#that said if these meds genuinely clear my pain. it will open a lot of doors for me in the sense of work ^^

[lunar-fey]

THEYRE FINALLY GIVING ME REAL PAINKILLERS.... GOD BLESS

[bonny-kookoo]

Brave Girl (J.JK x Reader) ☁️💜🎀🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (ft. Med student!Namjoon)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Good Girl!AU

Warnings: Heavy angst, traffic accident, injury, hospital, Jungkook is panicking, MC gets hurt, Koo is just lost and hates hospitals :(, Namjoon being the hero he was born to be, fluffy and dramatic smut, overstimulation, mild DDLG themes, protected sex because we wrap it up in this household smh

Summary: you were supposed to be home at 6 to help Jungkook devour the feast that is the freshly baked pizza he’d made to welcome you back from your trip to your parents, yet when the clock strikes 9 you’re still not home. Just when Jungkook is about to call you since you didn’t react to his texts, he receives a call from you; and he swore his heart stopped beating. Loosing you had never been a thought in his head until now, but he might just gotten closer to this reality than he ever imagined being. And he hated it.

Good Girl || Sweet Girl || Smart Girl || Brave Girl || Pretty Girl

"Alright, do we have everything now?" Jungkook asked, helping you place your pastel pink travel bag into his car, careful not to scratch all of the sparkling and colorful stickers on it. They looked a bit worn already, but you always felt a bit upset if there was another scratch to a prized posession such as your sticker-collection- yet when Jungkook told you not to put any more on your bag, you began to pout as well. You asked with a simple nod, already excited to meet your parents again after a long time apart. Jungkook offered to drive you to the bus station, not being able to bring you there entirely because he, quote unquote, 'didn't feel ready yet'. Many would've felt offended by that, but you knew not to read too much into it when it came to him- there were a lot of things for him that were still new, and his love was strong enough for you not to question it. You were both growing comfortable at your own pace, and that was enough for now.

Your parents had understood as well, even though your father had been a little more skeptic than the rest of your family; but he'd always been a little overprotective, so it didn't surprise you at all. While you were driving home, knees against the seat in front of you, you rummaged through your small backpack, taking out a small pack of gummi bears Jungkook had packed inside. He'd been so careful with everything, insisting on buying you this specific backpack because 'it's so soft, you can use it as a pillow inside the bus so you sleep better'. Maybe you were slowly making him soft as well? You were glad however that he had packed your headache medication in as well, long rides sadly having this effect on you sometimes.

Ever since you were a kid, you've always felt safe within public transport. You've been taking the bus and train to school for years, never truly thinking about the danger it could hold. Even now, with the pouring rain outside, you felt calm. Something that would change soon.

For now however, you just noticed how the jacket of the young man next to you slowly slipped off of his lap. He was asleep, you at least thought so, but you couldn't help but reach for the jacket before it could truly fall down onto the slightly muddy floor, your own shoes slightly at fault since it was quite muddy outside before you came in and sat down. "Ah, thanks-" He suddenly said, making your eyes widen at noticing how he only head headphones in. Maybe he hadn't been asleep after all?

"No problem" You said, putting your feet underneath your butt after having taken off your shoes. Your boyfriends' advice had proven to be quite nice after all, putting on comfortable loungewear such as your soft sweatpants and a large white shirt of Jungkooks collection (he had packed it in actually) were slowly proving to be way better than your typical attire. The guy next to you- Namjoon you'd found out on your first ride, having been seated next to him as well- looked quite casual as well. Instead of his more formal clothing he'd worn the first time you had talked to him he had switched to simply jeans and a loose sweater, something that made him seem a lot younger. "Listening to a podcast again?" You casually asked him, and he smiled, taking out one of his headphones.

"No, just music this time. That whole trip kind of drained me if I'm being honest." He explained, crossing his legs before conversing further. "What about you? Had fun with your family?" He said, genuinely interested it seemed. It was rare to find someone as honest as him. At first, you had been a bit careful, knowing that men usually had intentions that differed from what they were actually saying, but Namjoon had been just as friendly as before when you had told him about Jungkook. He just said that he seemed like a nice guy, nothing more to it, and still talked to you just the same.

You nodded your head at his question. "I was kind of sad when I had to leave again, but I also can't wait to come back home!" Excitedly you wiggled around a little, before you found a good position in your seat that didn't make your legs sleep in from being bend so much Namjoon smiled at you.

"I bet. I can't wait to fall into my own bed again as well." He said, before the bus swayed a bit, making you hold onto your belongings to keep them from falling down. Namjoon leaned into the middle a bit, to look at the front window and the driver. "Jesus, he's been driving like this for a few minutes now." He mumbled, making you a bit nervous. He was a very observant person from what you'd gathered until now, your first interaction had been him asking you about your headache even though you were sure it hadn't been too noticable. He was a med student however, top of his class he'd told you, so he probably had a third eye for things like that. "Hopefully they'll change drivers soon. He seems tired." He said, and gave you a reassuring smile. "It's gonna be fine-" He said, before the bus swayed again, this time however, pushing you against the front seat from the force. Seconds later the direction changed drastically, windows shattered, and the only thing you felt when you were able to gather your thoughts again was how cold it was.

The wet ground was slowly seeping into your clothes, the weird feeling of muddy grass underneath your hands as you pulled yourself into a sitting position foreign. One of the first things you were noticing was the incredibly high pitched ringing in your ears, sounds muffled as if someone was holding their hands over them. Things were blurry, lights passing by, and something was moving in front of you. For some reason however, you were only having one thought. Jungkook. He'd know what to do. But where was your phone?

You slowly got up, yelping in pain when your knee gave out and made you fall back down again, scratching the palms of your hands open on some random branches and.. glass? Suddenly you remembered the bus, Namjoon talking to you, and then- it was as if someone skipped a video you haven't seen before, an entire fragment missing completely. You crawled out of the bushes and onto the pavement when you spotted your wet and dirty backpack, your things and several unknown items of other passengers scattered everywhere on the street. And there, just a small distance from you was you phone- the hello kitty charm ripped off and probably lost forever. The screen was an absolute mess, yet it was still working when you reached it, unlocking it with your passcode because your fingerprint scanner was a definite goner for sure. Your headache was killing you at this point, your nose running from the cold, and your mouth had a metallic and bitter taste. It started to ring. One time. Two times. A voice.

"Creepy, I was just about to text you princess. Are you close to the station yet?" He asked, you could hear the TV faintly in the background, then a little movement, his earring clattering against his plastic case he had around his phone, something that still didn't help him with his curse of breaking his screen in record time. "Hey, you there?" He said chuckling, when you eventually answered him. "Hm?" He said, suddenly furrowing his brows invisibly for you on the other side of town, ceasing his movements and instead getting up to grab the remote, silencing the TV. He could hear faint talking on your side, yet it didn't seem like casual chatter, but frantic.. almost as if someone was panicking in the background.

"I said uhm-" You started, swallowing the weird taste before looking around, noticing no movement, but someone began to shout a name, another one softly wheeping, noises increasing with every passing minute. You could faintly spot headlights behind the bus, someone driving past had noticed, and people suddenly stood at the sides. But your vision hadn't cleared yet, so maybe you just couldn't see. "I think- I think we had an accident 'Koo, I-" You said, suddenly chocking a little on the fluid in your throat, coughing to get things under control and your voice back. The mention of an accident, the way you spoke, and the cliche noise of you coughing made him get up immediately, frantically running to his jacket, reaching for his car keys. You always told him how funny it was to you how he always told everyone how organized he was, yet always loosing his car keys. Right now he wished you would make fun of him, he wished you would just say sike and reveal your joke, yet deep down he knew you would never joke about something like this.

“It’s okay baby, you’re gonna be okay, where are you?” He stresses, trying yet failing to keep his own demeanor calm over the phone. You answer him that you don’t know, and he just feels the confusion radiating off of you. Something was terribly wrong, he could feel it deep inside his veins by the way you seemed to be unable to catch an actual thought. “Are you hurt anywhere?” He asks, even though he fears the answer you might give him.

“I..don’t know? My head hurts.. I- Jungkook I think I’m bleeding, what do I do?” You stress, and feel your own panic rising in your throat, making your eyes water and nose burn. You wished you could just tell Jungkook where the hell you were but you didn’t know, streets completely strange to your eyes, shifting around like a fever dream, as if you’d never seen them before. “Kookie, ‘m scared.. I wanna sleep-“ you began to mumble, less and less conscious, your head beginning to rest on the cold ground, the bus now beginning to shift out of focus. There we’re a few people walking around and you wanted to wave, to tell them you’re here, but one of them who you recognized faintly as the guy who’d been sitting next to you during the ride noticed you anyways.

Jungkook started to panic on the other end of the line, desperately trying to pin your phones location. “No no no baby, you’re so brave, you’re such a brave girl, don’t sleep in on me right now okay?” He pleaded, growing more and more anxious the less you answered him. “Baby? Don’t stop talking to me now please.!” He said, trying to get an answer out of you. But the only thing he could hear was the soft white noise, no trace of your voice whatsoever. “Baby? Please-“ he said, eyes watering out of frustration as he noticed the sudden commotion outside, cars suddenly driving out of his nearest police station, sirens loud and clear. “Please, y/n, talk, say anything!” He begged, voice choked with unshed tears, throat closing up.

“Hello?” A stranger answered.

“Who are you? What happened to y/n? Is she okay? I-“ he tried to rush his questions as if that’d get him the answers faster.

“She’s- uh- I don’t know, the bus just suddenly lost control and she- I think she’s still breathing but uhm- look, we’re at, uh-“ Jungkook wasn’t listening after he’d gotten the information he so desperately craved. He knew where you were. He’d get to you. He needed to get to you. And for the first time ever, Jungkook actually started to pray.

He finally found his car keys, ripping the door open to close it with a loud bang behind him, TV running but long forgotten. His stubborn car door didn't open instantly, making him almost growl in anger at it, eyes watering again when he remembered how you always told him to just get it fixed instead of buying a new one. You always had this idea of things having a soul anyways, so you always told him he needed to be nice to his car, or it would be upset. Right now he was not fit to drive. He did it anyways.

He groaned at every red light, hating how he couldn't just run them over because your absolutely stupid voice kept ringing in his ear to drive safely, he hated it right now, so so much, he could've screamed at nothing right now at how enraged he was. Why didn't he just fucking jump over his own shadow and drive you to your parents? None of this would be a thing if he would just finally man up instead of cowering all the time, simply believing that his time with you was endless. He knew it wasn't. He knew one day you two would pass. But that was supposed to be when you both were old and wrinkly, when you both had kids and grandkids, when both of you had enough stupid and disgustingly sweet stories to be able to make them gag at how he would still call you his most beautiful girl. This wasn't happening. He was going to make sure of it.

He reached the destination a little too far away, cars already stopping traffic, people on the side, watching, and he felt agitated again. He decided to simply turn his steering wheel, half-hazardly parking his car almost in the bushes next to the road, before opening the door with his key and phone in hand, closing his car door way too harsh as he could hear something crack, but his legs were already making him run at the fastest pace he had ever before. His hair and clothes, the black zip hoodie he had thrown over his grey shirt were growing damp from the mild rain coming down, yet he didn't care. He had his hood up, before it slipped down, his hands pushing past people, the need to insult them for staring and taking pictures instead of actually helping strong inside his veins, yet he simply portrayed his distaste at his not so gentle shoving to get past them.

Somehow he had apparently arrived before police or the ambulance had, because there was no one there yet. "Y/N!" He yelled, his voice frantic and almost unrecognizable, even to his own ears. He could spot people laying around, some helping others, and some simply waiting for help as he searched for your figure among them. He saw some of your stuff, the travel bag you had, now wet and scratched, your backpack, thrown on the street and some small items he could recognize as yours such as the formerly white bunny jacket he had bought you before you went on this trip. "Y/N!" He yelled again, and got someones attention a bit off the side near the woodside next to the road. "Oh no-" He whispered under his breath when he could see the guy leaning a bit over you, your head on the ground below, soft socks a darker shade than usual from the moisture they had picked up by now. You were laying on your side, the young man pushing a flannel shirt against your hip. He ran straight towards you, reaching out to grab you, just to have the stranger grab his hands instead, pushing at his chest. "What the fuck-?!" He exclaimed, ready to burst.

"We don't know how serious her injuries are at the moment. If you move her you could make the damage worse." He said, serious. "It's better to leave her like this, and wait for the ambulance." He said, unable to make the younger ones angry and frustrated face calm down, but he listened anyways, knowing deep down that he was right. "Kim Namjoon by the way, Medical student- trust me, I know what I'm doing okay?" He refrained from telling the younger one that you would be okay, having sworn to himself when he started as a med student to never give out false hope. Jungkook nodded, tears finally falling as he swallowed hard, simply running his hand over your hair, trying to give you reassurance- or maybe he tried to reassure himself that you were still there. Maybe even both.

When the ambulance arrived, you slowly gained a little more consciousness again, hand grabbing at nothing. "..'Koo?" You said, unsure if he was really there or if the smell of his bodywash on the shirt you were making was playing tricks on you. He gasped, leaning down, his other hand running over your bare arm softly as to warm you up.

"I'm here, I'm here baby, you're okay." He said, this time saying these words to reassure himself purely. Namjoon noticed you shivering after Jungkook did, and he instantly took off his jacket, even though it was thin, simply to cover you up. Namjoon yelled for the ambulance to notice them, and both of the guys breathed a sigh of relief when they were running over towards you three.

However, now Jungkook had to face another fear, apart from still possibly loosing you. He hated hospitals. Not in the quirky kind of 'ugh I hate the smell of disinfectant' kind of way, the kind of 'I rather cast my broken wrist with duct tape and wooden icecream sticks just to not have to go near this place' kind of way. When he was asked if he would like to ride with you his terrified eyes looked at Namjoon, the answer he gave an unsure, yet clear nod. He had to be strong right now. You needed him right now, more than ever.

Inside the ambulance, he didn't let go of your hand. You had a hard time answering questions, so Jungkook had to step in now. He kept his eyes on your face, trying to blend out the equipment around you two to not get riled up. Someone had to be there a hundred percent. The nurse noticed pretty quickly, laying a hand on his shoulder to hopefully calm him down. "She's stable right now, okay? We'll wheel her in as soon as we reach the hospital, someone will ask you for her information since we couldn't find her ID or anything on the scene, alright?" He asked, and he nodded, clearing his throat before he resumed watching you breathe. He would've never guessed how happy he would feel just to see such a small thing from you.

A hot cup nudged his hands that were over his head, and he slowly looked up, surprised to see Taehyung of all people in front of him, his newly red hair in complete dissarray as well as his clothes. He looked like Jungkook felt if he was being honest. "Tae?" He asked, voice rough while taking the cup from his friend. His friend simply shrugged, before He sat down next to him, eyes red. "What-" He started, but Taehyung leaned back, speaking quitely, oddly calm, considering his usually loud personality.

"I-" He started, before he seemed to think a bit about how to phrase his next words. "Someone I know was on the same bus." He said. "I heard you talk to the nurse at the counter." He explained when Jungkooks brows furrowed in confusion. "They've managed to stabalize her, but she'll need surgery tonight." He said, and Jungkook wanted to ask who the person was- yet he refrained from doing so. Him and Taehyung were close, sure, but exactly that was what made him stay quiet about it. He knew when it was okay to ask, and when to just shut up. And right now, he simply nodded at him.

"So we're both gonna have a sleepover here?" He asked grimly, pathetically trying to lift the mood. Taehyung just nodded.

When you woke up, it wasn't like it was usually displayed in movies or cheesy novels. It wasn't a slow, gentle breeze from your window, or the way your boyfriend spoke next to you. No, it was actually absolutely silent, except the constant beeping next to you. You actually woke up way faster than you hoped for, your eyes opening like you've just got ripped out of a dream where you fall downstairs or something alike. You heard Jungkook groan sleepily, before he eventually moved his head a little, turning so you could see how exhausted he looked. His eyelashes looked damp, tiny hairs bound together into little groups as he sniffled, head on your hand, open palm holding his cheek as if he needed to feel you even in his dreams. The sight calmed you down.

The change of heartbeat and pulse made the machine next to you switch sounds, and soon you heard the door open, a friendly nurse walking in, smile on her face as her gaze found Jungkook still in the same position as hours before, unbeknownst to you. "How are you feeling, miss?" She softly said, quiet as to not wake the young man who had been switching between crying, watching, or sleeping next to you for the past days. You swallowed, mouth dry, and nodded towards the empty coffee cups next to you on the small bedside table. "I'll get you some water okay? Welcome back miss. I'll just check your vitals for a second." She said, and you nodded at that. Checking the machines and you, she walked out, leaving the door open so you could hear a bit of what was going on in the hallways. Footsteps and sometimes the tune of someones phone going off, random words you were too tired still to understand, and an elevator. Jungkook stirred next to you, opening his eyes after taking a deep breath, yawning before his eyes found yours.

It took him amusingly a couple of seconds before he shot up, immediately coughing from having inhaled his own saliva. You laughed at that, flinching a bit when it made your body ache, before taking him in. He looked horrible, hair a mess, eyes red and skin a bit pale, yet he smiled brighter than he did back when you bought him the new destiny 2 game for his playstation as a surprise. His eyes glistened, suddenly getting a sparkle to them before his lip started to quiver. He dropped his head on your shoulder, silently crying, but this time, he cried from relief. From happiness. From just how much he loved the world right now for giving him more time with you, for giving him a chance to be the embarrassing father and naggy grandpa he always wanted to be someday. Your arm bend and your hand ran through his hair, not minding the long unkempt locks one bit.

The nurse came back in, smiling brightly with a tall doctor in tow, who had a friendly face as well. "Good to have you back miss. How are we feeling?" He said, trying not to grin at Jungkook, who had yelled at the man several times when he'd tried to tell him to go home and rest. You were oblivious to this obviously. Jungkook raised his head a little, using his flannel sleeve to dry his tears, clearing his throat to at least try to look like he got his shit together.

"Uhm, I feel like I had to take my fitnessgram pacer test again, plus a bit more muscle pain in my hip?" You said, making the man chuckle.

"That's completely understandable considering you flew quite a distance miss. We were quite surprised that you were fine breathing on your own, considering everything. You're quite lucky; but we're gonna keep you under surveillance until friday. Your bodyguard can take you home after 12 whenever he likes." He said with a smirk in Jungkook's direction, the one spoken of growing a bit red on the tips of his ears. The doctor leaves after asking you general questions such as, if you knew the current year, your address, and your personal information such as your birthday.

The nurse left the cup of water and a straw on the small table. "I'll let you both catch up. Please make sure she drinks the whole cup, but only a couple of sips at a time alright?" She said to your boyfriend, who nodded, having calmed down a little by now. He moved, his hand a bit shaky as he ripped the top of the papercover of the straw off, before taking the plastic drinking help out of its minimalistic packaging. He put it inside the cup after bending it a bit, before he moved to you, helping you with outmost care to sit up a little. You winced a bit when you tried to move too fast, and Jungkooks face got a little more serious at this. You began to pout at him.

"What?" He said, voice still a bit rough from the lack of using- and the simultaneous shouting everytime he'd opened his mouth these days. He sighed. "Come on, you heard the nurse- you gotta drink." He said, but you stubbornly moved your head to the side, sideeying him. His brow raised in a questioning matter, before he noticed your posture. You had your arms in front of you in a hugging manner, and he suddenly realized how his behaviour must've looked for you. "I'm sorry princess I just.." He said, putting the cup down and running a hand through his hair. "I just.. I was so terrified when I saw you there-" He said, having to swallow hard again so he didn't end up crying again. God, what was it with him again? "Why didn't you call an ambulance? Why did you call me instead?" He asked, a bit of whine to it. You shrugged, deflating a bit in your position leaned up against the pillows.

"You were.. dunno, the first one I thought of." You explained. In Hindsight it had been a bit dumb, why did you call him as if he could magically appear in that second to make everything better, but somehow your brain made that story into a real possibility. "You always make everything better, and you know.. you always know what to do so.." You said, and Jungkook breathed out in a sight.

He leaned closer to you, tattooed hand brushing away some of your hair to place a kiss to your forehead. "Oh baby.." He simply said, resting his against your head for a second, before his thumb brushed over your cheek. "I'm driving you anywhere you need to be from now on." He said, and you nodded with a smile. "Alright. Now come on, drink something." he spoke before picking up the cup, helping you with the straw, taking it away from you after a couple of sips, making you whine. "I know doll, but we don't wanna overdo it alright?" He said. You looked at him with a smile, and he happily returned it.

"Jungkook I can do that-" You said, before he silenced you with a look.

"I'm sorry, as cute as you look walking around like a newborn babydeer, I really like to keep you from falling down again, thank you very much." He said, accusingly pointing to the small bandage on your knee from having stumbled on your way into the kitchen yesterday. Your visible wounds were healing well, but you still had a bit of nerve damage from your nasty fall, which made your legs feel like they're constantly in a state between sleeping in and waking up, minus the pins and needles. They moved, yeah, you could feel them, yes, but it felt like they were wrapped in plastic and someone messed with the controls. Jungkook found it a bit adorable, but he rather not have you give him a shock again from almost hitting the kitchen tiles. Slowly, he came back with a glass of water, making you smile and thank him. He'd currently taken time off from work, having explained to his boss that he had to nurse you for a bit until you could be home by yourself. His boss had been pretty understanding, agreeing to him taking his vacation earlier and with short notice.

One thing you noticed however, was how careful Jungkook was around you. Now, that itself wasn't a bad thing, since right now you're a bit more fragile then usually so, but he was careful in a different way. Ever since you both left the hospital on friday, he stopped giving you goodnight kisses. He rarely hugged you, only ever if you initiated it, and he refused to be close to you during the night, making up excuses like 'I'm scared I'll roll you over during the night babygirl.' That was utter bullshit, because he'd never been worried about that in the past. He's a heavy sleeper and barely moves when he sleeps, so why would it be an issue now?

That was when the goddamn thoughts came back to you. Maybe he realized how close he'd gotten to you and didn't want that anymore? Maybe he wanted to go back to his old way of living, without any strings attached to anyone?

That night, you decided to speak up. Jungkook and you were sitting on the bed, you criss crossed, and him with his back towards you, feet on the carpeted floor. "You can, uhm.. you know, drive me back to the hospital tomorrow so I can get checked back in." You quietly said. He instantly turned around, his phone no longer worth his attention as his brows furrowed.

"Why? Are you okay? Did the stitches open up again?" He said, a bit of panic making his words hurry on their way out of his mouth. You shook your head.

