#save me ive been stuck on these two for longer than i should.

[pan1kaz3]

valentines drawing of the stupid crack ship i’ve been weirdly obsessed with for the past year or so. help. 😭

i call them sparkbullet. yeah i might post art of them cos i have a lot 💀

what can i say. they are my truth.

[daenysthedreamersblog]

SUN BLEACHED FLIES- A STRANGERS STORY (IV)

God loves you, but not enough to save you

So, baby girl, good luck taking care of yourself

But I always knew that in the end no one was coming to save me

So I just prayed and I keep praying and praying and praying

summary: life was good, well as good as it could be always living on the end of president snow's leash dreaming of the freedom you don't even want

pairings: president!coriolanus snow x district6!reader

warnings: MDNI!! BLOOD! violence, power imbalance, coercion, slapping, choking, murder, death, suicide, gore, smut!!, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, dub-con, knives!!

notes: omgg i love these two and i hope i did them justice in this probable final piece of theirs, could have been rougher but sometimes u got to let the story write u ya know anyways!! enjoy my little psychopaths

His head moves over yours in beautiful slow motion, blond strands brushing against your forehead, sweat sliding down his nose to drip onto your parted lips. You drink it like holy water, like his sweat is the only thing that you can keep down as he thrust into you. Blue eyes bore into your own, burrowing down deep into you decrepit soul, or where it used to be, you had traded it over to him long ago for this, for him. You run your hands down wet naked skin as his movement slowed, as he spills inside of you with a teeth grinding groan.

The world comes back into focus as you stare up at his face watching him push curling blond hair off of his forehead. He brings his mouth down to let his teeth graze your jaw. You close your eyes as he pulls out of you, that ever gnawing emptiness replacing him, and slides next to your body, arms remaining locked around your waist. "Have dinner with me tonight." He trails his mouth up your neck. You open your mouth to remind him you had dinner with him every night in your pretty cage of a bedroom, "Downstairs." You turn to take in his face. "I have a surprise for you."

You answer by rolling over on top of him.

Later in the evening he sends his team of stylist to your room to get you ready. They put your hair into a delicate messy up-do and a layer of makeup before slipping on the champagne satin gown. You only were allowed to get dressed up for every Hunger Games when he paraded you around for everyone to see, then whisked you away to fuck you against the bathroom wall for everyone to hear. They leave you in a gentle silence letting you stare at your reflection for far longer than you should. You never recognized yourself, like that girl who's name had been reaped didn't exist anymore, had never existed at all. Your reflection was simply a ghost, a reminder of what he had turned you into, this hallow needy pliant shell, so you stand up and leave the room heels softly clicking against his wooden floor not believing much in ghost.

He's sitting at the head of the table drinking brown liquor out of a glass cup as he watches you walk into the room.

You take the seat on his right.

"You look nice." You watch as he leans forward to fill your glass up with white wine. You avoid grabbing it too quickly, forcing yourself to drink it slow instead of chugging it back. He liked to limit your alcohol intake, only letting you have it on special occasions which apparently was tonight.

This was the dance you always had been in with him since you won. It had been years since he locked you away here, years since you decided to not even bother trying to run away, maybe didn't even want to. You weren't even sure if you had ever wanted anything besides him. He had gotten married, he had children, the games continued, the world moved on, but the two of you were stuck in this suspended moment of time with each other.

"I'm having Livia and the children moved." He said cutting into his food. You sipped on your wine. "It's for the best they're not here."

"Won't you miss them?" You didn't see them often, especially Livia. At first she would come to dinner with the two of you, but once the children came you all had decided it best if they did not see you. You knew she still sometimes listened outside your door when her husband fucked you, but usually on nights she had too much to drink.

He sneered, "Not her." He didn't like her, but he did find enjoyment with his children. He wasn't overly affectionate with them, nor a very present parent but he did put an effort into making sure they were raised properly. They had once stumbled upon you in the greenhouse, and for a moment the world seemed to make pretend the four of you were one big happy family as he let you show them the few bluebells you had planted in the corner where no one could see. You saw him in their little faces, their bright blue eyes, and you wanted to please them just as much, make them proud of you.

But they weren't him, and you didn't care for anything that wasn't.

You pretended you needed to leave, and he went along with it as you dismissed yourself and vowed to never see them again. You didn't want to scare them, scare yourself with too many wrong feelings.

"Is that the surprise?" It would be nice to move more freely within his home without running into their little faces, running into Livia who despised you.

He put more food onto your plate shaking his head. "No. I have news of your parents." You sat up straighter. You hadn't been back to District 6 since he put you on that train and you knew he would never let you go back even if you asked, even if you wanted to. You weren't sure if you missed them, you know you should but it was hard to feel anything besides your hunger for him. It did puzzle you they never came asking for you, never tried to find you to bring you home, never tried to save you. You assumed they had been paid off or-!

"They're dead."

Your heart drops, it was a strange feeling. "What?"

He waved his hand like it was nothing, like they were nothing. "Morphling overdose." You furrowed your brows shaking your own head. No, they weren't addicts, they hated that you had drank so much after the Games. You're spiraling, so lost in trying to figure out how it happened you almost miss his confession, "They wouldn't stop asking about you."

Your vision tunneled in on his face. "You-you did it?"

You catch your slip right as his hand makes contact with your face snapping your head to the side. Don't stutter. But now your cheek was stinging with the consequences of your insubordination. Gentle fingers cup under your chin to turn your reddened face towards him, "They would have taken you from me." He spoke it so softly that you figured it had come from kindness.

What had he said to you all those nights ago within a thrown away plea, the sentence you had unwillingly agreed to that sealed your fate. 'Did you mean?' He whispered, 'That you don't want anyone to take you away from me.'

He runs his finger along your arm so gently tracing the blue veins like he too was thinking on the fond memory, "I only gave them the morphling; it isn't my fault they took so much of it." You close your eyes; he had gotten them hooked on morphling to the point they had overdosed and died all because they asked about you.

They had asked about you.

The hand gripping your wine glass squeezes too hard and the glass shatters around the table. Had they missed you? Did they love you? They had to have to ask him about you, but it's so hard to remember it, so hard to make your brain picture what that felt like. You know he's looking at you, can feel his eyes burning into your skull as you stare at the broken pieces, your blood dripping onto the edges. You grab the biggest piece and jump across the table at him. He roars as you jam it down into his shoulder reeling back with his own cup and smashing it across your head.

"I did it for you!" Your body flies to the side, cool marble meeting your skin, as he straddles your leg, hands coming around your neck too quickly, strangling you.

"Sir?" You hear his guards asking if they need to shoot you, they were always ready to.

He glances over his shoulder at them while you clawed at his wrist, legs flailing out trying to breath, "It's fine!" He looks back at you letting go of your throat admiring the color returning to your face, "It's fine." He grinds his teeth contemplating his next move, then he's clicking his tongue at you as you heave breaths. "I thought you'd be happy." He's sliding his hand up your thigh, "Aren't you happy?" Fingers meet your bare, soaked cunt, "Come on tell me what I want to hear." He pushes two fingers inside of you and you bite down on your bottom lip holding in the trained response, holding in the war raging inside of your cursed bleeding heart. You felt so alone in the world, but you weren't, you had him in every tortured version of this, you had him. His hand shifts, thumb pressing down on your clit and your mouth parts in a weak whimper. You glanced up at him expecting satisfaction, but cool anger greets you, "I thought you had let that pathetic life go."

"Th-!"

He pulls his hand out yanking you upward by your arm and throws you into the table bending your body around the wood, dishes clattering under you. "Maybe you need a reminder of how good you have it here." He rips your dress up around your hips baring your nakedness to him. You barely have time to register it before he slams into you. You gasp out against shattered silverware, glass poking into you as he starts to brutally thrust into you. "You don't have anyone else now." Your hands grasp for purchase on the table runner tears prickling your eyes, you're not sure what you're crying for, "You don't need anyone else." You try to pick up your head confusion and confirmation melding in your bones, but he slams it back down abusing your cervix with every deep thrust into you. "They were nothing!" His hips snap against yours, "I saved you! I am all you need." His hand snakes around your body pressing into your clit and you moan in agreement. He's right; he was all you needed. Not that life you had grieved, not the rumble of trains leaving the district, not the oil coating your father's hands or the tea your mother served. Your eyes squeeze shut as your body relaxes around him letting strange memories fade away like strange mechanical smoke. You arch your back for him. "There's my darling bluebell." You hear the smile in his voice and you melt into his skin knowing this was truly everything. You don't even listen to your broken heart weeping that they had asked for you as soon as the orgasm washes over you. He pounds into you harder, fingers marking your skin until his cum is coating every wicked part of inside of you.

You watch the blood drying on your hand.

He kisses your shoulder his cock still buried deep inside of you, "I did it for you bluebell." He pulls out of you, gently straightening your dress down before helping you stand up properly.

You turn to face him. He picks strands of glass out of your hair before pushing it off of your face, some pieces sticking to the blood on the side of your head. "Thank you Mr. President, sir."

He had ruined you, and you thanked him for it.

"Such a good girl." He cups your face and kisses your forehead. He glances to the back of the room where servants and guards no doubt stood watching. "Clean this up." He wraps his hand around your waist to lead you out of the room.

The months pass normally, without much change, which brings a sense of calm as you watch the seasons filter through the bars of your pretty cage. You watch the leaves change from green to orange to brown until they finally died on the ground below. You watched snow blanket the grounds of his mansion, watch it fall silently at night when the full moon was high and he lay naked in the bed behind you. How easy it would be to turn around and stab him in his frozen heart over and over again letting his blood pelt down on you like the rain hitting your window. Instead you watch snow melt on the wilted mushy grass below, watch the bugs fly across your window, watch them land and you wonder how freeing it felt to escape the little landing they had made within the hole of your inclosure.

But that freedom isn't worth it and dead flies stare back at you in their windowsill graves.

You make your way down to the greenhouse set on planting your spring flowers before summer took its complete hold over the world. You feel peace as you close the door behind you plunging the area in serene silence.

It's the only time you truly ever smile as your hand sinks into dirt, as you dig out a home for his white roses. He didn't let you plant them at first knowing your history of killing them on accident, but you had proved yourself, as you had with everything.

This is as far as he let you go within his property. You knew he was still watching, knew there were cameras, knew he had guards somewhere keeping an eye on you. It didn't matter, you told yourself with a gentle grin on your lips covering up the plant. No, not truly, as you watered it. This was your life now, it had been for years and you were content with the security, the seclusion, the insanity of it all, and besides you were nothing without him.

You glance in the far back corner of the room where empty pots sat that had once held your small number of blooming bluebells. They had withered and died long ago, you had let them, and never planted them again.

You liked his roses more.

Most of the day is gone when you head back into his home, and the minute the door closes something feels off, the hair on your neck standing up. You tuck your head down and make your way for the stairs to go back to your room not feeling up to figuring out why the house felt strange.

You didn't need to go searching for it since she was standing in your room.

"Mrs. Snow."

She sneers, "Oh yes I forgot you were so proper."

Don't stutter. "Can I help you with something?" You have your hands clasp in front of you standing up too straight as you watch her.

"Where is he?" She ask peering at her freshly manicured nails like this conversation bored her. You swallow unsure what to tell her. You didn't know where he was, he usually left in the morning for work and returned in the evening without this much fuss. "He wasn't at work, and I know he usually doesn't let you go too far off your leash." She stands up as you continue to not answer, but her eyes dart behind you. "Right again."

"Livia." You nearly collapse in relief at his voice behind you, at the wetness slipping out of you, at his hands coming onto your shoulders. "You shouldn't be here."

She glares, "See that's where you're wrong." Livia points at you, "That thing shouldn't be here. This is my home, I am your wife." You feel his fingers dig into your skin. "Why should I be holed up in that stupid apartment while it gets to play house in my mansion."

"It's my mansion Livia." He corrects her fingers toying with the skin on your neck. "And it's a very big apartment."

"You married me, you had children with me, you should live with me." Her cheeks flush in anger. "I don't care that you have a mistress, I don't care that you two are sick fucking people." She came forward too close, finger pointed at him, "I want what you promised me Coriolanus."

Your hand flies out as you slap her across the face. The room stills, you grab your hand back like it was a separate entity. You knew why it happened. Besides the way you moaned it, he didn't like when people used his real name and not his titled one, you didn't like that she had gotten too close to him. You had attacked others for far less offenses. She reels back her own hand, but he stops her midair with a hand around her wrist, "I gave you what I promised you Livia." He sighed, "You are the president's wife, you have financial and social standing, you are well provided for, what the fuck else could you possibly want."

"I want that thing gone, out of my home, my sight, my life." She hissed.

"Careful Livia," He laughed menacingly at her, "You're starting to sound jealous." He let go of her hand and motioned to the chair off to the side of the room, "Do I need to remind you of where your place is in all of this?"

You feel the wetness slide further down your leg at the mention of what he meant, the mention of making her watch as he took you over and over again like he had on their wedding night. She cringed, "You disgust me."

He pushed hair off of your neck kissing the sensitive skin there, "Then leave, go back to where I put you." She pushed past the two of you and stormed off down the hallway. He didn't even close the door as he turned you around and cupped your face, "She's a nuisance." He backed you up until the back of your knees hit the bed.

"She's your wife."

"I don't care." He mumbled onto your skin kissing across your collarbones as he laid you back onto the bed. "I liked watching you slap her." You knew he did from the feel of his hard cock pressing into your back when you had done it. He travels down your body until he's between your legs, and then he plants a soft kiss to your bare cunt. "You did too, didn't you bluebell?"

Only a small whine leaves your throat as his tongue swirls around your clit and everything seems to vanish in your head, all you can focus on is his mouth on your pussy. Your fingers are in his hair as you tilt your hips up for him more, his tongue pressing rough circles into the sensitive bud. You craved his pleasure, you craved his violence and nothing ever chased that feeling of need away besides him. His mouth wraps around your clit and sucks making you see stars behind your eyes back arching for it, body aching for it, for him. You push back with your hips with every stroke of his tongue before looking down at him staring into his hungry dark eyes as you cum against his face. He keeps licking at you, letting you ride it out on his tongue hands slowly releasing his hair.

He pushes up onto his knees your pleasure glistening on his chin. "Are you jealous?" You furrow your brows, but you know what he's asking. Were you jealous of Livia? That she got to marry him, have his children and go out in public with him. You and him had grown closer to each other throughout the years of twining your decaying souls together, it was something wretched and inhumane, your hatred had settled into something more docile.

But it always remained.

"No," You didn't want to marry him, or have his children, or go out with him at all besides that once-a-year Hunger Games party. "Mr. President, sir." You only truly ever liked him when he was inside of you, and you knew he shared the sentiment.

The corners of his mouth begin to straighten out of his joking smirk and suddenly you're unsure if you gave him the right answer. He stares at you, and you stare at him. Then he sighs and slides in next to your body, "How long has it been?"

"I never kept track Mr. President, sir." It could have been two years or seven or fifteen you could never be sure, you lost time like you had lost yourself. He never let you have a clock anyways and why did it matter, it's not like he was ever going to let you leave at a certain point in time, nor did you want to. He had told you forever, so forever you stayed within.

You had nothing but him.

You tuck yourself into his chest.

It's dark when he comes for you. He slithers in behind you, hard cock digging into your backside and you're snaking your hand around his head to pull him closer.

His teeth graze your neck, "Not now." But he bites your shoulder and you mewl for him pushing your ass back into him. "We don't have time." He hikes up your nightgown anyways, fingers dipping into your drenched cunt and you shift your self forward to give him more room to curl his hand up inside of you. "You can't help it can you." You shake your head into the sheets as he moves his hand faster only making you whine louder when he pulls it out, "Want me to fuck you that badly?" He doesn't even wait for the response he already knew before sliding down into you. It fills you too heavenly as you fist the blankets, biting down on the corner of your pillow as he slowly thrust into you. You'll never be full of him as you arch back, pushing yourself into him more, feeling every delicious stroke of his cock.

He pulls up slightly pounding down into you, twisting his hand in your hair to arch your back for him more until bones are groaning along with you. You squeeze your eyes feeling your body clenching around him, the heat of it pooling in your stomach, toes curling into the mattress. And then you're coming around him moaning out into the pitch black room as he lets your head drop back down so he can grip your hips wildly thrusting into you until he cums deep inside of you.

He runs a finger down your spine.

He leans down pushing it all into you with a kiss on you head. "Come with me." He pulls out too quickly and you turn to look at him confused while artificial light suddenly pours in through the window. He tucks himself away before holding his hand out for you. You look between his hand and his face with a small shake in your head the sense of unease filling you tamed blood. His eyes narrow on you so you glance down at your nightgown, "It doesn't matter, now come." His tone bites at the end so you climb to your feet to take his hand, letting him drag you from the room, down the stairs, and out into the foyer.

Your unease had been correct.

Livia is there, disheveled, hands tied behind her back and a gag around her mouth. She starts yelling frightfully into it when she sees you coming down the stairs. Two peacekeepers are standing on either side of the door, fingers on their triggers as they watch her. You still on the last step.

He motions to her; but your forehead is creased in confusion. He sighs coming back towards you, hands coming around your face, "It's been eight years, four months, and twenty-three days." You still didn't understand what that had to do with his wife, "You've been so good to me all these years." He comes closer pressing his mouth to your ear, "I need you to do one more thing for me."

You look past him at Livia who's eyes were widening with settled fear, understanding what this all meant. He wanted you to hunt her down and kill her. He wanted to watch you in the Games one more time.

He pulls back slightly to glance down at your face. His body presses in close to yours, a hand grasping onto your waist, "Will you do this for me?"

Something churns inside of you as you blink up at him, noses touching each other. There was no version of this where you got to say no to anything he said, it has always been that way, he had taken everything from you and still wanted to take more like the starving man he was, always grasping insatiably at you. So you tap into that rabid part of you he had always adored more, "Yes Mr. President, sir."

"My good girl," He smiles gently kissing your mouth. He waves his hand and you hear rope being sliced. Livia's shoes dig into the ground as they drag her outside no doubt giving her a head start from you. He caresses your face, "Now... tell me your mine."

His cum slides down your legs, "I am your creature. I am yours."

He let's go moving to the side as you fly out of the door after her like a hound on her scent. The moon offer its little light as you run into the night onto the property. His bright big floodlights make up the rest, beaming down upon you not allowing her any advantage in the natural darkness, you figured he might have wanted to give her some fighting chance since she truly stood no chance at all.

She had been his wife after all, and you simply, were his district mutt.

You still, the grass wet under your feet, a soft drizzle falling down on your skin as you look for her, listen for her, thunder rumbling in the distance. In your Games you had hid, you had survived until it was only you and that district two boy left, but now you were the predator hunting down the weaker tribute. Lightning cracked, illuminating her figure slipping into the trees.

You sprinted for her your moist nightgown flapping against skin. She clambered off into the woods loud footsteps stomping into the ground whimpering sobs echoing around her. It wasn't a large area of trees, something he had had planted around his home for privacy reasons, and it had offered her the cover she needed to evade you for longer. You slowed, listening to her stumble around in the dark forest letting the broken moonlight guide you on a path. The rain was coming down harder, leaves shaking with the pressure and wind while you searched for her with water dripping down your back.

Then it's quiet.

Your bare foot sinks into mud peering into the darkness.

She shouts as she runs for you stabbing you in back before taking off again. You groan as you reach back for it, struggling to wrap your fingers around the handle to yank it out, blood now pooling down your back. They had given her a weapon, a chance, and now she had squandered it.

You look down. It was the same knife you had killed that district boy with.

Your eye twitches.

You run after her, jumping over fallen logs, skimming past loose branches as thunder shakes the arena, rain pelting you. It was kill or be killed just like it had been when you had won the first time, you would win again. You take her to the ground as she claws at you slashing across your cheek.

"Stop!" She screams but you sink the knife into her arm watching her cry out in pain. You yank it back and plunge it down again but she keeps moving, keeps fighting and it slams into the ground. "People will ask about me, wonder where the president's wife went!" And you knew you'd kill them too if he asked. She knows it too as the knife slashes her wrist. "Kill him! He ruined your life!" Her fingers find fallen parts of trees and rocks and shes hitting you with them to get you off. "He killed your parents!"

You stop, eyes quivering down at her as lightning shoots across the sky behind you. You didn't have parents. You didn't. You only had him. You squeeze your eyes, but no-no that didn't seem true either. You can smell oil. You can smell vanilla tea in a small kitchen. You can feel the trains rumbling your house. My darling bluebell. You open your eyes, no that was just the storm crashing down onto you, that's just what he called you, no one else. There was no one else, only him. She uses your distraction to shove you off and climb on-top of you a large rock in her hands to break your skull open.

But it doesn't even matter if they were alive or not, if they were real or not, no one was coming to save you.

He had saved you

She's crying, or maybe it's rain. "Do you love him?" Her voice broke with her own heart.

"No."

You shove upward with the knife hearing the sick wet noise of stabbing her organs. Blood splashes down onto you as you rip the knife out. Her body slinks off of you into the dirt and she's grabbing at the growing wound staring upward at the sky.

White moonlight blankets her face in the break of trees as she coughs up blood. "I-I'm his wife." Don't stutter, you want to tell her, but all you can do is stare at her while she dies. "I used to wonder how after all these years you two can still fuck each other like animals." She swallows blood, "But then I realized you two are animals." You straddle her hemorrhaging body, "What will you be when I'm gone."

"His victor." You stab the knife down into her chest listening to the sick crunch of her sternum bone. Once, twice, three times you bring it down into her, blood splattering across skin, dripping down your body. You didn't hate her, you didn't think much of her, but then again you hadn't hated that boy from two and you had butchered him just the same.

She chokes on more blood then goes still beneath you. You wait for the canon, but only the storm answers you. You raise your face towards the onyx oblivion letting the rain splatter onto you washing her blood off of your skin, but the slick coating it left would remain, just like that boy from two. You take three deep breaths before standing up staring out into the dark distance wondering if he was watching. You could run. You could hold onto this knife and take off into the night and maybe make it out. He kept a tight leash on you, but he had let you off of it for this, would he expect you not to come back to him. A red light of a camera blinked within the bark of a tree; what was out there for you anyways? Something tugged behind your naval, a string pulling you backwards, and you figured you quite liked your cage, it was all you ever had. You sigh, wrapping your hand around her ankle, and dragging her body back towards the house.

The floodlights shine down on you as you break through the trees, peacekeepers all back to their post surrounding him standing in the middle of the lawn like your lighthouse on treacherous waters.

Like the God you had always prayed would save you.

You dropped her leg and walked towards him. "My darling bluebell." He cups his hand around your neck tilting your face up to his.

The tip of the knife presses into his stomach as your eyes bare into his. "You kept track." You push inward more the blade barely even cutting through clothing. He doesn't even try to stop you from stabbing him if you chose, and you wanted to. You wanted to shove it in deep, wanted to rip his intestines out to strangle him with.

"My sweet creature." His thumb caresses your filthy cheek, and then he presses your lips to his. Your mouths meld together, his tongue slipping inside tasting the dirt, your blood, her blood, all of it in a depraved kiss. Slowly, long fingers wrap around your wrist tugging your hand, the knife, upward until the sharp bloody blade is pressed to the soft flesh of your neck. You want him to slide it across, slash your throat wide open so you could finally escape him. He pressed in harder, the warm trickle of your own blood leaking down cool skin. That's as much as he pushes and you gaze up at him the question written on your every feature.

