.” He replied and stood at the concerned nod of her head. Quickly walking out the door and down the hall to the nearest drinking fountain, he sipped at the cool liquid bubbling out of the spout, letting it refresh his too warm body.

 He heard a snort come from behind him and straightened to see Liam walking by in the empty hallway. He narrowed his eyes readying for the obvious taunt that was going to be thrown his way.

 “Nice shirt, preparing your body for the climates of hell?” Liam said in passing. But Theo’s next words had him stopping short.

 Throwing his trademark smirk on his face, burying how comment actually affected him, he stepped towards the other captain. “Hell is quite cold, frozen actually. Some might say it’s comparable to your performance last Friday.” Theo smiled at the sharp gasp he heard come out of Liam. He had heard that Liam froze under the pressure to perform for the scouts that came to watch him. His nervousness even caused them to almost lose the game, which would have ended their undefeated record. Shame it didn’t… maybe it would have knocked the asshole off his high horse.

 “I did not freeze!” Liam rumbled deeply, stepping closer to him so that their chests were almost touching.

 Theo crossed his arms and chuckled, “That’s not what I heard puppy.”

 He watched as Liam’s eyes flashed to the blue fury before returning to their normal state. “Don’t. Call. Me. That.” Liam huffed and then continued. “I did it for dramatic effect, made our game fun to watch.”

 “Barely.” He retorted with a roll of his eyes. He tried not to notice the feel Liam’s angry breaths puffing against his chin as he stood toe to toe with him.

 “Heard your game was like watching paint dry.” Liam said with a sinister smile. He opened his mouth to come back with something, anything, but Liam’s name was shouted from down the hall making them turn their heads towards oncoming the adult.

 Coach Finstock irritably stomped towards them. “What is it with you two and personal space?!” He questioned as he grabbed both of their arms and pulled them apart. Theo hadn’t realized how close they had actually gotten, lost in the charged bubble that always seemed to encompass them. “Get to class, BOTH of you.” Coach finished, pushing them in opposite directions. Throughout the rest of the day heat never died down and Theo was dreading having to wear a long sleeve during practice.

 Theo had kept his guard up ever since the fight on the field last week but so far nothing had been done in retaliation. He and his teammates checked and rechecked their equipment before practice and found nothing to be wrong so they got dressed and headed out to the field. Before starting any drills, they were told to run a few laps around both the football and lacrosse fields. Theo groaned on the second lap when sweat was pouring down his overheated face. On the third and fourth laps, he felt like he was going to have a heat stroke and was never as happy to hear the sound of the whistle than he was at that moment.

 They all got water and then coach declared it was time for up-downs before they all split up and worked on their perspective routes. Theo rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, knowing there were no visible bruises on his forearms. After the short break the team got in place on the field and coach blew the whistle from his spot on the sideline signaling from them to drop to the ground in push up position. It felt wet but Theo chalked it up to the school having the sprinklers on earlier. Only when the team sprung up on the second whistle he realized he was sorely mistaken.

 Their white practice uniforms, arms, and hands were completely green. Everyone including the coaches stood there shell-shocked, not understanding what they were seeing. Theo heard a roar of laughter coming from his left and saw the lacrosse team rolling around on the ground in hysterics. “Like watching paint dry” Liam’s words echoed eerily in his head from their earlier confrontation in the hallway.

 He thought he was hot before, but the temperature only seemed to climb higher now that he was seething. Before he even knew what he was doing he was running, with his team hot on his heels.

 Gabe, being the running back that he was, beat Theo to a cackling Liam. “Now who looks like the Hulk.” Liam shot at the running back who had made fun of his IED the previous week. Gabe cocked his arm back about to throw a nasty punch but Theo caught it before it hit Liam. Gabe looked at him furiously for stopping him.

 “He’s mine.” Theo pushed out throwing Gabe’s hand to his side and stepped in front of him facing Liam.

 “I think my girlfriend would have to disagree with that. But I’m flattered.” Liam said mockingly raising a hand to his chest. Something twisted inside him and he didn’t like it whatever it was.

 His hand shot out and gripped Liam’s jersey collar while his other hand grabbed the metal on the front of his helmet pulling it off. He was about to throw the first blow but it seemed the constant strain his body went through from the heat had finally caught up with him. The edges of his vision started to blur and his grip on Liam’s jersey began slipping as he swayed.

 “Theo?” He heard Liam ask cautiously, all humor and maliciousness gone from his voice, but he could no longer see Liam or bring himself to respond. He felt himself go down despite Liam’s strong hands grabbing his sensitive arms in attempt to catch him. And then everything went black.

[mzargentum]

The Stormsender’s Daughter | Chapter VIII | What Happened To You?

Chapter VII | Chapter VIII | Chapter IX

Word Count: 1,872

Warning: Violence, abuse, gore, death

The bruises.

They never went away.

Two.

Four.

Seven.

Entire limbs would be covered when you were near me.

But I knew.

I knew what was happening to you.

You didn’t want to tell me.

You didn’t want to admit that even the brightest of them all could feel pain.

You wanted to give me something to believe in.

I believed you deserved better.

I knew it.

I was going to see to it.

Free you from the filth that hurt you.

One way...or another.

No matter how hard he screamed...

No matter how much he bled...

*ring ring*

*ring ring*

“You gonna take that?”

Prae didn’t answer. She just stared at the screen as the device sang in her palm.

Eirenne was starting to get fed up. He called her every hour nonstop and would blow up her phone if she didn’t answer once.

No matter what she was doing or who she was with.

Plus, the bruises were multiplying. Eirenne rarely saw them nowadays, but Prae was giving and returning less hugs. Distancing herself from people to keep from touching them.

She winced at nearly every motion.

Constantly complained about being in some sort of pain. Frankly, it was infuriating the silver haired princess.

And it needed to stop.

“No...no, it’s fine. I told him where I would be today”, Prae finally replied declining the call, slipping it back into her pocket.

“Okay”.

As they returned to their studies...

*ring ring*

*ring ring*

“Ugh, come on, man!!”, the Tenebraen princess slammed her fist down on the table, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

“I know, I’m sorry”, Prae scrambled for her device. “He’s enthusiastic”.

“He’s a pest!” Eirenne shouted breaking down her friend’s defense. “Honestly, what is so important that he has to be in your ear 24/7? He doesn’t even care that you’re in school most of the day!!”

Prae averted her exhausted gaze from her friend’s teal iris’ to her phone.

“His voice is probably plastered in your head by now. He can wait a few more hours”.

“Yeah...yeah...you’re right”, Prae agreed. Her voice heightening, seemingly, along with her mood and shutting her phone off for good.

“Attagirl”, Eirenne teased her friend ruffling her short, fluffy hair, sending cute little giggles floating from her throat. “Besides, I saw you first. It’s my turn to love you”.

“Yeah...he’ll be fine. He can wait a little while”, Prae affirmed as she plopped her cellular into her bag.

Finally, things were back to normal.

Days went on and Prae seemed to be back to her completely cheery self. Their conversations went back to being 90% Prae rambling like usual and Eirenne providing snarky commentary when she felt it was needed, entertaining and annoying her friend at the same time.

It was how it should be.

They were both happy.

“Uuuugggghhhh, why do we have to study during study hall anyway?”, Eirenne complained as the girls made their way to the school library.