"No, but I don't wanna, you know. You don't like me saying I'm a burden so I won't say it, but yeah. I get it, you know? Its okay, really-" You said, head lowering until you stared your lap. You heard and felt him move, his hand softly on your back.

"What're you saying princess? Why the fuck would you think I don't want you anymore?" He knew your innuendos by now, and he didn't like that you implied a breakup in your sentence one bit. "Baby I'm gonna take care of you now and everyday you need me to, you know that." He said, confused.

You looked at his throat, unable to shift your gaze any higher up, in fear of what his eyes would tell you. "But, you know.. if we're good, why.. why 'm I not getting any kisses anymore? No hugs? No nothing? " You said, starting to pick at your fingers. Maybe you were just making it worse for him. Maybe he'd just tried to figure out how to tell you in a good way, and you just made it so much harder for him to do so. However, the hand on your back left, just so he could take your body into his arms. "I'ts okay, you know-" You started again, and he hushed you.

"None of that, please don't talk like that, please don't." He said, almost breathless as if he was scared to say the words out loud. "Getting told I could loose you for good was terrifying enough already, thank you very much." He said, a dry laugh escaping him, humor nowhere to be seen in it. Typically he would relish in the feeling of his broader and stronger frame compared to you, he would smile at the mere size difference of your hands or the way he could easily pick you up and carry you anywhere he wanted to. But right now it only reminded him how fragile you were, how careful he had to be not to hurt you. He felt helpless, and it was a feeling he decided he'd hate until he died. "I just- I'm scared I'll hurt you." He said, quietly, hoping that maybe you won't hear. But you did.

Holding his face in your hands you were reminded again just how inexperienced he was in this entire thing as well. You always thought he could lead the way without problems, that he knew everything and could teach you what you wanted to know. Yet maybe you both could learn from one another, more so than just you from him. "You won't." You said, and you stubbornly kissed him as he tried to protest, pecking his lips with a newfound courage you didn't knew you had until then. He tried again, just to get another kiss. This went on for a bit, until he deepened the gesture a bit, hand finding its way into your hair, before he pulled away.

"Don't rile me up baby." He groaned, running a hand through his hair. He hated how much you could get under his skin right now, covering his lower half under the blanket you both shared almost shamefully. You kissed him again, making him laugh, finally this time for real. "Stop, I'm serious. You're still healing, or did you forget?" He said, and you whined.

"But you can be gentle! My stitches are coming out on Monday anyways, I'll be fine!" You said, and he had to chuckle at you, his mind being torn from side to side. He didn't know if he could, but the way you trusted him made him wan't to at least try. With a little hesitance he dived in again, making you smile against his lips.

He made you lie down again, slowly, crawling over your form, unhurried, as if you both got all the time of the world. And you had, he knew you had. When you whined, he simply grinned at you. "No no Baby, let's just be close, okay?" He said, voice low and soft, making you melt underneath him. For the first time ever, as cheesy as it sounden, it wasn't about reaching your highs anymore for him. He was a believer that good sex had to finish with as much pleasure as possible for him, yet that had entirely began to shift when he'd met you. Suddenly things weren't about him anymore, suddenly he started to become less and less self-centered; but this time nothing mattered at all. It wasn't about reaching your goal and claiming your prize in form of an orgasm, it wasn't about pure pleasure and satisfaction. No, this time it was about feeling as close to you as he could, he needed to feel every inch of you simply to reassure himself that you were still here, real, and with him.

He reached for the first drawer of the bedside table, your kisses on his chest and biceps making his heart race. Slipping the condom on with your help, not because he needed it but because you wanted to, he made himself at home inside you, mind slowing down with every move he made, his thoughts and body being reminded that you were okay, you were fine, you were still here with him, you didn't leave. Maybe he should be scared of how dependend he'd become on you, how you had sneaked your way past all his walls and made yourself at home inside his soul. Maybe he should be afraid or worried how he couldn't escape you anymore, how he couldn't take a fast exit out of the situation you both had made. But right now, none of that mattered.

Your mind was fuzzy, no thought able to be caught properly, and you let yourself slip even further, giving your entire being into his posession. This was just about being close, and you felt protected and safe with him, his pace slow and unhurried, gentle, and his hands reaching for yours, intertwining your fingers in a soft gesture. It showed just how much he was actually hurting, how much the entire situation had affected him; this was so unlike him that it made you feel proud of yourself to be able to witness it at all. He was laying himself bare in every way for you, and you didn't dare threw salt on his exposed flesh.

He didn't notice if he or you had come at all, continuing to move, yet never picking up his pace. When he watched your blissful face underneath him, his eyes stung again, tears knocking at the back of them, and he gently placed his head on your shoulder, kissing every part of your skin he could reach there, gasping and breathing hard. Never in his wildest dreams he would've thought that this would be the situation he would found pleasure in, yet it happened in that moment, and god, he felt like he couldn't stop. He felt like he could torture himself like this forever if it meant he could show you how utterly terrified he had been of loosing you, how terrified he still was deep down, and how terrified he would always be. He needed you like oxygen at this point, and it scared him shitless, yet even that was something he accepted with open arms and a smile in exchange for your affection. He was whipped for you, deep down bound to you by iron shackles, but he would never ask for a change whatsoever.

The night ended with both of you exhausted yet happy, tangled together under wrinkled sheets and a blanket thrown over your forms.

"I absolutely love you." You said, eyes wide and sparkling at the amount of junkfood your boyfriend carried inside the living room, coat still a bit wet from the rain outside. He brought a wave of cool and fresh air with him, making you shiver for a bit before your hand dived into the first paper bag, the crinkling sound ever so present. He laughed, throwing his coat over the side of the couch before he sat down next to you.

"You only love me for food, how tragic." He said, playfully sighing at it, watching you pout at him. "sorry baby, 'm joking." ruffling your hair he snatched a fry from the small bag you had in your hands, making you whine, but laugh at the same time.

Straightening your back you tried to look taller than him, making him chuckle. "I see this as a reward for not crying today!" You said proudly, and he smiled, nodding. You had gotten your final stitches removed, and even though it was still terrifying for both of you, Jungkook had finally faced his fear and came with you to your appointment, although he had still been heavily uncomfortable, rushing you both out as fast as possible. He was proud however, because even though you had every reason to, you didn't cry- simply squeezing his hand a bit, but nothing too much.

"I know, I know." He said, rummaging through the second large brown bag to fish himself a burger. "That's because you're the bravest girl ever-" He said, yelping when you snatched the food from him. "And also the most daring it seems, you gotta share baby!" He said playfully accusing, reaching for it just for you to hold it further away. "Good girls share, come on, I deserve a reward too you brat!" His hands reached for the item of his desire, making him raise his brows at you. Kissing your slightly greasy and salty lips, he laughed when you made a whiny sound at him. "Come on, this shit was expensive, let's eat."

"I've never seen you cry so much."

"Shut up."

"It was cute though-"

"Oh I'm about to be really fucking cute, get over here young lady!"

Taglist: @sweetenedcooky @ggukkieland @btsismybias22 @darkgvk @daddypkj @flowerprincess24 @crazylittlemay @zeharilisharaban

[the-drakeboys]

Wait for Me

Summary: You were just two people who’d spent six months watching each other from afar… Both working on base, passing one another, sending smiles and smirks as if no one else could see them. 

But now, as he prepares to be deployed on his first mission, you and Private Jack Mitchell finally fall into each other, entirely unready for how connected you’d truly feel once you did.

Pairing: Pvt. Jack Mitchell x Reader

Word Count: 1,951

Warnings: None really for this one…. Fluffy, a TINY BIT nsfw… just one soldier bein’ attracted to another. :3 

A/N: Hey, guys! So… this’ll be a momentary departure from my Sam work…! This’ll be tagged as ‘not uncharted’ and ‘cod: aw’ if you’d like to blacklist it. I just sort of love Jack, he’s wonderful. The game didn’t have nearly enough of him (forever salty @ Sledgehammer Games…) but what we did get of him was genuinely wonderful. Please let me know what you think -- thank you so much for reading!

If you’d like to read my other works, here’re my Uncharted Masterlist and Supernatural Masterlist!

---

The first time Jack touched your skin, it was like a spark went off beneath the surface, setting you both on fire. Languid dragging of lips over your shoulder and hands pulling your body up against his. His bodyweight laid down into you, his arms holding him just up above you. His eyes searing your soul as they looked down into yours, watching your face as he slowly rolled against you. The way his lips captured yours, sealing your gasp away. 

You were just two people... two people who’d spent six months watching one another from afar. Wanting each other. Sending smiles, and smirks, and coy winks across rooms and open fields. 

You hustled down the sidewalk, the bustling noise of an active military base surrounding you. The shouts of drill sergeants, the roar of planes, the insistent yammering of voices over the PA system as names were called to offices, and instructions and reminders were disseminated to every soldier on the base. 

But you’d been there long enough to know them all by heart; so you ignored them and pressed on toward the on-base hospital where you worked.

“I don’t know, but I’ve been told—!” The sounds of a platoon marching past in a jog met your ears as you came around the corner. A large group of men dressed in their fatigues was coming up past the hospital, and you wouldn’t have given them a second glance if it weren’t for the eyes of one of them catching you off guard. 

He was covered in sweat and clearly in pain from hours of PT, but in the middle of the 40-some-odd men, he was somehow unavoidable. His gaze was glued to you the moment you turned the corner, his brows knitted in thought at first. But as they approached you, their sergeant still yelling the rhymes at them to keep them moving, his thoughtful, exhausted expression melted into a charming smile. 

You couldn’t help but smile back as he passed you, your pace slowing just a tad. You tried your best not to look back at him, but failed when you heard his sergeant yell, “Mitchell!”

The voice made you turn your head, and you felt a giggle bubble up your throat as you realized he’d looked back to watch you walk away — and broken his cadence in the process. He was commanded to drop and do 20 for slowing the men up, and yet he was smiling as he did.

You had to force yourself into the hospital... the smile on your face refusing to dissipate for the rest of the day.

“Please...” Words whispered into his ear as he burrowed himself into your neck, your fingers clutching his bicep and jaw falling open and body writhing beneath his with every move he made. 

His teeth sinking into your skin stole your breath away, and all you could think about were the words, hold still. 

“Shit—!” he hissed, teeth clenching together and brows furrowed. “Goddamnit—“

“Would you hold still?” you demanded, shaking your head and dabbing the alcohol at the cut on his head. He rolled his eyes and glared across the room at his best friend, with whom he’d stumbled into your dorm just ten minutes before. The two of them had gotten a little too drunk off the base, and you were almost asleep when their fists first rapped on the door. They were lucky the woman who’d been dormed up with you had just been transferred to a base down south. 

“Told you I’d kick your ass,” the exhausted boy behind you grinned as he wiped at the blood dripping from his nose. 

“Shut up, Irons,” Jack grumbled, “You got lucky.”

“You love me, Mitchell, don’t deny it.” The words had Jack shifting to get up, nearly causing you to stab him with the tweezers you were using to pull gravel from the cut. 

“Hey!” you snapped quietly, shoving him down into the mattress by his shoulder, “Both of you, shut up! I have five hours to sleep, you jackasses.” 

“Sorry, Private,” Will said from behind you; you could feel the look on his face and just breathed slowly out, holding Jack’s cheeks in your palms.

“You should be,” you muttered, looking down at Jack’s cut. “Now you — hold. still.” 

Jack was suddenly quiet, his eyes watching you as you softly tended to the wound. As you pulled the pieces of gravel from his skin, the slight pinch here and there causing him to wince, you’d gently tap his cheek and promise him you were nearly done. He’d swallow quietly and bite his lip through it, listening to your words. Trusting you. 

And he held still.

As you gently set the bandaid down over his cut, you chanced a glance down into his eyes, your own hand still cupping his cheek. 

And you held your breath. “All done,” you whispered. Jack was holding you in place with that look, making your heart race. 

“Irons, you’re up next,” you mumbled, clearing your throat and stepping back from Jack. 

“Jesus, finally,” Will huffed; but your eyes were still on his best friend as he sat down beside him on the empty bed across from your own. Stuck in a moment you couldn’t break free from. Stuck with him there.

And you fell into each other, skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, fingernails dragging up the outsides of your thighs, head pushing back into the pillows. Sounds echoing through the small room, darkness enveloping your bodies, sensations you’d never felt overwhelming you from head to toe. There was a connection between you that you couldn’t understand, something deep and powerful and tangible. He touched you and you could breathe again... he held you and you gasped his name. And you were consuming him, his every thought dedicated to you, to how you looked beneath him, to how his name sounded rolling off the tip of your tongue, to your smile and your laugh and the way your eyes glinted in the sun. 

But time was never quite on your side.

“Private y/l/n,” Doc Aarons, the surgeon you’d been working with for three years, spoke up from beside you, “You taken your lunch yet?” 

You glanced up from the supplies you were inventorying, in a daze as you murmured, “Not yet, sir.”

He nodded as he pored over his latest med journal, not looking up. “Go ahead and do that now. Thinking I might send you on exam rounds later.” 

“Copy that,” you replied, setting your clipboard down and eyeing the bag of sealed scalpels you’d been counting. 

You were opening the door and stepping outside before you saw him; Jack, smiling at you from just down the hall. 

You glanced back at Doc Aarons and raised a brow, wondering if he’d seen Jack step past the room. He remained involved in his journal, never looking up to acknowledge your silent question.

“Hi...” you grinned as you turned back to Jack, curiosity in your voice and hands on your hips. “Can I help you, soldier?”

He was warm as he walked slowly toward you. “Well, y/n, you tell me.” 

Your arms were crossed, and you felt your cheeks tinting pink at the way he refused to pull his gaze from yours. 

“I’m listening,” you murmured.

He stopped just a foot in front of you, nerves buzzing under the surface as he looked down at you. The look in your eyes had his heart threatening to pound from his chest. 

“See, I’m... deploying in the morning. Big mission, lots of us goin’ out.” He cleared his throat, and you were fighting to keep your smirk back. “And I was thinkin’ it’d sure be a shame if I didn’t get to take you out before I left.” 

His words pulled the smile right back out onto your lips. “Is that so?” 

He chuckled and ducked his head, feeling the way you teased him set his nerves alight. 

“Well, good... I think it would be, too.” 

He looked up, and god, how it felt to see him look at you that way. 

“Sounds good, Private,” he murmured softly, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

And it wasn’t until he walked away, disappearing around the corner as your fingers rested on the spot on your cheek his lips had touched... that you realized you’d been standing in front of the large window of Doc Aaron’s office the whole time. Your head snapped to the left, and he flicked his journal up in front of his face just in time, his own smirk in full effect behind its flimsy pages.

You blushed and scurried down the hall, still feeling Jack’s kiss on your cheek right where he’d left it.

It was deep in the night, only an hour left before he had to get up and get moving to make his briefing call. You both laid in the quiet, tangled up in each other, motel sheets wrapped around your limbs. There was nothing like the way it felt to be in his arms… to feel him hold you tightly against him. You fit together like puzzle pieces.

He smiled lazily up at you, biting his lip and reaching up to brush your cheek with his thumb. “You gonna miss me?” he smirked up at you, murmuring his words.

You grinned down at him, both your palms pressed to his bare chest. “How could I miss you?” you lied, “I barely know you...” He gave a laugh that sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach, the coy look in your eye nearly being betrayed by the warmth he made you feel. 

There was a long pause, his eyes staring up into yours. He was gathering words... trying to find them. And finally... with a swallow, his hand moved to your wrist, bringing your palm up to his lips where he pressed a single, soft kiss. 

“Wait for me, then...” He stared up at you, meaning every word. His lips soft against your skin. “Let me take you on a second date.” 

His words hit you hard, and you bit your lip to contain the smile spreading over your lips. Cupping his cheek, without another moment of thought, you muttered, “I’m not goin’ anywhere, soldier.”

Just four short hours later, you stood outside the med building, one hand shielding your eyes from the sun, as you waited and watched for his plane. Something sunk into your stomach, a dread. Worry. You were a soldier yourself, one who’d been aching to go into combat someday if they’d ever let you — but somehow even then, there was something nagging at you. Something bothering you about watching him go.

And you felt it settle into your bones as your eyes finally caught the first of the planes taking off. You watched him deploy out on that mission, and your heart was relentless in your chest. He and his fellow marines - he and his best friend, Will - were off for Korea, off to enter combat for the first time.

You felt something ache inside you. It was all you could do not to let tears well up in your eyes as you watched him go.

You barely knew anything about him... you didn’t know if he’d ever broken any bones, or if he had siblings, or who his favorite comic book hero was. You’d hardly gotten to know him yet... but feeling that sudden, violent pull inside of you, begging you to run blindly after that plane as it lifted off the tarmac — that was the most terrifying feeling you’d ever known. 

--

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Shoot me an ask, message, or reply if you’d like to be tagged in my works! Thanks so much for reading!

[kikilefangirl]

Worthy of Admiration

Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Word Count: 1644)

As you pulled up to your apartment complex, nothing was seemingly out of place.

Miss Marcia sat next to her open window watching the neighborhood kids run through the grass. Suge and his boys from down the way whistled as you walked past. The usual.

But as soon as you made it up the steps, you paused. Something didn’t feel right. You were suddenly more aware of the knife burning a hole in your pocket.

“Monty!” You called out and he came almost immediately.

“Take these to your Mama, tell her it was no problem.” You said. You didn’t hear his reply.

You hand him your grocery bags, never taking your eyes off of your apartment door further down the hall. You take light, cautious steps. Turning your key with one hand, you rest the other on your knife.

As soon as the door clicked, a metal hand reached for your throat. You sidestepped, feeling the air whizz past you. You lunged at your attacker, but he was fast. His flesh arm reeled back, landing a harsh blow to your side. You slashed his forearm before he could get to you fully.

It caught him off guard long enough for you to kick him in the ribs. It gave you just enough time to retreat to your kitchen. A collection of knives and guns awaited you.

You were prepared for a moment like this.

You focused your energy, calling out all the weapons in your possession. A dagger whistled towards you and you caught it in mid-air. A dagger to go with your knife. The metal man was on you, his gun in hand.

You threw the dagger, digging it in his shoulder. As soon as you let it fly, you focused on his gun, you could feel its mechanics and jammed it from where you were.

Your knife clattered to the ground in the process, though. Hand to hand then. A block. Metal hand incoming. Dodge. Dishes and plates rocked and clashed all around you.

You matched his pace blow for blow. Learned his movements. He favored no arm or leg, not even the metal one. Military grade equipment. Very well trained.

You noticed the details. You were holding your own against the stronger, faster, bigger man solely because of the details of his weaponry. That was your mutation. Weapons. The strategy was purely years of training.

Then you slipped up. The sound of children laughing and running up and down the hall took you by surprise.

No, don’t come up here, you wanted to scream.

As soon as your attention drifted from him, the man seized the opportunity. He had his hands on your throat. You were slowly sinking and black spots dotted your vision.

Just then, another man busted through the door, and pushed your attacker off of you. The two wrestled on your living room floor, but you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

Then everything went black.

                                                        ...

“A fake ID, no prints, and an arsenal of weapons in every room.” Natasha sounded off. She stared at your sleeping form through the observation deck in the Tower’s Med Bay.

Bucky frowned at that. The mystery woman he’d gone after and attacked as the Winter Soldier. The details were fuzzy, but he remembered some parts. From what he gathered, she lived completely off the grid. For good reason if she had Hydra out to get her.

Tony swaggered into the room, and made a beeline for Steve, whose worried gaze alternated between Bucky and the woman. He was used to the stares from everyone; he deserved them.

“Spangles, for some reason Terminator over there-,”Tony gestured to Bucky on the opposite end of the room, “almost you know, to our Jane Doe and here’s the best part, minimal damage.”

His words hung in the air, and Bucky drew his lips in a tight line. He found his own gaze drifting towards her, full of concern. He rubbed his temple.

“What are we looking at, here?” Steve let out at last. Bucky scolded himself for not asking that question himself.

Reality sunk in when no one could answer him.

                                                        ...

“You took a lot of hard hits, yesterday.”

At the sound of the deep voice, your eyes fluttered open against the harsh white light. Hospital. You tried to sit up all the way, but a metal handcuff bit into your wrist. You grimaced and finally looked up and the man.

You tried to scramble backwards at the sight of your attacker, but you were still cuffed.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” The man backed away and held his hands up.

You made no moves, but watched him carefully. His metal hand was still very much a threat. You ghosted a hand over the bruise it gave you. You took a ragged breath and licked your lips. Chapped. If not for the morphine drip, everything would hurt. Nope. You were in no condition to deal with the outside world. If you left, now, you were as good as dead.

“My name is Bucky. I’m sorry I attacked you,” He started.

It seemed genuine, but as you thought back to Metal Man, you realized who he was and why he was so familiar. The Winter Soldier. Hydra. You tried not to make a face.

“I wasn’t in control of myself. You’re safe, you’re at Avengers’ Tower.” He said frantically.

Holding your body weight up for so long on your own was beginning to take a toll. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. You swallowed hard. It hurt the roof of your mouth because it was so dry, like sandpaper.

You spied a glass of water on the nightstand next to you, so you reached for it. You came up short, but luckily enough Bucky picked up on your actions. He handed you the water and helped you get back in the bed.

You guzzled it down as soon as it touched your lips. Not long after did a familiar voice chime in.

“Well shit, I thought I taught you better than this.”

Both your heads snapped up to see none other than Nick Fury at the door. In a flash, a butterfly knife was sailing through the air. You willed it away from Bucky’s head, and chose to lodge it on the handcuffs.

The chain snapped and you sat up. The pain in your ribs flared, but at least you weren’t chained to the bed anymore.

“Wanna trade, old man?” You said, rubbing your wrist.

Fury let out a laugh and squinted with his good eye. You picked up your clothes, and scoured through the bag they were in.

“And you two...know each other?” Bucky jumped in.

“Oakland. I was seven. Mutants don’t get to live squeaky clean, especially young black ones.” You told them.

You soften at the mention of your younger self. How young and vulnerable you were when Fury found you. You’d been on Hydra’s radar ever since, running ever since.

Your grip on your bag of clothes tightened. You’d had a run in with the Winter Soldier before. You got lucky, back then. And again, it seemed. You bit your lip.

To his credit, Bucky noticed your change in mood.

“Stay here.” He suggested. You met his apologetic eyes. He was serious about you staying, and making up for what he did.

“If I wanted to be a part of a group, y’all wouldn’t be my first call, no offense.” You said. Fury scoffed and his good eye narrowed into a slit. He didn’t comment, though.