He tucks filthy hair behind your ear, "I've bent you so much, and you never break." He smiles at nothing, sadness his response. "My darling bluebell, my beautiful savage." His hand comes off of your wrist giving you the final choice in your death. His thumb traces your ear, "Would you do it if I asked you to?" Rain drips off of your nose onto your upper lip as it quivers out the gentle plea, your hand shakes, the blade cutting in a little deeper. The corner of his mouth ticks up, "You would, wouldn't you my good girl." It's pathetic because he had always been right about you, but maybe that was because he had made you. He softly tugged on your thumb holding the handle of the blade, "I find I am not quite fond of the idea of losing you."

He's all you know, and all you want to know, the sin you can never seem to cleanse yourself of. For some reason, you're not quite fond of losing him either.

The knife falls to the ground below

His hands travel down your body, cupping under you ass, and wrapping your legs around his body to walk you back inside his house. The doors slam shut behind you as his mouth never leaves yours, he slams you back into the wall paintings clattering to the floor as he keeps kissing you savagely. It all teeth and spit and tongues as your fingers rip open his shirt buttons flying in every direction dragging your dirty nails down his pristine chest.

It consumes you, he consumes you with an insatiable need that is never enough to fill a void he had scooped out of you. His hand slithers down your body to shove inside of you, to curl against that sweet spot that has your panting into his open mouth. "Am I all you need?" His hand thrust into you as his mouth trails across your jaw. "All you want?"

"Yes Mr. President, sir." You moan.

He growls shoving his body against yours, teeth digging into your skin. "My good fucking girl."

His palm presses down onto your clit as you move your hips with him fucking his hand until you can't keep your eyes open, gripping the wall behind you with chipped blood stained nails. You feel your skin split open from his canines and your clamping down around him, gushing around his knuckles until your body stops moving. He slams you down onto the stairs and pushes himself inside of you in one quick stroke.

You're covered in blood, covered in him and all you can do is claw at his back as he fucks you roughly against wooden steps. You wrap you legs around him to keep him close feeling his cock slide against a delicious spot that has you whimpering for more, always for more. Your mind feels empty but thoughts of him, your brain wired to his every whim. You didn't love him, you hated him viciously, but you worshipped him obsessively like he was the sick god who had stolen you away to his underworld. It would be you and him until the end of time tied together with bloody strings and pomegranate seeds. His fist kneads into your breast, his head following the same pattern to wrap around your nipple, licking and biting and sucking making you tilt your pelvis up for him to thrust into you deeper. Your teeth sink into his shoulder, blood filling your mouth as he growls into your skin thrusting even harder and faster. Heat pools inside of you, you feel yourself clenching around him with every powerful stroke of his cock.

"Cum for me baby girl."

It twist a knife inside your hallow chest as you clamp down around him screaming out his name into his mansion, the echo of it hitting off every wall. His fingers dig into your bones as he spills inside of you coating everything that belongs to him. You lose track of time as you lay there, stairs pressing into your back, his cock still twitching inside of you. You're both covered in sweat and blood and rain and each other, no one dares to move.

He pulls back to stare down at you brushing wet hair away from your face, his dried blood splattered down your chin and neck. There's something too soft in his blue eyes and it forces your brows to softly furrow at the unnamed emotion crossing over his features.

He whispers your name, something he never said.

You lean away from him.

"Tell me you hate me." The back of his nail slides across your collarbones and you want him to plunge it into you chest to pluck out your rotting heart to eat.

"I hate you." You whisper. "Mr. President, sir."

He kisses you like he was air you needed to breath and pulls out of you, slowly standing up. He walks around you disappearing up the stairs without a backwards glance. You lay there for a moment before standing up as well to walk back to your glorious cage to wait for him.

The world is so much quieter now, smaller as you walk down the Avenue of the Tributes alone. You had sat in the stands watching everything happen, watched that girl fire her arrow, watched them attack, watched them all slowly leave.

You stayed.

You watched with you hands folded over your lap as they killed him. You never looked away. And once everyone was gone you climbed down and walked so slowly along that long avenue towards his body.

He was still tied up, but most of him was gone, mangled blood and clothing on the ground around him. You stopped in front of him, his blood under your shoes, feeling the tears involuntarily sliding down your face. After so many years he was finally dead, you were finally free. You searched internally to name the emotion you were feeling, but there wasn't anything left of you anymore. It had all stopped when his heart did. It had all stopped when your name was pulled.

Through the gore and torn flesh you could still see pieces of wrinkled skin, hair white as snow, blue eyes buried under it all, but he would always remain that young man you had grown to loathe. You thought of his children, the same beautiful blue eyed children you had helped him raise, helped him train like show dogs, stepping in like some wet nurse after you brutally murdered their mother. You wonder what would become of them now that the whole world had collapsed with their father.

Your whole world.

You take another step forward your foot rolling over something. You bend down and pick up the small pill rolling it between two fingers, glancing up at his dead body. You thought of your pretty cage, thought of that bed you always seemed to be in.

You were always in that house, in that room. You could never get out, and now you could never go back home. You were always meant to bleed together. You had nothing, but you had him.

You slip the nightlock pill between your lips and swallow it down.

He was like a temple, left here for only you to worship at one last time. You go onto your knees in front of him taking in your last breath before collapsing in the pool of his blood at his feet, where you had always belonged.

If it's meant to be then it will be

So I met him there and told him I believe

Singing if it's meant to be then it'll be

I forgive it all as it comes back to me

endnotes: i was driving home from work and sun bleached flies by ethel cain came on and the minute i parked i wrote down the idea from this so its her fault i kept writing for these two psychos :) hope u all enjoyed!!

tags: @wearemadeofstardust0 , @astarborntowrite, @genderfluid-anime-goth , @merlieve , @darktrashsoulbear , @euphemiaamillais , @dousyskid , @bunny24sstuff , @bloobewy , @tmblrsexyw0man , @italiekim , @anthgoldenhrry , @becauseseaotters bold is tumblr wouldn't let me tag

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Moments

Pairing: Kirishima x reader x Kaminari

Warnings: Near-death experience, mentions of blood and bleeding, general character distress, Y/N is in a hospital, happy ending, polyandry, me not knowing how to end things also i’m sorry the first two paragraphs are atrocious hhshdjc

Author’s Note:

Here’s the final request from this batch! Sorry for the wait but thanks for requesting! I hope this’ll do it for ya <3

-Sugar

⊱ ──── 《∘◦∘》 ──── ⊰ 

⊱ ──── 《∘◦∘》 ──── ⊰ 

Life is made up of moments, each one simple and brief. Some events may feel as though they are building, tragedy looming on a distant horizon. Others happen in a mere instant, only to turn everything upside down.

In a moment, you’d seen the elderly civilian man standing just a bit too close to the battle ground for comfort. Another second; your boyfriend, Kirishima, threw a punch to the villain, knocking him off balance. You saw it, the beam of light shooting straight towards the man. You knew you still had time to move.

Rushing over, you took the hit.

It hurt. Everything hurt. Your eyes rolled back and a shriek escaped your lips, body seizing with the foreign throes of agony. You must have blacked out for a moment, because suddenly you felt yourself being held in a pair of arms.

“She’s bleeding!” a voice said above you, but they sounded miles away.

In a tremendous show of effort, you forced your eyes open. Light from the afternoon sun only brought more pain, but you just had to get a glimpse of him one last time.

Yes, there he was, in all his heroic glory. Your Eijirou. But he wasn’t looking at you. He must have been calling out for someone else. Perhaps it was your mutual lover. Either way, the pain was growing to be too much to bear. You slumped further into his chest, letting your eyes close once more.

Denki. If only you’d been able to see him again one last time….

…

Kaminari was not having a good day. Although, to be fair, it’s hard to ‘have a good day’ when your girlfriend is rapidly bleeding to death in front of you.

Everything seemed to happen so quickly. One moment, you, Eijirou and him were all out on patrol and the next, you were being attacked by some guy with a crazy force quirk. And then you were hurt.

He honestly thought you guys had won, as he secured the final blow on the villain with a shock of energy. Once the guy was effectively fried, Denki was ready to celebrate. Except, neither of his partners were there by his side.

He turned—confused, searching—until his eyes finally fell upon the hulking form of Red Riot kneeling on the ground a few paces away.

“. . . (Y/N)?” Kaminari tried, his voice barely above a whisper. He felt frozen to his spot, unable to move his feet forward nor back.

“She’s bleeding!” Kirishima called over his shoulder, and somehow that was what Kaminari needed to snap him out of it.

It felt as though he was trudging through molasses on his way to get to you—slow, difficult, unwilling to accept the fact that you could be hurt.

But you were. And you weren’t looking good either. You were slumped unconscious against Kirishima’s bare chest, face somehow peaceful amidst all the chaos around your unknowing body. Blood seeped out of a large gash on your stomach, and it looked bad. Kaminari tried to hold back a low moan of distress at the sight of it.

He sunk to his knees, taking off his black hero jacket and pressing it to your midsection in an attempt to slow the flow of blood. It was hard to see the stain on the dark material of the clothing article, but Denki somehow knew it would only be a matter of time before it was soaked through in its entirety.

A small crowd of civilians had gathered to watch the battle, and were now anxiously trying to see if you were going to be okay.

“The police should be here any minute,” a woman informed the two heroes somewhere above their heads.

“Did you call an ambulance?” Kirishima asked.

Denki glanced up to see the woman nod, pulling her phone back from her ear.

“You’re going to be alright,” Eijirou whispered to you, cradling your head and damaged body closer into his own. “Just stay with us, baby, please.”

…

Your eyes cracked open, slow and feeble. Blinding fluorescent light pierced between your lids, making you wince and shut them again. Where were you? And why did it smell . . . strange?

You tried opening your eyes again, your vision blurry and swimming until you were finally able to make out a white-tiled ceiling. Turning your head, you saw a table next to your bed, with a vase of pretty flowers resting at its center. You also noticed an IV drip leading into your arm.

So you were in a hospital. Made sense.

You racked your memory, trying to think of what might have landed you here. Ah, yes, the villain and the old man, that must have been it.

You turned your head again, this time to your left, and it was then that you saw them.

Denki laid slumped over the arm of a chair, supported by Eijirou’s chest. Kirishima's head laid against the sill of a window, which you had to figure couldn’t have been all that comfortable. Both men were fast asleep, quiet snores emitting from the redhead’s chest while Denki left a small puddle of drool on the man’s shirt.

You couldn’t be more in love.

A few minutes passed; just enough to make you aware of the white bandages wrapped around your midsection. A nurse stepped in, looking over his clipboard before he noticed your conscious state.

“Ah, (H/N), you’re finally awake,” he acknowledged with a smile.

“They aren’t,” you snickered hoarsely, gesturing to your partners.

The nurse laughed brightly, which was just enough of a disturbance to rouse Kirishima.

“(Y/N)!” the redhead shouted as soon as he saw you, jumping up out of his chair.

Denki nearly fell forward out of his own seat, waking with a start and a pop of static. “(Y/N)?”

Eijirou hurried to your bedside, kneeling down and taking your hand in his. “We were so worried about you!”

Denki nodded in agreement, settling in next to Eijirou and leaning against his shoulder. “You almost died!”

“Well . . . I guess I didn’t,” you said, unsure of how to respond.

“You were lucky,” the nurse pointed out. “Too much longer and you probably wouldn’t have made it.”

You swallowed, the repercussions of your actions beginning to weigh on you.

“No need to fret,” he reassured you. “We have some of the best healers in all of Japan here. I’m positive you’ll make a full recovery.”

Your boyfriends stepped out of the room so the nurse could finish running his tests; checking your vitals and asking you a few questions.

“She’s all yours,” he said, opening the door and letting the two pro heroes step back into your room before ducking out himself.

“The guy you saved came in here earlier to visit you,” Denki informed you once he was back at your bedside. “He was so grateful.”

You smiled. “I’m glad it turned out okay for everyone.”

“But we almost lost you,” Kirishima said, taking your hand again and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Please don’t be reckless like that.”

Your face morphed into a slight frown. “What was I supposed to do, then? Let him die? You should know better than anyone that I couldn’t do that.”

Kirishima cast his eyes to the floor, torn.

Kaminari put a hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “You scared us both, (Y/N). You got hurt really bad, and there was so much blood . . . . You’ve been out for two days, and Eijirou and I . . . we couldn’t help but worry that you’d never wake up again.”

Sighing, your thumb began to stroke the side of Kirishima’s hand. “I’m sorry. I know how scary that is. I can’t imagine losing one of you guys.”

“I just want you to be safe,” Eijirou said.

“Of course.” You moved your hand so you could cup his cheek. “But the important thing is that I’m alright. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Eijirou leaned forward so he could kiss your forehead, then moved back so Denki could do the same to your cheek.

“I can go get us some stuff to do together,” Denki offered. “Being in the hospital is boring, trust me.”

You and Kirishima laughed. The blond always had your backs no matter what.

And even after a moment of disaster, you were proud to say you could all bounce back. As long as the three of you stuck together, you could get through anything.

 ⊱ ──── 《∘◦∘》 ──── ⊰

Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicaegyo @hyunmin-1404​ @iiminibattlehero @katsugay @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @sxngwoos-ash-box @xoxopam4

[kaz11283]

I really like the prompt list you reblogged it’s got some good stuff. What about 37. “Because I love you god damn it!” with Loki if you are still needing inspiration.

37) Because I Love You God Damn It!

~~~~

The Secret Is Out

Characters: the Avengers Bunch, Loki, Thor, Clint

Warnings: Dirty words, slight angst

Summary: after putting your life in the line for a teammate you accidentally let a big secret slip.

Announcements: I will always need insperation and requests! They feed my soul! Haha. I'm not gonna lie. Im skipping back and forth on my requests though. I have a really good story line for one but its just so emotional(thats were Im hoping it goes at least) that I didnt want to write it tonight and put my self in a mood. So instead I guess im goimg with a form of anger? Meh. Anyways... I absolutly love love love everything from you guys! The reblogs, likes, and comments are amazing and I am very greatful for all the love I am getting!!!! 💚💚💚💚💚

Loki Masterlist

~~~~

The fight had been rough but not as rough as you were feeling in the moment. You had gotten serverly hurt and had been in the medbay for about a week now and you had a longer road ahead. There had been an explosion and instead of turning to run away you had ran toward one of your team members that had been to distracted to realize what was going on, you had successfully gotten him shoved out of the way but you had taken the brunt of the blast.

Now you were laying here staring at the celing trying to stay distracted as Bruce and Tony looked at your completely shaddered knee and the burns up your leg. Fingers crossed that they would have good news soon.

"Well as of right now kid your out of commission." Tony said helping you sit back up.

"Meaning?" You pulled one of the pillows down so that you could sit up without being uncomfortable.

"Meaning right now, the way it all looks, your gonna be stuck in the bed until it fully heals and after wards theres really no way to tell if your going to be able to work in the field again." Burce said looking at the xrays again. "And your gonna have to have surgery in order to put all the right pieces back in the right places, but we cant really do that until some of the burns heal or at least start to heal. Its gonna be a long drawn out process unfortunately." He sighed setting the charts back down and walking over to you.

"Fucking hell! You mean I'm gonna be pushing paper work? I might as well go work in a damn office with four white walls and a poster that says 'hang in there, its almost Friday'." You placed your head in your hands.

"Hey! At least our paper work is more exciting than just running numbers." Tony said placing a hand on your back. He had been like a fsther to you, taking you in when you didnt have anywhere else to turn except the streets. Your own family had abandoned you at a young age and you had been leaning toward a dark path until Tony. "Besides with your expertise you dont have to sit behind a desk, your fingers arent blown off, you can still hack into stuff I'm sure."

"Tony we had a deal when I moved in. No hacking but you would train me and I could actually do good. Now look at me."

"I said no hacking the good guys, and if I remember correctly you were the one jumping close to the bomb not away from. I hate to be this way y/n but the only one to blame is yourself on this one."

"He would have been worst off than I am if not killed. I think I did the right thing. Besides you would have done the same thing if you had been closer." You sighed.

"Honey the diffrence with that is I have a supersuit, you wear a skin tight, spandex one peice, that I'm not a fan of." He laughted. Bruce had went to go get you some more pain killers to shoot into your IV.

"Tony if I were you I would shut up. Your starting to sound like you might actually love me, might even say your starting to act like a dad." You laughed pulling him into a hug.

"Shut it kid, cant let the others know I have a soft spot for the hacker orphan kid i took in all those years ago now can I." He said kissing the top of your head. "Do you need anything else before the drugs kick in and you pass out again?"

"Yes, can you please bring me my phone charger, laptop, and that really fluffy blanket that you and Pep got for me for Christmas."

"Dont ask to much of me now."

"I wouldnt be asking if you would just let me stay in my room. I hate it down here. I wanna be were the people are." You were starting to get loopy from whatever Bruce had given you.

"Ok little mermaid, get some rest I'll get your stuff." He laughed walking out the door letting you fall into a restless sleep.

You didnt know how long you hade been asleep but you woke up with a groan trying to sit up so you could atleast stretch your back from laying in one spot for to long. You flopped back down dramatically with a sigh. You could sense someine else in the room with you, you always knew when he was around.

"You dont have to hide in the shadows Loki. Your more than welcome to keep me company, you should know that by now." You smiled as the prince walked over and sat in the chair beside you. You could tell he hadnt been sleeping, his hair was fixed as always but his clothes looked worst for wear. He had on a plain black shirt and a pair of gray sweat pants, both of with had wrinkles in them either from tossing and turning or from not being changed in a few days.

"Whats wrong? And dont pull that 'nothing is wrong dear. I'm absolutly fine.' Bullshit. You look horrible." You reatched out to grab his hand. What you and Loki had was diffrent. You didnt just see his as a friend, he didnt just see you as that either though. You had spent many nights sitting up with the silver tounge man many nights laying on the couch watching movies, reading, talking about each of your pasts. He knew more about you than even Tony did.

"I'm still currently trying to wrap my head around why you pushed me out of the way and took the blow when you had a chance of dying from it. You shouldnt have been so thick headed my dear." He took your hand and raised it to his lips kissing the top of your hand.

"Loki." You sighed rolling your head to look back up at the celing. "You would have been hurt alot wordt than I am now, that blast could have killed you."

"I am a god y/n, that blast wouldnt have caused me nearly as much damage as it did you." His voice raised slightly.

"Thats what you think. You think that because you are "immortal" that you can take anything thats thrown at you. That no one really cares about you, that you wouldnt be missed? So why not try to take a blow from a bomb? My god your so stupid sometimes."

"I know I can. Norns y/n I've jumped into space, been brain washed, tried to take over New York, gotten smashed around by the Hulk. I was raised with Thor, he doesnt really go easy on a person. What I'm saying is I dont understand why you, a mear midguardian, would sacrifice themselves for me. If anything would have happened-"

"Nothing did happen though. I'm fine-"

"You have steel sticking from your leg, theres no telling when or even if you'll be able to walk again, and there are highly server burns that will leave scares. You cannot sit there and tell me that you are fine."

"Your right it does suck that I'm jot gonna be able to pull off shorts or a bikini anymore."

"This isnt a joke y/n. You almost died!" He finally yelled.

"And i would do it a thousand times over if that ment saving your damn ass again!" You shouted back.

"Why though?! Why me y/n? I've done horrible things, killed people! My life is meaningless." Tears had sprang to his eyes as he looked away.

"Because I love you God damn it!" You stopped suddenly your jaw dropping at the admission that you hadnt ment for him to hear. His head jerked back to you.

"What?" Shock was all over his face as he stood to walk closer to you. "What did you just say?"

"Because I love you Loki Odinson. Because if you were to die I dont think I would be able to go on living. Because even if you see all the bad things that you've done I can look pass that amd see all the good that you are doing." You reached up placing a hand on his cheek and wiping away a tear.

"I love you too y/n. I have since the day I met you. The girl that didnt care what anyone said when she spent time with me. The girl that can see through every face i put on. I love you so much darling." He placed his hand on your face and leaning down gently kissing your lips.

It felt like you thought it always should you felt electricity run through your body and the two of you connected. It was like getting a breath after not being able to for so long. He pulled away smiling at you.

"What do we tell the others?" He asked laying on with bed with you being easy with your leg. He placed his arm around your middle and pulled you as close as he could.

"I honestly dont care what we tell them. They can figure it out themseves for all I care." You smiled lacing your fingers with his, you yawned placing your head on his shoulder closing your eyes.

"Sleep now my Dove, I will be here when you wake." He felt your gentle breath slow as you fell asleep, the rhythm you of your breath lulling him into his own sleep.

Tony and Bruce walked in the next morning stopping dead at the sight in front of them. You and Loki were still cuddled on the small bed sleeping peacefully.

"Should we wake them up?" Bruce asked looking at Tony.