“You’re kidding, right? That’s probably the laziest question you’ve ever asked me”, Prae judged her friend’s sluggish manner.

“It’s not like you need to study anyway, you’re doing just fine”.

“Well, duh, I know I don’t”, Prae triumphantly beamed as they sat down. “But if you don’t graduate with me and I have to hear you bitch and moan about having to take all of your classes over again, that’ll give me a permanent headache”.

“Thanks”, Eirenne chuckled.

“I mean, you do realize you have to pass math to graduate, right?”

“Unfortunately, I’m aware that I have to know how to multiply 2 and 7 to be considered a functioning adult”, the silver haired teen sarcastically joked.

“What is 2 times 7?”

“27″.

“...I can’t help you”, Prae shut the textbook in defeat sending Eirenne into a fit of laughter before being shushed by their classmates around them at the other tables.

“Shut up, stupid”, Prae whispered also in a small laughing fit. “You’re gonna get us in....”, Prae’s eyes suddenly widened and as she stared behind her friend, “...trouble”.

Confused, Eirenne turns around to see a young man dressed in black and red outside the window behind them, staring intensely at Prae.

He was a rather dashing young man from what Eirenne could see.

Fair toned skin, amber eyes, short and nicely combed.....maroon hair?

Wait...no. It can’t be...

Eirenne’s body stiffened. Her palms grew sweaty. It couldn’t be him...it’s been years.

How could he have found her? But....he didn’t seem to care for the silver haired girl rather than her innocent jade eyed friend.

“Who’s that...?”, Eirenne asked with gritted teeth, balling up one of her fists.

“My boyfriend”, Prae replied, evident fear in her voice.

Still bitterly staring at Prae, the man made his way to the back of the building.

“Um...I should go see if he’s okay”, Prae stammered as she stood from her seat.

“Wait, are you serious?!” Eirenne loudly whispered. “Did you see the look on his face?”

“It’s fine”, Prae reassured her worried friend, “he’s probably just a little bitter about me ignoring his calls. I’ll just set this straight and be right back. No sweat”.

“Really. No sweat”. Eirenne was clearly unconvinced.

“I promise. I’ll be back in a second”, the jade eyed girl smiled toward her friend before sneaking toward the bathrooms in the back of the building.

It couldn’t have been him...he was too young. His hair was much shorter...his clothes looked less...lived in, but that stare...those eyes. 

Regardless of who he was, Prae was afraid...she was never afraid of anything...and what kind of coward would Eirenne be if she allowed anything to happen to her best friend?

Once the librarian retreated into her office, Eirenne silently followed her friend down the corridor to the bathrooms.

They were under construction due to foundation problems. Part of the girl’s bathroom had caved in on a student some time ago killing her.

Because of overcrowding, they were in the process of adding showers to the bathrooms, but because of the incident production had been delayed for some time.

The light flickered, but it was mostly dark. The walls had cracks for days as well as the floors and ceiling. There had been multiple cave ins around the sides of the hallway leading toward the bathrooms. Looked like no one had even bothered trying to fix it.

As Eirenne approached the bathrooms, she noticed the floors coated in water and the closer to got to her destination, she could hear voices coming from the girl’s bathroom.

Not wanting to cause alarm, she crept closer to get a view of the two of them standing by the showers...

“Stop lying to me...”.

“I’m not, sweetie, I promi-AGH!”

Eirenne lightly jumped upon hearing the slap to Prae’s flesh. Her blood beginning to boil one thousand degrees a second.

“Don’t give me that, you little whore!”

“I’m not lying to you! I’ve been here all day, you can ask Eir-egh! Gghk!”

“I’m not asking that little freak friend of yours shit”, the vicious character growled with his fist clasped upon Prae’s throat.

Desperately pawing at his wrist, tears began to stream down her fair cheeks.

“Please...I can’t breat-AH!”. A shriek sailed from her lungs as her back was slammed against the linoleum wall.

“Good”, the man hissed glaring down upon Prae. His amber gaze shifting to a lustrous gold. Like a viper squeezing the life out of his helpless prey.

“Beg for me to let you go...”.

“Please...”, Prae pleaded as he tightened his grip. “I...I can’t...breathe”.

“Yeah, just like that...”, the man hissed. “You’re gonna show me what you’re really worth alive...You filthy whore...”, the young man licked his lips before unbuttoning his shirt.

“..Pl-please, no...I-I won’t ever ignore your calls again...I swear..”, Prae helplessly whimpered as the man yanked her panties clean from her body, emitting a pained cry from the innocent Prae.

Eirenne, paralyzed at the end of the shower, began to lightly pant as her overheating blood shifted to a black. The pain keeping her to her knees as she watched her friend abuser in action...had he ever done this before?

Prae would’ve told her....wouldn’t she?

A sudden sizzling caught the attention of the silver haired girl as the white gloves coating her hands began to burn away revealing her blackened hands.

The daemonic energy within their contents infecting the rest of her body, taking over her mind, making her lose control.

With all her might she fought to keep her head....don’t lose control....don’t lose control...don’t lose...

All went silent as the young girl clasped her eyes shut....her heartbeat bursting through her eardrums.

The only other distinctive sound...

...was the clinking of metal...

...from a belt.

“RRRAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

A monstrous roar echoed throughout the room, before...

“AAAGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!” A blood curdling scream from the jade eyed girl upon the hand perturbing from her boyfriend’s stomach.

The man looked down toward the intrusion of his abdomen before returning his gaze to Prae whom was still in his grasp. 

Regurgitating blood upon her face before shakily turning to see the fanged teen, black veins pulsating throughout her face.

Her blackened daemonic stare paralyzing him.

“You can rot with the rest of them...”, the daemon girl growled before pulling her arm back to where her hand was within his wound.

Shifting her hand upward, his violent screams pulsated through the bathroom as Eirenne inched her way through his body, her arm intruding the his internal anatomy until she reached his heart.

Clutching onto the cardiac organ, squeezing it, a field of electricity wrapped about it, sending violent jolts throughout ripping it to shreds. 

The pulsations causing him to finally release the mortified Prae whom was now trapped to watch him gag on his own crimson. 

Blood seeping into the cracks of the linoleum below.

Once she was released, Eirenne withdrew her arm from his body causing him to crash to the floor upon his knees in front of the tearful Prae. 

Clinging to life by a thread, he slowly reached for the terrified girl just before the daemon girl summoned a telekinetic force field in the center of his brain, instantly expanding it sending shards of blood and brain throughout the entire bathroom.

Finally, sending him collapsing dead to the floor...

All that was left...was Prae.

On the floor, panting in fear, in front of her abuser’s mutilated corpse...

...and her best friend...finally realizing the truth...

“...t...that was...lightning...y...y-your hands...”.

Her stuttering voice began to soothe Eirenne back to her normal state.

Her eyes and veins returning to their proper hue...

“...you...you look just like her...Eirenne....”.

The silver haired girl merely stared at her friend, panting vigorously...

“...you’re...”.

“...the Pythoness...”.

A sudden shriek startled the girls. Abruptly turning around to see the librarian dash from the bathroom screaming for help down the corridor.

The frightened bloodstained girl sent a telekinetic pulse through the side wall.

“EIRENNE!!!”, Prae shouted toward her friend to no avail.

She had to get home.

The secret was out...

Muerlinian Zephyr was in Tenebrae.

The Pythoness was reborn.