You were a mutant who wanted to live your life on your terms, not as a spectacle. You let out a sigh.

“When the doctor clears me I’ll be a ghost.” You stated. You were more so talking to Bucky than Fury. He knew full well you weren’t a team player.

“Next time don’t get rusty,” He called out, tossing you a wad of cash. You nodded in thanks, but Fury just waved his hand and walked out. That was just how he was.

It was just you and Bucky, again.

For how massive he was, the man had an innocence about him, it was almost childlike. But there was years worth of weariness, too. And guilt. A product of Hydra, and decades of a corrupted purpose as the Winter Soldier.

You decided Bucky was a weary man who was doing his very best to live in spite of it all.

“Cheer up, comrade,” You told him with a hand on the crook of his neck, “You’ll still have me for a few more days. Until the doc clears me.”

You shot him a dazzling smile and laughed to yourself when he turned a bright pink. He stammered through his reply so much you felt bad, and let him be.

But as he got up to leave, his eyes dulled. He really wanted you to stay and redeem himself for his actions. You couldn’t say it wasn’t admirable.

You twirled the knife in your hands, in one combination after the other. Bucky had blown up your hiding spot. Hydra was without its best asset and would probably be gunning for new ones. People like you.

You clicked your tongue. You could do with a life fully funded by Tony Stark himself, in the most secure building you’d ever been in.

“It’s too hot out there for me, right now. I might need a place to stay until it’s safe to move.” You said.

Bucky nodded and gave you a small smile.

“Can I ask your name, now?” You blinked at the question.

You’d lived so long without anyone, that you hadn’t even considered revealing any true information about yourself. No introductions, no goodbyes. Bucky could probably relate to that.

“Y/N.”

It felt good to say your name out loud. You surveyed the room around you. The faces of the men and women pretending they weren’t watching your exchange with Bucky.

You tilted your head and surveyed your new knife. Your nostrils flared at your collection left behind in your apartment. Oh, you’d be staying alright.

Reeling back you threw the weapon at your observation window. Successfully sticking, the knife was directly in line with Tony Stark’s head, if not for the window.

“Stark! I want my knives back!”

[wanderinginksplot]

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 01245: Commander Bly

"Hold still, vod," Kix reminded gently. "The scanner can't get an accurate reading if you keep moving."

"Yes, sir," Commander Bly agreed, obediently fighting to keep still.

Kix refrained from reminding the commander that he in fact outranked Kix - and by quite a large margin. Bly was struggling enough as it was. He had been standing far too close to an explosive blast, and the burns covering the left side of his face and body were clear. The fire had melted large sections of his plastoid armor, adding to the damage.

Continuing to wear what remained of the armor had to be uncomfortable, but Kix had to complete a full scan before he could allow the commander to remove the outer layer. There was a possibility that some of Bly's skin had melted to the inside of the plastoid and he simply didn't feel it due to shock.

Finally, the scanner beeped to tell Kix that it had completed a full scan with no motion interference. Bly was lucky; there was no connection between his skin and the rest of his armor. Kix quickly informed the commander of this and they both worked to remove the plastoid from his singed body glove.

When Bly was free, his hand moved as though he planned on exploring the damage done to the left half of his face, but Kix stopped him with an extended hand and sharp shake of his head. "You won't want to do that, commander. Burns hurt worse than anything. You're in shock right now, but it won't last forever. The sooner you start feeling it, the more painful the treatment will be."

"I understand, Kix," Bly agreed softly, dropping his hand immediately.

"Let me do one final scan, then I'll start mixing a bacta spray," Kix told him, readying the scanner once more. "If we're lucky, we can get your treatment well underway by the time the pain really kicks in."

"Don't you mean 'Kix in'?" Bly asked, quirking a brow. Unfortunately, it was his left eyebrow and he hissed slightly at the new and painful sensation.

"I hope that was worth it, Commander," Kix told him dryly.

"It wasn't my best joke, but hey, laugh or cry, right?" Bly shrugged - carefully using his right shoulder this time. He fell silent again, watching Kix configure the scanner. "Can I ask why you need to do another scan?"

Kix eyed Bly for a moment, but saw no signs of impatience or mockery on the commander's face. "Scanners can work through plastoid, but the signal gets significantly weaker. That's fine if you're checking for surface-level injuries, but if you want to look deeper, you need to get under the armor. Now that we've removed the plastoid from this equation, this scan will show the full extent of the burns."

He began scanning as he finished his explanation, but the medbay door whipped open before the short process had ended. "Commander, how are you?"

Kix was tempted to turn so he could see the new arrival to the medbay with his own eyes, but the accented voice made Bly's spine straighten and his blood pressure ratchet up a few levels, so the medic knew who it was. General Secura had that effect on many a trooper.

Still, Kix always took care of his vode, so Kix silenced the scanner's alarm before it could play an audible arrhythmia warning. It was no business of the general's if her arrival had made Bly's heart literally skip a beat.

"I'm fine, General," Bly answered his commanding officer, voice steady.

It was an impressive show. Bly's feelings for his beautiful general were the worst-kept secret in the GAR… which was saying something. Still, his eyes were clear and his face serene, even as Kix watched his heart rate increase. As if he heard Kix's silent admiration, Bly's gaze slid to the scanner still held in Kix's hand and the medic hurriedly put it away. He had the information he needed, anyway.

Kix cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the general and the commander. "The burns don't appear to be deep. Commander Bly was lucky that he had his face turned away from the blast." He turned to address Bly directly. "The plastoid of your armor protected your body from the worst of the burns, but there will be some scarring on your neck and left hand."

Bly shrugged at that, but General Secura looked unhappy. "Is there nothing you can do to heal him completely? I could arrange transport to a medstation. Maybe some time spent in a bacta tank…"

Fighting not to furrow his eyebrows, Kix shook his head. "Not necessary, General. I'll make a bacta spray to help the healing process, apply some burn gel to pull the heat away, and administer some pain meds for the discomfort. Commander Bly will be all healed up in a few weeks."

As he went to assemble the components for a bacta spray, Kix smirked to himself. A kriffing bacta tank? Troopers went in bacta tanks for missing limbs, shattered skulls, comas… Putting the commander in one for a few mild burns would be insane. Kix’s motions slowed as he heard the quiet conversation taking place behind him.

"I have no skill for Force-healing," General Secura admitted, sounding unreasonably guilty about that fact.

"What are a few more scars?" Bly answered flippantly but his voice grew more serious as he added. "General, I don't care what I look like. What matters is that I can fight for the Republic. The best way to do that is to keep you safe."

Secura seemed to let out a sigh. "You were hurt protecting me- Protecting the Republic's interests, that is. I do not like knowing that you'll be scarred as a thanks for your efforts."

"I would gladly carry a few more marks if it means that you're alive, General," Bly said, tone genuine. Kix winced, thinking that he was cutting it a bit close to admitting having non-regulation feelings for a commanding officer. Bly seemed to feel the same, however, since he added, "Besides, scars will just make my tattoos stand out even more."

"Ah, how could I forget the importance of your tattoos?" the general teased. "No one should go without seeing them."

"Well, we'll try to minimize the scarring anyway," Kix told them both as he came back with the freshly-mixed bacta spray. He talked Bly through the process as he gently cleaned the burns, applied the bacta spray, and misted the burn gel from a special aerosol dispenser. He passed Bly some of the medbay’s strongest pain meds. Kix could tell that the pain was finally beginning to reach the commander and wanted to stop it as soon as possible now that the treatment was working.

"Now, I don't want you reaching around yourself to apply the spray," Kix said, finishing his explanation. "You wouldn't be able to get the right angle and distance, and it would stretch the burned skin more than we want. Take the spray and the dispenser with you and I'll transmit the instructions to the 327th's medic. Limit is still your main medic, right?"

"Yes, he is, but I would like a copy of those instructions as well, Kix," General Secura told him and turned to speak directly to Bly. Taking the hint, Kix moved a few steps away to give them a semblance of privacy - even if he could still see both medbay occupants and hear their conversation clearly. "If Limit is ever busy, comm me and I'll apply the treatments myself."

Bly shifted in the chair. "General, you've got more important things-"

"Hush, Bly," the general told him, lifting a hand to brush her fingertips over the tattoo on Bly's uninjured cheek. "There is nothing more important than supporting my men, especially the commander who kept me from being blown up today."

Obviously fighting a blush, Bly gave a single sharp nod.

Kix cleared his throat. "Feel free to make your way back to the Liberty when you feel able, Bly. General."

The two left the medbay, walking closer together than Kix thought was wise, considering the commander's injuries. When the room was silent once more, Kix pulled out a new patient treatment form and stared at it for a long moment.

Everyone in the GAR knew that Commander Bly had a weakness for his Twi'lek general. It was far from uncommon; the level of attention that Aayla Secura attracted from her appearance, strength, and grace made most of the 327th uncomfortable and ready to fight on a regular basis. However, none of the intel Kix had heard - and he had heard a lot, considering how chatty most brothers were - had suggested that the general felt similarly about her commander. Jedi weren't supposed to be attached, after all.

And yet…

Kix's mind played back the sight of General Secura brushing a delicate hand over Bly's cheek, putting the moment in an infinite loop. Even if she didn't harbor un-Jedi-like feelings for Commander Bly, there was certainly enough room for doubt that Kix could sympathize about how Bly may have gotten confused.

But General Secura had wanted to put Bly in a bacta tank. For mild, superficial burns, no less. And the warmth in her voice when she had volunteered to personally help with Bly's treatment…

Kix shook his head, feeling more confused than he had been since his first day of flash training. However, if there was one constant in his life, it was that paperwork needed to be filed. Kix turned his attention back to the medical form in front of him, checking the 'General Present' box and moving on to his other duties.

[mooniefics]

just one night

pairing : reiner braun / reader

word count : 2.9k

tags : fluff, angst, heartache, acknowledgement of reiner’s suffering </3

summary : being a field nurse had it's ups and downs, but everything about taking care of reiner braun was the best and worst thing about your job.

— originally posted 12 / 16 / 20 on ao3 —

"oh, you're finally awake." you set the tray of medical supplies in your hands down on the small desk beside the bed, shutting the privacy curtain before you returned to his side, "i was worried about you, you know?"

though most of his body had regenerated over the seven hours he'd been unconscious, he was still missing a majority of his right hand up to the wrist, the steaming, incomplete appendage he was now examining with a tired look on his face.

"what time did they bring me in?" his voice was husky with sleep, eyes low as they flitted over to look at you.

"around eighteen hundred hours yesterday," you said, placing the back of your hand on his forehead to check his temperature, "i administered some pain meds a few hours ago, but let me know if you need any more."

being a field nurse for the marleyan army wasn't the easiest job in the world, mostly consisting of lots of running around in the trenches with your heavy kit and avoiding as much gunfire and blood splatter as you possibly could while still helping the wounded. you had volunteered to work soon after the conflict with the mid-east allied forces had begun, seeing as it was either that or see your father be drafted out into the eldian unit to become cannon fodder like so many of the soldiers you'd seen barely able to crawl their way back over the sandbags just to bleed out and die before you could even begin to assess their injuries. you stopped keeping count of how many people you couldn't save after your first few days of active combat, becoming more focused on not going insane from how little you slept due to the rumbling of the ground from enemy artillery that shook the walls of the underground quarters and reading the letters your family sent from back home to maintain a shred of morale for the future.

though, the job did have some perks. it was always honorable for eldian families to have someone enlisted, and it also meant you could support your parents with your minuscule paycheck from the government. and, of course, meeting reiner braun was the biggest plus of them all, though you probably wouldn't admit it if anybody asked. you were a hard worker, and evidently had enough natural skill to quickly be promoted to the position that you were at now, assigned as one of the few nurses who monitored the wellness of the warriors and their prospective candidates.

"my regeneration has been slowing down lately, i should have more of my hand back by now." reiner murmured, more to himself than you.

"of course it has, you haven't been eating as well as you should be. i don't know much about titan biology, but i do know that a soldier like you, a warrior no less, shouldn't live off of sandwiches and beer, you've been losing too much weight."

he chuckled, a quick smile flitting across his face before he returned to his previous sulk. "you sound like my mother, chiding me about how i need to take care of myself. isn't there other patients that need your attention?"

"you wish. me and another nurse have already taken care of this entire hall, and you, mr. celebrity, get a room all to yourself." you grabbed a pen and his chart, scribbling down a few notes about his current status while you spoke, "plus, i'm supposed to be checking up on you every hour until you're all put back together, magath's orders."

he paused, thinking to himself before speaking. "so does that mean galliard is ok?" you nodded.

"and pieck?" you nodded again.

"and zeke?" you sighed, but reaffirmed once more.

"you've been checking up on me all night by the looks of it. aren't you tired?"

"gosh reiner, would it kill you to focus on yourself for a minute?" you rolled your eyes at his confusion, pulling up the chair at the desk to his bedside and seating yourself down, "this is my job, i'm used to doing my job. in fact, this is one of the easiest nights i've had in weeks. i don't know about you, but it shocks me that the guy they blew to pieces yesterday afternoon is asking me if i'm the one that needs to get some rest."

his brow furrowed, mouth drawing into a small frown. "sorry. i know that the war has been hard for all of us. i just don't want to make it any harder for you than it's already been."

you couldn't help but smile at his genuine concern, planting your elbows on your thighs and resting your chin in your hands. "you don't have to worry about bothering me, reiner." you replied softly, playfully adding, "you know you're my favorite patient anyways" just to see his cheeks flush red.

"is that so?" he murmured in reply, now smiling with you as he met your gaze.

"maybe." you teased, leaving him hanging for a few moments before you continued, "galliard's always awkward when i'm in the room, jaeger never has much, if anything, to say, and pieck, she's nice to be around, but she always looks so tired i feel a bit bad when i chat for too long with her. so, if it's anyone i'm stuck on the night shift with, i'm glad it's you."

you laughed softly at his expression, feeling a bit sheepish under his gaze. he'd changed quite a bit over the two years you'd known him, the shadows under his eyes deepening with a clear exhaustion, cheekbones becoming more pronounced and face growing gaunter as the stress of the war withered away at his physical and mental wellbeing. before you personally met, you'd always seen reiner as the physical embodiment of marley's armor, with his sturdy, unyielding frame, towering over nearly everyone he met from his stature, and the iron will that never seemed to falter no matter how many times he returned broken to the barrack's infirmary.

but now, you could see how everything had been taking a toll on him, how he was growing thinner and weaker each time he returned from a successful military assignment. you had come to learn that despite his regenerative properties, he felt every bit of pain that came with the injuries he sustained, experiencing the absolute agony of having his limbs shredded and bones shattered by cannon fire in his titan form and still having to push forward on the battlefield. you had an immense respect for him and his unyielding nature, but you always worried. even though you knew he would always manage to get himself back together again, you always worried for him. you remembered how you felt as you peeked over the sandbags, watching with a mixture of awe and dread as reiner threw himself in front of jaeger at the last moment to shield him from the unexpected volley of naval artillery, the way your heart thundered so loudly in your ears at the sight of his titan crumpling.

the relief you felt upon being ordered to his hospital room and finding him still alive was indescribable, and the relief you felt now being able to talk to him, to stare into his tired eyes and take in his handsome features you'd become so familiar with, flushed softly from your playfully exchanged words— you didn't want to see him go again.

"l-let me go get you a blanket," you said, snapping yourself out of your unnecessary thoughts, "i packed it away since i didn't want the steam to overheat you, but now that its just your hand and ankle i think it'll be ok to let you have it back now."

you quickly got up from your seat and slipped past the privacy curtain, opening up the supply cupboard with sheets and extra clipboards and things of the sort to pull out the blanket you'd originally taken off of him and put away.

you had to control yourself, to stop letting yourself be distracted by these thoughts and concerns about him. you knew as well as anyone else in marley that he didn't have long left to live. you hated that everyone referred to it as his 'term', as if after two years passed he could return home to live a peaceful life away from the war and bloodshed, to enjoy the luxuries of a normal existence that had been snatched away from him from the very start of his life. he only had two years left before he had to be eaten by one of those children, children that had similarly had their innocence and adolescence stolen from them by the marleyan government. you had told yourself over and over to not let yourself get so close to him, to not trick yourself into believing that maybe something could work between the two of you after marley's greed for natural resources had been sated and all the nations were finally at peace.

but you knew better than anyone that these feelings had been growing out of control, and each day you spent tending to him, watching him out on the battlefield, finding more and more about who he truly was besides a soldier only fed the fire you'd been fighting between fueling and snuffing out for months now. taking in a deep breath, you forced a smile onto your face, not wanting to concern him with an upset expression and risk dumping all your pathetic emotions out under his scrutiny.

"here we are." you hummed, flapping out the blanket a few times before you stretched it over his lap.

for a moment your face was close to his, close enough to see the small brown spots freckling his golden irises and realize just how intently he was gazing at you. you quickly retreated back to your seat at his bedside, still feeling his stare lingering on you, stopping yourself from asking him what was interesting enough to make him look at you for so long.

for another moment, there was silence, and you debated on making up some excuse to leave the room, but you knew you would have to come back in an hour, and he most likely wouldn't be asleep by then, but he spoke before you could think up any other escape plans.

"you know, i was happy to wake up and see you." you felt your heart skip, blinking at him, trying to make sure you weren't hearing things.

"really?" you mustered, feeling your cheeks grow warm at the sight of his smile.

"yes, really." he affirmed, the brightness on his face dampening a bit as he continued, "most of the time when i sleep, i get a lot of... memories, from my time in paradis, and they're not the most pleasant things to see while i'm asleep. and i was having another one of those dreams just now before i woke up, so it was nice to not be alone, you know? it's always reassuring to see you."

you felt a light flutter in your chest, nodding in response, torn between feeling sympathy for his nightmares or happiness from honest words. no, you had to stop being selfish. you had to stop letting yourself play along in this fantastical idea of a happy future.

"y-yeah, i understand," you replied, fixing your gaze down in your lap as you tried to avoid his intention, "i could put in a request for sleeping aids, if restlessness is becoming an issue."

"you know that's not what i'm trying to say." his hand reached out to rest over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, imploring you to stop ignoring the obvious.

"reiner." you said firmly, lips pressing into a firm line, "we can't. i can't."

you could feeling that light, airy joy twisting down into something irksome, settling like lead deep in your stomach as he replied. "what's stopping you?"

"everything!" you snapped, stopping yourself to take a deep breath and regain control of your volume before you began again, "everything.. this war, this never-ending conflict, and.. y-your term, your life-"

"you think i don't know that?" he said softly, too softly, somber gaze flitting between the hand in his grasp and your face. he seemed so small just now, seated up against wall behind the hospital bed that was too little for him, barely covered by the thin, old blanket that was fraying at the seams, not at all like the stoic, unwavering warrior he made himself out to be in the public eye. "don't you think i'm tired of pretending? tired of having people toss the topic of my death back and forth like they're discussing vacation plans? i love marley, and i love what i can do for the people who look up to me, for the people who rely on me to be the hero. you never ask me about paradis, you never ask me about how i feel about all of this, you never expect me to be the hero, and you're still always here to listen, always here when i need you to be. but i just want to feel like i don't have to worry about all that, even if it's just for one night... i know it sounds counterintuitive, but i want to pretend like things will be alright.. for you, for me, for everyone. can't we just have this one night?"

your hand trembled, fingers lacing easily with his like you'd risked doing a few times before, tears pricking your eyes, feeling like there was something cinching around your heart and lungs and squeezing tight. the heat of his hand in yours was pleasant, calloused palm fitting perfectly against the contour of your own, thumb stroking softly over the side of your own hand.

you swallowed your apprehension, steadying your breath and blinking away the mistiness threatening to spill down onto your face as you moved from the chair to take a seat on the side of his bed. "ok. one night."

the relief that bloomed across his expression warmed your heart, the stress that had been creasing his face softening back into the relaxed, sleepy looking smile that you always poked fun at when you brought him his breakfast in the morning.

"you have to be up at seven, so lay down right, i don't want you to complain to me about your back hurting tomorrow." he complied, shifting back down in the bed to rest his head back on the pillow, allowing you to let go of his hand momentarily to tuck the blanket around him. "do you want me to go get you something to help you sleep?"

"no." he murmured, gazing up at you, "just stay here with me, please. i'll sleep just fine as long as you're here."

there was something so childlike about his words, not in the way of immaturity or naivety, but something that just made you want to take care of him, to protect him from the corruption of the world outside of the obsolete confinements of his hospital room.

"i will." you said, letting your other hand find the side of his face, "i promise."

and so you stayed, you stayed as long as he needed you to, alternating between stroking his cheek and slowly running your fingers through his hair. there were no words exchanged, but the silence was comforting, the quietest night you'd both had in weeks, only occupied by the intermittent footsteps of the other nurses making their rounds around the hall and the soft evening breeze blowing through the half-open window above the desk. you didn't care for how long you had to sit there, replying back to the small movements of his hands with your own reassuring squeeze as he slowly but surely fell back asleep. but even after his breathing had steadied out, and his grasp on your hand had loosened, you still stayed seated at his bedside, just gazing down at his sleeping face as your thought to yourself.

the war against the mid-east allied forces had come to a rocky close, most likely guaranteeing marley at least a few months of tension-filled peace before another nation made their strike on their borders once again. but you knew that marley wouldn't wait for that, you knew that they wouldn't stop until they had the world in their hands, paradis included. you'd heard the private murmurs of jaeger before you entered his room, seen the open pages of his journal when he fell asleep at his desk, you knew what he had been planning. and you knew that reiner would have to go running back to the island once again, and even if jaeger's grand scheme didn't drag him there by his collar, he would probably go searching out his own resolution him.

you checked your watch. 2:10. it was your turn to check the patients in critical condition down the hall. you sighed quietly, pulling your hand away from his and leaning down to gently press a kiss on his forehead, something you risked doing a few times before when you had these especially long conversations that made your heart ache for him.

but at least, you thought to yourself as you flicked off the lights, reluctantly leaving the room and shutting the door behind you as quietly as you possibly could, at least you could give him just one night of repose.

[pregnant-piggy]

Cursed - four

         |~|CHAPTER FOUR|~|

series masterlist

A/N: it’s a bit of fluff and a bit of angst, mixed with a little pain and some nightmares. What more to ask? I loved writing this part, though it’s not my favourite part. That one’s to come yet... ;)

Warnings: scars, nightmares, pain

Words: 3.2k

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

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Eating has never been a problem, but ever since you have been in the Hospital Wing Sirius has lost all appetite. His food tastes like nothing and it doesn’t satisfy his hunger. He could have been given a plate of porridge and it wouldn’t matter; everything tastes the same. Flavourless.