"Na, let them sleep. Dont want to let them know that we know." Tony saod grabbing Bruce's arm and turning to walk back out of the door.

~~~~

Tag List:

@kgirardin

@sophlubbwriting

@supbeeches

@high-functioning-lokipath

[jupiterswlrd]

Spectacular- mark lee

mark never intended on getting bit by a spider on his was home in the subway, he also never intended on saving you from falling in front of the moving train car either. it was all just some sort of sick coincidence. mark had never believed in super powers, yeah what he saw on TV and comics book was cool but it was never realistic. ‘someone just can’t magically change over night’ he thought to himself all the time.

that was, until it happened to him. after his little run in with you he went home and took a nap, shook up a bit on how well his grip on your jacket was, almost like his hands were stuck to you. ‘crazy...’ he chuckled drifting off to sleep. when he woke up his found his upper part of he bunk covered in spider webs.

“ew” he said quietly trying not to wake his roommate haechan up. ‘maybe if hyuck would be a cleaner we wouldn’t have this issue’ mark struggled to sit up something making him stick to his bed. he flopped all around his bed, webs confining his arms to the bed. he finally broke one and somehow tripped off of his bunk. he prepared for his body to hit the ground but something caught him. a string of webs wrapped around his ankle and attached the top bunk. he was confused, but he was mostly relieved. “mark?....” haechan opened his eyes wondering why he saw his roommate dangling from what seemed to be the ceiling. with that the web snapped causing mark to fall on his head.

“dude...” haechan observed mark like he was some foreign species. “did you do that?” he pointed to the the webs covering marks bunk. “n-no!?!?” mark looked at the younger boy like he was out of his mind “do i look like a spider to you?” haechan stared at him for a long minute. “...there’s a fucking web growing out of your wrist right now....”

“HUH?” mark flung his hand somewhere, flinching in a way. haechan grunted loudly his head banging aganist the wall. his body was taped to the wall with one big web. “MARK” he yelled in amazement and extreme pain and discomfort. “I promise i didn’t do that....” mark didn’t know what to do with his hands, he stuck them in the pockets of his shorts fearing himself and what he’d do. haechan eventually broke free, examining the web pattern closely. He had a thing for spiders.

“this is completely unique...your webs have a little M in them. we should take to these y/n, you know shes a science freak” mark completely shut down at the thought of you seeing him shoot webs out of hands. what if you thought he was some kind of freak? “THATS NOT AN OPTIO-“ then you walked into their dorm room, unannounced and unwarranted. “i heard my name from outside the hallway, why are you all so l—“ you were confused to see that mark was no where to be found. “uhhh?? i thought i heard marks voice”

“you di—“ haechan did a double take “oh haha, yeah we were on the phone he’s in the bathroom— he got stuck in the toilet”

haechan shoved you out the room nervously. “yeah so y/n, we’ll see you in class okay?” once you were successfully pushed out the room, mark was sitting with his legs crossed his head in his hands. “bro what the fuck was that?” haechan slammed the door and locked it. “what was what?”

“i don’t know your little disappearing ac— YOU CAN TURN INVISIBLE”

“haechan are you on drugs? you have to be on drugs only people with POWERS can do that and that’s not possible be—“

haechan clamped a hand over marks mouth.

“dude you’ve done the impossible for like 2 hours now, you have powers” the younger boy slid on his shoes and grabbed his jacket. “where are you going?” mark asked laying back down. “you mean where are WE going” he threw marks slides at his head.

“we’re gonna go see what you can do.”

mark and haechan went out to a abandoned parking lot. haechan was good at making something out of nothing figuratively and quite literally. “okay mark pick up that big ass tire over there” mark walked over to it, absentmindedly picking it up “this one?”

haechan pulled a clipboard out his backpack “okay superstrength...check”

after many trials and errors. mark and donghyuck found out that he was very agile, very fast, and very sticky. mark couldn’t go 3 seconds with out sticking to something.

as mark and haechan were walking back to the dorms, mark heard something his ears turned up as he looked around. “do you hear that?” mark pulled his hoodie up and walked a bit faster. “no what do you hear? is everything oka—“ mark took off running in the opposite direction past the parking lot, leaving his backpack and a confused Lee Donghyuck behind him.

mark turned the corner the feeling that was rushing through his body, it was more than adrenaline it was like an itch that so desperately needed to be scratched. he had to find out what that noise was. he found himself in the subway again. the same place his was now 24 hours ago. his head was now spinning the same place he was bitten now stinging more than ever.

his balance was off and his body felt weak. mark blinked harshly, the itch slowly fading away. but everything was fading away he slipped into darkness, passing out on the grimy new york subway floor.

“mark” a familiar voice called out to him. “yes y/n?” he responded, a swirl of neon colors surrounded him, his skin was no longer slightly tan it was neon red with some swirls of blue. he was still in the subway but it was empty. dead silent his own thoughts, and spiders the only things in the station. you were in the form a beautiful pink tarantula crawling all over marks body.

“you know what you have to do right?”

“what do i have to do?”

“save new york” you brushed against his cheek lovingly “save our friends, save me, and most of all” you had somehow reappeared in front of him crawling down from her own line of webs. “save yourself.”

“how do i do that?”

“22nd street my love”

mark heard that laugh he always loved to hear, then a sharp pain in his arm again.

“FUCK” he yelled when he woke up, surprised to see that it wasn’t the “pink tarantula” that hit him, but an IV going into the underside of his wrist.

“calm down mr.lee it’s okay, you had quite a scare there” a nurse rubbed his forehead “anything i can get you? some water? some juice you had a pretty bad panic attack there”

mark sighed

‘how am i supposed to save new york with anxiety?’

☀︎☂︎☀︎☂︎

“hyuck” mark said as they walked home from the hospital. “yeah?” he responded taking one of his headphones out his ear. “have you ever been to 22nd street?” haechan shrugged “yeah i’ve been by there, it’s nothing but some apartments...why?”

“i think we have to go there”

that piqued haechan interest, not in a good way though. “you’re not tired i mean...i know you have super stamina but you just had such a bad anxiety attack you passed out” he blinked “i don’t see how you’re not exhausted, fuck— even IM exhausted” mark shrugged and walked in the other direction in hopes to catch a bus, “you coming?”

“so am i like your agent or something” haechan said smacking on the lunchable from his backpack loudly, so loud that mark couldn’t even hear himself think. between the homeless people, the bucket drum line, haechan obnoxious chewing, mark couldn’t hear himself think. “OKAY JUST SHUT UP” he snapped, all attention on him. “oh— uh not you guys i—“ mark quickly became flustered looking at haechan for some help. “OH— uhhh, my friend here has a disorder. sorry about that” haechan rubbed mark on the back, watching as heads turned back to what the were doing. “thank god” mark sighed in relief as they reached their stop. “i feel something...” the same ringing in his ears was back, becoming quieter as he walked in different directions dragging haechan in zigzags along with him

finally, mark and haechan arrived at their “destination”. all it appeared to be was just a regular apartment building. “what the fuck?” mark huffed slamming his fists aganist the wall, accidentally triggering something.

the small alley way they were in between revealed a door, the two boys looked at each other in pure amazement as they jumped through. “what is this?” mark said in awe staring down the walls. “don’t touch anything” an older man said swatting his hand away “you’re the new guy?” he looked mark up and down “the standards must be in hell”

“hi nice to meet you too!” mark sarcastically said. “i didn’t ask.” the man simply replied. “follow me though.” the boys did as they were told. “i believe that we were all put on this earth for one reason, to wreck havoc and help when havoc wrecks things” the older man laughed at his own terrible joke. “that’s why some people their genetic code is different, they’re products of some very expensive experiments, and my favorite” he chuckled “wrong place right time”

“so where do i fall?” mark wondered out loud. “the third one sweetheart” the older man bent down into a mini fridge and got out something to drink. “so basically what i’m saying kid.” he slurped it loudly in marks ears “help when havoc wrecks, whenever it does”with the snap of fingers, haechan and mark were back home and mark was dressed in a red and blue spandax suit. a black spider embroidered on the chest. “bro? you look—“ mark raised a brow, thinking he was still in his regular clothes. “you look like an actual superhero!” haechan danced around the room. “i do?” he stepped infront of the mirror “oh— I DO”

“what should i call myself. tarantula boy?—no too weird spider boy? no too immature”

“spider-man” haechan suggested

“spider-man...” mark said to himself in the mirror.

“i guess i’m spider man...”

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Smoke & Mirrors - part 3

Neil x Reader

Chapter 3: You know me too well

(see chapter 2, 1)

summary: The mission. And some blowing off steam after that.

warnings: alcohol mention, some violence, language and other explicit things, 18+ and I MEAN IT EVEN MORE THAN BEFORE

author’s note: I need to thank @vaneilla​ for planting the karaoke scene into my head. I found her choice of song absolutely glorious, and it evolved into... oh, see for yourselves.

As for everything else - I don’t even know.

4k words, bloody hell.

Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think, please?

___

“Thanks for nothing, Wheeler.”

She looked up from her tablet only to see a completely resigned Ives faceplanting on the couch in front of her. As she raised a brow, her glance drifted to The Protagonist pacing back and forth next to the window. 

When TP noticed the question in Wheeler’s eyes, he sighed. She realized that Ives must have filled him in already.

As if he could read her thoughts, the boss said, “Apparently, they’ve been at each other’s throats all day”

“You’re both damn lucky you don’t have to deal with their bullshit out there,” groaned Ives into the pillows.

Wheeler shook her head and a corner of her mouth curled into a knowing smile. 

“A little patience, guys. It's all going according to plan."

Ives muffled huff was enough of a comment, but TP stopped his pacing and shot her a confused look.

"How so?"

Wheeler bit her lip. It took her one minute around them in the canteen to guess what had happened. But if that somehow wasn’t obvious to her colleagues, she was in no place to share the information.

Of course, for a second she was tempted to say “oh, they fucked”,  just to watch Ives’ and TP’s reaction, but she knew better than to do so. Moreover, she had a weird feeling that those two morons would start being weird around them, and that wouldn’t help in the slightest. 

“Trust me, they are close to figuring it out. And then-...”

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

You rushed to the next cover, sending a round into a merc running in your direction. As you slid behind a crate and started reloading your rifle, the rest of the squad slowly made their way through the abandoned apartment complex. How all those mercenary groups kept getting their hands on inverted materials was beyond you, but as the boss was trying to figure it out, it was up to the ground teams to secure the cargo. 

"What's with the silent treatment today?" Neil’s voice rang in your earpiece. 

Your eyes quickly located him at the other side of the corridor. Even from a distance, you could see his raised brow as he glanced at you right before heading into the next room. 

"I'm focused on the mission,” you scoffed, checking out on the team before moving further ahead. “You should try that one day." 

As soon as you entered a new location, a bullet whizzed past you and your reflexes kicked in. A quick shot and you spun on your heel, hiding behind a pillar. 

Meanwhile, Neil glued his back to the wall. As another merc walked past him, he disarmed them in one swift move, tossing the gun away.

"Nah, I’m good,” he said casually. You watched him as he ducked under a fist flying at his face and threw a kidney punch himself. “Multitasking." 

You snorted, quite amused, jumping out of your cover to down two more men coming in. You caught Ives’ murderous glare as he moved past you, motioning you to keep up the pace. Nodding, you followed him into a staircase.

"I must admit, not hearing your voice almost made me forget how annoying you are,” you huffed through comms to Neil. Ives shot the merc waiting for you around the corner and you moved up. “And as I don't believe you can actually stop being annoying,” you continued, taking a position at the door, “but how about you don't talk to me ever again instead?" 

You heard footsteps behind you and as you looked over your shoulder, you saw Neil standing right there with his pistol cocked in his gloved hands. He leaned in, a smug grin plastered on his face.

"And lose that spiteful edge to sex we have going there?" he teased quietly and chuckled as your eyes widened at the audacity.

Wishing you could just shoot him in return, you turned away and entered the corridor. Ives waited for you at the door to another unfinished apartment and as soon as you reached him, he blasted through it, while Neil and his team took the door at the other side of the hall.  

"We, and I cannot stress this enough, do not have anything going there, blondie," you uttered through gritted teeth, sweeping through the rooms.

Sharp laughter resonated in your earpiece. 

"Sure sounds like someone needs round two, though."

Your mind involuntarily wandered back to the events of that late evening in the locker room. Neither of you has mentioned it for the last couple of days, and you kinda hoped it would stay that way. Not that you could ever erase it from your memory. And the worst part was, there were moments you were no longer sure you would ever want to.

A movement in the corner of your eye. 

That confusion might keep you up at night, but with daylight, you came back to your senses, and a little remark was not enough to cloud your lightning reflexes while you held a gun. A shot echoed through the room and another merc dropped to the ground. 

"In your dreams," you scoffed on your way back to the corridor. 

"Funny you should say that…" 

You noticed Neil walking into the line of fire in the last second.

“Watch out!” you shouted, grabbing him by the vest and pulling him back inside the apartment. You shoved him against the wall and pressed your forearm to his chest to keep him in place as the round meant for him cut through the now empty hallway. While the rest of the team returned fire and pushed forward, you caught a glimpse of fear in the blue eyes just before Neil managed to compose himself. The corner of his lips twitched into a nervous version of his usual half-smile.

For fuck’s sake...

“Well, this brings back fond memories,” he panted, raising an eyebrow.

You flashed your teeth and pressed him to the wall even harder. 

“Shut up and focus, goddamnit, or I swear I will let you walk straight into the next rain of bullets,” you fumed. 

Your serious glare made Neil gulp and nod slowly. You took a step back as you exhaled shakily. 

Readjusting the rifle’s strap, you shook off any remains of panic from your system. Neil watched you with an indecipherable expression on his face as he reloaded his pistol. You met his eyes, just to make sure he was good to go. Finding there what you were looking for, you smacked his arm lightly and ran towards the sounds of combat.

You joined your squad, focusing on providing support as you closed in on the final location. Neil rushed to the front of the action, and even from afar you could see his moves got more vicious, every blow and shot landing now with deadly precision. For a second you wondered what exactly got triggered inside of him back there.

Whatever that was though, it wasn’t enough to hold his tongue for too long.

"Hey, at least now you had a chance to slam me against a wall."

You rolled your eyes and sighed dramatically, already regretting saving his infuriating ass. 

“You know, I daydream about strangling you more and more often every day.”

A few shots later, the all-clear sounded through the earpiece. You moved to secure the exit as Ives checked the contents of the crates in the back of the room. 

Neil took a position right next to you, eyeing you curiously.

“Is it a threat or a promise?”

Seeing the familiar roguish sparks sent your blood boiling.

You narrowed your eyes, letting a sly grin on your face.

“Do you really wanna find out?”

“You two either kill or fuck each other already,” huffed Ives, walking by you with the most done expression you’d seen on him in years. “Whatever you decide, please keep it off comms, eh?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying not to blush furiously. Neil’s failed attempt at stifling an amused giggle wasn’t helping in the slightest. 

As you finally looked back at the bane of your existence, he tilted his head, biting his lip before speaking up again, and somehow you knew exactly what he was about to say.

“I’m up for whatever.”

You groaned.

...yep, that was it.

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

One of the teams’ unwinding rituals included going to the nearby pub for drinks and karaoke. You weren’t the biggest fan of singing in public yourself and no amount of alcohol could change that, but you never skipped the opportunity of watching your squadmates getting shitfaced and pouring their hearts out through the mic. That night was no different, and even though you were taking it easy with drinking, the rest of the crew was already deep in the party mood. 

You watched Wheeler singing Black Velvet from your spot at the counter. You used to spend much more time together, but she’d got designated to leading inverted teams and you got stuck at Ives’ squad. Not that you were complaining. 

You always had good banter with him, and even the unfortunate beginning of your relationship wasn’t enough to change that. You ended up being good friends and you knew he always had your back no matter what. Even when he was absolutely tired of your bullshit. 

You cringed at the memory of his comment earlier that day. 

And because the universe wasn’t done with tormenting you just yet, you felt Neil’s presence next to you. You turned your head and glanced at him, ready to meet his aggravating stare. To your surprise, you found him standing there with his eyes fixed on his drink instead, evidently having an internal battle with himself. 

Neil noticed your puzzled expression and took a big sip from the glass before looking at you. A sheepish smile on his lips was something new, and it only made you even more confused.

“Hey,” he said, raking the fingers through his hair. “Thank you. For earlier.”

“Don’t mention it,” you huffed, frowning slightly.

“It’s nice to know you have my back, just in case.”

You were annoyed that he was making such a big deal out of it. But there was something in the blue eyes that softened your gaze and you gave Neil a reassuring smile.

“Of course,” you said and cleared your throat. “Besides,“ - a corner of your lips twitched - “I couldn’t let you get killed in such a stupid way right under my nose, I wouldn’t want it to taint my next eval’.”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “No other reason?”

“Like what?” 

You regretted asking the question as soon as it left your mouth. Because of course, Neil’s eyes lit up in response and he smirked.

“You would miss me.”

"Ah, there it is," you snorted, fighting the urge to punch him. "For a moment I was scared I was starting to like you, thanks."

He chuckled. “Oh no, we wouldn't want that now, would we," he teased, leaning your way with a roguish smile.

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the heart fluttering in your chest.

Neil hummed and downed his drink. A mischievous spark in his eyes suddenly made you nervous. 

“What now?” you asked, dreading the answer already.

Neil’s expression was nothing but innocent. 

“I believe it’s my turn.” 

You watched him make his way to the mic. Letting out a deep sigh, you shook your head. 

That man was going to be the death of you one day.

You finished your drink and joined the rest of the team in the booth right in front of the makeshift scene. As soon as you sat down, a familiar song started and your widened eyes darted at Neil, who was just casually adjusting the rolled-up sleeves of his striped shirt. 

...it must have been a mistake.

His wicked grin as he met your horrified gaze was enough to tell you he knew exactly what he was doing.

He started singing with no hesitation, smiling to himself.

Under the lovers sky

Gonna be with you

And no one's gonna be around 

Neil’s eyes fixed on you and he raised a brow. A small incoherent noise escaped your mouth, luckily drowning in your squad’s encouraging whooping.

If you think that you won't fall

Well just wait until

'Til the sun goes down 

You met Wheeler’s amused look over the table.

“Why is he that way?” you whined, hiding your face in your palms. 

Underneath the starlight, starlight

There's a magical feeling so right 

You could hear the smile in his voice and you forced yourself to glance back at Neil. 

it will steal your heart tonight 

Catching your eyes again, he winked, making you exhale sharply in response.

You can try to resist

Try to hide from my kiss

You thought about the way you evaded his kiss at that locker room and your chest tightened at that memory.

Don't you know, don't you know

That you, can't fight the moonlight

He knew the song by heart, and you couldn’t wrap your head around that fact.

Deep in the dark, you'll surrender your heart

But you know, but you know that you

And by the way he commanded everyone’s attention, you saw it wasn’t his first performance. 

Can't fight the moonlight. No

His voice was clear and he was definitely having fun up there.

You can't fight it

...too much fun, if anybody asked you.

It's gonna get to your heart

He walked up to the booth and a spike of panic flashed in your brain.

There's no escaping love

He made his way to Ives, a mischievous grin lighting his face.

Once the gentle breeze

Neil ran a finger along your friend’s bearded jaw, leaving Ives frozen in shock. 

Weaves a spell upon your heart

Neil turned to you and your breath hitched as you realized what was about to happen.

No matter what you think

A few steps more.

It won't be too long

He stopped right in front of you.

'Til you're in my arms

He leaned your way, putting a finger under your chin and tilting it up gently.

Underneath the starlight, starlight

He moved even closer, his eyes wandering along your features.

We'll be lost in the rhythm so right

The emphasis on the last words combined with the look on his face made your mind go blank.

Feel it steal your heart tonight

...that was clearly his plan for the night, huh?

You forced yourself to start breathing again as Neil chuckled through the next line. 

Bloody hell, you hated the effect he had on you. 

You caught a glimpse of a smug smile before he turned away. Leveling your breath, you watched as he stepped back on the stage, hoping he wouldn’t have any other stupid ideas.

But Neil seemed to be satisfied with what he’d put you through and just continued the song. 

He even aimed for one of the high notes, scrunching his nose and giggling as his voice wavered for a second, and you couldn’t stop your lips from curling at the sight. There was something endearing in his joyful demeanor out there, and you wondered how many sides to him you had yet to discover.

Before you had a chance to get too soft, he finished singing and looked at you again. The dark shade in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. 

You needed another drink. Stat.

At least he had enough decency to let you collect yourself before he joined you at the bar. Neil ordered a vodka tonic and leaned his back against the counter, eyeing you curiously.

“So?”

You stifled a giggle, shaking your head. “For a second I thought you might start dancing on the counter."

He laughed at the reference.

"And for a second, I thought about doing that,” he said, reaching for his drink. He smiled slyly at your amused snort and continued, lowering his voice slightly, “but I didn't want you to lose your mind. Or faint, for that matter… I want you conscious for later."

Neil took a sip from the glass, savoring the effect of his words on you as you stared at him with a slack jaw.

"You want me--"

"Yes." 

You blinked rapidly, composing yourself. The last thing you needed was to give him the satisfaction of making you flustered so easily. 

But you couldn’t resist playing his game even for a moment. 

Just to see if he would back down.

"And what is it exactly that you think it's gonna happen later?" you said, taking a step in his direction. 

Neil raised a brow, turning your way. His gaze flared up as he searched your eyes for your intentions, moving even closer to you.

"Spoilers.”

"Riiight,” you smirked. The rising temperature between the two of you was slowly hazing over your mind, making your breath shallow as you taunted, “Or maybe you're all talk."

The throaty chuckle sent the heart racing in your chest. 

"Want to try me?" he teased, grazing his knuckles against your bare arm, and it took all your resolve not to tremble at the sensation. 

The pulse pounded in your ears as you took his drink from his hand, finishing it in one swing. You looked into his eyes, dark and yearning, and a corner of your lips curled.

"Well, no need to wait 'til the sun goes down', anymore."

“Blimey.”

A few moments later, you found yourself in an empty restroom, tugging at Neil’s shirt until your back hit the cold wall. His wicked grin widened at your eagerness as he grabbed your waist with one hand, running the other one through your hair. You splayed your palms on his heaving chest, moving them up to his neck to pull him closer. 

Neil tilted his head and leaned in to kiss you, but just as your lips were about to meet, your whole body tensed and it was enough to make him stop instantly. He pulled back to look at you, concerned.

"What's wrong?” he asked in a husky voice. 

You huffed, frustrated. At your own reaction. At him suddenly being all gentleman about it. And at yourself again, for not appreciating his concern. 

But it wasn’t the right moment to talk about it, and you were pretty sure he would be all weird about it if you didn’t say anything. 

"It's just--... “ you hesitated, your mind rushing to find any plausible excuse. As you finally found one, your face lit up and you nibbled at your bottom lip, staring at him challengingly. “Don't you get all soft on me now, blondie." 

You almost squirmed under his predatory gaze. Neil brought his hand to your throat, and as his fingers wrapped around it, he leaned to whisper to your ear.

"Suit yourself."

When his teeth grazed your earlobe, you gasped, feeling the feverish heat rushing through your veins. His mouth trailed down your neck as he moved his hand higher, tilting your chin with his thumb just before he brushed it against your lips. You shut your eyes and bit back a moan, feeling Neil smiling and then he ran the tip of his tongue along the crook of your neck.

All of the sudden, you heard voices on the other side of the door. Before you could react, Neil grabbed your hand and pulled you into the stall at the farthest corner of the restroom, turning the lock and pinning you to the wall again with your wrists above your head.

You exhaled sharply as you spotted the roguish sparks in his eyes. 

As some people entered the restroom, Neil stroked your temple with his nose and breathed, “Looks like we need to keep quiet.“ 

You swallowed hard and shuddered, the pulse thumping in your ears.