Tagging: @digitalkanvas @insomniasix @aquathemermaidstripper @glacian-apocalypse @a-new-recipehhh @dizzymoogle @prettyprompto

[prqltothesql]

Think I’m gonna start keeping a diary/journal just to track my day-to-day - Entry 000000

I’m going to at some point do one of these as exposition so if anyone is insane enough to read these and you don’t know me, you’ll know who I am. 

About 3 months ago, my dad had a stroke. As strokes go, this was a mild one that has had many short-lasting effects but nothing serious. The initial hit was mild facial paralysis on his left side as well as slurred speech due to tongue deviation. He’s been working hard and his face is getting a little tighter, his speech is 1000% improved from after his stroke. He’s noticed other issues, like his left arm and leg were bothering him and definitely not as strong as they once were. The underlying cause of his stroke was his diabetes. He aggressively does not go to the doctor and is not good at taking care of himself or paying attention to his own needs. So his A1C sugar was off the charts. When it’s a 7, doctors are like, hey that’s getting high, you should knock it down. He was a 12.7. The doctors were stunned that his stroke was so minor. So he’s started on diabetes medication as well as blood pressure medication. No insulin shots, no needles, he’s pretty healthy other than that. But as far as his blood pressure goes, he’s super stressed about everything. Prior to his stroke, he was a nightmare. He’s recently gotten into this funk because he noticed his ex-wife, who was our stepmom, who walked out on us 8 years ago and divorced him 5 years ago, is in a band and is playing out. He’s a musician and prior to me going to college, he was always playing out. Then I went to college and got a job and had a life and he had to give all of that up to raise my sister, who is 19 now. Figures as soon as she gets out of school and gets taken care of, he has a stroke. But anyways, he stressed about everything. Our house is almost 80 years old and has a thousand things wrong with it. We have 3 dogs that are good but still need taken care of. He stressed about everything. He was always mad, he was always planning projects that needed to be done, and then while I was at work, would do these projects and then yell because he was doing them on his own when I literally could not help because I work a 9-5. The two weeks prior to him having his stroke, my sister had wisdom teeth surgery and he was incredibly stressed out about that. I even stayed home to help and he still was stressed and all freaking out. The day he had his stroke, he was going on a trip to the mountains by himself, and his truck has no AC. So he wore jeans, a long sleeved shirt, ate nothing, did not hydrate. He drove through DC in the middle of the day and he said he was hot. Then he got to the mountains and as soon as he got there, he began gathering firewood without giving himself a minute. As soon as he started, he noticed something was wrong. He was way way overheated and did not eat, did not hydrate, his blood sugar was super low. He said he stopped in Front Royal and got a soda and a bag of cheese puffs or something. Not water, not a meal. And he could barely talk. Even now if he says too many “B’s” his mouth gets caught up on itself and he starts mumbling a little. 

So anyways, my life prior to this: I work a 9-5 job as a web developer. They’re flexible on hours which is great and they understand family which is great. But I’m gone 9-5 Monday-Friday. There was one time I had to stay till 9 or 10pm but that was another issue. lol. I also taught band. I had been with one school, MHS for 5 years. In the last year, I had also joined up with CSW and was going to make a transition from one school to another because I was getting burnt out and needed something new. Unfortunately that meant 2-3 nights a week, I left right from work and went to band. Most of the time without a second thought as to what was going on at home. And then mostly every Saturday I was gone all day. So two days I had to help him and get caught up around here, I was unable to do one of them. So I was very very little help and I was gone a lot. When I was home, I just wanted to relax. Plus it’s not like I was off having fun, it was like a second job to me. The time and stress I put into it was crazy. The miles driving back and forth on my car. 

My sister is a complicated situation. She hasn’t been tested in years but I’m sure she has a learning disability that may even be autism. She graduated HS where she was an integration B student and I think she was such a handful that they just were done with her and gave her a diploma to get her out the door. She has no future or hope for a future. She’s not going to school, she’s not working. She mostly just stays at home. He claims he has to babysit her which is a stretch, she’s self-sufficient, she’s just like a plant. She’s not gonna go anywhere or do anything bad. She’s not gonna cook with a flame, she’s not gonna make coffee or go swimming or go anywhere. She’s gonna sit around on her phone or play video games. That’s it. But she’s little help. Not good with motor skills, not good with following directions. Her mind is the proverbial steel trap. Once something gets in, it’s hard to get it out. If she has a certain way of doing things that she has decided on, you can’t get her to change easily. she’s incredibly routine oriented. Couple that with the general teenage “I think I know everything and I don’t listen to anyone” and she can be a handful sometimes. She also can’t reason with the things she does. She’ll do something stupid and if she can explain her thought process, I could reason and say, “Well that was dumb, but here’s why.” Otherwise she shrugs or says, “I don’t know,” and that annoys the hell out of me. 

So two days after his stroke, I quit band. He had a nervous breakdown that carried over into the next day and started yelling at me about band so I just up and emailed both schools and quit on the spot. I’m pretty sure I ruined several friendships and my own reputation, but that’s the way things go. I had to do it. Since then, I’ve done a handful of things on my own, but I’ve mostly been here. I go to work, I come home, I cook or help cook or get dinner, and then we eat and I hang out and then go to bed and do it all over again. I ha.ve no girlfriend, I have no friends, most of my friends do band anyways. On the weekends, I’ve been doing chores, praying that he can hold off and not force himself to do them and nearly kill himself (which he’s done) and I can get to them. One day a few weeks ago, he went outside and vacuumed the pool and was out there for an hour in the sun without eating anything and he nearly passed out and took a 3 hour nap on the couch. Then he woke up and was snapping on everything and everyone. It was crazy. So I’ve been trying to make sure he doesn’t do that... doing things in the evenings or waking up and doing them before work. 

Also I mentioned our pets. We have 3 American Eskimo dogs, Angel, Wolfie and Ty. They are white and fluffy and also shed everywhere. They say dogs take on their owners. Well Wolfie is kind of my sister’s dog. He’s stubborn, hyper, doesn’t listen, is annoying. But he LOVES me to death. I’m his playfriend and buddy. And he can be the absolute sweetest dog but he likes to fight with the other male dog Ty. Angel is my dog. She’s exactly like me. We’re both kind of fat. She’s very smart, she keeps an eye on everyone, she always wants to know what’s going on. She’s very sweet, she’s well trained, she’s in a great routine with me. She’s very chill and relaxed. My dad’s dog Ty, he’s gone insane. He used to be calm and nice, at my dad’s side no matter what. But something happened, we don’t know what, and he’s not the same dog. His front feet splay out wide and he can barely walk now. He’s going blind so he can barely see sometimes, especially if it’s bright out. He’s stubborn and annoying. Won’t listen, always fighting with everyone. Just like my dad. lol. We also have a cat named Butter who is old but is a little sweetheart. She used to be neurotic and anti-social but now she’s a social butterfly and is really lovey with everyone. Me and Rachel mostly take care of her. She likes my dad and he likes her but it’s a tenuous relationship. lol. 

There’s some exposition, so now I’ll journal yesterday and a bit of this morning. 

[call-of-quileutes-blog]

 So here’s my first request ! I hope you enjoy it and it’s not too terrible ! I put it under the cut bc it turned out a little longer than expected ???