When Sirius saw you this morning he suddenly became nervous. Of course he is happy that you are awake but something in him fears what will happen next. If Sirius confesses his feelings for you, you will probably turn him down and Sirius will lose his best friend. But what if his friends are right and you do like Sirius back? Could there be a chance Sirius and you will actually get together? Everything was just more easy when you were asleep. Sirius could hold your hand and you wouldn’t push it away. When you were lying in your bed with your eyes closed Sirius could talk to you and not be afraid of rejection or judgement.

It’s not that Sirius thinks you will judge him, he just knows that you deserve so much better than him. He is broken and you should be with someone that comes from a good family, someone that is worth something.

‘Just go to her already!’ James says after Sirius has spent fifteen minutes looking at his plate. Sirius looks up at his friend and slowly gets up. Madam Pomfrey had said that he could visit after lunch. It is after lunch.

With uncertain steps Sirius walks through the empty corridors. The weather is, just like it has been the whole week, wonderful. There are no clouds in the sky and it is warm enough to sit outside without a coat. A lot of students have taken their homework outside and are sitting in the grass. Sirius walks past a window and sees a couple of first-years playing with the giant squid.

When Sirius walks past the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower he stops. He doesn’t know how long madam Pomfrey will let him stay but it might be a good idea to bring some homework. Maybe it will distract you too.

With his Transfiguration homework, he knows you like that the best, in his arms Sirius knocks on the door of the Hospital Wing for what feels like the hundredth time this week. Madam Pomfrey opens the door and lets Sirius in.

‘She is asleep now, but I think she’ll wake up any minute now. And don’t worry if she says strange things; she is still on medication,’ madam Pomfrey warns Sirius.

Sirius takes place in the familiar chair, but moves it aside a bit. Your hand is lying on the bed and Sirius has to resist the urge to take it.

After an hour, in which Sirius has done half his homework, not all of it because with every sound you made he was distracted, you finally wake up. You groan and rub your eyes and it takes you a while to realise that there is someone beside your bed. Sirius quickly looks away when you turn your head.

‘Hey,’ you say softly. You feel better but talking still costs great effort.

‘How are you feeling?’ Sirius asks.

‘Fine, it still hurts but it feels like I am on a cloud right now,’ you say and you move your arms in the air as to feel the clouds.

Sirius chuckles and lowers your arms. ‘That’s just because you are on meds.’

‘I’m drugged?’ you whisper and you move your head closer to Sirius. ‘Did you do it?’

You are so close right now, Sirius can feel your breath. His cheeks turn pink and he shakes his head. ‘No, it was Pomfrey.’

‘Ah,’ you sigh and move back. You are staring at the curtains around your bed and your fingers are plucking the sheets.

‘I think she’s my grandma,’ you suddenly say and Sirius bursts out into laughter. ‘Don’t laugh!’ you say. ‘She knows exactly what I think and when I said Sirius is not my boyfriend she just glared at me like she could read my mind.’

Sirius immediately stops laughing. What did you just say? ‘What- uhh… what do you mean?’

You turn to Sirius and he sees that there is a blush on your face too. Maybe not as clear as Sirius’ but it’s definitely there. Still you keep talking like you are not talking to Sirius.

‘She told me that he had been here all week and said that he was a loyal boyfriend. But he’s not! So I told her and then she just glared at me! Like she knew that I wish he was!’

Sirius’ mouth dries and he stares at you. You like him? Or are you just saying that because you are on medication? Sirius wants to say something. Just something to let you know that he likes you too. But it’s like his tongue has disappeared.

‘Don’t tell him, though!’ you suddenly say, as if you are still talking to someone else about Sirius. ‘He doesn’t like me back and I don’t want to ruin our friendship.’

‘But what if he likes you back too?’ Sirius asks hoping you won’t notice it is Sirius you are talking to. ‘What if he wants to be your boyfriend?’

You start to laugh and take Sirius’ hand. ‘Sirius doesn’t like me! Why would he?’

Sirius stares at your hand while he talks: ‘Maybe he thinks you are beautiful, smart, funny, sweet and incredibly pretty? And he feels like you are the only one he can be himself with? Maybe he loves you?’

A smile appears on your face and you avert your eyes from Sirius. His hands slips out of yours when you move on your bed. ‘Come sit,’ you order while petting on the empty space you have created.

Hesitantly Sirius climbs in your bed and takes place next to you. The bed is too small for two people and you are pressed against Sirius. A silence falls over you and you rest your head on Sirius��� shoulder.

The silence continues when Sirius takes your hand and starts to play with it. You both sit there for a long time, enjoying each other’s company.

Sirius feels happy and sad at the same time. He just confessed his love for you but he knows you probably won’t remember anything tomorrow. Yet, a piece of his heart is still hoping that everything you said is true and that you do have feelings for Sirius. But hearing you don’t think you are good enough for him breaks his heart. It is the other way round. Sirius is nowhere near good enough for you. You are perfect and Sirius is messed up.

‘I’m not gonna remember this, am I?’ you ask softly and Sirius shakes his head.

‘No,’ he says with a dry throat.

You stay silent and your gaze is focused on the sheets. A tear escapes your eye. For the first time something you so desperately want actually works out but you won’t be able to remember it. Sitting here with Sirius is all you want to do right now. And you’re going to enjoy every second of it while it lasts.

The rest of the afternoon you spend by helping Sirius with his Transfiguration. Both of you don’t leave your place. Sirius puts his arm around your shoulder, careful not to touch any of the scars, and you rest your head on his shoulder while you talk about the Quidditch-match.

For the first time in a week Sirius can relax. He has the love of his life in his arms and is genuinely happy. All these years he spent thinking you were just a friend and never did he realise that you are so much more than that. The feeling that fills his body is bittersweet. He doesn’t want to think about what will happen tomorrow; he wants to stay like this forever.

The day bleeds into night and the sun sets. The Hospital Wing turns dark and the lights come on. Madam Pomfrey brings you dinner and you share it with Sirius. With you next to him the food suddenly tastes better. All the flavours Sirius missed the past week return.

Eating still costs great effort for you and it takes an hour before you have finished your dinner. You can feel the sleep taking over you and nestle your head in Sirius neck. Your eyelashes tingle his skin and he tries to hide the goose bumps that appear on his arms.

‘Will you stay here tonight?’ you ask out of the blue.

Sirius opens his mouth to answer but no sound escapes his throat.

‘It’s just… It’s the first night I actually fall asleep and I’m scared, Sirius.’

‘Uhh…’ Sirius coughs and turns his head to you. ‘Yes, of course I will stay with you.’ A smile breaks on your face and it is followed by a grimace of pain. Sirius chuckles softly and presses a kiss on your nose. ‘Goodnight, love.’

‘Goodnight, Sirius,’ you mumble back but you have already fallen asleep.

~-~-~

There is someone watching you. You don’t know where they are but you can hear their breathing. The corridor you  are in is dark and there are no lights. But you have your wand in your hand. You cast lumos and the hallway lights up. You recognise the walls of the corridors at Hogwarts, but they are darker. The brown bricks are now the colour of the darkest night. The wooden floor is also black and rotten. On the ceiling hang cobwebs so long that they almost touch your head. A gust of wind blows past your legs and you turn around. The person that is watching you comes closer. You hear their footsteps on the rotten floor. The planking squeaks under the weight of the person. Their breathing gets louder. A cramped feeling spreads in your chest. The heat of the breaths of the dark figure in front of you reaches your skin. You lift your wand to look at them and-

‘(Y/N)! Calm down! Listen to me! (Y/N), love! Please!’

Sirius’ words wake you up. His face is floating above you. The dark corridor fades with the person in it. The breathing of the dark figure turns into the unsteady breaths of Sirius. You are not there. You are in the hospital wing. Sirius is here with you.

You lift your arm and a stinging pain shoots into your shoulder. Whimpering you lower it. Why does your arm hurt? You turn your head to look at it and you see a dark red line walking over your arm. The pain gets worse as you look at it, but you can’t bring yourself to look away. Something about that line reminds you of your dream.

‘(Y/N), look at me,’ Sirius whispers.

‘What happened?’ you ask him without looking up. The line on your arm is mesmerizing. You bring your other arm up to touch it, but the same pain shoots in your left shoulder. Slowly you now turn your gaze to your left arm. Two red lines are on that one. The same dark red colour as on your right arm.

‘You had a nightmare,’ Sirius answers unsure. You hear his voice above you but you can’t look away from the lines.

‘No,’ you whisper. ‘What are those lines?’

Sirius’ breath stocks and a weight lifts from your body. Sirius is now sitting next to you; you feel his leg against your right arm. Yet you don’t look up. Your eyes are focused on the two red lines on your arm. How did they come there? Something tells you the dark person from your dream made them.

‘They are scars, (Y/N).’ Sirius’ voice is soft.

‘Scars?’

‘Someone attacked you.’

Now you had to look up to Sirius. The look on his face scares you a bit. He is looking worried at you and you feel like you have done something wrong. Someone attacked you? But you would remember that, right?

‘Who?’ you ask.

‘I don’t know,’ Sirius answers and he tells you the whole story. How you entered the boys’ dormitory and passed out, how you almost died, how you had been unconscious for days. You listen with big eyes to his story. While Sirius is talking you remember flashes of conversations and faces. Your eyes look back at the scars and suddenly an immense pain shoots in your whole body. Your skin burns and you have the feeling your bones are on fire. Ignoring Sirius’ story you throw the sheets off your legs. What you are faced with makes you yelp and Sirius stops talking.

The lines on your arms are nothing compared to how your legs look. It’s like a map of red lines. The scars cross each other on spots that are redder than the thin lines. You lift your shirt and look at your stomach. There are also lines. Purple ones even. Your hand reaches to touch them but Sirius stops it.

‘Don’t touch it,’ he mumbles while staring at your legs. His eyes slide over your body and stop at your arms. ‘Show me your neck,’ he orders and you stare at him. What is happening?

‘What? Sirius, what is wrong?’ you ask desperate but Sirius ignores your questions. His hands pull down the collar of your shirt carefully. His hands don’t even touch your skin. You try to push his hands away but he is stronger than you.

Sirius is staring at your neck and the exposed part of your chest. His eyebrows are furrowed as his eyes follow the lines on your skin.

‘Does it hurt?’ Sirius suddenly asks and you nod. Sirius curses under his breath and his right hand lets go of your shirt. Slowly his finger starts to trace the scar that walks from the right side of your breast to the middle of your chest. You shiver lightly under his touch, but not one part of you feels uncomfortable.

As sudden as his touch starts so quickly he lets go again. He gets up rapidly and wants to walk away, but he is stopped by you.

‘Sirius?’ you ask and Sirius turns around. ‘What is happening?’

Sirius bends over to you and places a kiss on your lips. It is quick but you are taken to heaven and back. An amazing feeling explodes inside you but before you really realise what happens Sirius has already let go.

‘Stay strong, love,’ he says and runs away.

~-~-~

Something is wrong. Really wrong. The scars were redder than blood. Some of them were even turning purple. And your body felt like it was on fire, Sirius felt as he touched your neck.

No matter how much Sirius hates to leave you alone like that, he knows he has to get madam Pomfrey. He doesn’t know what is happening to you, but you have to be an idiot to not notice there is something wrong.

‘Madam Pomfrey!’ Sirius yells as he bangs on the door of her office. ‘It’s (Y/N)!’

The door flies open and madam Pomfrey steps out in her white night gown. Like a ghost she runs to your bed, followed closely by Sirius.

You are sitting up straight in your bed, the scared look still on your face. Madam Pomfrey rushes over to you and orders you to lie down. You follow her demands and look at Sirius while the nurse flies her stuff over to your bed through the air.

‘Sirius,’ you cry softly. ‘Please, let it stop.’

‘We’ll make it stop, love. Don’t worry,’ Sirius tries to reassure you but you can hear the fear in his voice. ‘What can I help with?’ Sirius asks madam Pomfrey.

She looks up to him and stares at him for a second. Then she says: ‘Keep her distracted.’

While the nurse starts to mix potions, Sirius sits down on the chair next to your bed and turns your head to him. A tear escapes your eye as you stare at Sirius. The fear in your eyes kills Sirius. He wishes there was something he could do.

‘Sirius, it hurts,’ you moan.

Sirius places his hand on your head and starts to caress your hair. ‘I know, love. But you have to be strong. Can you be strong? For me?’

You nod. ‘I can be strong. For you.’

Sirius smiles. He has to keep you distracted from the fact your body is on fire. He starts to whisper about James’ last attempt to ask Lily out. You giggle through your tears and Sirius keeps on talking about every stupid little thing that happened that week.

It feels like he talks for hours. But for you Sirius could talk days. The smile on your face, that sometimes cramps, turns his inside upside down. It makes him fly through the sky. But he has to stay focused. Madam Pomfrey has taken care of your legs and arms, but she has now arrived at your chest. She lifts up your shirt and you shockingly turn to Sirius.

‘I won’t look. I promise,’ he reassures you and you relax.

It takes all Sirius’ strength not to look up and see your naked chest. But he keeps looking at his knees while still talking to you. He tells about professor McGonagall’s failed attempt to teach the class how to turn a desk into a cow. Your chuckles are softer than before but you take Sirius’ hand and squeeze it.

Sirius keeps talking. The sun rises and the birds chirp but he doesn’t stop talking until madam Pomfrey steps away from you. Relieved you let go of Sirius’ hand.

The scars are less red and it doesn’t feel like your body is on fire anymore. Sirius looks at you. You look better. Though your face is still pale, your eyes are not as big anymore and the fear has flowed away from them.

Madam Pomfrey retreats from the Hospital Wing to get Dumbledore and that gives Sirius some time to speak with you. He is afraid you don’t remember anything from yesterday. That everything he said has passed you. That you were just his best friend again. That what you had said was just the results of your medication.

‘Sirius?’ you ask and he turns to you. ‘How long have I been here?’

Sirius stares at you. His fear has become reality; you don’t remember anything. Sirius tells you that you have been in the Hospital Wing for a week now, but his attention is away from you. He can’t think clear right now and wants to leave. Not leave you alone, but he needs to be alone.

Luckily for Sirius, Dumbledore enters the Hospital Wing at that moment. He swiftly walks over to you and Sirius and starts to talk to you, asking you if you are alright. Sirius takes it as a hint to leave.

‘I’ll… go tell the others…’ he says hesitantly and turns around, not even looking at you.

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

Cursed: @starcross16 @racerparker @mytreec @hariosborn @purplefragile @blissfvll @siriuslysirius1107 @the-moon-and-the-book @theheirofnightandday

Sirius Black:@treestarrrrrrrr @bumbelbeeesblog @with1love1anu @transparentttttttttt @sirius-satellite @cheoco @girllety @figlia–della–luna @malikinglove @alwaysinmydaydreams @eateraa @bi-andready-tocry @fangirlofbooksandpasta @littlemissgothgirl @always394patronus @heavenly-ascended-melodies @mrs-moony @coldlilheart @fific7 @april-showers-and-flowers @susceptible-but-siriusexual​

Marauders: @secretsthathauntus @ronniethelost @sognatrice-as-a-hobby @hxrgreeves @belovedadam @wecouldbreakthedistance @valentina-007

Harry Potter: @kitkatkl @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @bloodblossom73

let me know if you want to be added!

MASTERLIST

[mari-beau]

GIVE ME A REASON: PART FOUR - A Rogue One Fanfic

So this part/scene got a little out of control. Ironically, since I only had the base idea of when it would take place until I started writing it. You can also find/read this story on AO3 now.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Four

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Some sappiness?

Words: 2,978

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

...

“Ms. Erso, it is time for you to vacate the infirmary.”

Jyn jerked, jarred from sleep and reaching for the knife she no longer had on her person. Her situation settled back around her surfacing consciousness, calming her immediate fight-or-flight response but keeping her on edge.

“No,” she told the medical orderly droid. “I already told the doctors, medical staff and you lot that I’m not leaving Captain Andor. I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

“Yes. You were most clear regarding your intransigence, Ms. Erso.”

Droids had the worst attitudes. Shouldn’t med ones be programmed with a better bedside manner?

“But the bed is needed,” the droid went on when she just wanted it to go away so she could wallow in the overwhelming mix of emotions drowning her; loss, guilt, relief. “There are numerous incoming casualties from a skirmish in the Za’dan sector.”

Jyn scowled, but didn’t budge.

“What difference does it make if I leave? It’s not like I’m taking up an extra bed.” As if to prove her point, she shifted closer to Cassian in the infirmary cot, making her already petite body take up even less room.

“Captain Andor is to be processed for discharge. So you will keep your superfluous vow that he won’t wake up alone. Even though he wouldn’t be alone anyway. There are medical staff and med-droids present.”

Jyn was too alarmed by the droid’s revelation to mind the griping typical to its type.

“You’re discharging him?!” Jyn shifted, pushing herself up to study the unconscious man.

How well she knew every bruise and injury visible and many hidden by the white medical tunic and pants. She’d passed out herself from exhaustion as they began treating her injuries, but as soon as she’d woken up, she’d bullied, threatened and pleaded until they brought her to Cassian, making her wait outside the operating room, only able to watch as they finished the surgeries and treatments. They’d let her curl up in a chair next to the Bacta tank they’d stuck him in afterward, and no one even questioned by the time he was relocated to an infirmary bed when she climbed in beside him.

She’d seen the bandages, bruises, burns and scars. And she knew how they’d changed as the hours, the days had passed. Barely days, just three days since Scarif. Were they insane? They were just going to turn him out, in his condition?

Apparently, they were.

The med-droid was already injecting him with something, and Cassian was rousing. Jyn’s heart beat faster and she practically held her breath, on her knees on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with anticipatory anxiety, clutching at her kyber crystal with one hand. His past few hours of sleep had been strained. He’d been unconscious but also tense, in pain. She’d felt it in the rigidity of his muscles, the periodic hitches in his breathing.

“Did you give him more meds for the pain, too?” she asked the droid. How could they ask him to get back on his feet when he was in so much pain just lying still?

“Yes. And the stimulant should keep him awake until he gets settled back into his quarters.”

Jyn sagged in relief slightly until Cassian came crashing back into reality with a gasp and a jerk, and bewildered, began to thrash. She threw herself on top of him, placing her hands on his shoulders to hold him down, hoping he wouldn’t hurt himself worse, but understanding how confused and frightened he must feel.

“Cassian, It’s Jyn.” As if that would make a difference to him, if he even remembered her upon waking from a days-long practically-a-coma, someone he’d only met far less than a week ago and since had suffered devastating traumas. “You’re safe. You’re on the rebel base on Yavin 4. In the infirmary.”

Almost instantly, he went still, calmed, like a switch had been thrown. But she supposed the man did have quick reflexes, was highly adaptable to various situations. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have made it so long as a rebel spy.

“Jyn?” His eyes found her face. They were a little glassy and unfocused but were still, well, captivating, dark, intelligent and expressive. “What happened?”

“We did it.” She shifted back to kneeling beside him, gave him a smile, a genuine one albeit bittersweet. They had succeeded in their mission, but at a tremendous cost. “The plans to the Death Star were received by the fleet.”

“Are they planning an attack?” Cassian pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing and inhaling sharply, making Jyn picture the freshly healed surgical incisions that were doubtless strained by the movement.

“I…” Jyn had never thought to ask. The moment she realized they weren’t going to die on that beach, making sure Cassian survived had become her only concern. “I don’t know.”

“I should report to Command.” Cassian moved to get out of the infirmary bed, but Jyn stopped him, grabbing his arm to hold him back. She shimmied across the bed and hopped off it to stand in front of him.

“If they needed any more information or intel, they would’ve asked me.” It sounded plausible, even though if they’d tried it, she couldn’t rightly say she would’ve cooperated (they hadn’t listened to her the last time she tried to convince them of the truth), but especially if it meant leaving Cassian’s side. Even for a moment. How had someone else become her primary, her only concern, that she now cared only for his welfare? “And you’re not in any shape to help. Give yourself a little more time to heal.”

She reached for him as he was already trying to stand, stiffening and wobbling for a moment when he was fully upright. But Jyn would support him without him needing to ask, slid her arms around his waist and tucked her shoulder under one of his arms. He leaned into her, likely without even realizing it. From what Jyn could tell, Cassian was an independent sort of person, like herself, but unlike herself, was not too proud to accept help, being more of a team player than she ever had been.

His fingers went to pinch the bridge of his nose and his eyes squeezed shut. He took a long, deep breath, swaying a little.

“How far are your quarters from the infirmary?” she asked.

He sighed. That close, was it?

“Can you make it? If I help you?” Jyn looked around, but the droid had already stripped the bed and skittered off. She would go find whatever he needed for assistance because maybe he was a little proud, too, and had sacrificed a good portion of his independence by leaning on her. She waited, letting him decide, despite her wanting to wrap him up in soft warm blankets in a fluffy bed of pillows and keep him safe.

“Let’s try it. I should probably find out how bad the damage is sooner than later.” His expression had gone tight and unreadable, and her heart broke to think of the justified fear he must be feeling, that he may have suffered permanent damage that could affect the rest of his life, that might take away his purpose of serving the rebellion.

“They healed the blaster wound easily, but you’ve got an impressive scar,” she said as he took a tentative step, using her like a crutch, not questioning why or how she knew his wounds and medical diagnosis and treatments. “The fractures in your vertebrae and ribs probably haven’t completely knitted yet but the prognosis is good.”

Well, this wasn’t so bad. His weight was a burden making her own steps difficult, but Jyn didn’t begrudge it, not when it meant he was alive, and on his feet even. And they were already at the infirmary door. The medical staff hadn’t given them even a second look, but Jyn steeled herself for the possibility of stares as they entered the rest of the base. She couldn’t care less but these were Cassian’s fellow soldiers and he deserved their respect and not pity.

“They replaced your hip and part of your femur,” she said when they entered the hallway.

“Is that why it feels like I’ve been sliced open from my ribs down to my knee?”

“They sealed you back up.”

A light chuckle escaped him. “Things could be worse, then.”

They could, they really could. If Jyn were to make comparisons, it wasn’t just the fact that they hadn’t died on Scarif like it seemed they should’ve, but this situation she found herself in, saddled with a wounded spy (by her own choosing), on a rebel base, a Death Star out there somewhere in the galaxy… It was still the best place she’d been in since… Since she was abandoned by Saw at 16? Since her mother had died and her father had been taken?