Still keeping his fingers wrapped around your wrists, his other hand wandered down your body slowly. He studied the way you melted into his touch, taking pleasure at the sight of the animalistic need that clouded your eyes. The last coherent thought left your mind when you felt his hand sliding under your dress, grazing against your thighs, higher and higher, and you bucked your hips, silently urging him to keep moving. 

Neil’s lips parted slightly and he leaned in, kissing your neck just as his fingers trailed under the hem of your panties right to your pulsing core. You threw the head back against the wall and your thighs tightened involuntarily as if to prevent him from backing away now.

“Christ, I’ve barely touched you and you’re already this wet,” Neil chuckled breathlessly to your ear and yanked your underwear down your legs in one swift motion. Securing the grip on your wrists, he palmed over you again, moving his hand back and forth, his digits pressing against your folds firmer with every stroke and you let out an inaudible gasp, feeling the fire at the pit of your stomach growing by the minute. 

But when his thumb started rubbing circles over your clit, you buried your face in the crook of his neck to stifle a cry ready to escape your mouth any second now. Without skipping a beat, Neil gently tapped his foot on the side of your shoe and you instantly followed his suggestion, spreading your legs for him. He hummed in approval, slipping one, then two, fingers into you, and you sank your teeth in your bottom lip as the sudden bolt of pleasure seared your every nerve. 

Neil picked up the pace, curling his fingers inside you just right, and a quiet moan built in your throat and you nuzzled your face into his neck even further; the spicy scent of his cologne ingraining in your hazed mind with every shaky breath you took. 

Feeling you getting closer to the edge, Neil let go of your wrists and pushed you back on the wall. Cupping your face with his free hand, he pressed a thumb against your mouth firmly. You panted heavily as he kept tracing your parted lips in almost the same rhythm as his fingers slid in and out of your throbbing core. You closed your eyes as the fire from the pit of your stomach almost consumed you. 

And just when you thought that you couldn’t take much more, you felt the pad of his thumb grazing against the tip of your tongue at the same time the other one flicked your clit. Your mind went blank and you sucked on his finger, trying to muffle a whimper.

“Good girl,” Neil breathed into your ear. “Now come for me.”

And so you did, your every particle dissolving into a blissful pleasure roaming through your body wave after wave. 

When you regained your senses, you were greeted by the self-satisfied grin you knew all too well. You scoffed and shook your head, too much of a mess to form a coherent comment. You listened for a second, trying to figure out if there was anyone outside, but it seemed that you two were alone, at least for now. Then your eyes wandered down and your mouth watered at the sight. 

Without thinking twice over it, you palmed the bulk in Neil’s trousers, looking up to meet his gaze. 

The hint of surprise mixed with the sheer hunger in the dark blue eyes made your racing heart skip a bit.

"Are you sure?" he rasped, placing hands on your waist.

You nodded, your fingers already fighting with his belt. 

"Stop talking."

Neil raised a brow, amused. 

"Maybe you should ask nicely."

You looked at him in disbelief and turned towards the stall’s door, huffing, "Maybe I should leave you like this."

Neil wrapped his arms around you.

"Mhm," he murmured into your neck as he squeezed your breast, his other hand sliding down your body.

"Fuck--" you gasped as his fingers pressed to your clit again.

His throaty chuckle vibrated on your back.

"What was that?" 

You moaned, rolling your hips to brush against him.

"...please."

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

You dampened a paper towel to clean your smudged makeup.

"Wanna grab something to eat?"

You glanced at Neil’s reflection in the mirror, watching as he tucked the shirt in his pants.

"You're reading too much into this,” you tried to make your voice as casual as possible.

"I wouldn't dare," he laughed, joining you by the mirror. "What if I promise not to talk to you unless you ask me to?" 

You mused over it for a moment, staring at Neil’s attempts to fix his messy hair.

"And if you break the promise?"

The blue eyes met yours and lit up.

"I'll let you punish me however you see fit."

You scoffed. 

...but then a corner of your lips twitched into a half-smile.

(next chapter ->)

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part II

Word Count: 1,846 Warnings: References to drug use. PTSD. Ben Affleck. As always, if I forgot anything please message me and I'll amend this warning. A/N: Protect Francisco Morales at all goddamn costs, honestly. 

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

“Fish?”

He cringes inward at his military nickname, it rips at his heart hearing it drip from his best friend’s mouth now. This man he would die for, almost has died for. None of the others had called him that in years, he insisted on Frankie with them. But he’d barely heard from Santiago, had no way of telling him.

He hears the words he’s saying, same shit he always says:

“I need a pilot. I can’t do this thing without you."

Years of that shit pulling him into another tour here. A deployment there. Again and again. Long after he served his sentence and was free to go.

“I don’t know, man. I got the new baby now,” he beams. Santi didn't know Luna and all Frankie wanted to do was tell him about her but he holds back, opting instead for, “And my lady isn’t into my doing this kinda shit anymore.”

He looks back at Will, a knowing look exchanged between the two. He is begging for his brother to step in, say something. Save him. He’s throwing Leah under the bus but, fuck it, it’s true. She isn’t into him doing this kinda shit anymore. And she wasn’t the biggest fan of Santi, always coming up with shit to get the rest of the boys into.

“Wha—what does that mean?”

Frankie lets out a breath he feels like he’s been holding all day and stands, knowing he’ll start shaking if he doesn’t. The knee bouncing is getting out of hand but he was hesitant to seek out anti anxiety medication while detoxing. He’d just sweat it all out anyway. Santiago’s droning on behind him, hell bent on staving off rejection.

“Did you read the text? This can change you and that baby’s life forever.”

Leave it to Santi to exclude Leah, he wasn’t necessarily her biggest fan either. But to just gloss right over her? Didn’t even fucking ask Luna’s name.

He crosses his arms, “What happened to that bullshit about going back to your mother’s homeland and empowering the people to police themselves?”

Santiago stares him down, a power grab of a laugh escaping him.

“Anyway, I lost my license. I can’t even fly right now.” Please just drop it, please just drop it, please just drop it.

Benny’s wrapping his knuckles. William’s looking between the two. And Santiago? Santiago is closing the space between them.

“I don’t need a pilot with a license, I’m in with the army down there,” he says as if that makes things better. It doesn’t. He knows it, Frankie knows it, the Millers know it. But if there’s one thing Santiago Garcia gets, it’s his fucking way.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Frankie’s firm, he’s not fucking doing it this time. He’s worked too goddamn hard on everything. Built a life out of rubble and was this close to pissing it away, he’s not gonna seal the deal on Leah’s promise to go.

Santi paces, frustrated, “Lorea is destroying that country. So we get to take out a very bad man, and, oh, by the way, there’s a winning lottery ticket stuck to the bottom of your cowboy boot.” He says that last bit with a mock tone and he’s smiling, believing he’s got Frankie now. A bit of a tease to rile his best friend up, get him laughing, get him in it. “Every guy in that gym would jump at this.”

“Come on, focus, guys! It’s fight night.” —————

“Hey!” He catches up with Santi in the hall, “I didn’t mean to call your shit bullshit.”

He didn’t, really. He knows where Santiago’s coming from but he can’t be the one in the thick of it anymore.

Another of those cool, indignant laughs, “It's all right.”

“I got busted,” Frankie says coolly, like he’s letting you know he left the light on, “it’s not a big deal.”

Santi’s head snaps to the right.

“Actually,” the taller of the two continues, “It's a big deal.”

“Coke?” Santiago’s trying not to let Frank’s addiction shock him, scoffing, “Jesus, Frankie.”

“Technically, it’s a suspension, I’m still under review but… it fucked everything up with Leah. I’ve been detoxing in Will’s spare room for weeks.”

“You’re telling me she didn’t know before the suspension? I don’t buy that.” Frankie tried to ignore the venom in his words.

“No, she knew. We’ve been in couple’s counseling while I’ve been getting clean, she said she didn’t know it was as often as it was. Just thought it was a hit here and there.”

“So things are good still?”

Frankie takes a deep breath, “We seem to have gotten back to good but that’s not where I wanna be, Pope. I wanna be great.” He looks to Santi and then Will, “What about you? What are you gonna do?”

There was no doubt in the world where Benny stood. He’d follow Santiago into hell. He pretty much had on more than one occasion but Benny always was a wildcard. Will was too calculated for that bullshit, he needed a plan. He needed foundation under his feet, not just charisma and Frankie would follow him. Frankie owed him his life. Will was the one to convince Frankie to hang it up. The one putting a half dead Frankie in cold showers and pumping his fucking stomach on no sleep. Will was the one Leah called when Frankie got too close to the edge. His brother, Luna’s godfather.

“I said if Redfly’s in, I’m in.”

Fuck! Fucking Tom. Frankie takes his hat off, adjusts his hair. I fucking hate Tom. —————

“Tom is not in our wedding,” Leah glared down the kitchen island at Frankie, arguing again about the goddamn wedding party. She didn’t even want it anymore. Had thrown her hands up, on more than one occasion, and begged to just run down to the courthouse.

And it all circled back to Tom fucking Davis.

“We served together for ten years, Leah! It’s a bit fucked up to have the rest of the boys up there in tuxes, Tess as our flower girl and Tom is,” he flails his hands out, “Three rows back with that one coworker who brings you coffee every Friday.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d let Tom sit that close to the altar, Francisco Morales. And next to Alexa? She is my angel and Tom Davis will be nowhere near her, do you understand me?”

“Then marry Alexa, babe!”

Leah put her hands on her hips, “Bitch, I might.”

He breaks and laughs, lifting his hat to rub at his forehead, “What do you want me to tell him then? You have plenty of friends who could be a fourth bridesmaid.”

“How about you drop Benny too?” She shrugs, “Just keep Will and Santi and I’ll keep my sisters. Two and two.”

He throws the hat on the counter, “YOU LOVE BENNY!”

“You're right, baby,” she laughs, eyes bright. A challenge on the tip of her tongue. "Drop Santi.”

He charges after her, ready for her words, and chases her through the house. Their house. Still nowhere near unpacked after a month and he’s cursing the unintended obstacle course he’s laid out for himself. She’s making quick work of it but, fuck, he’s out of shape.

He runs up the stairs, back screaming with every step as he gains on her. It helps his legs are much longer than hers.

She makes it to the bedroom, spinning to close the door but he grabs her before she can, pinning her down with all his weight. She insisted on the nicest sheets they could find and almost never made the bed, preferring to fall right into the softness without much work.

He ran his hand down her body, drumming his fingers in a soft rhythm until he reached her thigh, hitching it over his hip.

Her heart was still racing from the chase but Frankie felt it tick upwards as he placed his lips on her neck.

“Francisco,” she whined, “we can’t do this right now. We have to do grown up things.”

He smiles into the soft skin, “this is grown up things.”

“You know what I mean.”

He looks up at her, “hmm…” He’s got her right where he wants her, none the wiser as he reaches down to her knee and—

“Frankie, what are you doing?” Her voice comes out an octave higher, panic in her eyes pleading with him not to when the corner of his mouth crooks upwards and—

He digs his fingers into the soft flesh at the bend of her knee, smile blown wide as she screams out like a hyena.

“Stop! Stop!” She laughs through labored breaths, “baby, it was just a joke.”

“You're not funny,” he lulls with a kiss.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” her eyes filled with hurt and conviction, “I'm hilarious so… ya know, jot that down.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“But Tom fucking Davis is not in our wedding or I swear to god, Francisco Morales, I will call the whole goddamn thing off. It is my day and I’m not having his big Irish head in my wedding photos for the rest of my life.”

He laughs again, “Fine. But what should I tell him?”

“Tell him I fucking hate him.”

“You don’t hate anybody, baby, I don’t think you’ve got that in your heart. Be serious with me, please. What do I tell him?”

“Tell him,” she thinks for a second, because she absolutely does have the capacity for hate in her heart, “that I can’t choose amongst my friends for a fourth bridesmaid and so I just want to keep the party small with only my sisters.”

He seems satisfied by that, nodding his head. “But I am keeping Santi.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“But…”

Her stare is like daggers, “I’m not talking about Tom anymore.”

“No. No, it’s not that,” he’s laughing, his life is all laughter now. “I just still think we should set Pope up with Kristyn.”

She’s pushing out from under him, sitting up for the higher ground. Her finger is in his face, her words are measured, “If Santiago Garcia even so much as looks at my little sister, I will do what so many have tried and failed to do before.”

“And what's that, sweetheart?”

“I will kill him.”

The whole bed is shaking with his laughter now, “You're right, baby, you’re hilarious.” —————

Will’s in front of them now, hands on his knees, “What's the verdict?”

Tom looks at Frankie, then to Will, “I'm in for the recce if you guys are.”

The world goes quiet, replaced by a high pitched ringing in Frankie’s ear as he downs the world’s shittiest beer.

Fuck.

“Fish?” Santiago’s voice cuts clear through, always had.

Frankie lowers the plastic cup, “When is it?”

“We leave Thursday.”

Fuck.

Again, he lets go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, staring off into the ring. Staring off at nothing and everything.

“Okay.”

This could change his family’s life forever.

Fuck.

TAGLIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @icanbeyourjedi | @notcookiebelle | @princess76179​ | @bbuckysbeardd​

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober Day 29: Emergency Room

CW: Medical whump, sick whumpee, hospital whump, brief references to past child abuse and resulting traumatic association

Immediately follows Infection and Disorientation

Chris wakes up in the middle of a sentence.

Or rather, when his brain switches back on and he is conscious on a level he can participate in, he’s already talking, and the first thing he is aware of is a woman’s face, brown-skinned and with a slightly dry smile, watching him as he is saying, “-and, and, and then I saw, um, saw towels and the, the, the colors were all wrong, so, so I fixed them.”

“Oh, did you,” The woman replies, and there is a guarded kindness in her. “That was very kind of you.” He blinks at her, his vision slowly coming into focus. Chris takes a deep breath only to wince as a hazy sort of pain ripples up his right side. She leans over, a little closer. Her hair, black and full of tightly-wound curls slips over her shoulders and forwards, just brushing her cheeks. “Are you back with us? Don’t breathe so deep yet, okay?” She tilts her head, putting a hand up to push some hair back from his face. Jake does that sometimes, and Chris turns his head to encourage the affection, closing his eyes again.

Eyes closed feels better. 

In the clinic they’re always kinder to trainees, if still brusque, businesslike, getting them in and out with bandages applied, fevers broken, internal injuries healed with rest and whatever drips down the IV to make them sleep when they have done nothing but beg for sleep since they lost themselves to the Drip.

The nurses are nicer than the handlers, and this one is talking to him and touching him but only where he wants her to, and that makes her the nicest of all.

The way the world is spinning begins to settle when his eyes are closed and she lays her hand briefly against the side of his face, and he breathes a little more easily. He must not be in trouble, if she’s allowed to be so nice.

There’s something beeping nearby, and he doesn’t like the flat white light coming from the fluorescents in the ceiling laying on exposed skin - he can feel its weight on his arms where they lay on top of the scratchy rough blanket - but at least it isn’t a cold light. 

He shivers, opening his eyes to look down at himself, blinking. There are blankets pulled up to just under his arms, pale blue and sort of rough and soft, both at once, pilling so badly he can pick the little balls of fabric off bit by bit with one hand. Normally trainees don’t get blankets in the clinic, they’re supposed to freeze here, too.

He must have been very good but hurt anyway. Sometimes the handlers just want to hurt you, even when you’re good, because your tears are beautiful, too.

Besides, 499, you wanted this - you signed up so we would make you cry, right? Give me your arm, a little half-dose of purple should get you nice and worked up for us.

He tries to obey, rolling his left arm slowly over to expose the marked-up space at the inside of his left elbow - bandages wrapped around his left wrist over his barcode crinkling - and then realizes something is on - is in - his left arm. There’s… there’s a needle in his arm already, with a thin tube that runs up to a stand on wheels with multiple bags hooked onto it, and he thinks there’s something down below his waist, too. A catheter. 

He’s been bad, then. There’s only one reason to have a needle in his elbow and a catheter in, but when he tries to panic, he’s… he’s too tired, and too dizzy, and too foggy, to feel very scared at all. Even if they are going to take him away again, it’s too late. The Drip is already in his veins and there he goes, all of him, wiped clean all over again.

The soft throb of pain along his right side, wrapped up in the gentle blanket that covers his mind, makes it clear he’s not going anywhere very fast, not today. The handlers will have to leave him alone, and that’s good, but if he’s here and on the Drip, it means he’s back again.

Back in the Facility, here to be wiped, refurbished, and sent back to Sir or to someone new… and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

He feels his throat closing against helplessness - no, he was rescued, he was rescued and they said he’d never go back… they swore, they promised, Jake and Nat promised they wouldn’t let him go back, Jake would have fought them, he would have done something-

Tears flood Chris’s eyes and he hitches in a breath on a whimper. Jake must have gotten too hurt to save him. He must have, he might even be dead-

If it weren’t for you, she’d still be alive-

“Hey, hey, come on now.” The soft female voice is closer now, and her hand is back on his face, up to run back through his hair as he sniffles, coughs, winces as the dull pain sharpens briefly and then fades again. “It’s okay, you’re okay. It’s just the hospital, yeah? Your appendix ruptured, you had to come here in an ambulance, had some pretty serious surgery. Can you remember that?”

His eyes manage to open, blurred through his tears, and he looks at her. She’s not wearing the uniforms that handlers or even the nurses wear, but a softly floral scrub top and plain navy pants. Her smile is different than any nurse’s in the clinic that he’s ever seen. She’s looking at him, not through him. 

“I d-don’t know where, where, where I am,” He whispers, and she nods, her smile still in place.

“I know. That’s why I’m the one sitting here with you right now. You’re in the county hospital. You’re okay, Chris.”

Not 223499, but Chris.

He reaches back into his own mind and finds the train track that Jake and Nat are on, remembers their faces, their names, the way it feels when they hold him. He brings up the memory of Jake pulling his shirt off, handing it to Chris, whispering, I’ll come back, I promise.

He remembers Jake carrying him up the stairs three days later.

Chris holds, for a moment, the memory of Jake looking at him as they loaded him onto the plastic-backed bed-thing in the ambulance. He can remember, clearly, Jake's voice. We’ll be right behind you, Chris. I swear to God I’ll be there. I promise you, buddy, we’ll bring you back home.

He’s awake.

Jake isn’t here.

“Um, J-Jake, my, my… my…” Chris shakes his head, like a dog shaking off water. What had Nat been saying, before the ambulance came? Talking to Jake, the two of them, going over their story. His name is Christopher Stanton. He’s my little brother, and he’s autistic. “My, my, my my my brother, my-... he p-promised, where’s-... need my, my, my brother-”

“I texted Yoder when you started talking,” The woman says gently. “They’ll be up to see you in just a minute, okay?”

He tries to believe her.

There’s a fog in his thoughts and the trains are all running, but slow, finding their way, winding around the gray clouds in his head. “I, I was talking already,” Chris whispers. “Even… though I wasn’t, um, awake.”

His throat feels a little scratchy and rough, like someone shoved something down there, but the agonizing pain he’d been in - the sharp ache that had been a knife shredding him to nothing again and again and again - is gone. In its place there’s a duller throb, and the sense of floating inside a very nice fog. Like the fog he hates, but… better, somehow, too.

“I was… was asleep, and now… ‘m talking, but, but I was still, um, asleep, and… and and and… and talking…”

“Yes, that happens. It’s coming out of sedation, you kind of wake up before you really wake up, you know? I’ve done this before, and you know, I had someone once who… came back to himself in the middle of telling me about a margarita recipe he used to make for his girlfriend. He didn’t remember it any longer when he was awake. That’s the fun of recovery, I hear all kinds of things when I’m with someone. My wife proposed to me in recovery from her own surgery, you know. She doesn’t remember it at all.”

“You… you you you said yes?” Chris looks back at her. He can focus his eyes again, and the look of her is nice. Soft, but like she’s had to be hard before. Like Nat looks, sometimes, only Nat doesn’t have a wife, or anyone at all but… but Jake, just like everyone else has Jake to help. 

He moves his right hand, gingerly - he can feel the thick bandage wrapped around his left, and is never less than terribly aware of the needle in his elbow - and she takes it in both of hers. 

Her hands are cool, and dry. He smiles, faintly, and lets his head fall back against a flat pillow behind him. There’s a window to his left, three panes of glass, and outside, when he turns his head, he can see some trees, a courtyard. Birds hopping around the branches, but he can’t quite see what kind they are.

The woman squeezes his hand lightly. Chris takes a breath. This isn’t the clinic, because there are no windows at WRU. You’re never allowed to see outside, not until your owner is ready for you, not until you are good enough to go home.

Going outside is a privilege a pet has to earn.

This… this must be what an actual hospital looks like. He’s seen them on TV, sometimes. The TV ones didn’t really look much like this.

The woman keeps his hand in one of hers and uses the other to check her phone. “Oh, I made her ask again when she was all the way conscious, but yes.”

“That’s, that’s that’s nice. I’m Chris.” His voice is low, and shy, and he doesn’t see her nod - he doesn’t want to stop looking out the window at the clear morning sky - but he can kind of feel it, anyway.

“I know, sweetheart. Your family will be here any second, but they wanted you to have someone when you woke up, so I’m kind of sitting in for them for a bit. Don’t worry, they’re on their way.”

“Jake-”

“Yes, I’m told there’s a man named Jake and, you know, I know Yoder pretty well by now.”

“Why… why, why why why do y’call… Nat? Yoder?”

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know. Just always have. Used to be we weren’t allowed to know each other’s first names, so I guess the habit stuck. How are you feeling?”

“Um. Weird. Am, am, am I… give m’drugs?” Fear hits, again, but it’s faded, a shadow of itself. He shifts his left arm and feels tape pull against the skin inside his elbow, looks at the tubing that runs from the needle up to a bag hanging on a metal stand. There’s a machine, too, that shows numbers he doesn’t understand. His eyebrows furrow. “Was I… bad?”

“No, sweetie, no. No. You just had to have surgery, and you have to be knocked out for that.” The woman pats his hand again, and Chris tries to relax himself. There’s a window, and if there’s a window, he’s not going back. He recites the differences like an incantation. Like a chant. Like a prayer, to keep him safe, as long as he does everything just right.

There’s a window, and so he can’t be going back. He can see outside, the sky and the sun, and so he’s not going back. There’s kindness here, compassion and warmth, and so he isn’t going back. His wrists and ankles aren’t strapped down to the bed, so he’s not going back. Her hand holds his but it doesn’t touch him anywhere he doesn’t want, so he’s not going back. “Do you know what an appendix is, Christopher?”

Chris looks back at her. She has a nice face, and warm eyes, and calls him a name and not a number, so he’s not going back.

He can remember Jake, so he’s not going back.

Jake will come find him, and he’s not going back.

“No, ma’am,” He says, softly.

She laughs, and he likes the sound of her laughing, shaking her head, her curls moving with her. “Not a ma’am, thanks. I appreciate the politeness, though. I just don’t like being ‘ma’am’d, I’m not quite that old yet, now am I?”

“Where… where, where where where Jake is from, you c-call… everybody sir or, or ma’am, if you’re… if you’re raised right.” He tries to put the hint of sarcasm, dry and cynical, that Jake always has when he says it, but it doesn’t work for him. He can tell it doesn’t quite sound the same. He is floating, in this warmly lit room, watching the sky change from grayish-pink to purplish and finally to a pale blue, going cooler and deeper at the top.

The sun is rising, warm, to wash away the cold light.

“Well, that’s not where I’m from. In any case, your appendix is this little doohickey right there along your right side, and yours got infected. So Yoder-... well, Nat, I guess - called a mutual friend of ours-”

“Am-... ambulance,” Chris whispers, thinking of the two people, moving around him. His memories are faded and terrified and full of pain, but he thinks of the gloved hand on his shoulder, the hint of a brusque, calm reassurance, cool focused expression and clear brown eyes. “Finn.”

“Right. That’d be my friend. Then you weren’t feeling super great when we got you here, your appendix burst and you sure gave Mandela a job to do cleaning out that infection, huh? Finn stuck around to help out with that, they trained as an Army medic. Did they tell you that?”

Chris just blinks at her, and slowly shakes his head.

“Yeah, way back. Signed up right out of high school, dealt with some scary shit when things got tense at the Canadian border when Canada started taking runaways… anyway, they’re good in a pinch, but so am I, I guess.” She shrugs. “We can’t trust everybody, so… they helped us get you stable, and then we got you in and out of that OR. Just between us, though? Can you keep a secret?”

Chris blinks twice, then slowly nods.

“Good. Just between us, I think they stuck around because they took a shine to you. Anyway, now you’re hooked up-... let’s see, they said you wouldn’t like the IVs, so let me tell you, it’s something for your pain and a literal ton of antibiotics, that’s all.”

“An, antibiotics-... for the, um, the the infection?”

“Right. That’s all it is, I promise, antibiotics and something to make sure your incision doesn’t hurt too badly. Mandela knows her work, you should be able to leave in the next few days. Mandela’s kind of an arrogant blowhard, but she’s also maybe the second-best surgeon I’ve ever met and she’s, you know, safe… for you. Lucky for us she was meeting someone at that Starbucks across from the hospital, huh?” 