    A groan of frustration escaped your lips as you pushed away from the rickety desk a bit too harshly and your books went flying to the floor; creating a pile of lost pages and scattered notes at your feet. You grit your teeth as you stood up before kicking your chair in chagrin. Your blood was boiling and your eyes were tired as you ran a shaky hand through your limp, greasy hair. When was the last time you had washed it? Or even bothered to shower for that matter? A deep sigh that felt like you had been holding within your chest for months forced its way out of your mouth from deep in your diaphragm.

 You paced backwards a couple of steps before collapsing on your twin mattress and rolling to the side to look at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It read 2:48 AM and your eyes widened at how much time had escaped you. Last you had checked it was just after ten, and now here it was almost three in the morning. Your stomach grumbled--actually, it roared. You thought back to your last meal, but couldn't recall. You'd had a handful of chips the last time you went to the kitchen, ignoring the plate of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes your roommate had set aside for you. You didn't have time to eat a proper meal; you had to study.

 Thinking back, the last few weeks seemed like a blur. All that seemed to consume your life was school, studying, and very few hours of sleep each night--or early morning. Your eyes began to droop as your head rested on your all-too-welcoming, albeit lumpy, pillow. The cotton sheets and thick comforter calling your name to create a fortress around your exhausted form.

 As your eyes succumbed to the coziness of your bed, flashes of algorithms and formulas unsolved ran through mind and your eyes shot back open. You pushed yourself back up and off the bed to collect the musty old text books off the floor and back onto the old mahogany desk. You placed yourself back in the uncomfortable wooden chair and forced yourself to focus on the work before you.

 "Just six more problems," you mumbled incoherently to yourself as you picked up your pen and began to work out the equation you had previously given up on in haste.

 Your mind refused to stay focused on the task at hand, and your body wasn't much help, either. Your eyelids kept dropping, and your body would fall to the side and the shock would spring you back awake only for it to happen a couple minutes later.

 The vicious cycle continued on for the next half hour until you finally caved and fell face-first into your books. You decided that this would be your bed for the night, as your body was too tired to try and make it the four feet from the desk to your bed. A creak in the floor caught your attention, but not so much as to concern you with moving from your position. That was, until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

 Your eyes opened slowly as you felt the exceedingly warm arms pick you up from under your arms and knees. The stranger easily lifted you from your position and in less than a second set you on the bed and had you covered in the blanket.

 Your half lidded orbs began to close as the person hovering over you placed their large, warm hand on your head; running their fingers through your hair. You finally felt a small sense of relief and comfort as you turned your body to the side and looked up into the dark eyes of the man before you.          

 A small smile made its way to your face as his name fell off your chapped lips,

 "Embry."

 The twisted and misconstrued look that had previously been on his face was replaced with his own wide smile as soon as his name left your lips. He moved around the bed to lie down next to you, pushing his body against yours in a spooning fashion on the small mattress. He wrapped his arms around your midriff and you welcomed his warm presence.

 "I wish you wouldn't work so hard," he mumbled into your hair, slightly tightening his grip around you. "I'm worried about you, (Y/N)."

 You tried to turn in his arms so you could look him in the eyes, but gave up and settled for starting out the window. You spoke lowly, hoping that you could keep your voice steady in your state of exhaustion.

 "I'm sorry, Em. I just..." Your voice faded out and you took in a deep breath and released it. "I really need to ace these exams and I feel like the harder I try the further I slip away. I haven't been able to retain any of the information the last couple of weeks and I'm kind of freaking out because if I fail that means--"

 He placed a hand over your mouth and shhed you.

 "You're not going to fail." His voice low and held a sense of certainty to it. "The reason you haven't been doing so well is because you're not taking care of yourself. Stop skipping meals and take a break every now and then."

 He removed his hand from your mouth, but you stayed silent in contemplation. He definitely wasn't wrong. You were falling behind because of how you had been treating yourself. If you didn't fix the habits you acquired soon, you would bomb and it would be your own doing.

 "Let me help you." He laced his fingers through yours and rested his chin on your shoulder, craning his neck to look at your face and gage your reaction. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye and saw his the serious expression he held. His brow was creased and there was a look of determination in his chocolate orbs.

 You couldn't hold back the cackle that made its way from the back of your throat in your fatigued state. His brow furrowed deeper as he swiftly flipped you over so you were facing him. Your laughter had stopped; tears brimming in your eyes as you searched his face for an answer you didn't even know the question to.

 He placed his hands on either side of your face, wiping the tears that began to fall with the pads of his thumbs. His stare was intense as you finally began to brake down in the early hours of the morning. He held you there as you sobbed silently; face damp and nose running. He began to sit up to grab you a tissue but you pulled him back, wrapping your arms around his overheated body and pushing your face into his chest. Your sobs had become more violent and the tears stained his shirt as he gently rubbed your back.

 His heart was breaking seeing you like that. He couldn't seem to find the right words to say, so he just held you tighter until your sobs began to subside.

 You stayed like that for a while; the only sounds were your sniffles and occasional hiccup. You finally took in a deep breath and pulled away from him. Your body was aching and you felt a headache forming. You looked up at him, the worry still evident on his face, and gave him a small smile as you wiped your eyes.

 "Thank you," your voice was hoarse and barely a whisper. "For being here for me. For helping me."

 You rubbed your eyes again and thought about how swollen they would be in the morning and internally groaned.

 He smiled back at you and grabbed your hands, placing them between his own.

 "I'll always be here for you." The sincerity in his voice was heavy and it made you feel like you could cry again--out of happiness rather than stress. He leaned down and placed a ghost of a kiss on the tip of your nose before looking you in the eye. "It's practically four in the morning, babe. You should probably get some sleep now."

 You nodded and large yawn over took you.      

 "You're going to stay the night, right?" You asked  as you watched him stand up from the bed and stretch.

 He turned his head to look at you, an eyebrow raised. "You're going to make breakfast, right?"

 Your mouth fell open in faux shock. "I thought you were going to help me?"

 He smirked and made a trust fall for the bed, the mattress screaming at the weight of his body's contact.

 "I'll make you breakfast and then we'll tackle the books together. Deal?" He compromised while looking up at you from his awkward position.

 You placed a finger on your chin in mock contemplation, looking to the ceiling. You looked back down at his resting form, his arms placed behind his head as he waited for an answer.

 "Sounds like a plan." You complied, leaning down  and gingerly placing a kiss on his forehead.

 He smiled up at you before moving to a horizontal position and motioning for you to lay down next to him. You followed suit and turned your back to him as he pulled the blanket over you and pressed his body to yours; wrapping his arms around you. He kissed your head as you began to drift into a peaceful sleep. Anxiety still lingered in your mind, but at least with Embry there, it was dulled.

[bevioletskies]

20 questions [4/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: peter and gamora begin a new game, yondu brings a new scheme into play, and peter has meredith quill feels (same, tbh).

word count: 4958 | total word count: 118k

a/n: this chapter marks the beginning of these two really getting to know each other...my babies ;_;

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

Gamora woke up to an insistent throbbing in her skull and leg, and the sounds of someone attempting to hold back tears. Alarmed, her eyes shot open, only to find herself staring down an unnecessarily bright light. Groaning, she turned in an attempt to bury her face into her pillow. Wait, this wasn’t her pillow.

“Medbay?” she croaked. She vaguely sounded like Peter the mornings after he’d partied too hard at Club A.

“Oh, Gamora,” Janet sobbed from somewhere on Gamora’s left. “You’re okay, yes, you’re in the medbay. That was super scary.”