Part of her that enjoyed the warmth of Cassian’s body beside hers, the feel of his wiry flank beneath her hand, the smell of his skin, even the weight of him he placed on her shoulders, that part proposed that this was the best situation, the best time in her entire life.

How pathetic did that make her?

She enjoyed dragging a severely wounded man around some giant old ruins half-reclaimed by the jungle converted to a military base… sort of base… The Alliance was so loosely confederated, everything seemed slapped together and piecemeal.

But hopefully the medical facilities had been up to par… They had seemed nicer than anything Jyn had ever experienced. But that wasn’t saying much at all.

“You need a minute?” she asked, finally realizing Cassian’s steps and breathing had become labored. She maneuvered him towards a wall and leaned up against it with him, nodding to a passing rebel soldier of indeterminable rank and unnotable appearance.

“Maybe it would’ve been better if you’d left me on Scarif,” he said, his voice low, quiet and pained as he almost-panted, sagging against the ancient stone wall.

“No,” she said. “You don’t mean that.”

“I was ready to die.”

She didn’t want to hear this. The meds and the strain were making him say things. She told him as much.

He shook his head.

“Listen to me, Jyn.”

What could she do? What could she say? That she didn’t want to hear how he valued his life so little, that he’d throw it away just for the slim chance of providing an opportunity for the rebellion to destroy some Imperial weapon, a terrifying one, but one weapon of many. She-

“I felt peace. For the first time in my life, probably.” His voice had gotten even lower and quieter, almost a whisper, wistful even. Jyn didn’t dare look at him, had to concentrate on breathing normally when she felt his fingers slip into her hand. It was easier to consider her unsolicited affection for the man when he was giving no indication of whether or not he returned it. “And I think it was because you were there. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I didn’t feel alone.”

Oh, Force. He was getting delirious, saying things that, from what she knew of him, he would never share even if he did feel them.

“Come on, let’s get you back to your own bed.”

He didn’t say anything else as they traversed several more halls, and Jyn wondered if she’d hurt his feelings by not responding to his raw, quiet confession. But he continued to lean on her without any hesitation and the silence between them felt comfortable. It was strange. He’d made her so tense in the beginning, the way he watched her, how secretive he was, so guarded. But somehow, somewhere along the way, she grew to not only feel comfortable with Cassian Andor, but to trust him as she’d never trusted anyone else before.

And she thought, maybe he trusted her in return. He followed her on a suicide mission, let her support his injured, vulnerable self on Scarif, let her drag him off that cursed planet, and now lead him across the rebel base, passing by people who really amounted to the only family he’d ever had.

There weren’t many, however. And none stopped. Or stared, too much. The med droid must have been right about the incoming survivors of the skirmish, everyone seemed a little rushed and mission-oriented. Or maybe there was more going on…

“Stop. Stop.”

Jyn immediately froze.

“Are you okay?” she asked, shifting beneath Cassian’s weight to try to get a good look at his face. “Do you need a break?”

“We’re home,” Cassian said, his eyelids sliding nearly shut before they shot open again.

“Oh,” Jyn said, ignoring the way something fluttered inside of her over his choice of words. “Which one?”

“Left side of the hall.” He indicated the door directly to their left with a nod of his head. The stimulant must be failing to combat the pain meds, and his body’s need to rest, to heal. Because he was getting heavier and more slack in her arms.

They staggered over to the door to his quarters and he was at least coherent enough to punch his code into the lock. His room was by no means large, barely larger than Jyn’s cell on Wobani. But at least he didn’t have a cellmate, er, bunkmate… Well, not officially…

She basically dumped him on the narrow bed, which he didn’t seem to mind at all, making a groaning sound of relief and taking several deep breaths, his legs hanging awkwardly off the side. Not knowing what else to do, she bent to lift his legs and slide them onto the bed, forcing him to lay down in a less uncomfortable position. She pulled the white slip-on infirmary shoes off his feet and tossed them in a corner, feeling only a flash of contrition over sullying the pristine room. It was so austere, even with two of the walls comprised of the old stone of the ancient temple. It could’ve been anyone’s quarters. No. That was wrong. It’s nondescriptness, everything hidden away in the meager storage units, only Cassian would keep his personal space in such a spartan manner.

“Cassian…?”

He mumbled something she took to imply he was listening and not passed out yet.

“Do you have extra bedding? A blanket or something?” She could do without. She had, many times. But it would be a little bit better than sleeping on the bare hard stone floor.

“No… Jungle moon… Already too hot… Why?”

“I was going to sleep here, if you don’t mind,” Jyn said. Why was this an awkward conversation to have? Why was she so afraid he’d say no, send her away? “On the floor.”

His eyes opened and that furrow formed between his brows as he studied her with a gaze that seemed to be having trouble focusing. But then he was scooching over until he was almost touching the wall.

“I think this is a nanometer larger than the infirmary cot,” he said. “What do you think?”

Jyn tried not to smile as she kicked off her own flimsy infirmary shoes and climbed onto Cassian’s bed to stretch out beside him. Something inside her sighed, content. She didn’t let it out.

“I don’t know…” she said. “But I guess if they made the infirmary beds nicer than the barracks, they’d have sick rebels all the time.”

A chuckle escaped through his nose.

“I don’t think they usually offer an ángel as a companion, either.”

“What?” Jyn shifted onto her side to study his face. His eyes were closed and he seemed content. The pain meds must be working.

“My mother was a believer in an Ancient Festian religion that worshipped a creator god. I don’t remember very many specifics...” Jyn didn’t dare breathe out, afraid of interrupting the story, softly spoken with hints of nostalgia, sharing a childhood memory, an intimacy she knew Cassian permitted, well, probably no one. “Except, there were these creatures that did the creator’s bidding, guiding people, aiding them, saving them… Angeles… I don’t know the word in Basic…”

He looked at her, and her apprehension about breaking the spell ebbed. Cassian knew full well who he was talking to, even if the pain meds had loosened his tongue, broken down the rigid walls he kept around his private self.

“I don’t know the word, either,” Jyn said. “I’’ve never heard of such creatures, mythical or otherwise.”

Cassian laughed, a soft little rumble that was accompanied by that rare smile of his that was brighter than a yellow dwarf sun and warmed her just as well. But, “What’s funny about that?”

“You…” His hand found hers, fingers sliding against her palm to curl around hers, engulfing her smaller hand. He shifted to face her, wincing a little, but his expression was soft if serious and . “Jyn, you saved me, guided me, are still coming to my aid… You’re my angelita…”

Oh, shit, he was so tired and drugged up he was becoming incoherent. Hopefully, he wouldn’t remember saying such emotional things- oh.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles, making her swallow a gasp of surprise, and fight the sigh when he held her hand to his chest as he lay back, his eyelids finally losing the battle and sliding shut.

Oh, Cassian…

“Don’t worship me,” she whispered to his sleeping form. “I’m nothing worth venerating.”

Of course, was she behaving any different when it came to him?

They were quite the mess, the two of them.

She wriggled her fingers in his hold until she was able to interlace them with his and feel the warmth of his palm against hers. Jyn closed her eyes, immersing herself in the quiet, safe moment.

[lambourngb]

This Hard Lie

Fic prompt: “Just trust me.”

THIS HARD LIE follows THIS HARD TOWN an AU that explores what Michael’s life might change if Alex hadn’t joined the Air Force. It’s not necessarily an easy rosy life . This part includes the following warnings : Kyle/Michael, sexual content, a homophobic slur directed at Michael by an OC, Michael’s cynicism about the US military and some more plot musings. This is finished in full on AO3.

***

[UNDER the cut because it starts NSFW]

There was something intensely meditative about sucking cock for Michael. 

Opening his mouth wide past comfort into an ache of effort, the firm press on his palate mixing with the surge of salt on his tongue, the mess of saliva and pre-cum smearing sloppily over his face as he dropped into a state where listening to his partner’s enjoyment was the only thing that registered. The world slipped away as he took measured breaths, his mind finally quiet, until all that was left was Michael being good. 

Michael could just be a vessel to fill with pleasure instead of pain.

Normally skating his hand down to gently squeeze and massage his partner’s testicles was enough to get that hitched-curse and uncontrolled jerk in his mouth that signaled an impending orgasm. The draw and shiver of warm pliant skin before the warm, thick release in his mouth, except that was not happening.

After a firm swipe of his tongue against the slit, rubbing against the edge of the frenulum, another foolproof trick in his experience that garnered nothing more than a sigh and an absent clutch of the hand on the back of his neck, Michael pulled away abruptly to stare up at Kyle Valenti’s face. 

“Wait, why’d you stop?” 

Michael wiped his mouth with the back of his hand rocking back on his heels, his voice rough from his activities, “‘Cause you don’t seem to be into this? Which I gotta admit, that’s a mood killer for me and slightly hurtful to my pride.”

Instead of arguing with Michael over his observation, Kyle sighed guilty and shifted to pull up his lightweight shorts over his erection, signalling the close of the encounter. “Sorry, you know you’re great at that, it’s me. My brain,” he gestured to his head with a twirling motion with his long-skilled surgeon hands. 

Michael couldn’t help but follow the motion with interest, he had always been a sucker for a set of strong, confident hands.

Alex had hands like that.

Fuck, Michael pushed that thought away like he did every time it slipped in uninvited and collapsed next to Kyle on his expensive leather couch. It’s been two years since Michael’s last glimpse of Alex, no contact from him outside of the impersonal birthday and holiday cards that had begun after Michael mailed his ‘I’m sorry I dropped in your life’ letter. They’ve officially been apart longer than they were together and still Michael couldn’t stop thinking of Alex daily.

Perhaps Kyle wasn’t the only one distracted tonight. 

“Listen, I won’t bore you with the details and break our agreement here,” Kyle continued, knocking his shoulder against Michael’s. “I can still do you here-”

“‘Do me’, so romantic, Valenti. I think I’ll pass on getting a disinterested handjob, thanks.” Michael rolled his eyes at the offer and reached for the bottle of water from the coffee table to swish around his mouth before swallowing for effect.

It was Kyle’s turn to roll his eyes but fondly. “I could give you an absent-minded blowjob instead?”

Their eyes met. Kyle lifted his well-groomed eyebrow as Michael pretended to be seriously tempted with a stroke of his stubbled jaw in turn before they both broke and started to laugh helplessly.

If someone had told a seventeen-year-old Michael that one day he would be laughing with Kyle Valenti in his high-end, ultra modern condo after a failed conclusion to a ‘U up?’ text, well he probably would have been interested in the type of pharmaceutical high that would have made that possible. Hell, the Michael of a year ago wouldn’t have believed it either but that was before he met the post-med school Kyle that returned home to Roswell.

It had started one night at the Wild Pony, where Michael frequented more and more for the scraps of news about Alex from Maria. A practice she did her best to discourage, repeating her policy of ‘I don’t play messenger between exes’, which had given Michael hope that maybe Alex had asked about him. He had been one beer in, contemplating a second when Jake Frederick’s sneer had interrupted.

“I hear they’re finally opening a place that caters just for the fags in town.”

That word, not unfamiliar to Michael in Roswell, brought his shoulders up to his ears. Its ugliness brought back so many memories of how it was whispered, spat, scrawled, or just strongly implied whenever Michael and Alex had ventured outside the safety zone of the Crashdown or their own four walls. The Wild Pony once Maria had bought it was eventually added to the list, though some patrons still thought otherwise.

On cue, Maria’s voice barked from behind the bar, “Jake, you use that word again in here and you’re banned for life!”

There was a titter of amusement as Jake’s crowd of admirers teased him for the call out, before an artificial apology was offered in return. After a moment though, Michael could hear him perfectly well pick up his conversation, “it’ll be wall to wall fake wigs and limp wrists there, probably playing nothin’ but Alex Manes’s shitty music.”

The laughter echoed, and Michael started to reach for his wallet to pay for his beer. It was clear that tonight’s entertainment was focused on Michael. He thought at this point, without Jesse Manes drumming up hate for his son, that these bullies would finally move on to something new. Unimaginative pricks.

“Hey Guerin, you off to join your people at that gay bar?” Jake called, noticing Michael’s departure. “Gonna find yourself someone new to ruin now that your boy left you?”

Closing his eyes as he swept his hat over his curls, Michael said a silent apology to 17-year-old Alex for breaking his promise on violence. He turned, noting a few new faces gathered at the table, probably guys from the base with their short haircuts, along with a silent Wyatt Long. For all of Wyatt’s racist blustering, Michael knew he had a queer cousin in Austin. Still, Michael pasted a bright and fake smile, “those are my people at Planet 7, Jake, but how many times do I have to tell you? I’m not gay.” 

“My mistake, buddy. Must have been all the cocksucking you do that threw me off.”

Michael laughed harshly, ignoring the movement in his peripheral, and stepped closer, his smile growing darker, “I’m bisexual, which means, not only will I feed you my dick, Jakey, but I’ll give it to your sister too. Just not at the same time. Unless you’re into that sort of thing? You look like your parents were into it…”

The slam of chairs falling backward as Jake jumped to his feet at the insult. After that it was more blurs of movement, jostling, and chaos as Maria shouted in the background about the police while Michael traded punches indiscriminately. At one point he realized he had help against his back, as the fight spilled outside into the cold, raw New Mexico night.

Dark spiked hair, a nice set of shoulders that gave Michael an inch or two of height advantage was all he could register in the melee. It wasn’t until the breaking of glass that was shortly echoed by the boom of a shotgun that the fight dropped into stillness and Michael recognized his unsolicited ally as Kyle Valenti. 

Maria stood next to the door of the Wild Pony as a lone siren picked up in the background, “All right you assholes, you’re all out of here. Drop your weapons and fucking leave before I have the sheriff lock all of you up!”

“Gotta admit, you’re kind of the last person I expected to be fighting a bigot,” Michael commented, dabbing at a fiercely bleeding cut on his eyebrow. “Kinda remember it the other way around in high school.”

Kyle smiled humorlessly as he caught his breath, grabbing Michael’s shoulder to pull him away from the bar toward the parking lot as the sirens picked up volume. “Well, I remember you as being some sort of secret genius in high school. Taking on five guys seems kind of dumb.”

“It was just four guys, Wyatt wasn’t gonna involve himself or else Maria would have called his uncle and aunt on him.”

“Oh well, if it was just four guys, I should have stayed at the bar, I wasn’t finished with my drink yet,” Kyle quipped sarcastically, as he kept pulling Michael through the parked cars. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Fuck off, I didn’t ask for help-” He shook off Kyle’s hand, his previous pliancy in following Kyle at an end as he bristled with indignation. Whatever strange amnesia over what a dick Kyle Valenti was in general and to Alex in particular passed at the prod for gratitude. “And my damn truck is over there-”

“Can you even see out of that eye? Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Kyle answered for him and dug out a pair of keys from his pocket as an expensive sounding unlocking chirp echoed. Of course. The dark blue BMW in the sea of modest pick up trucks and domestic sedans was his. At least it wasn’t the bright red Camaro from graduation, that car had too many associations with it for Michael. The hatch popped open on the X1, Kyle leaned in to pull out a towel to toss to Michael. “I’ve got my bag here and I could use the practice in sutures, so?”

Normally the idea of a doctor touching him at all was enough to instill a mix of dread and panic, but Michael didn’t see anything in Kyle’s face other than genuine concern mixed with exasperation. The open air of the parking lot with police on the way seemed like a bad idea. “All right, free medical care is hard to turn down, but I don’t want your dad arresting me, so can we-”

“Your place, it is.” And then as they drove in silence, with Michael still holding the towel against his cut, Kyle spoke gently in the dark. “I was a dick in high school, I was even a dick in college. But then some things changed for me, um, so I’m glad Roswell is getting a gay bar.”

“No, no, high school homophobe does not come out as gay, not happening, no way-”

“No not gay,” Kyle cut his eyes over to the passenger seat, giving Michael a quick up-and-down appraisal. “Just learned the package isn’t really that important to me. I like sex. Med school was a small pool of sleep-deprived, competitive people and I stopped caring if they had a dick or not. I also learned a lot about anatomy.”

The appraising look, the hint of good-natured humor in Kyle’s eyes, and his suggestive words were all enough to push Michael to grunt, “changed my mind, your place instead.” He never took anyone back to his Airstream as a rule.

And that was the beginning of Michael’s almost-friends, only-benefits relationship with Kyle Valenti. It revolved around those unsaid rules from the first night, only at Kyle’s condo, and rarely did they engage in anything more substantive than talk about sports or the general stupidity of Roswell. The sex was easy, the conversation stayed light enough to fill the gaps of loneliness, and if Michael had been a different species, he might have considered it the start of something more permanent.

If only Max had been wrong. If only Michael hadn’t fallen in love with Alex as a teenager. The first year after Alex left had been devoted to trying to make it on his own financially and getting the down payment together for the Airstream. The next year he had tortured himself with believing that now that Alex was successful, he’d come back to Roswell, to him. Then after Isobel’s wedding and that trip east, Michael had to accept the truth. 

Dating in the years since, women and the occasional out man, had changed nothing for Michael. It was still Alex filling his every odd thought, and especially his fantasies at night. Doomed indeed as Max warned him, to drift through life enjoying the surface companionship of others but never anything more.

The reminder of what he did have currently, good sex and the ability to laugh with someone, loosened some of the private rules that Michael had had kept to with Kyle. “So, I mean, you don’t have to, but if you want to talk about what’s on your mind, you can.” Michael tipped his head back against the couch to meet Kyle’s surprised expression. “It would make me feel better about my sexual prowess, okay? You nodding off during a blowjob hurts man.”

“Well, as long as it makes you feel better,” Kyle teased sarcastically before accepting the offer made. “I was thinking about my dad.”

“Kinky, but gross, dude.”

“Ha ha, funny.” 

“Sorry, sorry, that was wide open.” Michael nudged his shoulder more seriously, “what about your dad?”

“He’s been acting weird lately. I actually thought he was drinking again,” Kyle waived his hand restlessly, “it’s an open secret my dad has been on and off the wagon. Most cops have a close relationship with booze.”

The Roswell circle of repeated gossipry was wide enough to reach Sanders, customers often needing to make some sort of conversation as they waited, so Michael was pretty familiar with the rumors about Jim Valenti. Most of them he ignored, like the infidelity whispers, because he could still remember the man showing up to Mimi Deluca’s house to offer Alex that first steady job in the face of Jesse’s smear campaign. An act that Jesse had retaliated by sponsoring a challenger to the next year’s sheriff’s race.

For a police officer, Michael cut Jim Valenti some slack in the character department. He also wasn’t a bad boss according to Max, though his brother’s opinion didn’t sway Michael as far as Jim’s act of kindness to Alex had.

“You said you thought he was drinking again, but he’s not?”

“Well, my other suspicion was he was cheating on my mom.” Kyle met Michael’s concerned glance with a tired, dark smile. “Yeah, not a great thought to have, but he’s been disappearing a lot. Acting paranoid too, he always carries but I noticed he kept his sidearm on him during Sunday dinner. Like he’s afraid someone is going to show up and attack him.”

“You think he was cheating with someone else who was married?” 

“I can’t really figure out what’s going on with him, other than he’s lying. But I followed him today, and he didn’t go to work, he drove a hundred miles north.” 

Michael blinked in reluctant admiration, “I guess you pick up stuff with two cops as parents.” He racked his brain for something more to say, but his conversational skills had never been gifted to begin with outside of charming someone into bed. “Um, in my experience, cheaters stay close to home. Like coworker, favorite waitress, etc. it’s definitely weird for your dad to drive that far for a little something on the side.”

“That’s the thing, he’s all secretive but it's over something nostalgic. I followed him to some old prison my grandfather worked at in the 60s called Caulfield. It’s been shut down for years. I can’t figure it out, and short of asking him directly I doubt I will.” Kyle shook his head again before inching closer to Michael on the couch, with a slow growing knowing smile, “So now you know where my head was when-“

“When I was trying to give you head?” Michael snarked playfully, picking up the change in mood easily. Apparently talking it out loud had released whatever mental block Kyle had been struggling with before. The moment reminded him of how he used to hold Alex at night, listening to him vent over the various customers in his day before he was able to wind down enough to enjoy any intimate touch. 

Fuck. He was thinking about Alex again.

This time he let Kyle pulling him into a kiss distract him fully from the renewed spiral of remembrance. His body warmed slowly as Michael shut down his brain from wandering east again to Nashville. 

***

“Your soul and your heart have been in such opposition,” Mimi murmured, holding Michael’s palm between hers as she gave him a reading at the Wild Pony. It was his way of distracting her while Maria gently soothed two customers that had received a deep lecture about the sins on their souls from her mother. To be fair, Michael could tell from their demeanor and close cut hair that each of them had served or were actively serving in the military, so Mimi Deluca probably wasn’t too far wrong from the mark with her lecture. “I know you’re a traveler, child, but this pull north and east could tear you in two.”

“My heart hasn’t been mine for a while,” Michael replied truthfully. Once he and Alex had moved in with one another, the small family of outcasts with Alex, Maria and Mimi had expanded to include him for a while. And once upon a time it had boasted more members like Rosa and Liz, but his sister’s actions had trimmed those branches in one way or another.

“That’s the east, and while it travels ever closer to you, you’ll never get that back. But north though, if you follow that path, perhaps your soul will find peace.”

“Not sure what I’d do with peace.”

“Maybe pay your bar tab once in a while?” Maria injected as she moved back behind the bar with a gentle hand on her mother’s shoulder. “And not starting a fight in my bar would also be a good start.”

“Come on, Deluca, I have been a very good boy since that last go-around Jake. I swear that kid is a closet case with how badly he seems to want me to lay hands on him,” Michael protested weakly. Truly he had only bent his old promise to Alex a handful of times in the last year and all of them because the Fredrickson kid had brought up Alex in some way. The comments about his job, clothes, and cheap taste in booze could all be ignored, but one word about Alex’s music or success and the gloves came off.

“Maria! Don’t be so mean to Michael, his people aren’t designed to live like this, divided in two.”

Despite the chill from Mimi’s words, Michael knew that Maria didn’t take her mother’s talk too seriously with how often she peppered her premonitions with nineties alien blockbuster movies. She always interpreted her mother’s words as being a romantic metaphor about a lost love. 

Suddenly Mimi straightened, looking over Michael’s shoulder. “I guess good can come from evil dying.”

In the mirror over the bar, he caught sight of what Mimi saw. A grip closed over his heart, squeezing it until the fluttering motion ceased under the force as he watched Alex Manes move confidently through the crowd toward the front where Michael was with Maria. His head was shaved close up the back of his head, leaving a long, silky dark fringe over one eye and his face was bare of makeup and piercings. The black shirt sporting long sleeves made of crisscrossed fabric over a pair of tight black jeans looked more at home on Rodeo Drive than Roswell but the completely indifferent look on Alex’s face showed he didn’t care about fitting in to the locals bar.