“... lucky, lucky for us,” Chris repeats, just to show he’s listening, but he doesn’t quite understand what he’s being told. He could, he thinks, if he could just wake all the way up, but the hint of fog makes the connections a little more difficult, more of a struggle. “Um, can, can I, can I ask-... are you… Tori?”

The woman blinks, and then laughs again, and Chris smiles faintly in return. He wants her to laugh again and again, it’s a nice laugh, it changes the light inside the hospital room when she laughs like that. Makes it brighter, more like sunshine and less like a cold white room with a door he can’t open.

He wonders if her wife makes her laugh.

“Oh, Finn got chatty in the ambulance, hm? Well-”

There are footsteps, and the woman turns before she can answer his question.

“Let’s see… 210, 212… 214… here it is, 216, this should be it. Jake, damn it, knock first-”

The door opens with a hard jerk of the knob, and Chris looks to the doorway. He knows the bit of blond hair before he sees the face it belongs to. The fog inside his head is familiar, but it hasn’t taken anything away from him. 

They didn’t take Jake away.

He lets go of the woman and a smile stretches across his face. The throb of pain is gone, it can’t hold together under the weight of the warmth inside him. “Jake!”

Jake moves through the doorway, eyes on Chris, the bright blue focused and intense, shadowed from lack of sleep. His hair mussed, and he’s still wearing the clothing Chris saw him in last, rumpled. He drops a backpack on the floor as he moves, and he doesn’t even seem to realize he’s done it. Nat appears behind him, her braid half-undone, circles under her eyes dug in even more deeply than the ones under Jake’s.

Jake leans over him, one knee up on the bed. “Hey, buddy.”

“Hi, hi, hi, um, hi-... h-hi, Jake.” He holds out one hand. “Um, can you, could, could you please-”

“Oh, Christ, be careful, he just had surgery!” 

The woman’s warning is lost, because Jake is already hugging him. 

Warm, strong arms around him, and he tucks his head right under Jake’s chin and breathes in the familiar smell of him, deodorant and cologne and the laundry-smell from his shirt, the skin-smell of Jake underneath all of it. The simplest way to anchor himself, the greatest certainty he has that he isn’t going back, because Jake is here, and Jake would never let anyone take him away, not ever again.

“There were people having a fucking pizza party in the ER waiting area while you were in surgery, I thought I’d kill them with my bare hands if I had to listen to it any longer. Who the fuck orders fucking delivery pizza at the ER?” Jake’s voice is cracking, and Chris hums, twisting his right hand into Jake’s shirt, twist-and-release, then finger-twist-tap-tap-tap, and it’s solid and real and the sun is so pretty outside the window.

“Sorry I, I, I, I didn’t tell you I was, um, was sick,” Chris whispers.

“Sorry I didn’t know without you having to tell me,” Jake whispers back. “I hate hospitals, little man, you have no idea how much I hate having to tell lies in a hospital again. Fuck, I hate hospitals so fucking much.”

“Me, me, me me me, me too, but, um, but it’s okay with you here. It’s okay. It’s, it’s not-”

“It’s not the same,” Jake says softly. 

“Right. Not, not, not the same. I’m, I’m, I’m not, not, not, um, not going… going back.”

“Never, Chris. Not ever. Letting you go in that ambulance without me is the second-hardest thing I’ve ever fucking done,” Jake whispers, and tears build in Chris’s eyes as he buries himself against Jake’s neck, his hands making short, jerky little flapping motions as he struggles to keep the feelings inside him from overwhelming his ability to speak.

“What, what, what was, was the hardest?”

“What?”

“What’s, um, what’s… what’s the, the, the… the-the hardest thing? You’ve, you’ve ever, um… ever done?"

Jake’s breath hitches, and there are tears in his voice as he holds on tight. “Sitting in fucking limbo knowing I couldn’t be the one to help you.”

Chris swallows back a twist inside his heart. “Y-yeah?”

“Yeah, just… having to be stuck outside while someone else did all that shit that it feels like I’m supposed to do.”

There’s a sudden rustle at the window, and Chris turns his head just enough to see a flutter of red wings disappear down towards the courtyard below.

---

Tori belongs to @whump-tr0pes and is used with permission and great love

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

[agntofhydra]

Sawbones // TWO

(gif credit) 

summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AU

Soul mates have a red thread tied to each others pinkies that only one of them can see.

You’re the Resistance’s head medic. You can see the red thread of fate that leads you to your soulmate. Poe doesn’t believe in the soulmate / thread theory. You don’t agree with his tactics, nor does he approve of yours. Leia and Holdo just really want a win.

pairing: poe dameron x reader

rating: mature for later chapters

read me on ao3! 

part one here!

read on till the end for notes! 

SAWBONES

TWO // PULLED TAUGHT

No.

You hadn’t been avoiding him.

You were busy. Taking inventory, filling out incident reports, stocking, taking care of your patients - which, you noticed, had decreased in number over the last couple days. And you knew why.

Someone must’ve been taking better care of their pilots.

Jasti was released the morning after the whole - for lack of a better term - ordeal. She’d heard your violent retching and had banged on the door, asking if you were okay.

Your vision was white, and after about two rounds you were dry heaving. No fucking way, your mind rattled. The revelation shook you to your core. You were happy being unsuspecting, ignorant of the fact that your soulmate had been pittering around D’Qar for literal months while you sat in your office, pissing off FX-7 and berating their antics in your head. The furrow of his eyebrows, the flicker of concern in his eyes at your sudden change in demeanor when you saw his pinky also had ingrained itself in your mind. Lingered every time you shut your eyes. You must’ve stayed in the refresher for an hour or two, senses numbed to Jasti’s incessant banging on the door.

You also weren’t good with conflict, and a conflict this was indeed.

What were you supposed to do? Tell him? Would he even believe you? Ziff said he didn’t trust the concept anymore, too many girls taking advantage of where he once was soft. Exploited that weakness until it was solid beskar.

So no, you didn’t tell him.

You’d stayed busy. He was busy, too. Per your objections, Leia had him and his squadrons flying more recon and actually formulating a real operation to investigate the cargo ship orbiting around Kessel. You’d heard that from whispers in the hallway, and you didn’t really want to venture out for any updates.

Turns out, you wouldn’t have to.

As if your thoughts had summoned him, Poe was dragging a pilot from blue squadron into your medbay, one of their arms around his shoulder, one of his around their waist. His eyes were searching, panicked until they met yours as you flew from your office and threw the pilot onto the first open bed.

“What happened?” You asked, immediately checking for vitals. His skin was burning, clammy. FX-7 recorded his temperature and your heart dropped at the number.

“We were flying back, literally leaving hyperdrive when I was notified Blue Three was having trouble, and could barely steer his x-wing through D’Qar’s orbit.” Poe paused. “His skin is on fire.”

“I’m aware,” you tried not to bite back as you threw FX-7 an IV bag. You also did not dwell on the fact that Poe didn’t even know this pilot’s name. “Do we have hadeira serum?”

“You did inventory,” FX-7 duly responded as he inserted a needle into the pilot’s basilic vein. Poe cringed and looked away, eyes focused on you instead.

You hadn’t really done inventory, and you were cursing yourself for it now.

“Wait,” Poe frowned. “Hadeira? You think he’s got bloodburn?”

“He’s been in with a fever before,” you muttered as you rifled through the cabinet on the opposite wall. Poe followed, barking over your shoulder.

“And you didn’t ground him?”

You paused, closing your eyes for a second and taking a deep breath before returning to your search. You really didn’t need Dameron on his high horse right now, questioning your calls.

It was only fair. You had done it to him, you reminded yourself. That didn’t mean you couldn’t whip around and land one in the middle of his chiseled, ridiculously handsome and symmetrical face. You groaned audibly at not only your thoughts, but your inability to locate the literal life-saving serum.

“Back off, Dameron,” you said between your teeth as you all but sprinted back into your office where you kept the more valuable medicines. You unlocked the closet behind your desk with your hand and entered, eyes scanning the shelves. Once again, Poe followed.

“What’s wrong, doc? Don’t like it when people question your authority?”

You finally turned to him, slightly put off by the fact he was less than a meter away. You didn’t let it show.

“You wanna do this right now?” You raised your eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest and the thread around his pinky was directly in your field of vision. You held back the bile that rose in the back of your throat.

“His fever is so high that his blood is boiling right now. Which will kill him. So please, Dameron. If you think this argument is worth more than me finding the serum and saving his life,” you punctuated each word, “keep talking. But I’m not listening.”

Your eyes caught the vials to the right of his head, and he stepped out of the closet and into the expanse of your office as you grabbed the vials and quickly returned to the medbay where FX-7 had started hydrating the pilot. You handed the droid the hadeira serum and FX-7 made quick work of administering.

You let out a long breath. You weren’t totally in the clear, but it was as under control as it could be. Poe gave you a look and you nodded, silently telling him his pilot was okay. For now.

Poe stared at him for a couple moments longer, and once he was satisfied leaving him in the care of FX-7, he kicked your boot lightly.

“Can we talk now?”

Swallowing thickly, you nodded and led him back into your office. Poe sat down in one of the stark white chairs that matched the rest of your office as you locked the medicine closet. You turned around to him but kept your distance.

“What’s there to talk about?”

He bit the inside of his cheeks to keep him from grinning. “I don’t bite, y’know.”

You rolled your eyes, but nonetheless moved closer to him and sat atop your desk.

The red thread floated between the both of you, moving as if it was being jostled by the air currents in the room. Before you could even think, your left hand went to pluck at the string tied near the base of your finger. To your utmost surprise, the now tangible string pulled back due to your force. You let go in shock. The string vibrated and you watched the movement travel to shake the thread connecting to Poe. He coughed, left hand clenching and unclenching his fingers. You watched the action and met his eyes. Once again, he furrowed his brows.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

It was your turn to furrow your brows, and Poe continued, “Y’know. Looking into space and then turning pale like there’s a rancor in here that I don’t see. And then you look at me like it’s my fault?"

It’s now or never, you told yourself. Come clean.

“It’s nothing.” Coward.

Poe dropped the subject. “Anyways, you must’ve been swamped these last few days because you haven’t checked in to hear any updates on the cargo ship.”

Not trusting your voice, you just shrugged as your eyes rested back on the crimson that connected the two of you. Seeing it was definitely a curse. You tried not to dwell on how different things would be if it was Poe that could see it. What a weight off your shoulders that would be.

Maybe if he could see it, it wouldn’t be you on the other end, the voice in head told you. Poe was still rambling about Kessel and you definitely weren’t listening. You don’t want that, do you? For him to be soulmates with someone else?

It happened all the time though, people ending up with those who they weren’t tethered to. The galaxy was far too huge and vast, many people never having the opportunity to leave their home planet, let alone venture and seek out their soulmate. Some people, Poe included now, saw it as a myth, it was becoming so rare. You’d only ever known one pair of soulmates to meet in the years you’d been alive. Your parents.

Either way, your mind needed to slow down. You didn’t know Poe. From what you’ve seen of him, despite his impeccable physical features, you weren’t really a fan. But...just regarding his physical features? Big fan.

He snapped you out of your reverie. “Stars, you are infuriating.”

You apologized, placing your hands in the front pockets of your medic coat in hopes to ignore the thread, but it stuck out of the material of your pocket instead.

“There’s no harm in collecting more intel,” you told him. “Especially if it saves lives.”

He rubbed his forehead. “There is if it’s time sensitive! The ship could leave Kessel at any moment and then we’ll never know what was on it.”

You snorted. “You said it’s been in your knowledge for a while, been written off until now. I don’t buy it. I don’t know what you’re wanting from me, Dameron, but I won’t apologize. This is how I feel, and General Organa and Vice Admiral Holdo agree with me.”

“I want a common ground,” he said. Your gut twisted. “We met not ten minutes before you blasted me to pieces in that briefing room.”

“I don’t think you’re used to opposition.”

“I’m not.”

“You should always consider every point of view, especially for things like this. Have you heard about the terror running the First Order? You really want to face him in your little x-wing?”

Poe jerked his head. “Do not insult my ship.”

“Stars, Dameron, can you listen to a voice that isn’t your own for five seconds?”

“I was listening, obviously, ‘cause I heard your jab about my ship.” You could force-choke him right now. “But I get where you’re coming from. Where you’re more conservative and safe, I’m intuitive and risky and you hate it,” he said with a smile that met his eyes.

“I would call it impulsive and ill-informed,” you countered. You definitely didn’t hate bantering with him. You noticed subtly that over the course of the conversation, Poe had begun to move closer to you, inching closer and closer to the edge of the chair.

“Astute and adept,” he stood, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes never left yours.

“Reckless and arrogant.” You didn’t want him to come any closer, unsure if you would either retch all over his shoes or bunch up the material of his brown leather jacket in your grip to pull him closer.

As if the stars were listening and answered, FX-7 appeared in the doorway. Your eyes broke from Poe’s, turning your attention to the droid and Poe followed suit.

“Pilot Nunb’s fever has broken,” it said. “He will make it through the night.”

Night? You realized you’d been so consumed the last couple days you’d lost all concept of time.

“Great news,” Poe said, turning from FX-7 back to you. “I need to go tell the rest of blue squadron.” Poe shamelessly looked you up and down.

“‘Till next time, Doc.”

Poe sidestepped the droid in the doorway without another glance at you. You remained on your desk, hands still in your pockets as you watched the thread disappear into the wall as Poe left.

“It is hardly relevant to speak in matters that pertain to humans,” FX-7 began, “let alone ones that concern my superior, but if I may?”

You couldn’t hide your confusion. FX-7 never spoke to you unless it was a medical matter. You nodded for him to go ahead.

“You are consumed with plenty. I caution against adding Commander Dameron to the list.”

You frowned. “FX, do you know about the soulmate thread?” What harm would it be to tell a droid? FX barely talked to you, and chances were zero that the droid would air this to anyone else.

The droid lifted its metal head up and down. “Yes.”

It was the most humanistic the droid had ever been, and you felt mildly miffed. Has FX-7 always been able to not be so robotic? You’d save that thought to be pissed about another time.

“I can see it,” you said quietly. “It’s tied to him.”

FX-7 was silent, motionless for a few moments and it almost seemed like he had powered down. “That is…” he paused. “Inconvenient.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said, hopping down from your desk. Your hands left your pockets to run through your hair as you tried to clear your thoughts and just breathe.

“Is that why you have busied yourself more than usual?”

“Didn’t wanna deal with it,” you nodded. “Still don’t.”

“That will only prove to make things more arduous. You have two options when it comes to Commander Dameron, and you know which I favor. For the good of the Resistance and your work.” FX-7 then left the doorway to your office as promptly as he had arrived.

✗ ✗ ✗

You fell asleep in your office that night, or maybe it was morning by the time you collapsed against your desk. Despite FX-7’s confirmation, you couldn’t let yourself go back to your quarters when the pilot in your medbay was teetering on the cusp of cardiac arrest.

Leia Organa woke you by softly brushing the hair out of your face. Your head lifted instantaneously, a paper stuck to your cheek. You quickly removed it and smoothed down the rest of your hair to at least try and look presentable.

“General,” you regarded her, standing up from your seat. She smiled softly at you.

“Doctor, I apologize for waking you.”

You shook your head and tried not to wince when you peeked at the digital numbers glaring at you upon the wall.

“I needed to be awake, anyways. I’m late for rounds,” you muttered the last part to yourself.

“I came to update you on the operation,” she moved back around your desk and sat down in the seat Poe had occupied only a few hours prior.

“We’ve received intel that the TIE fighters stationed in front of the ship are no longer there, presumably to return to the First Order to refuel or receive maintenance. It’s a narrow window, but Commander Dameron and both Red and Blue squadrons have departed a few hours ago to hopefully investigate that cargo ship.”

You nodded at her words and contained the frown from surfacing on your face. Your stomach knotted, fearing that the absence of First Order protection was all too convenient, and they were falling into a trap.

The First Order was smart, something you had learned first hand. You’d been on their radar for as long as you could remember. The bad guys needed medics, too.

Some of your peers that you had completed medical school with had left to join, and ultimately you couldn’t blame them. The offer was tempting, yet mostly threatening. Most of them joined more out of fear than anything. You had been moments away yourself, but instead you were here. On D’Qar. A vital part of the Resistance. If you were someone who believed in such phenomena, you would swear the galaxy itself had made sure of it.  

“Have you heard anything since they left?” You asked.

Leia shook her head, trying to hide her worried expression. “They’re in good hands. Poe is the best pilot I’ve seen since…” She stopped herself. “He’s the man for this.”

“So I’ve heard,” you said. “I hope he proves me wrong. And also brings every pilot back in one piece.”

“Together, I think you two would make quite the formidable pair.”

“With respect, General,” you tried not to snort at her words. “I think it’s better if we keep our distance. Our stubbornness might tear a rift in the galaxy.”

“Or,” she winked. “It could bring it together.”

You had no response.

“I’ll be back should there be any word from Poe, and - “

Leia’s words were cut off by the familiar screech of a x-wings cutting into the atmosphere and landing on the runway.

Wordlessly, the two of you all but sprinted from the medical wing out into the open, expansive area that was the runway. Countless others were surfacing outside, watching the ships land and be courted off into the hangars for repairs. From what you could tell, they all looked fine. No exposed wires or blaster burns. For the most part, the squadrons looked untouched. The last ship to land was Poe’s black and orange T-70.

The second the x-wing was stopped, Poe all but threw himself from the cockpit, shucking his helmet off and chucking it at the ground. BB-8’s body blurred as the droid tried to keep up with his long, quick strides. His eyes met Leia’s first, immediately spurning his feet to turn in her direction. When he eventually realized you were also next to her, his eyes all but physically set you on fire.

You held your breath as he crossed the runway. Poe looked downright dangerous, he was so angry. Leia noticed this too, but did not change her demeanor as she waited patiently for him to come to her, hands clasped behind her back.

“Mission report, Commander Dameron,” she said.

“Can we discuss this somewhere else?” Poe asked as he stopped walking, finally reaching his destination. BB-8 rolled up a second later. His eyes flicked to yours.

“We can, but the Doctor will be there regardless.”

Poe wanted to scream.

“The mission went as smoothly as expected. We were met with no First Order resistance or ambush as we docked and investigated the cargo ship.”

“And what did you find?”

Poe took a deep breath, calming his heartbeat that was deafening in his ears. His fists clenched and unclenched, and unfortunately the thread was still there. Except this time, it was pulled taught between your bodies when it usually sagged with slack.

“We found spice, General.”

Oh.

Maybe you did believe in some higher power. There had to be someone pulling the strings behind this scenario. You wanted to laugh, point your finger and tell him ‘told you so’. But you didn’t, because the tension and anger in Poe’s body was so apparent that it looked like he was a chain pulled so tight it wasn’t a matter of if, but when he would snap.

So you settled for pursing your lips very tightly.

“Nothing else to report?” Leia questioned.

Poe shook his head.

“I’m glad you all made it back safe,” she said, putting her hand on Poe’s shoulder. “It was one mission, Poe. There will be other opportunities.”

He nodded, not meeting her eyes as Leia took her leave. The two of you stood in intolerable silence and you weren’t sure why Poe didn’t immediately sprint off as soon as Leia left.

“I’m glad everyone made it back safely,” you spoke slowly, offering a metaphorical olive branch.

Poe cocked his head, eyes narrowing as he met yours. You braced yourself, waiting for him to maybe pull out his blaster and take you out on the spot.

“Save it,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold the venom you expected. “Do you want me to tell you that you were right?”

You shrugged. “Not required, but I’m not against it.”

He did not accept your poor attempt at lightening the mood. Instead, he sighed deeply and dragged a hand down his face.

“I look like a complete joke . Making such a big deal out of this whole operation, only to be completely and utterly wrong.” He laughed dryly, and you tried not to wince.

“But you know who was right? A fucking medic. The holier-than-thou doctor who doesn’t ever leave her medbay, but the one time she does she completely undermines everything.”

Of course, it was your fault. Poe didn’t want to face the fact that his lack of patience and impulsiveness had forced him and his whole squadron to investigate a cargo ship full of spice. Against your better judgement, you let him continue his diatribe. He continued, berating your position, your lack of expertise and inability to, how did he put it? Stay out of matters that don’t pertain to you. He seemed to have forgotten the minute detail that Holdo had asked for you to be there, even though you reminded him of that fact last night.

After a ridiculous amount of time, Poe eventually stopped to catch his breath. As soon has he did, he tried to continue.

“Not to mention - “

You cut him off. “Are you done?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I could go on all day.”

You crossed your arms. “I’m sure you could. Because you absolutely have the right to completely tear me down when we met for the first time a couple days ago.”

“I’ve heard enough about you,” Poe countered.

“As have I,” you clenched your jaw. “Your reputation precedes your rank, Dameron. You really think you’re going to earn respect and trust around the base when you’re running through every female here? You think that speaks well of your character? You think that’s Commander behavior?”

Poe interlaced his hands on the top of his head as he laughed at you incredulously.

“I can’t even stand to breathe the same air as you right now,” Poe said.

How fucking immature. You narrowed your eyes. “Then stop breathing.”

At your words, the red thread tightened around your finger painfully. So tight, it felt as though it was about to cut through and remove the finger entirely. Your other hand rubbed at your finger -  desperately, futilely trying to loosen the string.

Poe watched your action, and then sucked in a breath through his teeth as he grasped as his own pinky in pain. He noticed his movements mirrored yours.

“Wha-” he paused. “Wait - “ Two pieces clicked in Poe’s brain.

But it didn’t matter, because you were already retreating, your steps quick and purposeful. You were fleeing back to the medbay and away from whatever was about to come out of Poe’s mouth. You couldn’t deal with it, not now and probably not ever.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes watched your hands before watching his own, his forehead creasing with confusion, then what you hoped wasn’t realization. You didn’t think your actions obvious, but if he felt the same pain you did, it was impossible not to notice.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, your mind spiraled. Poe called your name, your actual name, but you were too far gone and nothing short of the force would make you go back to him.

This time, your interaction with Poe Dameron didn’t end with emptying your guts in the refresher, but by entering your office and locking it.

Small victories.

_ 

thank you all so so so much for all the positive feedback and support!! i love it!!! i’ve gotten a couple requests for a tag list so if you’d like to me to create one / be added to it just send me a message! also, if i made a playlist for this, would y’all be interested? lmk! xoxo. 

[writing-gifts]

datura (moth!bruno x butterfly!reader)

—–

A/N: this fics 30k+ words now and im happy that ive stayed with it this long, but yea thats it lol

First Chapter || Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Reader is gender neutral!

-----

[Late Fall]

You didn't think you'd be meeting Abbacchio so soon--perhaps sometime after Winter. But one day you're taking shelter from the cold when Bruno comes to visit.

These days you never really know for sure when he'll show but this was definitely earlier than usual. Nevertheless, you're glad to have someone to cure your boredom...until you see there's someone else very familiar with him.

You hide partially behind your door trying to slow your racing heart. Was this excitement or fear? Maybe both?

“Er, you’re Abbacchio right?”

When the wasp nods but doesn’t further speak you look at Bruno, but he simply gives you an encouraging smile. You wanted to scold the moth for the nonexistent forewarning, but at the same time with a surprise visit you didn't have time to fret before the actual meeting.

You’ll have to go along with this either way so you put on a polite smile. “You guys want to come in?”

“No, I'd rather stay out here,” Abbacchio replies.

Your brows furrow and your smile becomes more forced. “Uh…”

But it's cold! What the hell, do you two not get cold or something!?

It takes you a moment but then you realize that the wasp was being sarcastic. Probably. But you’re not sure if it’s because he’s trying to be funny or if he doesn’t like you. Or maybe he was messing with you?

Bruno throws him a bemused look. "It would be more comfortable inside don't you think?”

The wasp stares at you in a way that makes you feel like you're being sized up but eventually relents. “Alright.”

You move so Abbacchio can walk in, but Bruno stops next to you.

"Don't be intimidated. He can be like that toward new people and he’s a little grumpy that he had to walk all the way over here," he whispers.

You look over at the wasp already sitting on the daybed remembering his lack of flight and nod. But you weren’t sure if you wanted to deal with a bitchy bug right now.