“The Sovereign…”

“Gone! Agent 13 was a little genius and managed to confuse them, along with Doctor Strange’s help in manipulating their sense of time and space,” Janet said, waving her hands haphazardly. “Um, but you don’t care about that. You’ve had glass removed from your torso and your leg, but you’ll need the rest of the weekend to heal up and you should be okay. Your body mods are super good on that part, they just gotta help your stitches along.”

“The others?” She managed to open her eyes again. Janet was uncharacteristically wearing all black, and a cold sweat broke out over Gamora’s forehead. “Did...did someone die?”

“Peter’s right there,” Janet said, pointing to the bed next to her. He looked asleep, not unconscious, as his arms were shifting slightly as if he were trying to find a more comfortable position. His entire face, neck, and arms were covered in tiny little bandages. “The others are shaken, bruised, but no real injuries to put them here. Um, a couple of SHIELD agents died in the battle. We’re going to hold a funeral in the quad on Monday once we’ve flown their family in. But no students. You and Peter have the most injuries, but you should both be out by tomorrow night.”

She finally settled down into the chair next to Gamora’s bed and exhaled shakily. “Groot’s a bit traumatized, the poor little thing. The rest of the Guardians are keeping an eye on him on the Milano.” She brightened slightly. “Almost forgot, Natasha sent you this.” Janet pushed an envelope into Gamora’s hands.

Gamora opened it to reveal what appeared to be a generic Hallmark ‘get-well-soon’ card. Raising her eyebrows, she opened the card, where a bank card and driver’s license fell out. On the license was a picture of a woman who vaguely looked like Natasha on it, but the name on both cards wasn’t hers. Scrawled underneath the printed ‘hope you feel better soon!’ was some neat cursive that said “Bank account for some rich widow who owes me a favour. French accent. Only withdraw $10k at a time. Get some new equipment”.

She straightened up a little in her bed, frowning. She tried her best not to look back over at Peter, who had just let out a lazy sigh in his sleep. “I could have done better,” she said. “I have suffered far worse than a bit of glass to my leg.” She pushed the envelope back. “And I’m not taking this.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Janet said with a weak smile. “You are super strong, Gamora. I wish I was more like you.”

“No you don’t,” Gamora said firmly.

“Yes, I do,” Janet said back, a fierceness in her face that she usually reserved for supervillains and people who talked badly about her friends. “Don’t say mean things about yourself! You’re like, the coolest girl in school, you’re super pretty, and you’re the most dangerous woman in the galaxy. One bad mission is whatever, but don’t let anything or anyone get you down. Especially not you.”

Gamora chewed on her bottom lip, considering. “Thank you, Janet,” she said softly. “I am honored to have you as a friend.”

“You should be,” Janet said, suddenly switching back to her cheerful, bubbly self. It was a bit jarring to watch. “Oh, Peter’s waking up!”

A long groan emanated from the bed on Gamora’s right, and she turned to see him laying his forearm across his forehead, only to wince at the contact of his many little bandages rubbing against each other. She could only imagine how sensitive his skin was right now, how long it would take his body to heal itself from all the little cuts while her thigh stitched itself up in a matter of hours.

“G’mora?”

“Hi,” she said, turning onto her side so she could lay her head back down on her pillow. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’ve got about a million holes in my skin, but I’ve had worse,” Peter said, attempting to shrug. “How about you? When I woke up, you were getting glass removed from your gut - it was super gross - like, the docs had you on some super hardcore anesthesia or something - ”

“I need no details,” Gamora interrupted. “I feel a faint pain in my head and leg, but otherwise I’m already bored of this place.”

“Guess you won’t be able to make your date with Adam after all. Sorry about that,” Peter said, twisting his mouth in sympathy.

“Date with Adam?” They both started slightly, having forgotten that Janet was in the room with them. She was eyeing them both suspiciously.

“He is teasing me,” Gamora said, turning over to look at Wasp. “Adam offered to help me with the equipment at Club Galaxy tonight, that’s all. But I suppose I will be stuck in here all weekend with...my boyfriend...instead.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” Peter said, grinning. Janet smiled back, satisfied with their answers.

“Well, in that case, I’ll leave you two alone,” she said with a wink, getting to her feet. “But I’ll go tell the nurses you’re awake, Gamora. And I’ll let the Guardians know you’re both okay now. Oh, and Fury wants to talk to you guys, so he’ll be in at around 9.”

“Visiting hours are between and 8 and 5 every other Thursday,” Peter called at Janet’s back, but she was already gone. “Damn. I’m really not looking forward to it.”

One of the nurses strolled in briskly, holding a medical chart and holo-tab. “I heard Miss Gamora was awake? Oh, and Mister Quill, Mister Udonta is waiting outside for you, should I let him in?”

“Never mind,” Peter sighed. “Two bad visitors. Can he at least wait til after you’re done checking on Gamora?” he said to the nurse. She nodded, stopping by Gamora’s bedside to pull her bedsheets back and push her hospital gown up.

Peter suddenly turned away, flushing slightly at the sight of Gamora’s skin, feeling very much like a little boy who had never seen a woman before. Granted, growing up alongside the Ravagers, he sometimes saw a little more of women than he should have at that age, but something about seeing Gamora’s bare skin made him remember how vulnerable she must be feeling.

The nurse inspected the stitches closely, checking for any residual bleeding or potential infections. When she was satisfied, she continued pushing the gown further up to expose her stomach. Gamora twitched uncomfortably, crossing her legs despite the fact she was wearing undergarments, grateful that Peter was definitely not looking.

“Whatever your body mods are doing for you, it’s working miracles,” the nurse told her, not unkindly. “You had four broken ribs when you first got here but now? Nothing. We didn’t even have to do anything.” She finished checking over her torso wound, replacing the bandages and gauze, and pulled the hem of the gown back to her knees. “Do you need painkillers?”

“I’m okay,” Gamora said, pausing. “Um, thank you.” The nurse had the decency not to look too surprised, and nodded in response, pressing a small device into her hands.

“Push the button if you need anything,” the nurse said. “I’ll go get Mister Udonta from the waiting room.” After she left, Gamora turned towards Peter, who was still facing the other wall.

“You decent?” he said.

“What?”

“I mean, are you covered?”

“I - yes,” she said slowly, confused, as Peter rolled back around, pushing his bedcovers back to reveal that he wasn’t wearing his hospital gown, on account of what looked like several layers of gauze wrapped around his torso, faintly blood-stained. “Quill,” she said, alarmed. She slowly moved as if to get out of bed, but the stinging sensation in her leg told her it was a bad idea. “Janet didn’t tell me there was more to your injuries.”

“A few shallow slices here and there. I’m gonna have some pretty awesome scars after this,” Peter boasted. “I am hot as hell, though, these bedsheets are weirdly heavy - ”

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” The doors swung open as Yondu strolled in, whistling idly. Gamora’s eyes darted around suspiciously for the yaka arrow, but it seemed to be firmly tucked into his belt without a single twitch. “Why don’t you have your clothes on, boy? Hope you two ain’t getting up to some nasty business in ‘ere.”

“I’m just overheating a little, Yondu,” Peter said, rolling his eyes as he pulled himself around to properly look at the other man. “Is everyone else doing okay? I should probably do something for Groot, the poor guy.”