Fuck it was so quintessentially Alex’s attitude from high school, before the shed, that Michael was having trouble remembering it had been at least six years. 

“Alex Manes, in my bar!” Maria squealed, vaulting herself over the bar in one smooth motion to cross the distance to throw herself into his arms. 

Michael’s mouth was dry as he picked up his drink to take a sip, feeling awkward and out of place. Should he offer his hand to shake? A hug? Could he pretend to be European and kiss Alex’s cheeks? What were the rules on an ex that he traded Hallmark cards with now? 

A soft cool touch pulling him back from his spiraling thoughts to look up into Mimi Deluca’s clear and focused gaze, “he sings in the wrong key every night, but you know his song. You’re a good boy, you’re not rotten inside like your sister.”

Before he could do more than blink, Alex was suddenly next to them, looking at Mimi’s hand covering his curiously before smiling at Michael. “I would have thought you’d be tired of this place, after all those nights waiting for me to finish my shift?”

“Alex,” Michael took a deep breath, floundering for something more than the obvious, “you’re here. In Roswell.”

“It wasn’t really my idea,” Alex admitted gently, before taking a seat next to him. He reached smoothly for Michael’s glass to steal a drink from before making a face. “Oh man, it’s been a long time since I’ve had Crown Royal.” He fished out an expensive wallet to pull a crisp hundred dollar bill from a stack to lay on the bar, “Maria, please rescue him from this with some good tequila.”

Mimi gave Michael a significant look of encouragement before interjecting, “Maria, honey you should let these two get reacquainted, Alex isn’t going anywhere for a while. Jesse is dying, but he’s not dying today or even tomorrow.”

Michael jerked his head toward Alex, “that’s why you’re here? It’s your dad?”

A small smile of satisfaction twitched over Alex’s mouth before he nodded in confirmation, “Brain tumor. Doctor says he might have a month, maybe less. I’m only here because my brother threatened to go to the press if I didn’t show and my agent is worried about how that would look.”

“Oh.” Michael picked up his fresh drink, a high end alcohol he could have never dreamed of ordering for himself, out of a need to do something with his hands to keep from reaching out to touch Alex. “If I said that sucks for you that he’s dying, I’d be lying, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too, Michael.” Alex clinked his glass against Michael’s softly, “I’ve been back for a couple of days, this was the first time I could get away actually. The movies all lied you know, cancer isn’t this quiet death. My dad is ranting and raving all night long, about aliens, about being murdered, about all sorts of random shit about Roswell and the crash and hands that kill. Your name has kept coming up too. I should record it and put it on youtube, make him famous too.”

*** 

[anxious-logic]

A Burden Shared

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 6: When your soulmate is injured you will experience pain in that area.

Ship: Analogicality (Patton x Virgil x Logan)

Warnings: Mentions of unsafe binding, self-harm, periods

Word Count: 2,351 (it’s a long one!)

 Patton – Age 3

“Ow!”

Patton gasped as he pulled his hand towards his chest. It felt like he’d gotten a boo-boo on his finger from the coloring book, but he couldn’t see anything.

“Mommy?” he called, looking up to find his mom. “Mommy!”

His mom poked his head out from her office.

“What is it, sweetie?”

Patton held out his finger, sniffling. “My finger has a boo-boo but I can’t find it.”

His mom’s face made a weird look. She didn’t say anything for a minute.

She walked over to where Patton was and picked him up, propping him up on her hip.

“Okay, Patton. Do you know anything about soulmates?”

***

Lisa – Age 6

Lisa was frustrated.

Now, this wasn’t exactly rare for her. She experienced frustration on a quite regular basis; usually caused by something to do with her classmates or teachers. But this particular brand of frustration was quite new to her.

“Lisa, just put on the dress!” Her father said, exasperated at having to repeat himself yet again.

“No!” she insisted. “I don’t want to wear a dress, I want to wear pants.”

“I told you, you have to wear a dress to visit your grandmother. We’ve been over this. Put on the dress.”

“No.”

Lisa sat down where she was, refusing to move. If her father wanted her to wear a dress, he would have to manhandle her into it.

Then she had an idea.

“It’s because my soulmate,” she said quietly.

Her father froze.

“What about him?”

“They hurt their shoulder yesterday. It still hurts today. The dress wouldn’t feel good on it.”

Lisa only felt a little guilty manipulating her father; he had no way to prove whether her soulmate had hurt their shoulder or not, he just had to trust her on it. But she felt so bad about wearing a dress that she would go as far as lying so as to avoid wearing it.

“I- fine. But you have to wear a dress next time, okay?”

Lisa didn’t respond.

***

Virgil – Age 9

Virgil had been playing on the playground when he screamed in pain, clutching his left leg.

“Ow ow ow ow ow-“ he cried, tears running down his face. The playground monitor came running, pushing the children who had mobbed around Virgil out of the way.

“What happened?” she asked, seeing that there wasn’t any visible injury.

“I- My soulmate did something, it hurts, it hurts so bad,” Virgil said, barely able to get the words out over the pain.

The monitor sighed. “Probably a broken leg,” she said. “C’mon, let’s get you to the office. They can figure out what you need from there.” She scooped him up into his arms, shooing the other children back to their play.

***

Patton – Age 12

When Patton had fallen out of a tree and broken and dislocated various parts of his leg at age nine, he’d had to accept with the idea that he wasn’t the only one having to deal with so much pain. It had hurt so much, and even once he got the painkillers it still hurt a little – he couldn’t imagine what it would be like without doctors there at every moment to help him manage it. Even now, he still got leftover pain occasionally, slipping up on him like the elementary school bullies: familiar but unwelcome.

Now, he was maybe beginning to understand what it might have been like.

His ribs hurt, all the time. Regardless of what he did, it hurt to breathe too hard or too fast. When he pressed on them, it felt like he was being stabbed with a blunt object. He was also getting really bad cramps in his stomach every month.

It really wasn’t fun.

His mom said he probably had a girl for a soulmate, which would explain the cramps. If that was the case, Patton thought it was probably a platonic bond; he couldn’t really see himself kissing a girl.

He winced as his stomach hurt more, and wondered what was happening to his soulmate, that he hurt so much through their bond.

He hoped they were okay.

***

Logan – Age 15

Logan hissed as he felt a stinging feeling on his wrists.

Dammit, he thought as he looked down. There wasn’t any reason for the pain on his wrists; it was one of his soulmates.

When he was twelve, and was just beginning to grow breasts, he had begun to bind them with bandages. He knew how dangerous that was – he’d researched what was going on in his mind, and how to make it feel better, before resorting to them – but he just hadn’t been able to handle it. He’d had to do something. Then he started getting his period, getting cramps along with the dysphoric blood. It was horrendous. He’d hoped that he was the only one going through mental pain affecting their everyday life.

But now his soulmate was cutting. Evidently, they were going through something incredibly unpleasant too.

He genuinely hoped that their bond was only two-way – he couldn’t imagine having his binding and his soulmates’ cutting to deal with, while probably having minimal personal problems with pain. There was the broken leg a few years ago, but that didn’t really count.

He determinedly flipped his math textbook open, ready to work his way through his homework and ignore his soulmate’s pain, as well as his own cramps.

There was nothing he could do about it right now, anyway.

***

Virgil – Age 18

Virgil glanced down at the old scars on his wrist, rubbing them slightly. When he was fifteen, it had been a dark time for him – the only way he had known that anyone could feel positive things for him was through the soulmate bond, and even that was only shown through pain. He’d gotten a lot better since then – amazing what therapy and meds could do – but he still couldn’t help but be reminded of the feeling, sometimes.

He thought of his ribs, how they had hurt every day for a solid eighteen months. He thought of his leg, which still lanced with pain every so often. He thought of his wrists, how he’d hurt himself purposely for months before stopping.

He knew he’d be okay.

He stepped into his dorm room on the college campus, ready to start the next part of his life.

***

Patton – Age 21

“Virge, love, I’m going out for coffee with a friend, okay? Do you want anything?”

He and Virgil had met each other during their first day of freshman orientation. Patton had stood up wrong on his leg and collapsed, bruising his arms on the way down. When he looked up, it was to see another boy leaning on a desk to favor his leg and holding his arm close to his chest. They’d figured out pretty quickly that they were soulmates.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Virgil called out from where he was working on an art assignment. “Have fun,” he tacked on as he frowned at his screen.

They had gone for a walk that evening, after their orientation events were done for the day. They’d talked about the major pains they’d been through – Patton’s leg, Virgil’s wrist, and someone else’s chest and stomach.

Apparently, despite Virgil’s wishes to the contrary, they had another soulmate.

“Okay. Be back soon!”

Patton hummed lightly to himself as he made his way to the coffeeshop on campus. He was planning on meeting Logan there so that they could work on their philosophy project together.

As he opened the door to the shop, he scanned the tables to see if the other boy was around yet. It didn’t look like he was, so Patton stepped up to the counter and ordered for himself – hot chocolate and a cookie.

He sat down at an open table, getting out his computer and a notebook. He looked up when Logan sat down across from him, an iced coffee in hand.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi!” Patton said back cheerfully. Logan looked tired today – Patton hoped he’d slept okay the night before-

“Ouch,” Patton said suddenly, his thoughts distracted, as a lance of pain shot through the fingers of his left hand. “Virgil, what did you do,” he muttered, shaking his hand out. He looked up, to see Logan staring at him, his face white as a sheet. He was cradling his left hand to his chest.

“Sorry about that, my soulmate must’ve smooshed his fingers in a cupboard or something,” Patton said cheerfully. Logan shook his head slowly.

“I… that certainly is an interesting coincidence, is it not?” he said. “Because I believe mine just did the same thing as well.”

Patton gasped, his thoughts scattering every which way. “I can’t believe it! You’re our other soulmate!” he squealed, reaching across the table to grab Logan’s uninjured hand. “You’ll have to meet Virgil, he’ll love you, I know it. You two can get into so many interesting discussions-!”

Logan smiled slightly. “Uh- sure,” he said. “Show me?”

***

Virgil – Age 21

Virgil sucked in a breath at the sudden pain that came with slamming his fingers into the doorframe.

“Fuck,” he hissed, shaking his fingers out. He’d have to apologize to Patton for that one; it’d hurt to write for the next few hours, and he knew Patton was supposed to be out working on an assignment for quite a while.

His phone buzzed, a notification coming through.

Stay at home, a text from Patton read. Another one lit his phone up just seconds later. Found other soulmate. Bringing him over to meet you.

Virgil’s jaw dropped. He’d known that they had another soulmate – where else could the pain in his chest and stomach come from – but it hadn’t really, truly registered before now that the universe thought that there were two people that he could spend the rest of his life with.

He quickly moved to start cleaning the tiny living room, clearing off the papers and books from the couch and finding places to put the junk that had accumulated on the coffee table. He was interrupted by the sound of Patton’s laughing while he had a stack of textbooks in his arms, ready to bring them to the bedroom.

“Virgil’s here somewhere,” Patton said. “Virge? I’m home!”

Virgil came out of the bedroom, nervously wiping his hands on his pants. “Uh, hi,” he mumbled. “I’m Virgil-“

He looked up, and his jaw dropped. “Logan!” He felt his cheeks go red.

“Virgil?” the other boy asked, surprised. Patton looked between the two.

“Oh, you know each other already? Great!”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “We were in astronomy together last semester.”

Patton eyes went wide. “Oh, I see.”

Logan looked between the two of them. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that?” he said hesitantly. Virgil’s cheeks only got warmer.

“Uh- I just- Patton and I had quite a few conversations about opening our relationship so that I could maybe date you. Um. That didn’t happen because I kept chickening out, but- yeah.”

Logan smiled. “Then it works out for the better that we were told we belong together, yes?”

Virgil nodded frantically. “Uh. Yeah. I guess. Yep.”

Logan gently put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, slipping his other hand into Patton’s palm.

“Can we sit down to talk?”

***

Logan – Age 21

Patton led the three of them to the living room, sitting himself down on the loveseat and tucking his legs up underneath him. Virgil chose to sprawl on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, leaving Logan free to choose between the couch or the single armchair. Patton patted next to him, so Logan hesitantly sat down on the other cushion, crossing his legs uncomfortably.

“So, just to clear the air,” Virgil started. “I cut when I was fifteen, six years ago – that’s what the wrist pain was, for months there. Patton fucked up his leg at age nine – twelve years ago – and it never healed right. We have a mystery soulmate who had really bad chest pains for about eighteen months, starting almost ten years ago now – it hurt to breathe too quickly or hard. There’s really bad lower abdomen cramps about once a month, for the last ten-ish years too. I can’t think of anything else major. Does that line up with your soulpains too?”

Logan took a deep breath. “I… yes. The cramps and chest pain… that was – is – me. I, um. You were blunter than I expected. But, uh – I’m trans. So… yeah. I did… unsafe binding for a long time. That’s- that’s what the chest pain was about. And… periods suck. That’s what that’s about.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Fuck, that must be hard. I- sorry for being so blunt. That… probably wasn’t how you wanted to come out.”

Logan laughed slightly. “No, I- you’re fine.”

Patton suddenly nodded hard. “So we’re all soulmates, we think?”

Virgil and Logan looked at each other uncertainly and nodded.

“Great,” Patton said. Then he paused. “If we… feel anything… can we text each other? I kind of have a weird fear that we’ll all be super happy and everything, and we have another person who hasn’t had anything super big? And that we’ll miss them? And they have to deal with all of this pain and never meet us and get to know why and feel the good parts of a soulbond?”

“That makes sense,” Logan said. He pulled out his phone to make a group chat. He paused, and looked up over the top of the phone, blushing.

“I- I really enjoy spending time with both of you,” he said. “I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

Patton grinned at him. “Maybe it’ll make the pain better too, all the time. Sharing is caring, right?”

Virgil smiled slightly. “Hopefully, it’ll help with all sorts of things. Meeting Patton made me feel a lot better mentally. I- Maybe we can do the same for you?”

Logan reached over to hold both of their hands. “I look forward to it.”

[boogiewrites]

No. 9: The Body

Chapter One

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary: Eve, once a rebellious runaway had turned her life around through the help of others to now be a doctor. She tries to return the favor these days. When a mysterious man keeps popping up in her life, what will her natural talent for healing become when it finally meets someone else with abilities like hers? The introductory chapter.

Warnings/Tags: Meet Cute. Some medical/blood/injury stuff.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

From the view from her apartment window, only slightly obscured by the fire escape, Eve looked out on the gloomy sunrise falling over the New York City street below. The fog and steam from the light drizzle on the street grates blended with the haze of her coffee cup as she took a moment to gather herself, feel the calm at the moment before the chaos of her job began.

Eve was all about function over fashion these days. Her childhood had held many questionable punk ensembles and thrifted, or even stolen pieces that were worn down to bare threads. But now her clothes usually consisted of scrubs, so she opted for comfort usually. She savors the last of her coffee and the peace of her small home and makes her way out into the world to begin another long, chaotic 12-hour shift.

The phrase, “business as usual” couldn’t really apply to work in an Emergency Room but when you worked an ER in New York, literally anything could be called as such. So the day began, and so did the rush of decisions, needles, charts, and blood as the job called for. She changed out her off duty uniform of pants that compromised mostly of spandex. For the season warm fleece-lined leggings were her go-to currently. Her boots needed replacing, as she’d bought new sneakers for work but neglected her everyday ones. What a metaphor for her life that was. You couldn’t really wear anything but boots in the city winter as the mess on the streets would seep through anything else. She peeled off her layers of a tank top, t-shirt, hoodie, and jacket to stuff into her locker and got into her sterile looking and feeling scrubs that served as her protection from whatever the wild night of New York emergency room drama would unfold. “Doctor Corpuz to the ER please.” She heard the intercom over her headphones. It was already starting. —

The night had been average, traffic accidents, assault, chest pains, overdose, nothing that would throw Eve off her game. Her years of residency had assured that. As usual, she became drained the longer the night went on, hitting the caffeine hard to make it through the last hours.

“Uh, hey, Eve we’ve got this guy in room 3 and he’s being…. a bit belligerent,“ the woman rolled her eyes as she casually leaned on the counter “He’s scaring the intern, you might wanna go help deescalate.” A half-smile that made it clear that the news delivered was something said more times than either of them could count now. “Since you’re so good at it and all.” She cracks her gum and even though it’s delivered sarcastically, the jab was actually true.

“Ugh.. why do I have to be the one that’s good at this?” She huffs and shrugs with heavy arms as she throws a playful pout her friend’s way. “Why can’t you just go yell at them? It sure scares me.” Eve quips as she stretches to prepare herself.

“I already did and he did not respond well to authority so… in you go Mr. Rogers.” She hits Eve on the shoulder with the patient’s file and she dramatically grasps it.

“Tired of being good cop. Let me yell at the next one alright?” She says back as she walks away.

“Got it Doc.” She answers as she begins to walk away.

Eve takes a deep breath and focuses before entering the room, trying to bring up that positive side of herself for the task at hand.

“I told you what I told ya, alright?” She could see from the chart and the bleeding man lying on a bed in front of her in a stance all black and leather ensemble. Her first thought was oh god what did he get stabbed with? He looks like he’s been at some BDSM party that went south, in the bad sense, and fast. It was multiple stab wounds to the abdomen and he was ready to be sewn up but wasn’t agreeing to be still despite the pain medicine he’d been given.

“Hey, dude we can we just shhh a little? Bring down the volume a touch?” She asks as the black-haired man turned his head her way. His dark brown eyes were glazed and he was clearly feeling the pain pills. A heavy brow lay low and angry as he sized her up a bit slower than he was accustomed to.

“Who are you?” He asks with a bite.

“I could ask you the same thing. I’m the ER Doctor tonight, Eve Corpuz. And you are?”

“I’m nobody.” He answers at a lower volume.

“Well Nobody, looks like I’ve got to stitch you up. Would you mind if I got to it?” She snaps on her gloves as the nurse pushes a tray with her instruments on it towards her.

“I need to get out of here.” He says, voice now at a more acceptable volume.

“If you let me sew you up you’ll be out of here right after and then we’ll all be happy, alright?” She gives smile his way that was softer than her tone. “I think I’ve got it from here Sherry. I won’t be needing any help will I Nobody? I can sew you up real quick and we can get on with our nights? Since you seem so busy and all?”

He looks to the other nurse and back to the doctor, muscles still tense but in a much more passive body language. “Yeah…okay.” He nods and his clearly scowling eyes kept on the nurse.

“Alright we’re good here. I’ll finish up and you can get Mr. Nobody here some pain control to take home ready?”

“I’ll be back in with the forms.” She responds, another way to let the doctor know she would be close by. After a shared nod, they said, “Yes I’m sure.” She was left alone with the scowling stranger.

“I don’t like her.” He pointed and laid back down on the table.

“That’s fair.” Eve shrugs, seeing a calm and casual approach was working best. “I just want to get you as best prepared as I can to heal up well, alright? I’m not gonna hound you for info like they were. That’s not my job.” She gives a humorous smile as she preps the areas on his stomach.

He blinks at her, looking down at her hands as she touches the wounds, and his nose twitches from pain. He says nothing as his attention is averted and her tone not aggressive and being reasonable with him.

“This part is gonna hurt. I’m not gonna bullshit you alright? But it’s not as bad as being stabbed so… Got me?”

His eyes meet hers. his round and partially, deep-set against full dark brows and goatee against his brown skin. “What kind of doctor says bullshit?” He asks with a head tilt.

“The kind that gets shit done.” She smiles and shrugs. “I’ve been on the other side of this situation before, I know it sucks and I’m not here to be the bad guy. I’m not a snitch… a narc or whatever, I’m just Eve and I wanna help. Because I know what it’s like.” She says earnestly and he doesn’t detect any bullshit as she’d said. He could read people, and he found her a little odd but… genuine.

“You been stabbed before?”

“I have.” She nods. “It fuckin hurts doesn’t it?” She laughs and nods, testing the equipment.

“Yeah. It does.” He gives a huff with a more relaxed expression before wincing.

“Where did you get stabbed?” He asks, brain still trying to read her.

“In the arm.” She nods casually.

“Ow.”

“Yeah ow.” She smiles he continues keeping her focus on cleaning up her space and open her tools.

“Why?” he asks.

“Why did you get stabbed?” she gives him a no-nonsense glance

“I was saving a cat from a tree.” his testy tone was full of pain med induced confidence.

“So did the tree stab you or the cat stab you with a 4-inch blade?”

“The cat.” He responds was as snarkily as she had in their back and forth.

“Mean cat.” She replies with a more casual smile as they begin to feel each other out.

“Yeah. He was a real asshole.”

She begins tapping the area and he doesn’t react. “Think we’re good now. Don’t move, please?”

“Kay.” He nods and lets his head fall back. As she works he watches her face. “So how did you get stabbed?”

“Would you believe a cat got me too?”

He gives a little confused smile. “I wouldn’t actually.”

“Then we have that in common.”

He grunts in appreciation for her attitude. Guess he’d have to work harder to figure her out. She looked warm, yet severe and her faded tattoos peeking out from her collar and sleeves were proving very interesting to him. She didn’t look or more interestingly feel like a doctor to him. He was used to pretending to be things he wasn’t, but if she was, she was better than him at it.

“Looks like I need to get more stuff.” She mutters, looking around the room. She covers two of three wounds and sighs. “I’ll be right back okay?”

“Okay.” He says with a face that she believed. But it wasn’t the first time her caring nature would’ve been taken advantage of, and the entertaining stranger was gone when she returned to the room. Nothing but the blood left behind and a warm indent on the bed. He was good, she thought. Actually, she was downright impressed he got past her. It’d be a headache for paperwork later but a good story to tell at least.

————————————

The next night the stranger named Nobody was the farthest thing from Eve’s mind. She was enjoying her take out, the container in hand, and chopsticks tapping to the playlist titled “classical: chill”. She’d made it to play when she studied in school and during residency and apparently she’d conditioned herself to be more relaxed while she played it.

The sun had just gone down and the winter chill was heavy around her windows. In her functional fashion, she wore sweats and slippers and layers topped with a hoodie. She was swaying and focusing on how good cold lo mein could be. The light of her standing lamp illuminating the solid rectangle of open space that was her kitchen and living room. Much like her fashion, it was cozy and functional. Nothing brash or bold, just neutral colors and lots of comforts.