Bruno goes to sit, but you scuttle to your room with some quickly mumbled excuse so you can collect your thoughts.

What were you supposed to do? Entertain them both? You were far removed from having to actively entertain Bruno when he came over so you felt out of your element.

This meeting should have happened in Spring instead.

You must have been in your room for too long because Bruno shows up.

When he sees you sitting on your bed he raises a brow. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing really. I’m just unsure what to do so I'm hiding. Are we like hanging out?”

Bruno shakes his head. "I don't understand. You don't need to do anything."

"But I feel like I have to since Abbacchio is here though. And he really doesn't look like he wants to be here."

"Well, we aren't going to stay too long if that makes things better. He just wanted to see you. Of course he's too prideful to admit that though."

"Well…He could just be more polite though," you grumble.

"Then he wouldn't be Abbacchio…" Bruno sighs. "Don't worry I talked to him so it'll all work out."

You purse your lips. "...Hey next time just give me a heads up if you're bringing someone over, okay?"

If your unexpected guest was just a little amiable then you wouldn't have cared but that wasn't the case.

Bruno looks a bit surprised that you seem genuinely annoyed, but he gives you the affirmation you want. So even though you're still reluctant, you move off the bed.

“Okay we can go back.”

You walk ahead of Bruno and when you get to the main room you try to talk to the wasp again.

“Uh...Do you want anything to drink?”

"No thanks."

"...Okay."

Instead of sitting down you stand there. Bruno wouldn't lie to you but the wasp's behavior said otherwise. Your friend gently grabs your arm and leads you to the daybed to sit.

"Do you want me to get you something to drink ____?"

"...Sure? It can be whatever."

You realize too late that if he's getting drinks, he’s going to leave you alone with Abbacchio. You squint at Bruno as he exits the room. It shouldn't take long but you're sure Bruno's going to take as long as he sees fit.

So while he’s gone, you sit there quietly sneaking peeks at the wasp trying to figure out how to move things along. He sits, leg spread, looking at nothing in particular.

You had seen the occasional albino insect but this was the first wasp. Which isn’t surprising since you kept clear of any. Until now.

“What?”

You flinch from the sudden break in silence. “W-What?”

“You keep looking at me.”

You try to smile but it definitely comes off more as a grimace from the weird look you get in return.

Sighing, you frown. “I’m sorry. I’m going to be straight forward and say that I feel super awkward right now, and I don’t know what to say or do.”

The wasp crosses his arms. “...You don’t need to say anything. I actually prefer the silence.”

"Oh."

You continue to sit in silence that's slightly less awkward, but again the wasp breaks it.

“How’s your leg?”

Your eyes widen a bit from him trying to start a conversation. “Oh, it’s okay.”

You stretch out your leg, bending it a few times. There was no more pain but a bunch of scars were left behind around your thigh and calf.

“That's good.”

Since he was here you could show your gratitude in person. You hesitate for a moment but remember what Bruno had told you at the forest clearing. And you didn't want to let this possible conversation die.

“Hey, thank you for helping me that day. You really saved my life. And the fact you managed to open that lizard's mouth was pretty amazing!"

You see the stern expression on the wasps face slightly fall, and he gives you a nod. “It wasn't anything--I mean….You're welcome.”

You give your first genuine smile today and Abbacchio looks away looking a bit flushed.

A moment later and the moth finally returns.

"I’m back with your drink ____."

You turn towards Bruno as he walks towards the daybed.

“What the hell were exactly doing in there Bucciarati?” Abbacchio looks over, sounding unimpressed with Bruno's little plan.

"You're not slick Bruno," you add.

He raises a hand in surrender. “Okay you got me. But it worked didn't it?”

You look at Abbacchio.

“...I guess it’s a start,” Abbacchio says.

"I saw you blushing from the kitchen," Bruno says.

“I--Leave me alone.”

You hold back your laugh lest you want to be scowled at by the wasp next.

Bruno hands over your drink and you thank him and relax back into the daybed. Maybe it's okay if they decide to stay longer.

----

For the first time this season, you can't fly. Even after trying to warm yourself up with all your blankets, you'd only be able to stay off the ground for a short time before your wings would give up. And unless you were planning on climbing up the stems of the flowers near your home there was no way you were getting any nectar.

So over the next couple days, whenever you couldn’t fly, you were content with spending most of your time sewing, knitting or sleeping. Even the days where you could fly you'd find yourself spending most of the day inside anyways.

But after a while you start to feel confined in your home, and you suppose you need to do something different. So you finally gather the courage to venture a good distance from your home by yourself.

You decide to use this opportunity to visit a neighbor--a self-proclaimed “vegetarian” spider--so you can get started on Bruno's 2nd gift.

Before you were hesitant to go, even with the gift on the line, but after everything that's happened with Abbacchio you were more at ease with the idea.

Once you actually see the spider's small home, you notice there's no webs for you to get stuck in.

With the spider's help, you hope to learn how to create sheer cloth or lace as he called it. In return, you're willing to part with the rest of the honey you had sitting around.

There was the option to trade for already made lace but you were hellbent on making this gift all on your own. When you tell the spider, Ilyas, this he seems even more excited to share his passion.

“Rarely anyone likes to visit me!”

You smile feeling a bit sad for him. Now that you actually had met him properly you can tell the "rumors" about him being completely harmless were true. He only seemed to use his webs to make lace. How it wasn't sticky was a mystery to you though.

After trying for the first time, Ilyas tells you that you're a natural but that feels like an over-exaggeration. You decide to visit more often though because of his enthusiasm.

He encourages you to practice with small squares first before doing any complicated shapes, and to also experiment with different lace patterns.

When you try to practice on your own, you struggle with making the lace without the spider's help, and the strange tool they had to speed up the process. All you had was your needles, threads, and your inexperienced hands.

There were many times where you would miss a stitch and not notice until you had finished the square. It was frustrating but you would keep at it, trying to finish at least one square a day.

You stare at your most recent square. You didn’t miss a stitch this time so that was good, but you didn't really like the pattern the threads were forming.

You rest your head in your hand, absentmindedly tracing your scars as you study the intricate web-like lace.

The sleep schedule you had somewhat managed to fix at Abilene’s house had slowly drifted back to the way it was before. Along with the days becoming shorter, you felt like you spent a good chunk of the night wide awake. So even though it was pretty late, you weren’t tired at all.

You guess you could start another square with a new pattern but even with your lantern, making lace in the night was a strain on your eyes.

You pull the covers sitting around you on the ground over your shoulders and rest your head on the table.

I wonder if Bruno will show….

While you stare at the lace, you somehow manage to fall asleep. You're not sure how long, but you're woken up by a knock at the door.

Knowing it's Bruno, you quickly get up to answer.

He greets you with a smile. “Did you just wake up?”

“Yea, I didn’t even feel like going to bed at all so I don’t know how that happened."

“Too bad I woke you up then.” He pulls out 3 canisters. “I brought you nectar though.”

“I don't have any to trade though? I stayed in today."

"Don't you think we are past that point in our relationship? I’m just giving it to you as a friend."

"I guess you're right. I’m so used to trading...” you trail off and take the canisters.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"You just seem down."

You open one of the canisters to see what's inside and avoid Bruno's analyzing gaze.

"Honestly, I guess I do feel strange? I want to go back to sleep but I don’t really want to at the same time. Maybe I slept weird…"

"I know you probably don't want to hear this right now but maybe you should go out. It might make you feel better."

You shrug. Other than walking to Ilyas's and sometimes getting nectar close by, you spend most of your day inside. Maybe your body wasn’t used to being inside this much. Even during Winter you'd try to go out when you really shouldn't.

“Maybe you're right.”

"Do you want to go to the lake, obviously not near it of course."

Bruno seemed to be trying to tread carefully with you. It was appreciated but at the same time you want him to treat you like usual.

You huff out a laugh. “I know that, but sure let's go.”

You were already dressed in a sweater but invite Bruno in so you can go find a scarf.

While wrapping one around your neck you remember the moth's sweater and see no better time to give it to him.

You grab it off the chair you left it on and walk into the main room.

"Bruno, I finished your sweater!"

You hold the off white sweater out to the moth and he gently takes it from you.

"You finished it that fast?"

You nod.

The moth unfolds it and holds it out. You made it so it would be on the baggier side so he wouldn't feel constricted.

You watch as he turns it around and pulls it over his head. Once he puts his arms through the sleeves he pats down his hair.

You watch as he fiddles with the buttons on one of his sleeves until it comes off allowing his forearm to be free.

"Feels comfortable?"

He nods as he rebuttons the sleeve. "Yes, thank you! I don't even want to take off the sleeves either."

You grin, pleased that he likes it that much. "That's great! Honestly this looks quite good on you..."

"You think so?" The moth strikes a subtle pose.

"O-Obviously! Honestly I think you'd be able to pull anything off."

This gives you even more motivation to make that lacy top for him.

"Okay, let's go before I say anything else embarrassing," you say.

You both head outside, but you find yourself struggling to get off the ground. Apparently the temperature had dropped slightly too low.

"Do you need help?"

"No, no I got it."

You flap your wings a couple times hoping for the blood to finish circulating and with a little more struggling you're off the ground.

“Oh this sucks!”

You couldn’t help being jealous that Bruno could still fly so easily.

"You really don't need to push yourself."

“It's fine. I just needed to stretch out my wings. You do the vibrating thing to warm up and fly right?"

"Yeah."

"So lucky,” you say with a sigh.

"Have you ever tried doing it yourself? It'll get you in the air quicker."

"Hmmm…"

You momentarily stop flying. Clenching your fists, you tense your whole body and try to vibrate, but it’s literally impossible for you to reach the speed Bruno is capable of.

You notice Bruno is covering his mouth as he watches your sorry attempt.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"I’m sorry, the look on your face was cute."

You open your mouth but actual words struggle to come out.

"You--! Don't….Let’s just go already."

While the two of you make the flight to the lake, the moth insists on holding your hand 'just in case your wings give out'. Even though flying so close to someone can be a pain, his hand kept yours quite warm so you don't complain.

The lake feels so much different when you arrive. Without all the insects around, singing, dancing and playing, it felt somewhat lifeless. Even the lilies from before were shut.

“It’s so quiet…”

“Yea but it can be nice like this too. Sometimes I prefer it.

You both sit at the same place you did last time. Even though the rock's surface is cold, you already feel better. You had been nervous stepping out to places that weren’t busy, but with Bruno that nervousness was almost nonexistent.

You wish you had taken the time to come out more often like this with the moth, because once Winter came you wouldn’t be able to see him. You look over at Bruno. He seems lost in his own thoughts.

“Are you ready for Winter?”

He glances at you. “I suppose so…I won’t be able to visit you anymore though. It’s going to feel quieter.”

You hum in agreement. "Why does Winter have to exist? It's like Fall's terrible older sibling."

That gets a chuckle out of the moth. "That's the first time I've heard some describe the season like that."

"Well it is…"

"I guess you could say that."

Silence settles between the both of you but you move slightly in your spot from the restlessness you were beginning to feel. An idea had come into your mind and you were nervous to try it.

Holding your breath, you lean against the moth, but keep your eyes focused on the lake too afraid to make eye contact. If your time with him was going to be limited then maybe you should send even more hints.

A tense moment passes before you feel him shift against you. Your heart jumps when you feel a hand brush against your hip.

"Is this okay?" Bruno’s voice is low and it makes the action feel more intimate.

Don’t panic. This is a good thing!

“Y-Yes.”

You take a moment to calm down and continue speaking. “Is the sweater still comfortable?”

"Definitely. I think you’ll be happy to hear that I don't want to take it off.”

There was a weird sense of pride within you from getting the moth to willingly wear clothes.

"Then my work here is done. Well I'm going to make you more stuff though.”

You cross your arms and snuggle more into Bruno’s side when a particularly cool wind blows through. The moth's hold on you becomes more secure as he brings another arm to your side.

“Too cold?”

“Definitely underestimated it.”

As much as you wanted to stay in this position, you didn't want to stay out here any longer.

“Let’s go back,” you say.

Bruno gives your side a gentle squeeze before removing his arms. He helps you to your feet, but he doesn’t let go of your hand.

With that you're ready to go. But when you try to take flight, you can’t, no matter how hard you try.

You look at Bruno unsure what to do.

"I can carry you, if that’s okay with you?”

You didn't exactly have another choice so you agree.

He places his arms on your back before he bends down to lift you behind your legs.

You immediately wrap your arms loosely around his neck as soon as he’s off the ground. This was the first time you had been in a situation like this before so you're kind of nervous.

The air passing by as he flys gives you chills. When you shove your face into the fur on his neck to protect your face, you feel him pull you just a little closer.

"You okay?"

"Cold!" The word comes out muffled. Your tolerance to the cold was almost nonexistent.

"Don't worry, it shouldn't be much longer."

You pull your face away just an inch to peak up at the moth “I'm not making you uncomfortable am I?”

"Of course not. We should actually do this more often."

“Flying together?” you ask confused.

"No. Me holding you."

That has you sputtering and you shove your face back in his fur.

Was that...flirting?

It couldn't be anything else but you still try to convince yourself otherwise.

You try to think of other things but just end up thinking about Winter again. Soon you wouldn't be able to spend time with him like this so casually. You wouldn't get to see him for a whole season!

You frown and your arms tighten around his neck.

When you reach back home you feel reluctant to let go of Bruno. Partially because he's so warm.

"____? We’re back.”

The moth lowers your feet to the ground so you can stand but you still hold on.

"____?"

You finally pull away and look at him.

"It’s--Don't you think It’s gonna suck not being able to see each other everyday?” Your voice wobbles. “I don’t want to wait that long...”

Your only option during Winter was to walk but you’d be dead before you even reached Bruno’s home.

It wasn't forever but if you ever messed Abilene she was a short walk away. Maybe you just weren't used to this.

“What if you forget about me?”

“You’re exaggerating. I wouldn't forget you that easily and Winter will pass before you know it.”

"You say that but you’re frowning! What...What if I stayed with you?"

Any shame you had in your body was dwindling away the longer you stayed up apparently.

"I mean...Isn't it weird that you’ve visited me so many times and I’ve never been over to your home once?"

Bruno seems surprised by your sudden suggestion but not displeased.

"I'm not against this but are you sure you’ll be comfortable staying there all Winter? You won’t be able to come back for some time."

You haven't been away from your home for that long ever, but you can’t think of any heavy cons to being away other than not getting to see Abilene.

You sigh, Winter really was cruel.

“...I’m actually already looking forward to it. The next time the temperature increases I'd better fly over there! Or you could just carry me if that doesn't happen soon enough.”

Bruno is unconvinced though. "You don't look completely sure."

"Because I don't want to be seperated from Abby for that long either..."

You look at the moth hoping for him to solve your predicament for you. "What should I do?"

"I have no problem taking you with me, even if it might upset Abilene, so I don't feel right making this decision for you."

You groan. It was definitely a commendable answer but it still left you with a tough decision. But after some pacing you come to a conclusion.

If you're struggling this hard to just stay at home then it would be best to go….Right? And Bruno wants you there too...

You nod to yourself. "I'm going. I don't want to regret staying here. Even if I have to say goodbye to Abby for some time."

"Okay. I know it's selfish of me but I was actually hoping you would still want to come."

At least someone here wasn't conflicted.

You immediately start mentally making a list of the stuff you need to take over. The biggest hill would be your necta.

“Um Bruno…”

After you explain the situation and show him how many jars you have stored up Bruno looks a bit perplexed, but you both accept that you'll have to just start moving things now. So that night Bruno takes bags of your jars home with him.

The next time you’re able to fly, you make sure to head over to Abilene's to tell them where you plan to spend the Winter.

You expect them to be disappointed, and they are, but they mostly end up teasing you.

"What if you guys are dating by the end of Winter?" they ask with a smirk.

You shake your head at the ridiculous statement, but was it really that improbable? A hopeful part of you said no. Bruno obviously didn’t mind being close to you so maybe...

Abilene touches your arm taking you out of your thoughts. “But seriously, I’m happy for you.”

“But will you be okay by yourself?"

They put their hands on their hips. "It will definitely be more quiet but I'll be okay."

You purse your lips but nod. You wish that the distance between here and Bruno’s home wasn’t so far.

"Do you have your stuff already packed?"

"Actually I kind of need your help, if that’s okay. I need to move a good chunk of my nectar over to his home and it’s a lot."

Abilene shrugs. “Yea, sure.”

"I’ll definitely make it up to you!"

"You don't need to make it up, I want you to get to spend time with your little boyfriend."

You almost deny it but know that you’d be reacting just how they want. “Whatever, let’s just go and start moving everything!"

You, Abilene, and Bruno spend the next several days making multiple trips between you and the moth’s homes. With the help of Abilene, the work doesn’t take as long and helps make up for the days you can't fly.

However with Winter getting closer and closer you decide to leave some of your stash behind. You would just have to be extra careful with how much you drink. Bruno reassures you that he has extra nectar just in case though.

You also make sure to bring all your sewing, knitting and lace equipment, AND all your blankets and pillows!

By the time you finish your last day of moving, it's already night and you and Abilene had said goodbye way before the sun set. You were already planning on making them an extra sweater for all their help. Or maybe a hat?

When you finally get to properly take in Brunos home you already feel at home. It was embedded in a tree stump. And the surrounding area had way more trees than your own home. You could tell sunlight struggled to get through even on the hottest of days.

The thing that amazes you the most is that the inside of his home is lit with multiple lanterns.

Bruno drops the last of your blankets on his bed. "Since you’re diurnal we can just switch out sleeping here--well until it gets too cold."

“Where are you going to stay then?” You had already been reluctant to take up his bedroom but he insisted. Not sleeping in a proper place would start to affect you negatively so it was probably for the best.

"There’s space in Narancia’s room."

You nod before yawning, today was a long day and you wanted to put everything away quickly so you could get into bed.

“You're still up?”

At first you think that Bruno’s talking to you but then you see he’s looking behind you. You turn and see a very young insect walk into the room from behind the wall at the entrance.

Your eyes widen slightly. You had expected to see a squishy baby caterpillar when you first met Narancia but what you see instead is a bumblebee already growing out of grub stage. He was a long way from growing out his wings though.

He wasn’t the same as Bruno?

Still you see the messy, random tufts of yellow and black fur on his small body and can't deny how adorable he is.

“I was but ____,” he says.

The youngling then runs towards you and stops in front of you shifting from foot to foot. You smile down at the energetic little bee.

“Hello, Narancia!” His energy was almost infectious.

“Hi! Papa talks 'bout you. A lot!” His small hands raise out and above him.

You grin at the slightly embarrassed look on the moth's face. He was doing his best to hide it though.

So this whole time I wasn’t the only one.

"Narancia--"

“What type of stuff does he say?”

Bruno deadpans at your interruption.

The bee tries to explain but part of it comes off unintelligible. You nod along though to the stuff you can understand like 'nice' and 'flowers'. You think you catch something about your wings too.

“Narancia, it’s bedtime,” Bruno says after his son seems to run out of words.

“Why? I’m not sleepy."

“I know, but we need to fix your sleep schedule.”

Looks like you weren’t the only one struggling to sleep at the “proper” times either.

The bee huffs. "I wanna stay here..."

Bruno holds out a hand to him, which Narancia pouts at but grabs.

“I’m going to go put Narancia back to bed and I’ll come back to help.”

“Goodnigh’,” Narancia says to you.

“Night. We can play later, okay?”

The bee nods obviously still not wanting to leave.

Once he and Narancia leave you use this chance to properly look around his room. Other than the bed and the small table next to it, there's a small dresser (where he probably kept some of the clothes he never wore) a floor length mirror, and a shelf.

This room was also lacking in lanterns compared to the others. You take notice of one of the lanterns sitting on the shelf in between some books and get the feeling the moth put them in here for you.

Other than that, the room was quite neat and the furniture looked elegant and costly. It was definitely a bedroom that said ‘Bruno Bucciarati’.

You decide that's enough investigating and go back to organizing, and soon after Bruno returns to help.

The both of you work, talking about small unimportant things but you finally ask what has been at the back of your mind since you saw Narancia.

“Um...why is Narancia living with you?”

A bee usually lives within a community of other bees of their type their whole lives--kind of like ants or wasps--so you were curious, but almost not surprised since Bruno seemed to have a penchant for gathering deviant insects.

“...I found him alone in a dead hive and I took him in.”

Bruno seemed reluctant to go into it and honestly you didn’t think it was your place to intrude, so you accept that answer with an “Oh”.

Bruno stops stacking jars in his closet to look at you. "I should have told you he was a bee sooner, yea?"

"Hmm, not really. Does it really matter?"

"...I guess you're right,” Bruno says but he doesn’t sound too sure.

Maybe some insects told him it was weird.

“Well it’s great that you found and took in Narancia. Nature isn’t exactly patient with larvae.”

The moth nods. “That’s true. The only problem is our different sleep schedules and the feeding. Well it was until you told me about how honey can be watered down."

“So you gave the honey I gave you to Narancia?”

“Well I might have eaten some too.” He smiles a bit. “But I got more ‘straight from the source’ so it’s fine. And Narancia doesn't go through the supply as quickly anymore now that it's better quality.”

You feel pleased that you had managed to help the moth, even if it was unintentional.

By the time you, Bruno, and Narancia--who wouldn’t stay in bed--finish finding spots to put all your jars, it’s well into the night.

You lay in Bruno’s bed under numerous covers and among all your pillows. It smelt faintly of flowers, ones you would usually smell on the moth. It’s almost like you're shoving your face into his fluffy fur.

For once you’re ready to go to sleep the moment you’re in bed. You shut all the other lanterns in the room but kept yours open. At this point, sleeping with it was necessary for you.

As you feel yourself drifting off, a knock on the door pulls you back.

“Come in…” you say through a yawn.

Bruno slowly opens the door and walks in.

“Did I wake you up?”

“Not this time but you tend to show up when I am.”

“Sorry, I’m not doing it on purpose I swear.” Bruno comes over to sit on the edge of the bed.

You smile at him feeling even more relaxed under your covers.

“It’s okay, seeing you is better than sleeping, “ you say through a yawn. “Thanks again for letting me say. I’m really happy I'll get to see you everyday.”

"Me too. I know I tried to act like the Winter would go by quickly but...I was actually dreading it.”

You feel relief and almost happy that Bruno felt the same way.

"Why'd you come?" you ask.

"I...I just wanted to see you."

The both of you stare at each other in the dim light for a moment, you mostly confused. Then for some reason Bruno leans over closer to you, but you don’t move away.

"Can I kiss you?"

Maybe you're too tired to overthink but you feel surprisingly calm. You don't trust your voice though so you nod instead.

When he closes the space and his lips press against yours you’re unsure if you’re dreaming or not.

You feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip and you think he'll deepen it, but his hand caresses your cheek and he pulls back.

You stare into his faintly glowing eyes as you struggle to speak. "Was...was that a goodnight kiss?"

Bruno’s finger traces your bottom lip. “Do you want it to be?”

"I um--Maybe it can be more?"

His stare feels so intense and you struggle to keep eye contact but you don't want to look away either.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), the moth presses a soft kiss to your cheek before standing up.

“Goodnight ____."

“N-Night Bruno.”

Even though your body feels warmer, you pull the covers close. The fatigue you had was practically whooshed away. So you stare wide-eyed at the lantern--the only thing keeping you company.

-----

A/N: I made art for narancia! anyways im gonna make the next 3 chapters as fluffy/domestic as i possibly can (the next updates might be a little slow tho, kind of stressed with real life stuff so please bear with me)

[zephyr-together]

it’s been exactly one month since top surgery! here’s a summary of what all went down! disclaimer: please do not feel that you need to feel pressured to remember things from this post or any other, your doctor should instruct you on the most important things to do or not do, and also this is my experience and everyone’s will be different! 