“Twig’s okay, he stopped cryin’,” Yondu said, settling himself down on the foot of Peter’s bed. “Your sister’s goin’ a bit wild, though. Bug-girl thinks it’s all her fault that he got so freaked out.”

“Oh no,” Peter sighed. “Alright, I’ve gotta make it up to Mantis somehow, too. I mean, everyone, really. Rocket’s probably pissed at me.”

“School seems intent on puttin’ you two up on a pedestal, y’ask me,” Yondu snorted. “I mean, y’crashed and burned about 20 minutes into the battle, but some of them girls seem to find it romantic that you’re the ones stuck in the hospital.”

“That is ridiculous,” Gamora said. “It’s not like we planned this.”

“Sounds like we couldn’t have planned it any better, actually,” Peter admitted. “We could cook up some real good story about how we saved each other’s lives. I mean, you basically got me going again after I first got hit, Gamora, we could twist this a little further, get some sympathy votes?”

“That sounds dishonorable,” she frowned. “Are we not above emotional manipulation?”

“Not when there’s money involved,” Yondu said gleefully, rubbing his hands together. “Is just a little exaggeration, Gamora, nothin’ to worry about.”

Peter sighed. “Is there anything else you need, Yondu?”

The other held up his hands as if to surrender, standing up slowly. “Just checking in. I’ll leave you lovebirds be.”

“Please don’t tell anyone - and he’s gone.” Peter groaned, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands. Gamora tried not to stare too closely at the way his broad shoulders tensed up as he did so. “Well, this weekend isn’t going the way I’d hoped.”

She reached over as best as she could, and he shuffled a little closer in confusion, allowing her to pat him on the hand. “It could be worse. You could be stuck in here with Rocket.”

Peter laughed, then immediately winced in regret, clutching at his bandaged torso. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you’re probably the best person to be stuck in here with anyways. Drax would unknowingly insult me the whole time, Mantis would just worry like crazy, and I won’t exactly be having interesting conversations with Groot.”

Gamora smiled, nodding encouragingly. “Exactly. After all, I am your best friend. And your fake girlfriend.”

He looked down at her hand over his, contemplating for a moment before he turned his wrist so he could interlace their fingers and squeeze. “Hell yeah.”

______

Yondu was practically skipping up the ramp of the Milano, a spring in his step. He was satisfied to confirm his suspicions - Peter had it bad. Less than five minutes in the room with them, and he was staring at the girl like she put the stars in the sky. No, not even that. Like he would put the stars in the sky for her if she asked.

So, new plan. Instead of having him whining and denying like he was a kid all over again, get the two to date for real. Maybe it would result in some romantic crap Yondu (and let's face it, all the other Guardians aside from Groot and maybe Mantis) would want to hurl at, but it would be a right sight better than Quill mooning after Gamora forever.

“Hello, Yondu,” Mantis said from the weapons rack next to the ramp. She was helping Rocket reorganize everything after he grumbled at her about being too injured to do any heavy lifting. “Are Peter and Gamora alright?”

“Jus’ peachy,” Yondu said cheerily. The girl smiled so widely it made his cheeks twinge in sympathy for hers. “And I got a new idea. You'll like this one.”

“Should we have a team meeting, then?” He nodded, gesturing for her to follow him to the common area.

Drax was fast asleep on the couch, one foot on the coffee table and the other outstretched across the length of the seat, his snores rumbling throughout the cabin. Groot was sitting on his shoulder, nodding off. Rocket was at the table, replacing the bandages on his arm, and as expected, Nebula was nowhere to be found.

“Team!” Yondu barked. Drax jerked out of his sleep immediately, and Rocket yanked his bandage too tightly, cursing under his breath.

“Hi to you too, big blue,” Rocket sighed. “How's Quill and Gamora?”

“Safe and sound,” Yondu replied, settling down in the armchair. “And I have an idea. About them two.”

Mantis stood by the kitchenette, looking both delighted and confused. “Oh, I did not know about this part of the idea. Do tell!”

Yondu glanced around, making sure he had everyone's attention before beginning. “Quill’s been a little out of it lately. He been starin’ at Gamora since they met, but I don't think he's even so much as winked at another woman the past few months. Migh’ not sound like much, but I known him longer than any of you. Means he's in love.”

“He's probably just really getting into being a team leader now, ‘specially since we're known to the public. Doesn't want any bad blood with any of the girls on campus or his reputation’ll go down the drain,” Rocket scoffed.

“But you see that look on his face whenever she's around? Don’t make that face at anyone else.” Yondu grinned as Mantis nodded along. “See, bug-girl knows what I'm talking about. And she knows feelings. I think the best way to get Quill to focus is if he actually dates her for real.”

“Seems like a waste of time to me,” Drax frowned. “Quill needs to find a woman who will dance, like him. Gamora is a warrior, an assassin.”

“Don’t mean she can't learn how to dance.” Yondu had an odd look of delight on his face he usually reserved for big scores of units or rare trinkets. “Listen, all we gotta do is push ‘em both in the right direction. Talk to ‘em about their feelings or somethin’. And maybe, once they stop focusing on this dumbass plan o’theirs and actually date? We won’ have any more mishaps like today.”

Rocket stood on his chair, arms folded. “Surprised, Yondu, woulda thought you'd want them apart, not together.”

“You saw how mis’rable the boy was back when Gamora was talking ‘bout going back to the Cosmic Conservatory? Or when Warlock first got here and he thought she was gonna run off with him? Nah, separatin’ them’s only gonna make Quill sad.”

“He was weirdly passive-aggressive when Gamora and Golden Boy were talking on the comms this morning,” Rocket admitted. “Maybe you've got a point.”

“Can I help?” Mantis said, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “As Peter’s sister and Gamora’s friend, perhaps it would be best if I talk to them first.”

“Sure, girlie, but don't go messin’ with their heads or readin’ their minds,” Yondu nodded. “Let’s get this nonsense outta the way so we can get back to the real missions.”

“You are still not a member of the Guardians yet,” Drax reminded him. “You and Nebula have yet to prove yourselves.”

“It’ll happen, don’ you worry,” Yondu said, waving a dismissive hand.

“I am Groot.”

“Don’t give him hope,” Rocket said, moving to scoop up the little guy from Drax’s shoulder.

“Twig believes in me,” Yondu said confidently. “And that’s all I need.”

______

Peter and Gamora ended up sleeping for the rest of the afternoon and evening, Peter because he was bone-tired and Gamora because she honestly had no idea about what to do with her time. Her holo-tab could only keep her entertained for so long as she relayed more details of the mission in her “Academy Girls <3” group chat (created and titled by Janet, of course), her weapons were back at the Milano, and Peter’s presence currently consisted of him snorting in his sleep.

Director Fury’s visit, unsurprisingly, consisted of about five minutes of him giving them a stern dressing-down, and two minutes of him inquiring after their well-being. Oddly enough, he told Gamora that Adam had been by to see them (read: just her), but had been stopped along the way by Yondu.

“Yondu came back?” Peter groaned, rubbing at his temples.

“Any idea what that whole altercation was about?” Fury said, ignoring Peter’s dramatics. Gamora shook her head, confused. Yondu wasn’t the most friendly of people, no, but since when did he have issues with Adam? “Quill, if I’m gonna have a problem with Udonta starting trouble on campus - ”

“It was probably just a misunderstanding, Director,” Gamora said. “We can talk to him after we’re released tomorrow.”