Eve was winding down to sleep off her last shift, making some time to eat and enjoy herself before having to get back to it the next morning. Her dark hair was damp and twisted on top of her head, glasses mended with floss sat unsecured on her nose as she ate with her eyes closed. During the weeks where she had close shifts she usually took it easy on herself, her hours could vary wildly, and sometimes that worked in her advantage and sometimes it didn’t. But it wasn’t anything new to her. She figured if she made it through residency she could make it through anything, and right now the coziness, the juxtaposition of inside her little warm home and the biting January cold that lay just outside the windows. They sat with curtains that fell ceiling to floor, mostly drawn. Being on the third floor she had never been too worried about anyone seeing into her windows. But perhaps she should have been.

That, forgotten in this moment, Nobody was taking full advantage of the small space left by the curtains. He peered in, watching her. He drummed his gloved fingers over two healed fresh scared marks near his ribs. He could find anything sinister about her. She wasn’t any sort of plant in the hospital and she wasn’t there looking for him. She seemed like a nice enough woman actually, but he knew there had to be something he was missing.

He continued this for days. He would follow her around, trying to figure out what her deal was. He’d become a bit preoccupied with it, as was his nature. Since his return to the city, he’d been going from vigilante case to case to distract himself. It felt like old times in fleeting moments, but when the chaos that had surrounded him recently came rushing back at him, he wasn’t one to wallow in his sadness. Rather it hung around as he decided to go back to doing the thing he knew best. Without connects at the police anymore he was left with that familiar feeling of being a lone wolf . He still wasn’t sure how he felt about it, and it wasn’t on his list of things to contemplate soon. So a mystery woman, ironically enough was what the doctor ordered when it came to distractions.

So far she was pretty boring. As far as people with powers went, he guesses. She liked coffee, take out. Nothing that interesting, except that he was now totally healed, scarred and the pain was only a memory. She was a doctor, sure, but he’d never healed that fast in his life. He’d worked himself up to conspiracy theories of her using some new medicine that was being tested on civilians without their knowledge. But he found nothing of the sort. There wasn’t a lot on her when he searched her name. First-year doctor at a hospital, went to medical school and college, what you’d expect. She spent most of her time working, goes out with some women she works with on occasion, then went home. No following her to a seedy alley for a secret meeting or her making coded phone calls. No, she was just a woman who left her curtains open and he felt like he’d hit a wall on the investigation. So for now, she remained a collection of scribbled notes in his apartment.

His other antics, most that involved fighting and men with guns and knives, understandably led to frequent injuries for him, most ones he could handle. But it just so happened next time he got really hurt, he knew exactly which doctor to go to.

—————

Eve got there early, a shoulder gunshot wound and a split open brow. A not unusual combination. She approached the room, and no one but her seemed to recognize the man that lay in the bed.

She noticed he looked almost relieved at the sight of her, which she wasn’t used to.

“I got it.” She says a nod to the nurse as he approaches him.

“Listen, Doc you gotta get me out of here.” He begins.

“Yeah I knew that was you…” she gives him a side-eye. “I think you need either new hobbies or new friends because this is the second time in what… a month you’re in here?

“You do recognize me.”

“Of course I do you know how much of a pain in the ass paperwork is when you disappear?”

“No.”

“Clearly since you ran last time.” She says more severely as she begins the usual process again.

“Look, I saw an opportunity and I took it. Nothing personal.” he offers with a shake of his head. “ This time there’s gonna be cops and you can’t let them in here. They’ll see me and arrest me and I don’t want that.”

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why do they want to arrest you?”

“Because they think I did something.”

“Did you…?”

“No.”

She considers his eyes for a moment, whether he was being honest or not. “…What’s your name?”

“So you can tell the cops, yeah no thanks.”

“Fair…Then tell me how you got stabbed.” It was more of a demand than a request. A terms of service agreement for her involvement.

“I was after a bad guy and he fought back, then more bad guys showed up and one of them got me.” his response was as vague as he could get away with, they both knew that.

“You’re the good guy in this instance?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you some undercover…something-er-other?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Just a wanted criminal?”

“Wanted. Not a criminal.”

She sighs and he hisses as she begins to work on him. He notices her lips purse and her eyes making a decision beyond watching the work she was doing?

“Doctor Corpuz, there are some policemen that want to ask you some questions.

“Tell them I’m finishing up a procedure, to stay by the front desk and I’ll be out.”

“Yes, Doctor.” the nurse bows.

“Are you gonna help me or not?”

She stays quiet, finishing up sewing and reaching for a bandage. “Yeah.” she nods.

“Good, I didn’t want to have to hurt you.”

She swings her eyes his way in a clear glare that told him she did not find his joke funny. “You aren’t helping your case any random nobody who’s been stabbed multiple times in the past month. You clearly are good at making decisions, maybe I should tell them about you.” she retorts with more sting and she gives his stomach a harsher pat before moving away.

“Uh…it was..it would be funny if you knew me. I don’t want to hurt you…Eve Corpuz.” he glances at the tag and then her face.

“No, we’re back on a Doctor-patient relationship now.”

“But you’re still gonna help me get out?”

“Yes, fuck, I said I would already.” she shakes her head at him and motions for him to sit up. “I’ll have them at the front desk and distract them, and you go out the back way. You’ll get some attention, but not from them.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re the coolest doctor they’ve ever met?”

“They haven’t actually. Usually, they’re too busy screaming in pain when we meet.” she cleans the space and begins to walk out the door as he catches her wrist.

“Thanks. Doctor. Eve. Whatever.”

“Well, you’ll owe me I guess. What good that does me when I don’t even know you’re name, huh? Just get out as quietly as possible, alright? Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.” he nods and releases his grip on her.

[cleverlittlejay]

Raphael anon back once again with a hilarious thought: Family therapy with Crowley, Lucifer, Gabriel, & Micheal and it’s just so wild & the poor therapist is so confused. They assume it’s just rich people scandals & shenanigans but all of these drama queens in a room together trying to work through over 6,000 years of family issues while some poor human tries to keep everything from becoming a chaotic nightmare without the full story of what’s going on is infinitely funny to me.

hello, anon! this was such a delight to write! also, fun fact, i’m a psych major and took one (1) intro to counseling psych class, but that actually helped in writing this, so that was fun! This is also super long (1k words!) so it also goes under a read more. (another fun fact: i stole the name Dr. Martin from Lucifer on Netflix because why not.) 

(one more fun fact, i genuinely hate the Neflix!Lucifer stereotype that a psychiatrist who went to med school would be a therapist. it’s two different fields. ok sorry, it’s fic time)

Dr. Martin was good at her job. She worked hard to become a therapist, and she genuinely believed that she could help her clients. It’s why she started her private practice. 

Her next appointment was a family therapy session. She briefly wondered how her secretary forgot to mention that she had an appointment or that she had new clients at all, but these mistakes happen. Sometimes computers just don’t want to work, deleting emails and not saving the clients’ last names in the file. 

The family consisted of four siblings. Lucifer, Michael, Gabriel, and Anthony J Crowley. Anthony, she learned, preferred to be called Crowley, and the other three siblings did not share that last name. 

The four siblings did not get along. At all. And they wanted to, Crowley explained, but they just couldn’t see eye to eye. 

“It all started when Mother kicked me out,” Lucifer said. “More specifically, she had Michael kick me out because she’s–”

“Because,” Michael interrupted, “you were an awful son who refused to listen to her. Causing trouble, thinking you’re better than her. Asking questions.” That last part was clearly directed at Crowley, who offered a light shrug. 

“Interrupting isn’t kind, Michael,” Dr. Martin said. “Please let Lucifer talk, and then you can say your part.”

If looks could kill, Dr. Martin would’ve died a hundred times over in her career. Michael’s glare was terrifying, but she’d seen it all before. 

The final picture was that their mother kicked out Lucifer and Crowley due to rebelliousness. The two questioned her authority and so they had to be removed before they corrupted any others. Now, after the disappearance of their mother, the siblings decided to get together again and reconnect.

A cult, Dr. Martin realized. She was working with the aftereffects of a cult. The religious names, the absolute authority, the punishment that included some kind of fire, the isolation from others, it all painted a very clear but dark picture.

She thanked them for their openness and had her secretary book their next appointment. 

Then, she realized how much she didn’t know about cults–she owned a private practice, she didn’t work with law enforcement or social services–and began her research. She read articles on cult-related family dynamics and trauma. She even called her old colleague for some direction. 

The next session, the two eldest siblings focussed on each other. As Lucifer and Michael went on, Crowley and Gabriel seemed content to watch them argue as Dr. Martin futilely attempted to control the session. 

“Even now, you’re a pest,” Michael sneered, ignoring the no-interruptions rule. “Your demons cause nothing but trouble and you barely control them.”

Inner demons were difficult to control, sometimes spiralling and causing issues in real life. It took strength to admit that you need support in fighting your battles.

Lucifer spoke before Dr. Martin could voice that. 

“Maybe you should control your angels, Michael. Always wandering into trouble, making friends with demons and then getting hurt. It’s almost as if they don’t respect your command.”

“Tell your demons to stop fraternizing with the enemy!”

“Hey,” Crowley interrupted. “I thought that sides don’t matter anymore. I can fraternize with an angel if I wanted to.”

“Now, yes, but not before,” Michael said patronizingly, as if she was leading the session rather than Dr. Martin. “But you endangered yourself and Aziraphale by being with him.”

“Not like Aziraphale was in danger,” Gabriel grumbled. “He got away with it.”

The session ended without any of the siblings making any progress. It was fine, Dr. Martin rationed. Progress is not always linear, and she needed to first create a safe space where they were comfortable speaking up. 

She also realized that her original theory was wrong. It wasn’t a cult. It was the mob. 

Different sides, angels and demons, both told that the other is the enemy. Perhaps Lucifer and Crowley disagreed with their “mother’s” rule and were punished for noncompliance. Michael was clearly the enforcer, punishing those who stepped out of line. It blurred the definition of “sibling,” but it explained the disdain that Lucifer and Michael had for each other. 

This realization led to a new line of research. The mob was harder to research from a psychological or counseling therapy perspective, and Dr. Martin ended up making even more calls to colleagues and old professors. 

“First a cult and now the mob,” her old classmate laughed. “You have some interesting clients.”

Dr. Martin refused to admit that she was wrong about the cult. No one had to know. 

She changed her strategy during their next session. The past was important to understanding a person, but perhaps it was better to focus on the present. 

“Despite everything that happened, Lucifer and Crowley being kicked out and you being forced to lead, how do you feel about Lucifer right now?” 

Michael didn’t answer immediately, which was a good sign. When she answered, she didn’t look at Lucifer or speak to him directly, but she knew that he was there and listening to her.  

“I don’t hate him,” Michael said slowly. “He’s still my brother. I didn’t have a choice, you know. I had to do it.” 

Dr. Martin could imagine the lack of choice. It was likely that if Michael didn’t do as told, she would’ve also been punished. It was coercion, and Michael couldn’t be held fully accountable. 

“I don’t hate you, either,” Lucifer said. There was a forced air of casualness around him, protecting Michael from rejection. “You’re still my baby sister. No fall can change that, Micah.”

Progress. It took three sessions and a lot of pain and bitterness, but they were making progress. Michael and Lucifer finally broke through their hard shells to admit that there is a possibility to move forward in their relationship with genuine love and affection. That kind of hope was why Dr. Martin was a therapist in the first place. 

Dr. Martin scheduled their next appointment. She was hopeful for their next session, creating an outline that would include more dialogue and encourage the younger two siblings to speak more often. The four of them had hope yet. 

Dr. Martin was good at her job. She would help bridge a 6000 year old gap of pain and misery to create a new era of peace. Not that she knew that, of course. She was just a therapist to a weird group of siblings. 

Humans, She thought in amusement, were clearly Her best creations yet.

[unstoppableforcce]

a fragile alliance

no request- just something i had, poe with a first order ! reader.

Poe Dameron x reader !

this is something I wrote a very long time ago, so no TROS spoilers but def more to come if y’all want. it’s angst. it’s pure angst. bc I excell at that.

“Black leader, you see that?” A voice came over on the crackling radio in his ear. And he did. How could he miss it?

The small black single rider plane that every resistance member was told to watch out for, the one containing one of the most feared members of the First Order, you, plummeting to the surface of the small jungle planet. If they could take you out, it would be the biggest leg up on the first order they’d have in while. A sense of pride even surged within the Commander, you had a lengthy history with the First Order, leaving a trail of bodies in your wake. But the voice in his ear said differently.

“Commander Dameron, you are to take a unit to the surface of Bluscant, search for the remains of that ship, take any survivors into custody for interrogation.” The orders were orders, but he despised them. 

They deserved to be left to suffer. He shot you down, he thought you deserved to stay there. 

“Yes, sir,” Dameron responded before ordering his men to the surface with him.

They parked outside the jungle, watching as the smoke from the crash raised higher into the sky. Poe order two men to stay at the ship and another two to follow him, all the way until they reached the crash site.

It was a short hike to get there from the clearing where they parked, but soon they saw the crashed plane. The whole thing was on fire and he hoped you were inside. He didn’t normally see such red but he couldn’t escape it now. 

He wasn’t that lucky, however. While the ship burned plumes of smoke, he spotted a stormtrooper body laying just outside the wreck. 

You were laying up against the side of the crater, hand gripping your side to keep your insides where they belonged given the significant wound that sliced you. Another gash about your forehead, spilling blood down your face. Yet you managed to keep a strong grip on your blaster with your free hand, unconscious but holding tight. 

All of the movement around was all it took to wake you, barely shaking you from your blurry consciousness, but enough for you to feebly attempt to lift your blaster in defense. You barely got it a centimeter off the ground before groaning, a violent stream of pain shooting through you. He kicked it from your hand before you had the opportunity to try again. 

“Base wants us to bring back survivors.” His Lieutenant quickly reminded him. And he very clearly needed him to remember. Because all Poe wanted to do was leave you stranded to die.

“Yeah. Patch her up, and cuff her.” He ordered while rubbing over his face.

“Are cuffs really necessary?” The other man questioned as he kneeled next to you, pressing two fingers to your throat for a pulse, faint but there. 

“She’s got a kill count in the thousands. I wouldn’t take my chances.” Poe argued, crossing his arms over his chest. It may have been an overstatement, but it certainly didn’t feel like it.

The number of reports he had read with her name on the cover. 

“283-3” You muttered out groggily, catching his attention briefly. 

“What?” He questioned, stepping closer but not getting in the way of his two counterparts who were patching you up for the trip home.

“Is he dead?” You finally murmured with enough strength to be heard. Poe could only assume you were referring to your stormtrooper, the one nearest the crash. The dead one. 

“Yeah.” 

Your eyes clenched with pain through the entire procedure, but something in your disposition changed as you hear the news. Slightly more distressed, and he couldn't figure out why.

“I tried- I” The lieutenant administered the sedative, trying to avoid the shock of pain killing you before they could get you back. But he knew what you were trying for. You were trying to say that you tried to save him. He couldn't decide whether it was notable or not given the record she had. The pain in his heart ultimately told him it wasn’t.

“Will she make it back to base?” Poe questioned, kneeling next to them as they pressed the bacta patch to your stomach and wiped the blood from your face.

“If she’s lucky.” One responded and Poe had to hold back a staunch laugh in response.

“We should just kill her,” He shook his head and pulled away, leaving them to carry her back. There wasn’t much in the way of bloody vengeance in his soul, just enough for you.

When they landed back on base, you were taken to the med bay much to Poe’s dismay. He knew who you were. A commander, like himself. Specialized in hand to hand combat, a spy, but not lost around a tie fighter. You surely ordered the deaths of thousands of men and probably killed hundreds with your own hands, or at least that was what it felt like from where he was standing. And Poe was ordered to rescue you so they could gain any intelligence from you. It was probably useless, no way you would give anything up but they’d try, keep you alive for months longer than you deserved.

He left his debrief and headed straight to the medical center, knowing you would be in there, and if you were awake, he needed to talk to you, he needed closure. 

Even if Leia ordered him to get some rest, that she’d send someone to interrogate her in a little bit.

The nurse pointed him to your room without him even having to ask, they all knew.

And when he walked into the room, he was prepared to get what he needed and then kill you, no matter the consequences. Leia could demote him, hell, she could kick him out of the resistance, but if he got this closure, it would all be worth it.

It had to be.

Yet you laid there so innocently. The nurses had cleaned the dirt and grime from your face and hair, the cut above your eye had been healed, and you even looked comfortable under the plush blanket. Even if your hands were cuffed to the bed.

His fingers twitched at his side, aching to grab his blaster and just end it all now but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He needed you to admit to it. He wasn’t a killer, but he would do what’s just, it’s what you deserve. So he called a nurse back in and ordered her to wake you up, and without any objections, she did. They all knew, and not a single one disagreed. 

Minutes later, your eyes fluttered open so peacefully and he couldn’t stand to watch it, he had to turn away briefly to compose himself. Until you began groaning. Your breath was caught in your throat, preventing a scream in pain. Hands clenched into tight fists, nails digging into your palms, the pain overtaking you all at once. It seemed like the doctors were just as bitter as he was.

But then something in your disposition shifted, you began to laugh instead of scream, and your hands released. Heavy breathing took over now as your eyes quickly scanned the room, frantic almost, and as they landed on him, you finally began to understand.

“Long time, Captain.” You squeezed out. The chuckle was rough as it escaped your lips, eyes squeezing shut as your head leaned back against the pillow.  

“Its Commander now.” He choked out, hands clenching, heart pounding.

His blaster was right there.

“Congrats.” It was almost a genuine smile, but it distorted to a smirk as you locked your eyes back with his. 

“Don’t congratulate me, I should kill you.” He added, taking a few steps towards closer until his thighs hit the foot of the bed.

“Do it. You won’t.” You scoffed, “you wouldn’t dare disobey an order, and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be here.”

“After everything you’ve done-“

“I deserve to suffer. I deserve to be tortured. I deserve your worst. I don’t deserve to die and you know that, the resistance wouldn’t let me off that easy.” You argued back easily, even if your chest was still heaving with every breath. He couldn't deny that he was watching it, a part of him hoping it would stop.

Tears brimmed at his eyes no matter how hard he fought to keep them down. “I don’t care about the resistance.” 

“Then what are you here for?”

“You killed Finn.” He choked out, not in control of his emotions any longer. He rounded the bed, took two more steps forward, and began pointing in your face as he seethed, “You killed him.”

But your face didn’t twist to that of a proud First Order Commander who would relish in a successful kill. It twisted into confusion, pure confusion. Brows furrowing and head quirking slightly to the side, only serving to raise the heat in his chest. 

“FN- 2187?” You asked, trying to sit up despite the pain flooding your body and warning you against it. 

“You killed him, I watched it.”

“I didn’t kill him.” It was a plead, genuine concern in your eyes that he couldn't understand. You were fighting against the restraints, leaning into his now shaking finger of accusation. 

“I saw you do it, the whole galaxy saw it.”

“I didn’t kill him. Dameron, I have killed a lot of people, I didn’t kill him.” You shouted back with the same volume he used, defensive, truly defensive. 

“The first order broadcasted his execution across the whole galaxy, do you think I’m an idiot, I watched you kill him.” He shouted but pulled back when he watched you flinch. 

You couldn’t form a sentence fast enough, not by the time the curtains behind him ripped open and two soldiers grabbed him by the arm and pulled him fighting from the room. He needed closure, he needed an answer. He would fight but they only pulled him farther back. 

“He’s alive.” The words left your lips just as the curtains fell shut between the two of you. He wanted to hear more, to see more-

And soon he was tossed to the ground on his knees in front of Leia herself. 

“I told you to go get rest, that I’d send an interrogator in.” She said but he wasn’t there. His body was physically on the floor but his mind was elsewhere, he was replaying Finn’s death over and over again in his head.

He saw the alert go out that the first order had a special broadcast, and when the image flashed up in the command center, he just about collapsed on the floor. Finn, on his knees, surrounded by stormtroopers and officers. In front of him stood Kylo Ren, General Hux and You. Dressed in all black, not completely covered like Ren and Hux were, but somehow just as intimidating. Your hair pulled back so he could see your face painfully clear. An image that haunted him at night.

And then Hux said, “No traitor shall go unpunished...” and continued on into a vehement hate-speech about the First Order’s dominance in the galaxy. But Poe only stared at Finn. He was forced on his knees, hands behind his back, still wearing the jacket he gave him. He tried to stay strong, to not let them win, but he was scared, Poe could see it. And as soon as his speech ended, she was ordered to execute the “bloody traitor.”

Stepping forward, you pulled a large electrically surging sword from your holster, and within seconds, you spun and his head hit the ground.

Poe screamed, a raw, guttural scream as he saw it happen, and none of the officers around him cared because they saw the pain, they felt the pain. And Finn, who they all regarded as a hero, was brutally murdered by you, a nightmare-like extension of the first order.

And now you were saying you didn’t kill him when he saw you do it. And now you were saying he was alive when he saw his head off his body.

“... Poe. She’s messing with you. She knows that she can target your emotions and you’re just giving her power over you.” Leia soothed but Poe hardly heard it. What did you mean he was still alive.

“What if he’s alive?”

“He’s not Poe, we watched it happen.”

“She said he’s alive.”

“She’s a First Order member, she is trained to deceive you, to mess with you, she is the enemy Poe, she just wants to get you off your game,” Leia explained but Poe couldn’t pay attention to her, too lost in his own thoughts.

“If he’s alive, I need to find him.”

“He’s not alive Poe, we both know that,” Leia finalized as he finally rose to his feet. “She’s lying to get a rise out of you.”

“She seemed genuine.”

“She’s a spy.”

“If he’s alive-“

“He can’t be Poe,” Leia said exhaustedly before ordering Poe to be sent to his room, he was too out of it to protest at this point and just complied.

But if it was true, how could he ignore it.

Leia couldn’t keep him away.

Over the next two weeks, you began to heal up and Leia began to send in interrogators but you merely mocked them. They didn’t need to torture you, Leia knew it wouldn’t work, you weren’t going to break like that, so she just tried getting information from you in regular conversation. Still, no avail. 

You wouldn’t give up anything useful, besides who did Hux’s laundry.

A stormtrooper, called AT- 8745. He read it in a report.

Poe knew you weren’t going to give anything useful.

But you had been willing to talk about Finn last time he tried. And no matter what the general said, he needed to try again.

He got a few looks as he snuck into the holding cells but people thought he was meant to be there, so they never said anything about it.

He typed in the code with shaking hands, not nervous but surging with the adrenaline that knowing he was going against orders that the General gave him. The door was heavy but he pushed it open quickly, too eager to hesitate.