I saw Dr. Kenneth Wolf! I highly recommend him if you’re in the area or able to get to him, very skilled and very cheap (only was $5400, $5900 if you get nipple grafts which I ended up deciding not to have) there is a 250 lb weight limit though, they weigh you the day of surgery so if you’re unsure if you’ll be able to make it I’d suggest seeing a surgeon who operates more on plus sized folks

he was/is SUPER booked, I had my consultation in October and had to schedule surgery in June. this made me confident I made the right decision though because of how many people go to him, and having to be stuck in the body I didn’t want for a lot longer than I thought made me more eager to have it so I wasn’t as scared as I would have been otherwise. that being said, it might be smart to ask ahead how long the wait time is so that you can save during that time! because I didn’t know about the wait I had already had most of my money that I got together since last June so I could’ve had it about four months sooner, but hey everything worked out in the end :) 

speaking of saving money, for this doctor there’s a $500 down payment that I paid when I went to the consultation visit (if you’re out of the area they can do consultation over email btw!) the rest was collected about a week and a half before surgery. I have a debit card so it had to be split up in three transactions. I’m very thankful they worked with me on that!

I went into a small room where the doctor met me, marked me up and took my picture. then he said the anesthesiologist would meet me, which she did in a few minutes and went over a bit of questions/paperwork and took me to the operating room! 

I lied down on a table with my arms out, it felt like I was an alien getting vivisected, that combined with my needlephobia made that a bit scary but I’ve been waiting so long so it was exciting too. they had me hooked up to an IV but I think they did that while I was under because I felt the needle go in and then out. and then in a minute I was out! 

I wasn’t aware of this because it was during the surgery but they have a machine to massage your legs to keep up circulation and I had a tube down my throat too. when I woke up the first thing I hear is “the surgery was a success!! :D” and it felt like a weird dream because of anesthesia but in what felt like a few minutes I was almost as awake as normal which was surprising because I was out of it for hours after getting wisdom teeth out so I thought this would be way worse in that way

I had three intense sensations when I woke up: nausea, tightness and hunger. they asked right away if I was nauseous and gave me an alcohol patch to put on my nose which immediately took the feeling completely away. I had a very specific craving for Burger King’s impossible whopper, I think that’s because of not being able to eat I wanted something substantial like meat (vegetarian so closest thing to it) and something QUICK because hungy 

the tightness was pretty intense and unexpected, I felt desperate to rip off my surgical vest but they assured me it’s actually fairly loose. I think it’s just the incisions that give you a tight sensation but what you see and feel on your body is the vest so your brain says that’s the culprit I think. as time went on I ended up feeling desperate for the vest actually but I’ll go into that later

when I got the whopper I’m VERY thankful my dad who met us after picking it up also got the milkshake because I couldn’t produce saliva at all and didn’t know that would happen. I think that’s from having the tube in my mouth. I also could barely hold anything with my left hand because of that being the arm I had the IV in, but both the no saliva and limp left hand things went away in a few hours I think

by the time we got home which was I think an hour and a half after I woke up, I had really intense pain in my throat and under my armpits. the painkillers they gave me eventually kicked in about an hour or so after I took them, I’d suggest to bring them to surgery maybe if possible so you can take them asap, I think I wouldn’t have had that at all if I did, at that level of intensity anyway. for my throat I basically went nuts and drank water, had popsicles, ice cream, fruit, cough syrup, etc and it went away in 2-3 days or so

speaking of the pain under my armpits, that was from the tubes in me to drain extra unwanted blood and puss and stuff like that, it sounds super awful but I wasn’t allowed to remove the vest for five days and I’m naturally sweaty so I didn’t even know there were tubes in me or that I was draining until like four days later. I was stuffed with tons of gauze under the vest so eventually when I did notice the drainage we pulled out the dirty ones and pushed in some clean ones (they provide you with the same kind of gauze). the main awful thing about it was just the idea of having tubes in me, it didn’t bother me so much when I thought it was part of the incision haha...

now that I complained about the tube and throat pain I will say the “pain” for me of the actual incision area was almost nothing for me at all, just a bit of a weird tingly or pokey sensation every so often and that’s all really. but again everyone is different ! 

appetite was funny because it felt like I’d feel really hungry and eat hardly anything and feel good! another post suggested to have pineapple to help with bruising and I think it worked because I ate pineapple constantly and had pretty much no bruising at all

also I hope this isn’t too gross but I couldn’t pee and I was constipated. it wasn’t too much trouble because for the. pee I could just push and it’d come and for constipation that’s a problem that happens for me in general. both took about a week to wear off. they’re side effects of anesthesia I believe. other side effects I had from that were my legs and arms would feel pretty sore at times and my legs were wobbly, they said that I’d need to move my legs around a bit every once in a while to prevent clotting and I got a bit nervous about that so I ended up going for two walks a day! probably not needed to do that much but I think it helped speed up leg recovery 

after that more intense pain was gone after just a few hours I felt fine to watch shows and play viddy games! I thought I’d be zonked out for days or something but I was pretty alert after just a few minutes of coming out like I said. I could’ve probably drawn or made plushies too but it just felt so weird to move my arms at that point and was probably for the best I didn’t and just watched stuff and played games and slept a lot. it felt a bit frustrating how boring it was at times after a week or so but I just focused on how much of my life I’ll feel good now because of this so the recovery time isn’t that bad knowing that

five days after the surgery I had my first post op appointment! this was for the doctor to inspect the incisions, give us ointment to put on the scars and more gauze, and to finally be able to throw away all of the gauze that was under the vest! at this point I was allowed to take off the vest to replace the gauze and put ointment on as well as shower, and was given bandaids to put on the tubes for showering. however the sensation of not having the vest on at this point was SO horrible to me, I felt like a doll that was being pulled and unraveled apart, it made me want to throw up too so I took a shower as fast as possible and then just opted to get my hair shampooed at salons every other day for a couple weeks, so in retrospect I could have not gone five days with no shampoo but nothing can go absolutely perfectly after all!

a couple days later I ran out of oxycodone and tried replacing it with motrin which gave me three vivid nightmares in a row of having really bad fights with my parents and friend over dumb things which sounds silly but it messed me up emotionally and I kept sobbing uncontrollably out of nowhere that I felt like such a burden to take care of. I thought I was just emotional from the surgery but as soon as I switched to tylenol that went away completely! I don’t think it’s that motrin is bad because I looked it up and it’s a rare side effect, it’s just either that my body specifically doesn’t like it or it was the way it was combined with the antibiotic I had 

the second post op was to remove the tubes and it was 13 days after the first post op. they said if you live out of the area you can remove the tubes yourself so I’m very thankful we’re in the area haha. the left tube came out so smooth and quick that I didn’t feel it even come out at all! the second hurt for a second but I think because it kept getting bent backwards but it didn’t hurt too much. the tubes were SUPER wiggly and actually pretty flat so I think they’re constantly improving them to make them less and less noticeable. 

I was told I had to use the bandaids on my holes for showering and keep gauze on them too for just two more days and I could also throw the vest away then. I still felt too sensitive to get rid of the vest yet and wore it for another week, I still have it in case I want it for now (been going without it for about three days at this point) it still feels very strange without it since it feels like it’s holding you together but I think no matter how healed you are it will a shock to your body to not have that on anymore...also the “holes” from the tubes are more like slits which just look like slightly more open areas of the incisions so it’s barely noticeable. there’s some swelling where that used to be but that’s going down! 

now at this point where I’m at, I still feel best putting ointment on with gauze and bandage wraps I bought as a transition from the vest to nothing under the shirt which seems to be working pretty well! it might be that I’m autistic that I’m so sensitive to that feeling and had to have my vest on longer and now this instead of nothing. also I took three weeks off of work initially (I work a desk job) and asked for a couple more weeks of working from home before going back to the office to be able to adjust

also I will say if you live alone, I think you can handle surgery and taking care of yourself if you’re determined, as long as nothing you need to use to feed yourself and whatnot is up too high, too low, or too heavy. but if you can I’d highly suggest staying with someone who can help take care of you, it really helps easy the transition. in my summary I will say there was almost no pain at all but a whole lot of WEIRD stuff I wasn’t used to, but in the end it’s not a whole lot to deal with, considering! 

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: Anakin time travels back to Dooku’s Padawan days and doesn’t know how to deal with the infuriating bastard. AN: I blame my discord. Read on AO3

Anakin tried to think of what words of wisdom Obi-Wan would bestow upon him. Probably something about patience and following the Force and how to not consequently fuck up the next sixty years of history, but Obi-Wan also never had to deal with a young Padawan Dooku eyeing him critically, like he was trying to figure out what made Anakin tick.

Anakin was kind of torn between wanting to rip his throat or... something else Anakin didn’t quite know how to define. Whatever it was, it wasn’t fair. Dooku was the Sith Lord who had cut off his arm, get a grip Anakin.

Except this Dooku really wasn’t. He was just Yoda’s Padawan, even if likely not for much longer given that Anakin’s only friend in this timeline, Initiate Qui-Gon Jinn was already ten years old. Yes, Anakin knew that it was a little pathetic that his best and only friend was a child half his size – Anakin had hardly recognized him when he’d first stumbled upon Qui-Gon. The boy was so small, it was bizarre. But it wasn’t like Anakin had many people he could interact with as long as he wasn’t totally caught up on the Republic’s current history. Master Yoda had strictly forbidden Anakin from revealing anything about the future to any member of the Jedi Order who was not on the Council.

Or Padawan Dooku, in whose lap Anakin had literally dropped when Darth Tyrannus’ weird Sith magic had torn Anakin from his own time, stranding him permanently in the past.

Sighing, Anakin attempted to ignore Dooku staring at him intensely. It was bad enough that he had private tutoring with the younger man – okay, it was just a couple months, but Anakin privately liked to hold it over his head – now he also followed Anakin just about everywhere but the fresher.

He fell back into the first position of Djem So. He couldn’t let his lightsaber skills get rusty just because he wasn’t fighting in a galactic war anymore. That was another thing that unsettled Anakin. No more sleeping in his tiny cabin on the Resolute, no more cramming Ahsoka’s mandatory lessons into the few breaks they had, no more droid armies, no more Separatists, no more Sith Lords.

Well, the latter two weren’t entirely true. The Senate had been broken long before Anakin had been born. Now that he paid attention to it, he could already see many of the issues that would cause it to split. He just hoped that the Council and him could do something against it. It was too bad the Chancellor wasn’t in office already. He was probably just a little kid right now, even younger than Anakin and the current Chancellor was by far not as charismatic as Palpatine had been.

He certainly was of no interest to the Sith either, no matter where they were hiding right now. Anakin had never managed to figure out the identity of Tyrannus’ Master and the baby Sith currently still checking him out definitely couldn’t tell him.

“Can I help you somehow?” Anakin asked, hoping he managed to keep all annoyance out of his voice.

He dropped out of his stance and turned to Dooku. The Padawan was sitting on one of the benches, working on a paper or another, maybe his final thesis. Anakin had never had to write one to become a Knight. For one, there was no time during the war, and on the other hand, he had already done that when he was fourteen and gotten really passionate about Nubian hyperdrives.

“No, not at all. I merely admire your execution of Form IV. You are very well practiced.”

Dooku sounded honest enough, but Anakin still felt like it was a backhanded compliment.

“Thanks,” Anakin replied. “Was that everything?”

Dooku raised a brow, the perfect picture of innocence, but Anakin knew better. He had fought a far more experienced version of the man in front of him and learned to call his bluffs. This Dooku was not really a threat. He was just there, constantly in the corner of Anakin’s vision and being a Force-damned distraction.

“I’m not the one asking questions here.”

No, but if he was there any longer, Anakin was going to shut him up in some other way.

“Just- get over here. You can go study in your room or whatever, no need to be in the training halls at three in the morning unless you want to spar.”

Dooku grinned cockily and got up from his seat, his lightsaber already in hand. It looked very different from the blade Anakin remembered defending against. Its blue color still startled him as well, but somehow it suited this young Dooku. He stepped onto the mats and Anakin resumed a position opposite to his opponent. They both bowed as it was tradition, then ignited their lightsabers. For a moment neither moved, then they both jumped into the battle. Dooku’s Ataru still caught Anakin off-guard, but his Makashi less so. He wasn’t a proficient Master of Form II yet, but that one at least Anakin was more than familiar with. The two of them exchanged blows with more Force than strictly necessary for a training spar, bringing emotions into it that should not be there. Anakin was pissed off because Dooku wouldn’t leave him alone, but he had no idea what he had done to cause Dooku to fight so viciously.

Then Anakin finally saw an opening and took it. He slammed is leg into the back of Dooku’s knee, causing him to stumble. With another Force-push, Anakin made him fall flat on his back. He rushed towards his opponent and held his blade to his neck.

“Yield,” Anakin ordered, but Dooku did not, at least not immediately.

Instead he was once more studying Anakin like he could see a possible weakness.

“Yield,” Anakin said again and finally Dooku replied with a “Solah.”

Anakin turned off his ‘saber and he should get up, step away from his defeated training partner, but for some reason he couldn’t get himself to do so, looking into Dooku’s troubled brown eyes.

“What is your kriffing problem with me?” Anakin finally asked, Dooku still pinned beneath him.

Apparently, that was all it took as for once the Padawan didn’t keep his thoughts hidden behind a mask of feigned politeness and sarcasm.

“My problem with you, Skywalker, is that you are poaching my future Padawan!”

Anakin blinked. Dooku must be joking. All the backhand comments and the challenges and it was for this?

“I’m not trying to steal Qui-Gon from you, you git!”

Dooku didn’t try to get up, but he did cross his arms in defiance.

“That’s not what it looks like from here, offering him extra tutoring and spending every free minute with him-“

“Who else am I supposed to talk to?” Anakin snarled. “I’m stuck here! My Master won’t even be born for another thirty years, my Padawan for another twenty and my-“

Anakin closed up. He shouldn’t think about them, all he had lost. He’d been doing so well but of course Darth Tyrannus in the making had to goad him. “All my friends, my family, are gone and if I ever see them again, they won’t be mine. I only know a handful of people in this time and Qui-Gon just happens to be one of them!”

Honestly, it was almost a little embarrassing to admit, but once Anakin had realized who the short blond Initiate was, he had almost started crying. The rooms in the Temple were still the same, as were the robes and the traditions and the lessons, but it wasn’t his home. All his people were gone and the Jedi that lived during these times were mostly strangers, a few long-lived ones such as Master Yoda being the exception. But they weren’t exactly people Anakin had been close with.

“You knew him in the future,” Dooku said slowly.

He didn’t look frustrated anymore, more interested suddenly as if he were seeing Anakin with new eyes.

Anakin nodded once, sharply. “He saved my life.”

“He’ll be a great Jedi then,” Dooku concluded, sounding utterly pleased.

“The very best,” Anakin confirmed.

Dooku then began to smile in earnest, kind and happy in a way Anakin had never seen before, hadn’t thought him capable of, to be honest. The whole thing threw Anakin off completely. Seriously, what was going on with this Dooku?

“What of his Master?”

He became a Sith Lord and joined the people that had killed his apprentice and then continued trying to kill his grand-Padawans, but no big deal.

“He’s a git,” Anakin said instead. “Super arrogant, terrible footwork, can’t even block a simple kick.”

Dooku snorted. “At least he’s not as bad as his sparring partner?”

“What?”

“Careless,” Dooku replied and tugged at Anakin’s collar, pulling him down.

It took Anakin perhaps a moment too long to realize that Dooku was kissing him, but he considered it fair given that just moments before the other had been attempting to beat the life out of him. The kiss was by no means spectacular, but Dooku was warm beneath Anakin’s hands and when they broke apart for air, Anakin had no troubles diving in for a second kiss, all rationality thrown out of the speeder as he pushed his tongue inside Dooku’s mouth and hurried to get his hands beneath the other’s robes.

“Not a word to anybody,” Dooku said as flipped them around, stripping Anakin out of his tabard.

Anakin only rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

He could deal with the fallout of this once he had his rationality back and was not, in fact, about to let Padawan Dooku fuck him. That was a problem for tomorrow-Anakin, right-now-Anakin was a little busy taking off his clothes.

[cicinicole-14]

Hi for the ship thing and headcanons, please do jolex 🥰

Who is a night owl:

dont get me wrong, they both most definitely will stay up late together or both pass out before 9pm on a Friday night, but some days when the depression hits, its jsut different and Jo is definitely more of the night owl. Alex is more of a morning person and Jo would rather sleep like the dead. 

Who is a morning person:

as we’ve discovered, more so Alex esp when they have kiddos. Alex is the one to get up with them early and let Jo sleep, he makes breakfast with the kids’ help and keeps their room quiet for jo to get some extra sleep but will unleash their evil spawns when he deems she’s slept in long enough. 

Are they cuddlers:

some days, yes, mostly. jo definitely loves the affection from someone who genuinely loves and wants her back. but there are days where she literally is like “do not come near me with your (temperature) hot body Alexander Michael Karev, you are a heater and I am already too warm” 

Who is the big spoon and who is the little spoon:

Alex is def the big spoon. Jo likes cuddling into him because sh feels safe, he feels like home. but she def has big spooned him too it’s a 50/50 relationship we have equal roles people

What is their favourite sleeping position:

no lie, both spread out like starfish in their bed. 

Who steals all the blankets: 

Jo. Alex is a space heater and doesnt need blankets she freezes and likes being snuggled up and warm

What they wear to bed:

I mean some nights, nothing, but like jo def loves Alex’s old Iowa state shirts or his wrestling shirts from HS that smell like him. an old worn in t-shirt, anything with a pair of booty shorts or his boxers even. and Alex will just wear a t-shirt and boxers or flannels in the winter. 

Who likes seeing the other wearing their t-shirt:

Alex wholeheartedly loves when jo wears his shirts unless its his favorite flannel and she steals it “come on, jo. you know that’s my favorite one. I wear it all the time.” its exactly why she takes it. 

Who falls asleep mid-conversation:

jo, unintentionally. sometimes the insomnia hits and she won’t have slept for a couple days so when life catches back up to her she will fall asleep randomly. even more so while pregnant and right after their daughter is born. she just “night night Josephine” 

Who wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares:

they both have their fair share of horrid nightmares. Alex’s deal a lot with his trauma of growing up. his mom pulling various knives on his siblings and dad attacking them. even nightmares of jo leaving him like Izzie did and he wakes up without her. 

jo’s are terrifying as well. she dreams that Paul’s death was just an illusion and that hes still out there and he’ll still come and get her. she wakes up drenched in a cold sweat and Alex holds her and they pull up his death certificate on the gsm database to prove it. she also has nightmares about being abandoned again. dreams of herself as a baby, dreams of her mother leaving her at that firestation. horrid nightmares. and Alex just holds her. she also has many nightmares about Alex abandoning her too just like her mother abandoned her but he’s never done that he’s always there when she wakes up and everything is okay again

Who accidentally punched the other in their sleep:

jo is an absolute horrible bed partner. she does NOT sleep still. she will move around so much during sleep its dangerous. yes, Alex did wake up with a bruise across his cheek one night from an elbow to the face...

Who can’t keep their hands to themself:

both of them. theyre notorious horndogs no autocorrect they are not corndogs please stop correcting me when you’re wrong 

and just because, im throwing in the parenting meme one too bc my heart melts

packs the lunches

Alex. he gets up with the kids in the mornings and also we do not trust jo to make their children food. she’d feed them boxed Mac n cheese and take out the entirety of their lives. and while they love that and Alex wouldn’t care if it was jsut them, their kids need real food. he packs them lunchables and uncrustables but at least its a little more of a variety. 

blows raspberries while cuddling

jo, more so. they both do, but jo LOVES a good chunky baby belly she can blow raspberries onto. and yes she leaves maroon lipstick marks on chubby cheeks and bellies. 

is the tickle monster

Alex. and she runs to mommy to save her from daddy! “oh, now you want mommy, huh? as soon as daddy is the tickle monster all you want is mommy? not when I wanted cuddles, or we picked you up from daycare or I dont know, I gave birth to you and wanted snuggles you cry and want daddy but now hes the tickle monster you want me?” and jo scoops her up and tries saving her but ultimately they lose and get attacked in their very large bed by the tickle monster. 

gives life lesson speeches

they both do just depending on the situations. 

when the girls start dating, jo sits them all down separately, and explains to them a bit of her past. letting them know that no man should ever lay hands on them. she teaches them how to defend themselves and Alex ofc shows them in example how women should be treated. Alex makes it clear that if a guy or girl ever should treat his daughters or his son in any other way than he treats jo, that he needs to know and gOD forbiD one of them lay a finger on one of his children there WILL be hell to pay. jo obviously consoles him in front of her children but tells him “u already have a record. if anyone lays hands on our children I will be putting them in the ground not you”

kisses the boo-boos

Alex he is a pushover and 100% makes sure all boo-boos are kissed and even when the kids are way too old for having their boo-boos kissed, he makes sure the bandaids that are no longer avengers or dinosaur or unicorn or princess themed, have been properly kissed. even through protests of “dad, im not five anymore I dont need my bandaids kissed” “how do you expect them to heal, then, CJ? you’re my most clumsy kid, and I have had to kiss all your boo-boos and never once have I not. thats why you’re still in once piece” 

breaks the bad news

jo makes Alex do it most times. she claims she’s the fun parent and tries to stay the fun parent by making Alex break bad news like “we cannot get another dog” she blames it on Alex but then brings home a puppy the following week. 

joins the PTA

listen. LISTEN. when Greyson started big kid school, in kindergarten, they placed her in private school to give her everything they didnt have growing up. jo was determined to make sure she gave her daughter everything made sure she felt loved and was spoiled it was terrible. so jo, of course, sent her to Seattle Elementary academy and was not paying attention when she signed some forms signing up to be in the PTA. she loathed it so much and “Alex im sorry I cant do this. I know we wanted to give Gracie everything we didnt have growing up but I cant take it I cant take the private school. the volunteer hours the strict dress code violations? she is FIVE. I also have to volunteer FORTY HOURS this year alone. no! I am a surgeon, a mother of two and im pregnant! I do not have time for this! all these PTA moms are stay at home moms who have nothing better to do than gossip about their neighbors and drink wine. and I swear to god if I have to hear about Jessica’s fucking essential oils pyramid scheme one more time I will shove those oils so far up her a––” “Jo! Look, Ali, mommy’s here!” Alex interrupts her just in time. he doesnt blame her. those private school moms are quiet the handful. every time, one of them has the nerve to hit on him. “and I swear, if one more of those moms hits on you in front of me, im going to backhand her with my engagement ring on. no hate to most of them, but theyre too much” they end up ending Gracie, and Ali and the rest of the kids to public school just like they had grown up in and did just fine. 

crashes sleepovers with embarrassing stories

oh one hundred and ten percent Alexander Michael Karev. he will find any moment to break out embarrassing stories and photos. hell, even when Zola, Bailey, ellis, Sofia, Harriet, scout, any of the bunch come over he’ll embarrass them too!  

gives the crazy nicknames

not really either of them (that ive figured out in the moment) (the kkc kids do not have crazy nicknames yet) (we jsut have Gracie for Greyson, Ali for Alice, and CJ for Cristina Jo. Alexis goes by Sissy because of Alexis and Alexa and Eli usually goes by bubba seeing as how that’s what the twins have called each other growing up with Izzie and that stuck) 

thank you so much for these! I loved loved loved doing them! even threw in some KKC universe things so if yall have questions about that feel free to ask I will share! tho there is yet to have a fic out about them yet… its been a bit difficult with writers block /: 

[maskedjoker]