“Good.” Fury stood even taller, satisfied. His hands moved to his hips, causing his coat to flip out behind him, grazing the linoleum floor. Peter suspected Fury’s brain required him to do that move at least three times a day. “You two rest up. I don’t want to be having another chat with you in this room, a week from now, telling you not to be stupid. The Sovereign might be after the Guardians, doesn’t mean you go after them with a ship that isn’t yours. Get the Milano fixed.”

“With all due respect, sir, we don’t really have money?” Peter coughed. “Um, not that I’m asking for it. You’re not my father, sir - ”

“And I’m glad,” Fury interrupted. “Your daddy was a real troublemaker.” He paused. “I’ll see what I can do for the ship.”

“Thank you,” Peter called as the Director swept out of the room. “What’s with everyone not saying goodbye?”

Gamora chuckled softly, turning over on her side to look at Peter. The throbbing sensation in her body had gone down significantly, but the stitches were still sensitive to movement. “I think I’m too awake now. We’ve been sleeping for at least six hours.”

“It’s been a really long day, but it’s somehow only 9:30,” Peter said, glancing at the persistently loud wall clock. “You wanna do something?”

“Like what? There’s nothing here.” She looked around the room to see if there was anything she missed. Sterile white walls, white curtains, a couple visitor’s chairs, their medical charts on the holo-screens staring mockingly back at her. Their tablets and emptied dinner trays sat on the tables next to their beds, which could only provide a distraction for a couple more hours at most. “We could quiz each other for that espionage lab we have on Wednesday.”

Peter let out a whining noise that reminded Gamora of Cosmo when his more dog-like instincts came into play. “That’s boring. We could quiz each other on something else, though. Like, 20 Questions?”

“Is that literally just asking each other 20 different questions?” It sounded mundane to her, but anything would be better than attempting to fall back asleep again. Even though it was relatively easy for her body to shut itself down on command, Peter would probably be tossing and turning all night.

“Yes, but about ourselves,” he said. “Like, our favourite colours, or what book we read recently, or something. I figured it’d also help with the whole fake relationship thing. And if it gets too personal, we can just say we don’t want to answer.”

“Okay. I’ll play.” Gamora did her best to stretch, feeling a dull ache of stiff muscles settling in. “You start.”

Peter was quiet for so long she started to wonder if he had dozed off again. “What’s your favourite part of this school?”

She gaped at him. “You made it sound like you were going to ask easy questions,” she exclaimed, debating whether to throw a pillow at him.

“I didn’t think that was a difficult one,” he protested. “I can ask something else.”

“No, it’s...it’s fine.” Gamora fell silent, contemplating. “I like the different kinds of training we have here. I suppose I’ve gotten too comfortable in my own style of combat and structure since even you managed to con me when we first met.” Peter laughed at the memory. Although it might have been (physically) painful in the moment, he would’ve never guessed it would lead them to where they were now. “What about you?”

“The clubs, obviously!” he said with vigor. “Way more dancing here than at the Cosmic Conservatory, don’t you think?”

“Not sure I see it as a positive thing,” she said teasingly. “Your dancing has increased tenfold since we started going here.”

He smiled. “If you had to pick one non-Guardian classmate to join the team, who would you pick?”

“Danvers,” Gamora said almost immediately. “She is the most powerful person on this campus, as far as I can tell, and her cosmic origins would help us immensely on many missions.” Peter nodded in agreement - that would’ve been his answer as well. “Do you wish that your date with her had gone differently?”

Peter froze. He hadn’t expected that. His date with Carol had been back when he and Gamora barely knew each other, when their relationship was more antagonistic than friendly. The others knew vaguely of the details that had led to it ending poorly, but Gamora knew the least, on account of him just...not wanting her to know. “At the time? Yeah, for sure, but now, I just don't think we would've worked out no matter what I did.”

“Why not?”

“Is that your third question?” Peter countered. She shrugged, unsure if she could even think of twenty. “I dunno, there's just...other factors that make it less likely for me to want a relationship with her. Don't bother with asking what they are, you're just gonna waste a question,” he chuckled as Gamora began to open her mouth. “Alright, if you’re gonna ask me that, then I’m gonna ask you this - do you think Adam has a crush on you?”

She looked so caught off guard Peter almost immediately wanted to take it back. “This is getting more personal than I anticipated,” she commented. “I don't know if he does. We just have a lot in common.”

“Maybe you could try going out with him after we've ‘broken up’. You seem to get along with him way better than you do with us.”

Gamora frowned. “Is that what you think? That arguing with someone less means I like them more? From what I remember of our mission on Ego’s planet, we determined that we considered each other family because we fought so much.”

Peter looked sullen. “I only meant that it'd be easier, than say, if we were actually dating. Alright, new topic, this is getting dangerously close to arguing territory. What's the last thing you and Nebula talked about?”

It took her a moment to answer, still reeling from Peter’s comment. What would they be like if they were actually dating? Disastrous, maybe. As friends and basically co-leaders of the Guardians, they were already rather volatile. As a couple, the delicate balance of their position as students, as members of a galaxy-saving team, as part of a family, would explode. Possibly literally. “Um, we talked about whether it would be worth to teach Mantis more combat and weaponry. Her martial arts skills are admirable but she will eventually need more.”

“So you want Mantis to be a more offense than defense member of our team.” It technically wasn’t a question. “Is that something she asked for?”

“It’s not a matter of asking, though we have her consent to be her teachers,” Gamora said. “She is a valuable member of our team, despite being very new, and it makes sense for her to use more than her empath abilities. What was the last thing you and Mantis spoke about?”

Peter smiled, and she relaxed a little. Their innocent game was starting to veer into open discussion of emotions and intentions, both things she tended to keep close to her heart. Maybe this was the right direction to bring them back to a light-hearted ‘get-to-know-you’ chat. “So I didn’t really tell anyone this, but as soon as I found out Mantis was basically my sister, I asked Janet for help on what Terran girls liked to do for fun, since I don’t know anything about Mantis’s homeworld or if I would have access or time to get things on other planets. I only vaguely remembered things Mom told me about, but I wanted her to be caught up to modern times, not just, y’know, stuck in the past like me. Janet found this boxset of crafts she got from a bookstore, and I knew it was meant to be for little kids, but it just seemed like something that my mom would’ve done as a girl and something Mantis would want to do now. So, uh, long story short, the last thing I did was teach Mantis how to make friendship charm bracelets.”

She could practically picture it now - with the other Guardians occupied with other personal things, Peter and Mantis had spent Thursday night on the Milano alone. They were probably sprawled out on the couch, enjoying the uncommon amount of elbow room, with Peter placing the box on the coffee table and excitedly telling Mantis about this cool thing that Terran girls liked to do with their friends. Gamora could also imagine Mantis asking Peter how it worked, and then spend the rest of the night weaving together.

One little statement, however, had caught her attention the most. “You think you’re stuck in the past? Just because you like holding onto things from your childhood?”

“It feels that way sometimes,” Peter admitted. “Stark got me a Spotify account and taught me how to make playlists, gave me the newest Starkphone, and yeah, it’s great that there’s been a lot of positive change - socially, culturally, politically - last one’s debatable - and I don’t want to literally live in the 80s - but I always go back to the Walkman, the Troll dolls, the stuff that my mom gave me.”