We are getting really close to the scene in lost fragment of snow that was genuinely confusing in the book, and it's the scene were everyone in the circus is killed. I think what we will probably get is a scene were mana finally ends up giving into despair after he is hit and then allen is fed to a lion.

I think that with more current info, i can say for sure that sleeve earl and mana are a hybird. This will likely cause a resurgence of sleeve earl into taking over the body and becoming whole. This only lasts for a short time however and when cross confronts him after the rest of the circus has died from the audience turning into akuma(which i suppose are implied to be constantly just around the earl and is probably one of the many reasons cross warned Allen to stay away) some exchange of words or damage causes a lots of control. This damage however also hurts mana(or potentially just being forced out off control) causing him to loose even more memories as seen when mana and Allen reunite the next day.

Now i think we can agree that sleeve earl exists as a third entity, especially since her recent art exhibit interview, as she talked about the suit being a super sophisticated golem. I think in this case as with tim and lero yhat "golem" refers to AI. Id argue with the weird phrasing like helix of life and all the biotech style that magic is more often than not just more advanced technology, and wherever the noahs came from likely was, hence why they say they only seem strong because we have become so weak. This is only further shown with innocences resemblance to machines like its gear like parts and percentage resonance.

The noah memories in general i think are some kind of AI that passes through generation lines, carrying significant portions of its past forward and then fusing with a similar person in their lineage. For example early on road would have been just road, then through some means either became an AI(or was given a piece of someone that counts as one under golem, its unclear). Regardless once connected to the noah memory, it acts like a save file and becomes more sophisticated with time. It carries each life and gives all those memories, feelings and drives to a new body. So new road would remember being road, her life and everything, but also the life they had been living up until the two combined. Over time the noah memory keeps getting larger and larger to the point new experiences are so small, relatively speaking, that it overrides much more than normal. Since they are fuzed as one being they likely cant be separated without mutually assured destruction, were the current entity will die and any remains will not be the origionals, if anything remains at all. An example of this is that tyki could not be made human by Allen I their fight i the arc, despite having a blade that should destroy only part of him. Admittedly tyki is a special case though, and more tyki backstory is needed.

Changes from body to body become more subtle, but the base, which likely has a distinct core function as seen by its response to certain tasks and ideas, remains a strong aspect. This creates an almost reincarnation like effect for them, needing to only find a new body to continue.

The suit is like this, but different. I don't know how the original earl split, but i do think that some aspect of him was placed on the suit. I would like to say its the original version of the noah memories of the earl and nea got like a brand new copy, but i actually have no idea what memories he has of being past earl so its mostly a guess. Regardless the noah actually all seem to transform in some way when they get mega pissed. Im looking at you skinn, jasdevi, and tyki/joyd. So the suit is likely that kind of thing, but way more distinct and capable of acting autonomously. Since they all have different forms it makes sense that his would also be unique. They all probably represent some inner desire related to their memory. Skinn is just rage so big angry man works fine. Jasdero and devit are bonds so they want most to be one. Tyki got all fucked up before he changed so i got nothing, but it had a heavy does of sadism, which I guess is pleasure? Taking into account that killing in horrible graphic ways is his guilty pleasure it kinda makes sense.

So because of that, this sentient AI is constantly trying to pair with half a fucking brain because nea and mana only share one brain cell. Some kind of resistance from mana or strain causes him to constantly fall ill or comatose. Now to be clear on naming, sleeve earl does not refer to themselves as adam in the mirror scene nor does he refer to mana as adam, and only uses "we" when talking to mana about being the earl. Oddly enough the earls self pronouns are we, using wagashi which is kind of like the japanese equivalent of the royal we used in europe for the entirety of the series. For the record, mana in the flashbacks uses male or single they pronouns, i don't remember if he uses boku or watashi, but he uses at least one if not both.

So from this it seems millennium earl is a title, used by whatever is paired with the suit. Adam is the original name of the noah, and is the preferred name of the current earl aside from the title.

This circumstance was likely caused by the rest of the noah, who are using the earl for something related by the pillar. His separation either by accident or by intent was likely by the hands of his family trying to keep control for their ends. This is why the current earl is called a broken puppet and has so many things around him related to acting and stage plays. He is playing a role, the red clown to allens white clown as stated in the ark arc. He even wears a mask. His memories and mind have been damaged though, therefore broken. However broken puppet for both allen and the earl could also refer to a puppet that doesnt work as a double meaning, implying they can no longer be controlled or puppeted.

It is also implied that he is still unaware of this betrayal, but it is likely nea does to some degree as it would explain why he became a traitor and killed his own family. To be clear, i dont think all of the noah know everything, and i dont think they dont actually care for the earl. It seems they still genuinely follow him to their death and see him as one of their own, especially in cases like road, tyki and wisely.

Now early i said that different generations of noah would cope woth reincarnating differently. Since the earl only died once before 7000 years ago, id say resetting to a new body with only 17 years would be just smashed flat by any algorithm with that much data. However manas feelings are still the newest, and so still have an impact even on the current earl.

Now we come to resurrecting mana. How? Why? Well i dont know. But my guess is whatever part was the memories of mana for the 20 or so years he lived, or at least his memories at death, are in allen. His curse and weird hallucinations of mana seem to suggest it. Alternatively that part of his soul may have passed on, or it fuzed with the noah memory making the origional mana part of the hive and much like tyki and his noah memories cannot be seperated. Not good regardless.

As two additional things, i want to mention that hoshino is a twin and has always been obsessed with it, so having twins in her book was inevitable. What is extra weird is hoshino was actually going to be a triplet, but either her or her sister absorbed it before birth. She has mentioned it in dgm interviews and i cant PROVE it translates to anything in the plot but its suspicious. She also still list mana, nea and the earl as distinct in every book up to date in extra novels and at the start of her books. Oh and her favorite hat for the earl right now? The one featured on the most recent chapter? Has two faces on the front that are visible, and one in the back thats hidden, and the most recent art has the back face as the only one visible, angrily staring allen down. Great art foreshadowing if im right. Its also usually sleeve earl, if not exclusively, that wear it.

The second thing is mana talking about love and drive in the most recent chapter just brings up the earl having the noah memory of love or devotion or something for me. Ive written about it before but it just seems to fit. This character is all about that from the ability to fuze loved ones together to the hearts he talks with and his drives being based on grand acts of devotion, being by their side etc. Mana also loved and adopted both and dog and a homeless child and keeps talking about how the world is so beautiful despite all the bad. The earl literally acts like the whole noah clans mom by his own words and cooks for them, and both of them go out of their way to be cartoony to break tension. The earl literally goes and buys a single red rose from a poor girl while tyki pontificate on how he doesnt act like a villain. He doesnt take an umbrella because he wants to feel the rain. He talks about how what he does is in human nature and requires a connection between two people. He is even designed with his ideal colors as red and purple with white, as well as being designed after flowers. I know this probably doesnt make sense, but its stuck in my head.

[fire-the-headcanons]

Follow the Beacon Ozpin—Generations

[Link to Masterpost] [Proceed with less caution than last week, but caution nonetheless]

Once upon a time, he could have frozen the roiling sea and walked across to the island in the span between two moments. That freedom and power was far behind him now.

It had taken several hours for the storm to abate enough to get a boat to Patch. It was still too rough above to risk flying—and besides, from what Balt said, Azraq needed his husband right now.

"We’re here," the ferry captain said, readjusting the spotlight. Signal’s dock was indeed emerging from the darkness and falling snow. "And I’m not going back until the storm’s over, unless that kid’s life depends on it."

"Signal’s hospital is well-equipped," Ozpin said, glancing up at the lighthouse. The beam sliced through the storm, clearly defined by the snow in its path. "There shouldn’t be a need. Thank you for your help."

"First rule of the ocean, if you can give aid you shut up and give it," he grunted, tossing a rope out toward the dock. Ozpin caught it, winding the line around the deck cleat as he had a thousand times before.

"Where’d you learn to do that?" the captain asked, tossing out another.

"Mistral," Ozpin replied.

No, it was Antica.

Antica no longer exists.

...I forgot. They focused on the ropes, pushing the memories away. "I may be a teacher but I am still a Huntsman. We tend to pick up odd skills."

Working together, it only took a few minutes for them to get the boat securely tied down. "Come in and warm up," he said, helping the man onto the dock.

"Don’t mind if I do," he huffed, and the two of them headed into the alcove carved into the cliff beneath the school.

Ozpin stared into The Long Memory's gears as the freight elevator rumbled up toward the fort, thinking back to the last meeting with Qrow not two weeks prior.

I was too focused on her. Again. His grip tightened. As soon as I knew she didn't send them, I relaxed.

I didn't think of it either.

Of course you didn't, he snapped. How could you have? We think exactly alike. We ARE exactly alike.

He didn't have a retort for that.

The doors opened into the school's storeroom. Azraq sat a few paces away, waiting on a small crate with his head in his hands.

The captain shifted uncomfortably. "You, ah, know where to find me" the captain mumbled and shuffled off toward the Huntsmen’s quarters.

Ozpin waited until the door had closed behind him to speak. "Huang said he’s stable?" They’d gotten the message halfway across the bay.

"He hasn't woken yet." Azraq sat unmoving, but his voice shook. "...This is all my fault."

"What happened?"

It took him another moment to answer. "Bones was their father."

Ozpin winced. That was an… unfortunate complication. Of course it had always been a possibility, but neither of the Branwen siblings seemed like the type to want offspring. "Have you told Claret?" She had taken the news that the twins had come from the tribe badly enough…

"No."

"...Are you going to?"

Azraq's hands fell to his lap but his gaze remained resolutely downward."....No." Ozpin suppressed twin sighs of relief. "I ruined their lives."

Now that's simply ridiculous, Ozpin thought, before shushing himself angrily. They sat on the next crate and placed one hand on his shoulder. "From what Qrow told me, it was his death that necessitated their escape. They might not be here otherwise."

"It was an accident, I ran into them on my way out. He saw me. I tried to take him aside and talk it out, but he thought I was going to threaten—or, or beat him." Azraq's brow furrowed deeper. "I told him I wouldn't hurt him. I thought if I got him back safely, he'd believe me."

"You couldn't have—"

"Balt wanted me to stop."

"What?"

"For years. He wanted... He wants to start a family. But Branwen was still out there, and…" He finally met Ozpin's eye, tears gathering in his own. "How could I ever be a father—"

"Stop," he said, hand tightening on his shoulder. "...Stop. You're upset, you're in shock. If Bones Branwen had done right by those children we wouldn't be here now." He sighed heavily. "This is my fault. I should have told him to see a doctor rather than suggesting it."

Azraq shook his head. "Summer used her eyes."

Oh dear, they chorused.

"Then the storm is a stroke of luck," Ozpin said, recovering. "The lightning will have covered—"

"No. You know it’ll happen again, now it’s happened once. Unlocking it is the hardest part."

"...Have you explained?"

"She woke up a few minutes ago, and Claret’s stuck in the storm. Huang told her she hit her head… she seemed to buy it."

"Then with any luck we'll have more time."

Azraq remained unconvinced. "You should go. You might be able to help him. I—I don't think he should see me."

"Probably not," he conceded. "At least, not yet. I think in time, when he's healed, the two of you will be good friends."

"Can you tell him? I'm... I'm sorry, and... if he's willing to forgive me then he has to accept my forgiveness."

Ozpin tilted their head thoughtfully. "That may be an excellent way to reach him. ...Get some rest."

He nodded, climbing slowly to his feet. Ozpin followed suit, leaning on their cane more than usual. "...You and Balt will make wonderful fathers. I wouldn't have asked you to run Signal if you weren't good with children."

Azraq almost laughed, wiping his face.

"These are... I wouldn't even say 'extraordianry' circumstances. 'Catastrophic', perhaps."

Out of earshot—which, considering Azraq's Semblance and the silence of the halls, was quite a long way indeed—Ozpin muttered under his breath, "We each failed him in our own way."

Signal’s hospital was reassuringly empty, except for the two occupied beds at the end. Or rather, semi-occupied, as Summer sat on hers, apparently fine and speaking with Huang. Raven sulked against a wall. Tai sat next to Qrow, who lay sickly pale despite the IV steadily dripping blood back into his veins.

His heart sank, staring at the bottle. Three generations ago he would have died.

Please. Don’t dwell on it.

"Professor Ozpin?" Summer leaned around Huang to gawk at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard two of my students had been injured."

She huffed. "I’m fine. Qrow will be glad to see you, though, when… when he wakes up."

"I can only hope. In the meantime… are you all right? Azraq didn’t disclose any details."

"You talked to him…? Is he… is he okay?"

"Perhaps not yet, but he will be. However, I was asking about you, Ms. Rose."

"Oh. Well, uh, it’s …. stupid…"

Huang ruffled her hair. "Don’t sell yourself tall, shortie."

"Hey, hey, brain injury!" she protested, shoving him away and pushing it back out of her face. "The truck spun out on the way here and I hit my head."

"Summer…" Huang’s warning tone was unmistakable.

She squeaked, burying her head under her arms. "I tried to fight a Beowolf with a fire extinguisher!"

Oh, gods. They very nearly laughed.

Of all the ways for a silvereye to unlock their gift—

—I could not imagine one more perfectly… Summer than this.

"I’m sorry, okay? I know it was a bad idea but you were driving and Qrow was unconscious and none of us had our weapons and I had to do something or…"

Huang sighed, rubbing his face. "I know. I know. That’s not going to save me from your mother, though."

"I think the storm is doing that," she muttered, glaring out into the darkness. The snow did seem to be picking up again.

"Guys, he’s moving," Tai whispered loudly. Qrow’s uninjured hand was gently clasped in his, a wince forming on the sleeping boy’s face. Summer shoved her way past Huang, darting to his side despite her 'injury'. No one bothered to protest.

Qrow groaned feebly, eyes cracking open and wandering the room in confusion. Taiyang leaned forward and spoke in an even, soothing voice. "It's okay, Qrow, it's okay. Nobody's going to hurt you. It's us."

His eyes rested on Tai for a moment before wandering again, searching the room disinterestedly. That is, until they landed on his sister.

"...Raven?" he rasped, almost confused.

Her face contorted in rage and pain, and she shoved past Summer to drive a fist into his shoulder. Qrow's cry of pain wasn't enough to drown out her fury—"Why are you so WEAK?!"

Ozpin's magic surged with a thought and the world slowed to a stop as they wished themselves on the other side of the room. As much as his power had dwindled, it was more than enough for him to hook his hand beneath hers and pull it away before she realized he had moved.

She stiffened, recoiling from them in fear, but Ozpin kept a gentle hold on her hand. "Miss Raven." He would not usually call a student by their first name, but a false one did not have the necessary weight. "We do not do that here." When she pulled away again, he released her and turned back to her brother.

"Qrow? Come on, man, you’re scaring me." Taiyang’s voice waved as he gently shook his friend. He gave no indication he’d heard, staring blankly at the ceiling even as Summer began calling for him as well.

Next Chapter: Qrow—A Place in This World

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Not Possible [Soulmate AU]

Pairing: Daisy Johnson x Daniel Sousa

Based on the prompt: “Can someone make a soulmark story with Daisysous where Daisy's soulmark is "Who the hell are you?" and Daisy, being someone that would always get herself into tight situations, was something that she heard a lot and has gotten kind of desensitized to it and while Daniel's soulmark is "Who I am is on a need to know basis", he had gotten into the habit of asking people who they are to get that kind of response. However, both of them are very focused on their respective missions (Daisy to fight the Chronicoms and Daniel to figure out who is trying to infiltrate his SHIELD base), they didn't realize they were each other's soulmates until he noticed his writing on her body while rescuing her from the barn and then they fall in love yay” from @magickgirl786 (lmk if you want me to untag you) 

Warnings: light swearing, mentions of torture, THERE WILL BE AGENTS OF SHIELD SPOILERS

a/n: I was so inspired by the prompt that I literally pounded this out in like an hour last night. This is my first Daisel/Dousy/Sousy/DaisySous fic so lmk what you think!!

___

Daisy Johnson hadn’t exactly had a normal life and being born with the words “Who the hell are you?” tattooed on her wrist didn’t make it any better. It was a question she had asked and been asked many times throughout her life. She asked herself that very question constantly growing up as she fashioned a name and identity for herself since she had no family to do it for her. She created Skye, the hacker but then “Skye” was thrown out the window when she met her parents and learned her real name was Daisy Johnson and she started the entire process of creating an identity over again. At some point, Agent Johnson became Quake and Quake became Destroyer of Worlds, she’d had enough names and identities to make a person’s head spin.

Working as a field agent with SHIELD didn’t help much either. Her job ensured that she was asked: “Who the hell are you?” on nearly every assignment. She barely even registered the shock of hearing the words anymore. She certainly wasn’t listening for them in 1953, decades away from anyone who could possibly be a candidate for her soulmate.

Daniel Sousa wasn’t sure what kind of soulmate he’d be getting with a soulmark like “Who I am is on a need to know basis,” but boy did he try to find out. He had tried to elicit the response from every new person he met but it never hit. The words started to make more sense when he joined the SSR and later SHIELD. Surely his soulmate must be an agent, he thought, but soon enough that idea fell through too. The identity of his soulmate was far from his mind as he went about his job, especially when dealing with the added stress of a Peggy Carter imposter. That must’ve been why the words went right over his head.

“Who the hell are you?” His words were harsh as he stepped into his office only to find it occupied by some dame he’d never seen before.

“Who I am is on a need to know basis.” Her words were curt but she radiated power and authority. On a normal day Daniel might’ve shown a little more respect for the woman but today he was out of patience.

“I need to know.” He demanded and she smirked.

“Ah, no, you don’t.” She smiled coyly, “Because I don’t exist, and we’ve never met. Now, can you shut the door please?”

“Not to be rude, but it’s been one of those days,” he began, eying the woman with his signature no-nonsense look, “So produce some credentials or I’m gonna put you in handcuffs.”

She complied immediately and he nearly let out a sigh of relief. Today may have been stressful but at least everyone was being compliant, even the two imposters he caught had gone quietly and without a fuss.

“I should inform you, that’s not my real name,” she spoke evenly as she handed over her ID, “My initials are C-I-A, catch my drift?”

“Subtle.” He deadpanned but he was grateful. It seemed someone was finally taking his fears of Hydra sleeper cells in SHIELD seriously, maybe someone was finally here to make his day easier.

The next thing he knew he was locked up in the very cell he had been keeping the imposters in. So much for making his day easier.

Daisy was surprised by the flare of guilt that came from locking Sousa up in his own holding cell. She normally wouldn’t have thought twice, it was part of the job and she was saving her people and the world, but there was something about Daniel Sousa that gave her pause. Maybe it was because he was a nice guy, or because he was already catching onto Hydra’s presence more than fifty years before it would actually come to light. Either way, she had to shake off the feeling as she continued on her day.

An opportunity to redeem herself not long after. Daniel Sousa was going to die, killed by the Hydra sleeper cells he was trying to expose, but they didn’t have to let that happen. They wouldn’t let that happen if she had any say in it. She still couldn’t figure out why she felt so strongly about a man she had only interfaced with once but something was telling her she couldn’t just let this man die. So she didn’t.

___

Daniel Sousa was not having a good week. First Hydra, then his base is infiltrated, and now he’s been kidnapped. Except, it’s worse than a kidnapping really, because not only is he no longer in Los Angeles, he was no longer in 1953, and he was, apparently, no longer alive. Somehow Daniel Sousa, Agent of SHIELD and World War II veteran, had found himself in the 1970s without having aged a day. At least this new Future SHIELD still did fieldwork, he really needed the consistency.

He found himself paired up with the agent from his office who’s real identity he learned was Daisy Johnson. He wasn’t sure what it was about her, maybe the power she emanated or her bold attitude, but something drew him to her. Somehow, even with the looming threat of Hydra, he felt less worried with her by his side. Though, maybe it had something to do with her earthquake powers.

It wasn’t until the barn that he realized the true reasoning behind their inexplicable connection.

God, that barn. Daniel wasn’t sure if they’d ever make it out of that god-forsaken building alive. Sitting there listening to Agent Johnson be sliced apart was a torture in itself for him, though he knew his pain was nothing compared to the agony she was surely feeling if her screams were any indicator. She looked like she was on the verge of death when they deposited her back at his side.

“Stay with me,” he remembered begging. He remembered telling her about what happened to his leg. He remembered feeling like there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to make sure she made it out of there alive.

Then she lifted up her hand to show the piece of glass stuck under her skin and he realized why he felt so strongly about the woman lying in his lap. His own words, “Who the hell are you?” were tattooed along her wrist. There was no mistaking his handwriting and while all he wanted to do was replay their meeting back in his mind to find out if she had said his words, he knew he needed to keep his mind on task if he ever wanted a shot at this soulmates thing. So that’s what he did, he threw all of his strength, mind, and ability into getting them out of that terrible barn. It wasn’t until he was seated on the Zephyr with Daisy safe, sound, and healing in front of him that he let his mind wander to the possibilities.

___

Daisy wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t alone when she woke up, but she was surprised by her company. She had expected Jemma when she woke up in the med bay’s hospital bed with an IV in her arm, but instead she got Daniel Sousa, not that she was complaining. He looked equal parts relieved and nervous when she awoke though she couldn’t figure out why. He didn’t tell her either, though the nervousness remained throughout her recovery. Jemma informed him that he hadn’t left her side the entire time she was unconscious and her heart warmed at the fact. The sentimentality surprised her, she wasn’t one to grow attached so quickly but there was just something about Daniel Sousa. She didn’t find out what until she had been released from medical.

“Agent Johnson, I think we should talk,” he said in that calm but commanding way of his, though Daisy didn’t miss the nervousness in his voice and face.

She merely nodded, following him into the Zephyr’s kitchen. They sat across from each other at the table, Daisy starting up the coffee machine before sitting down.

“What is it, Agent Sousa?” She asked, a teasing smile on her face, “You look like you might vomit.”

“We’re soulmates,” he blurted before immediately cursing himself and Daisy froze in shock.

“Excuse me?” She finally spit out, subconsciously sliding her fingers over the words on her wrist.

She’d heard the words hundreds of times, surely it couldn’t be him.

“I didn’t realize until I saw my writing on your wrist in the barn, I-” he stopped suddenly, unsure of what to say next. He had dreamed about meeting his soulmate, but never had he thought it would go like this. In lieu of knowing what to say, he rolled up his sleeve instead, placing his wrist on the table with his soulmark on full display.

Daisy’s mind was screaming at her as she stared at the man’s wrist. The man was born decades before her, he was supposed to die before she was even born, and yet those were her words, in her handwriting, clearly displayed on his wrist.

“What the hell?” She heard herself mutter, though she didn’t feel like she was in control of her own body in that moment.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel panicked, interpreting her confusion for upset. “I shouldn’t have sprung this on you, especially so soon after recovery-” he rambled before Daisy cut him off by placing a gentle hand on his own that was still resting on the table.

“I’m not upset,” she reassured him, “I just- how is this possible?” She laughed slightly at her own question, soulmarks were an extremely unpredictable thing and even modern science didn’t have a good understanding of them, obviously the chain of events that brought them together were meant to happen.

“I don’t know,” Daniel smiled sadly, “But, as crazy as all this is, I’d like to give it a shot.”

Daisy smiled. She couldn’t help it even if she tried, the man sitting before her was so genuine and even if he wasn’t her soulmate she was sure she’d be feeling the same butterflies in her stomach.

“Me too,” she said softly and the butterflies only flapped harder at the smile that broke across his face.

“I’d like to take you on a date if any of this,” he gestured to the Zephyr and the commotion that came with it, “ever dies down.”

“I’d love that.”