“If I still had possessions that my parents gave me as a child, I would keep them around too,” Gamora said quietly. “A picture, even. I sometimes don’t remember what they look like. I only remember being told I resembled my father more than my mother.”

He burrowed himself a little deeper into his sheets (he had asked the nurse to switch out his bedsheets for something significantly lighter) and blinked slowly at her. “What do you remember about your parents?” It was barely a whisper.

“I was so young when Thanos took me,” she said, rotating so she was on her back, staring at the ceiling. “I think...I remember my mother being very funny. She was very good at making my father laugh, even though he was a man who did not necessarily like to laugh.” She turned to look over at Peter. “Not that he was an emotionless person. At least, I don’t think so. What was your favourite thing about your mother?”

Unsurprisingly, he answered near instantly, though there was a suspicious glossiness to his eyes that made her worry about her question. She thought back to his wistful nature when she had commented on the picture in his room, and wondered if this was a step too far. “Her heart. She had so much love in her heart - for me, for her big family, for people she didn’t even know yet. Like, a little girl who broke her ankle trying to climb the tree in our backyard. Mom didn’t even ask why or how she got there, just drove her to the hospital and called her parents. Or a tired old woman who yelled at the cashier for being slow, only to realize she left her wallet at home and couldn’t pay for the groceries to feed her sick husband. Mom paid, and bought her a bouquet of flowers, hoping it would cheer them both up. Things like that.” He chuckled softly. “I want to be as good as my mom someday.”

“You’re already on your way, Quill,” Gamora said. “Just a bit more effort into school, maybe? And stop copying my answers, I saw your workbook for multiverse history and it was almost identical.”

He laughed at that. “Fair enough. Alright, last question. I know we’re only like halfway, but we’ll end up with a really messed-up sleep schedule if we continue. Do you like being a Guardian?”

She smiled at the ceiling, picturing the glow-in-the-dark stars of her bunk on the Milano. She could almost connect the dots between the speckles of the ceiling tile in patterns that closely resembled the constellations nearly ingrained in her mind. “Yes, I do.”

a/n: the game is on! who knows what else peter and gamora will want to know about each other ;) also i love yondu so much?? i’m also sort of working on a post-vol.2 fic and not having him around in that one hurts me.

[thebsbakery]

So Many Cookies

I intended on having these following posts up way before now, but then holidays happened and everything basically blew up and everyone was doing everything and my sleep got messed up and then winter crapped all over the Midwest...*sharp intake of breath*

Basically, I'm finally getting the holiday cookies I sent and gave to people up on my foodblog. I figure this is the first holiday season in which I've had my foodblog, and I make a fuckton of cookies to send to people anyway so...rather than figuring out if my dinner is good enough to take pics of and put on the blog, I'll do a post-a-day series of the cookies I made.

Also, full disclosure; none of these recipes are mine. The red velvet cookies are made from a modified cake mix cookie recipe from Mr. Food, as did the recipes for the tea shortbread and pretzel balls. As for the swirl cookies, they're a modified chocolate-mint swirl cookie recipe I found on Tablespoon. I'm going to post the link directly to the recipe I used for each cookie, so don't expect any big list of ingredients.

Well, except for the cases in which I either added or changed something to suit my fancy.

Anyways, this is just the first blog post in a series of four, one for each sweet treat I made to give as Yule gifts. First up, the Red Velvet Cookies.

https://www.mrfood.com/Cookie-Recipes/Cake-Mix-Cookies-5053

What I changed for the cookies was switching out the devil's food cake mix for red velvet cake mix, and adding some white chocolate chips. Apart from that, I kept to the main recipe.

Also, I'm making a double batch, which is why there's four eggs and two boxes of cake mix. If you just want a single batch of cookies, simply follow the regular recipe. Also, there are plans for the dark candy melts and the vanilla bark, but that's later.

First step, if you're me anyway is mixing up the Dream Whip. If you'd just rather use the pre-made whipped cream topping you find with the rest of the ice cream stuff, skip this step. But mom usually keeps some Dream Whip in the cupboard, and it's basically the same thing so I just whip up a batch and use it instead.

Next, follow the recipe directions as they are, folding or mixing in the cake mix into the whipped topping. Then the eggs, et cetera. About half way through I added the white chips, mostly to save my own sanity as this is a very sticky dough and makes it really hard for the beaters of my hand mixer to, well, beat.

Also, if you're using a hand mixer like me, pay attention to the hand mixer. I ended up turning it off, unplugging it and setting it aside because it was overheating because it was working so hard to mix this dough (though that could also be partly due to the fact that I'd been using the thing all freaking day, too). Protip; if you're using a hand mixer and you start to smell plastic, turn the beater off, unplug it, and finish folding your dough together with a spatula.

Uuuunnfortunately due to my own scatterbrained-ness, I didn't get a pic of the finished dough. Dumb me. So just trust me when I say it was a deep, gorgeous blood red. And it smelled delightful, too.

Next, roll them into little balls (about ½ to ¾ of an inch in diameter), coat them in powdered sugar (or cocoa powder, or a mix of both like I did) and place them on your cookie sheet with an inch or two in between. This is where I say I freaking love my giant cookie sheets. It's a pain in the arse to be using a bunch of sheets where I can only fit a dozen or so cookies, when the recipe makes three dozen or more.

So yeah. Giant cookie pans are a godsend. I love them. I have three of these suckers and use the hell out of 'em.

Anyway, pop them into the oven and let them bake. They should be done in about twelve minutes, if you're using a working oven. This is why I went to my friend Kate's house, as she's got an oven that works properly and isn't stuck with a family of lunatics like Gamer is. She just has lots of fluffy purring cat loaves.

These are what they look like when they're out. You'll want the tops to be all nice and cracked, exposing the soft, gooey red insides.

...okay, yeah, I could've used better wording with that. But you get the picture.

Anyway, if you like you can stop here and nom on your cookies as-is. But, being the amateur baker and artist I am, I've got a couple more steps involved.

Steps involving melted chocolate and sprinkles!!

For those of you who haven't worked with melting chocolate before, you're gonna want a double-boiler. If you're doing a lot of dipping like I did with these, it'll be a lot easier than melting the chocolate in the microwave and less likely to burn. It's also, believe it or not, less mess.

Also, don't have your bowl of sprinkles sitting on the stove. I just did that here for visual's sake, and the stove was not on when I took this picture.

Once the dark chocolate's melted, dip the top of the cookies in it and then into the sprinkles.

I only sprinklefied half of my cookies, for a couple reasons. One is because of what I had in mind for the white melting chocolate. The other is because I had no idea if I had enough of the colorful sprinkles to do all of the red velvet cookies and I wanted to be on the safe side.

Turns out, I was right and didn't have enough for all the cookies. Being prepared really does help.

For the cookies that didn't get sprinkles, I melted some of the white chocolate and drizzled it over the tops of them and followed up with some of the red sugar sprinkles I had hanging around in the cupboard from last year's cookie-baking frenzy.

I know, I know. Traditionally, red velvet anything is paired with cream cheese frosting. And not for no reason, as they go together so damn well. But I decided to break with tradition a bit and top these with dark chocolate instead, and it paid off. Red velvet and dark chocolate go just as well together.

So, that's the first of the Yuletide cookie marathon. Tomorrow I'm going to post the strawberry-tequila-chocolate swirls. Yes, they use alcohol and no, they will not get you drunk.