You laid out on the bed, well not a bed but a metallic slab with no blanket or pillow, across the room from the door. One knee bent up and both hands beneath your head, staring at the ceiling, you almost looked dead given how you barely moved. A single chair sat in the middle of the room, too close, he thought, to your bed for the council to have allowed Leia to interrogate you from.

But he spotted the glimmer of the forcefield in between the two halves of the room, keeping them separate.

You didn’t look up upon hearing him enter, not moving besides adjusting briefly to lay a hand over your stomach defensively.

“I expected you eventually, figured that Leia had finally run out of options.” You noted from the bed, knowing it was him without seeing him. He didn’t waste any time being impressed. 

“She doesn’t know I’m here.”

That got your attention. You turned towards where he stood by the wall, no different than the last time you saw him, if anything, he only looked more exhausted. 

You groaned, pain rushing through you as you sat up on the bed but he made no move to sit down, he just hovered by the door.

“Why are you here?”

“You know why.”

“He is alive, I have no reason to lie to you about that.” You argued, walking towards the barrier, but stopping right in front of it. He wondered how many times you walked into it before realizing it was there, he could tell it was at least once given the hesitancy you took towards it. 

“Explain why.”

“He could be reprogrammed and valuable, but in order to get you to stop investigating, Hux needed you to think him dead.” It wasn’t curiosity or even a fascination, but you lifted one hand to the barrier and played along the light blue glow that radiated as you got close. It almost felt like boredom, and it pissed him off. “Drop the barrier and I’ll tell you more.”

He considered it for a second longer than he should have. It should have been a quick no but it wasn’t. But it also wasn’t a yes, he just backed away from the panel and to the barrier so that he could stand face to face with you. 

“Where is he now?”

“Drop the barrier.”

“If I do, you’ll escape, and won’t tell me what I need to know.”

“I also won’t tell you what you need to know with it up.”

He walked back over to the control panel on the wall and opened the door, pulling his blaster from the holster and dropping it outside. Then he locked the door shut, using his handprint to secure it. Only after all of that, did he make a move to lower the barrier.

Everything within him told him not to, but he needed to know. You were injured and manipulative and he needed to know. 

You didn’t charge at him like he expected. He didn’t have any weapons on him anymore so he wasn’t too worried about being overtaken and immediately killed, but he couldn’t trust you, not for a second.

“He’s in the reprogramming plant on Plutarch.”

“Plutarch?”

“A moon in the Ghevner circuit. Kylo Ren took control of it for the first order several years ago. Since then, it’s become a brainwashing stormtrooper factory.” You explained, now walking towards him, hesitantly as you passed where the barrier had been, but faster once you cleared it. 

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“Armitage. He made me into a liar when he broadcasted that clip. I’m not a liar.” There was almost a playfulness to your voice, it set him on edge in a way he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. 

“Just a murderer?” He tipped his chin, but you didn’t seem all that offended. 

“No one’s perfect.” The joke came out deadpan as you stopped just in front of him, your serious face never changing now that it was on. “Look, from what I’ve heard, he’s been resisting reprogramming, if you could get to him, you’d have a good chance of getting him back.”

He didn’t understand, he felt a tug on his heartstring and he didn’t understand. 

“Why are you telling me all this?”

You scoffed, the sensation crackling through your body as you shrugged. “You think so little of me.”

“You’ve given me reasons.”

“They pay me better than you guys would. That’s all it is. I do dirty work, sure, but if you paid more, I’d do that dirty work for you. It’s not about morality for me, sorry.” You sighed, hands folding in front of you. 

“So you’re a murderer in it for the money but a good person?”

“I think the question you should be asking is why would I want the barrier down if I planned to tell you everything anyway?” You added. It was just ominous to push him over the edge, but you were faster. 

One elbow, straight to the face and he was on the ground in a second. Not unconscious, head stinging with pain, but still barely conscious against the cold concrete. 

“Now you’re going to get me out of here.”

[hazel-writes]

Summary: While recovering from the events that took place on Dantooine, you learn more about Finn and Takoda's complicated pasts.

Word Count: 3,300

Warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence and childhood trauma

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It will take a while

To make you smile

Somewhere in these eyes

I'm on your side

• Space Song - Beach House •

It had been three days since your mission to Dantooine, and you still hadn’t wrapped your head around what had happened there.

Rilea kept asking you if you were alright, and you always responded with an enthusiastic yes. Any other response prompted a long, worried conversation about stress following traumatic encounters, followed by a rant on the violence perpetrated by patriarchal societies. She wasn’t wrong, but you just didn’t feel like talking about it.

Akilah kept asking you how you escaped. You could tell she didn’t buy your story — and she knew that you knew that — but wanted to make you admit it anyways. How she knew this still remained a mystery, one you couldn’t solve unless you revealed something about yourself that you were determined to keep a secret.

Soren was quiet, as usual, but instead of shooting you his typical iconic glare, he had been avoiding your eye contact completely.

Koda, on the other hand, was furious. For some reason, he felt guilty for what happened, despite the fact that he was miles away at the time. You told him over and over that it was not and could not be his fault, but you could tell that your words were not enough to appease his guilt.

Based on Koda’s reaction, you felt as if you should be more angry about what happened, but you understood why the men had attacked you. Years of pent up anger, frustration, and loss, mixed with the alcohol they had most likely consumed earlier, had combined to incite the unfortunate turn of events. You had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No, I should be more mad, you shamed yourself. They attacked me. Hit me. Kicked me. Watched as I gave up.

A knock sounded on your door. You already knew who it was. Ever since Finn found out about what happened on Dantooine, he had started showing up everywhere you were: inside the cafeteria, throughout the hallways, and now, outside of your room.

You sighed, making your way to the door. You opened it, and just as expected, found Finn there, helmet in hand, smirking at you with a sheepish grin.

“Finn…” you drew out his name, as if patronizing a small child. He looked back at you with apologetic, yet pleading, eyes. “I already told you, I’m fine.”

“I know what you told me,” he said, stubbornly.

Darn his freaky emotional intelligence.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, since you are already here, I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

He nodded enthusiastically, eager at the opportunity to help out. “Yeah, of course. Anything.”

You ushered him into your room, closing the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, you continued, knowing he wouldn’t like what was coming next.

“What’s goin’ on between you and Takoda? It’s just… you both are so sweet and it’s weird to see you guys act so distant around each other.”

He smirked. “Well, first of all, we’re sweet around you — I am still a trooper, remember, so I can’t be this charming all the time.”

“Right,” you said, cheeks reddening slightly as you rolled your eyes. “But why the lack of charm around Koda?”

He sighed heavily, avoiding eye contact. “Koda and I… We don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

“Such as…” you inquired further.

“Such as the trooper program.”

That didn’t make any sense to you; Takoda had never spoken about the program before.

“Why would Koda be interested in the trooper program?”

The room was silent.

“Because he was one.”

“Koda was a trooper??!” You couldn’t picture it. As hard as you tried, you just couldn’t. He was too silly, too full of life. But the same was true for Finn, and he was a trooper too…

“Yup,” he replied, somber. “We were in the same fleet too. We always had each other's backs.”

You thought for a second, processing the new information. “So what changed?”

He hesitated, looking down at his feet. You’d never seen him look this sad before, and it made your own heart feel heavy.

“A couple years into his program, Koda got injured.”

“Injured — how?”

“We were on a planet with a heavy rebel presence. Our orders were to… eliminate a village that housed supposed Resistance sympathizers. We went in with grenades,” he paused, choking on his words. You looked up at him, reaching out and grabbing his hand, supportively. He nodded appreciatively and continued. “At one point, a trooper next to me threw one. It landed by a little girl, maybe nine years old. Koda jumped forward — pushed her out of the way. He ended up catching most of the blow. I can’t honestly say that I would’ve had the courage to do the same. I hid my grenades in a nearby bush and ran over to him; he was hurt badly. So the med guys took him, and he was airlifted outta there.”

You squeezed his hand, gently urging him to continue. “What happened next?”

“I visited him in the hospital a few days later. He told me he’d been ‘medically discharged’ and was free to go wherever he wished… I was so happy for him. Not many stormtroopers get that kinda opportunity to start over, live their own life. Many injure themselves on purpose to get discharged, but usually they’re too obvious about it and end up executed on the grounds of ‘treason’.”

You shook your head in shock. “Stars…”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “So I asked Koda what he wanted to do, where he wanted to go… I mean, the possibilities were endless for him! But he surprised me. He told me he wanted to stay with the Order, try to make it 'better'. I couldn’t believe it — especially given his background.”

“What do you mean, his background?” you questioned.

“Koda hasn’t told you?” he said, eyes widening.

“Told me what?”

“Kriff…” he mumbled. “I think that’s something you should discuss with him .”

“Yeah, okay...” You paused, thinking. You were still confused about one thing.

“So Koda refused to leave the Order, and you and him just… stopped talking?”

He sighed, his hand leaving your grasp to run through his hair. He seemed frustrated, not at you, but at the newly-unearthed memories of his past.

“It’s not as simple as that. Koda had a choice. He had a choice to join the trooper program, and a choice to leave it. I never had a choice. I was forced into it. It was either this, or death.” He paused, sighing, before lowering his voice. “Had I known what it would be like here, as a trooper, I would’ve chosen death.”

Hearing that tore your heart in two. “Finn, please, don’t say that.”

He threw up his hands. “It’s true! Being forced to tear apart planets, villages, houses, families, people… It’s horrible. Sickening.” He paused. “I- I had almost given up hope completely, when all of a sudden you came into the picture.”

You gave him a sad, appreciative smile.

“Anyways, he had a choice to leave this life, and he said no. I’ve never had a choice, but if I did, I would be out of this place in a second. That’s why we don’t talk anymore.”

“I see.” You paused. “Finn, I-”

Words couldn’t describe how incredibly sad you felt that such a strong, empathetic man like Finn had been forced to endure so much pain.

You reached out and pulled him into the biggest hug you could manage. Your eyes prickled with tears. “I’m so sorry Finn, I’m so, so sorry,” you whispered over and over into his ear.

After a few minutes like that, you finally pulled away to see Finn smiling warmly at you. How could he still do that — smile — after everything he’d gone through?

“Hey, I just thought of one good thing that came out of me staying in this stupid trooper program.”

“What?” you asked, genuinely interested.

There was that sheepish smile again. “Well, if I left, I never would’ve met you.”

You didn’t deserve a friend like Finn.

“And I would’ve never met you…”

You grabbed his hands in yours and held them to your forehead. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply. It was your turn to worry.

“I wish there was more I could do for you,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “You’ve already done so much.”

“Not enough,” you replied.

He sighed, bringing both your hands back down to your lap.

“Listen, there’s something about you — I don’t know what — that gives me hope, and I don’t use that word lightly. I felt it from the first, or should I say the second, time I met you.” He laughed, his eyes brightening. “If anyone can change the way things are in the galaxy right now, it’s you.”

You looked at him, wondering where this blind trust was coming from. He had only known you for a short amount of time… You finally understood why the Commander was so surprised by your own blind trust in his orders.

“I should get back,” he said, standing up. “But please, try to remember what I said.”

After giving you one last hug, he put on his helmet and made his way out of your quarters, leaving you to your thoughts.

——————————————

You spent the next few hours reflecting on your conversation with Finn. You found yourself desperately wanting to find out more about Koda’s enigmatic background.

After pacing back and forth across your room a couple hundred times, your curiosity finally got the best of you.

I have to go talk to Koda. I need to find out what he has been keeping from me.

You found him sitting in the artist workspace, alone.

He didn’t seem to see you at first, so you cleared your throat, announcing your presence.

His head jerked up, startled. His brown hair was a bit more disheveled than usual, and his hair fell over his face slightly.

You smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no, I was just spaced out for a sec,” he smirked. “I’m back now.”

A moment passed before his features became more serious. “How are you feeling?”

This was the first time you’d really talked about what happened on Dantooine with Koda. Most of what he knew was from Rilea’s retellings.

You shrugged. “Fine, considering. It could’ve been worse.”

He looked down, wringing his hands uncomfortably. “Why wasn’t it… worse? How did you end up getting away?”

You couldn’t tell him what really happened — it’s not like he would believe you if you did. You settled for a half-truth instead.

“I managed to kick one of the guys who jumped me and while he was distracted, I made a run for it. That’s when you guys found me in the field.”

He shook his head, still looking at his hands. “Kriff… I’m sorry. We should’ve never split up.”

“No, no, don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. I just seem to be a magnet for trouble,” you chuckled, trying to bring up the mood.

He nodded, unconvincingly. “So what brings you here? Shouldn’t you be in a hospital bed or something?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah, they won’t miss me,” you smirked, earning an eye roll from Koda. “I actually came here because I wanted to ask you about something.”

He squinted in your direction. “Uh oh, you have serious voice on.”

You laughed before continuing, “I just wanted to ask you about Finn.”

“Ahh…” he said, as if he knew this conversation was coming.

“I already talked with him today, so now it’s your turn to endure the wrath of my nosiness.”

“Okay, fine,” he said, letting out an audible sigh before rolling his shoulders and assuming a more comfortable position. “What do you want to know?”

You continued hesitantly, not wanting to offend Koda or worsen the tension between him and Finn. “Well, we talked about why you two don’t get along and how you chose to stay with the Order after you were discharged from your trooper duties. Finn mentioned — and please, don’t get upset that he told me — he was surprised by your decision… especially considering your background. What exactly did he mean by this?”

Takoda paused, looking at you as if considering something. Finally, leaning towards you slightly, he continued. “What I’m about to tell you cannot leave this room, alright? People onboard wouldn’t think too kindly of me if they knew.”

You nodded. “Of course, Koda, I would never do something like that — never.”

His hazel eyes met yours as he spoke in a low, serious voice. “I wasn’t born First Order. I was born Resistance.”

He looked up at you, attempting to gauge your reaction. When you didn’t look angry or disgusted, he continued.

“I was pretty independent from a young age. My parents were never home. They were always working on something Resistance-related. They were pretty much consumed by their work. One year they even forgot my birthday,” he huffed, looking to his feet. “When they hadn’t come home by dinnertime, I left the house. I walked for hours before I came to a small village. A group of off-duty stormtroopers walked by, chatting about their latest mission, and I approached them.”

He took a deep breath before continuing.

“At that moment, all I wanted was to be a part of something. A team. A community of people that truly had my back. I couldn’t join the Resistance, not after what it had turned my parents into. So I asked the stormtroopers, begged them, to let me join them. FN-2187, or Finn, as you call him, was there. He was against it. The others that were with him, however, were all for it. So just like that, I went with them.”

You were surprised. “So the Order just let a random kid into their program?”

“Pretty much. At the time they were desperate. Less and less people wanted to be a part of the trooper program. They took anyone they could get. So, I signed up, trained, and fought as a stormtrooper. Finn took me under his wing. Kept me outta trouble.” He paused, his eyes downcast. “He was like the only true family I ever had. Then I got injured, Finn got mad when I decided to stay, and they transferred me here, to this job.” He looked up at the ceiling, releasing a dry chuckle. “Funny thing is, I found out years later that my parents had missed my birthday, their own son’s birthday, to attend some random Resistance diplomat’s birthday party instead. Talk about the ‘Parent of the Year’ award…”

You were starting to appreciate your family on Lothal more and more. They weren't perfect, but they had never forgotten your birthday.

“Listen, I know I can’t change how they treated you, but please believe me when I tell you that they are missing out. Big time.” You smiled at him. “You have the biggest heart. They don’t deserve you. And I know you don’t want to hear it, but Finn truly did, and does, want the best for you. He cares about you so much, but is too stubborn to admit it, just like another certain someone I know.” Koda rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not saying you should forgive him right away… I just think that second chances are important, and are something that Finn has hardly ever been offered in his life.”

Koda sighed dramatically before speaking again. “Fine, maybe someday, in the very, very, very distant future, I will consider talking to Finn.”

You smiled, satisfied. “Good.”

“But only so you will stop bugging me about, like I know you will.”

You smirked. “Hey, I’ll take what I can get.”

He shook his head, looking at you incredulously. “You know, you’re pretty good at the whole active listening while subtly brainwashing thing. It’s annoying.”

You smirked. “I have lots of experience.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do… So, is my interrogation over?”

“I suppose it is… for today at least.” You looked at the papers laying on the table next to Koda. “What were you up to?”

“Oh,” he started, looking a bit flustered. “I was just trying to sketch something up.”

A twinge of anxiety hit you. “What? I didn’t know we had a new assignment already!”

“No, no, it’s not for a new assignment,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “It’s for Rilea.”

“Rilea…” You smirked, knowingly. “I knew something was going on there.”

The look of panic on Koda’s face was almost comical. “What? No! Nothing is going on! The going is off. A hundred percent off.”

“Wow, consider me convinced,” you replied sarcastically.

He shook his head emphatically. “I swear, we’re just friends… not even that! We’re basically enemies.”

You smiled devilishly. “Alright, I’ll be sure to let her know the next time I see her.”

The panicked look on his face turned to one of pure terror. “No! Please! Ugh. Just- just don’t say anything alright?”

“Whatever you say, Koda,” you said, once again smiling in victory. “Anyways, I’ll let you get back to your project.”

You walked back towards the door, stopping briefly before you exited.

“And Koda?” You turned to face him. “Thank you.”

He looked back at you, confused. “For what?”

“For not giving up.”

And with that you made your way out of the workspace and back to your quarters.

———————————————————

Upon arriving in your room, you headed straight to the bed, face-planting into the pillows. You sighed loudly before turning onto your back, casually scanning your eyes over the space. Something on the floor next to the door caught your eye: a white slip of folded paper.

You stood up, making your way over to the mystery letter. The word artist was written on the front. Opening it up, you found it simply read:

Meet me in room E23 tomorrow night at 8. This is not a request.

Commander Ren

You chuckled. Of course he had to add the ‘this is not a request’ bit.

Alarm bells soon began sounding in your head. You wondered what this meeting was about: Were you in trouble? Was this about your Force abilities? Were you being led into a trap?

But there that strange feeling was again: trust.

For some strange reason, you trusted that the Commander wouldn’t hurt you. After all, he’d proven as much over the last few days, after saving you from Hux and the men on Dantooine.

You thought back onto your conversation with Finn, remembering how he told you about the way he was forced into the trooper program. It shocked you that some troopers had attempted to injure themselves to get discharged from their duties. You recalled how Finn, himself, said he would have rather died than have accepted his position with the First Order…

If that’s the way these seemingly robotic and unempathetic troopers truly felt, then what was to say that the Commander was any different?

You had seen him in battle — you had found footage on your data pad. He was fueled by emotion; each strike of his fiery crossguard blade exploded with passion.

Though this raw emotion scared most, it enticed you — it gave you hope.

An excess of emotion was always better than a lack of it.

Maybe the Commander was forced into his role, just like Finn was. Maybe he had no choice but to join the Order. Maybe that’s why he wore his mask: to distance himself from his true feelings, from his inner conflict.

Of course, you knew more than anyone…

Things aren’t always as they seem.

——————————————————

Previous || Masterlist || Next

[captainscanadian]

Better | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 2)

My Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: While Bucky’s friends were genuinely concerned about his decision to stay at your bedside in your time of need, he seems to be worried about your hesitance to accept his affection. As much as you wanted give into your own desires, your past is holding you back from doing so. And Bucky being Bucky, he’s going to find out why.

Word Count: 3066

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Reader, Nurse!Wanda, mentions of Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint & Peggy as minor characters

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Abuse & Alcoholism, Surgery, Organ Donation, IV & Needles, Emotional Distress, Physical Pain, Drugs, Hospital Stay

A/N: You should all blame Glee for this one, I was told to up the angst so I took her word and decided to make this angsty. I’ve never written something like this before so I would love to hear your feedback! :)

Wanda Maximoff was always on top of things when it came to her patients. The way she organized the charts and made detailed notes of her own to update the doctors during rounds had made her a personal favorite to most of them. Aside from the usual tasks of taking vitals, changing IV's, changing drainage tubes and giving the right medications at the right time to her patients, she also took the initiative to care for the doctors who also worked their asses off. It was no secret that she made their lives a lot easier, as that was one of the reasons why Bucky had always trusted her.

As her shift was finally coming to an end, she proceeded to hand off her patients to the nurse who was taking over her place for the rest of the day. After updating her on all of the necessary changes that had been made to the patients' treatment plans and making sure that the other had a clear understanding of all of the timings for medications, she picked up her red cardigan that rested on the chair and shrugged it on over her purple scrubs. She let out a yawn as she checked the time on the computer screen in front of her, noticing that even she had been here for a whole day. If anything, she couldn't wait to get back to her apartment and sleep.

After bidding farewell to her fellow nurses at the desk, she walked around the counter to peek down the hallway of the post-op ward. She had kept an eye on your hospital room throughout the night and into the morning. She knew that the man who had entered your room at dawn was still there, even though it was now nearing noon. She had noticed him step out of the room twice or thrice to use the bathroom, but he always seemed to return to your bedside within minutes. She wondered if Dr. Barnes had even eaten a proper meal since his surgery last night. Knowing him, he probably hadn't. If there was one thing that Wanda knew for sure, it was that Bucky was not taking the best care of himself as much as he was hoping to take care of you.

She made her way downstairs to the hospital's cafeteria in hopes of picking up some food for him before she left, only to run into Natasha, Sam, Steve and Clint having a quick breakfast together before their respective surgeries. She walked up to their table and sat down on the empty chair, her arms crossed against her chest before she sighed. "I think someone should drag Barnes out of her room by his hair and tell him to go home." Even Wanda had assumed that Bucky would only stop by your room before he left the hospital, that he would want to go home to sleep in his own bed at some point. But the way he had let himself stay in your room for hours on end was slightly concerning to her to say the least. 

"Is he still there?" Natasha asked the nurse as she took a bite of her sandwich, a hint of surprise in her voice as she heard what the other had just said. She happened to find Bucky sitting by your bedside when she had come in to check on you during her morning rounds. She had been surprised to say the least, as she had assumed that his workaholic self would have found some other broken heart to fix. But upon hearing that he had spent his hours off from work by your bedside, even she couldn't help but wonder what was going on with him. 

Wanda nodded before sighing. "I think he took a bathroom break every two hours or so but I'm pretty sure he hasn't eaten anything in a whole day. And it's not like he's talking to her for hours on end or anything like that. She's still knocked out from pain meds and he's just sitting there."

It wasn't a surprise to your friends that he was there for you. They had always known that he cared for you. If anything, Bucky wasn't the best at hiding his true feelings. Perhaps, you may have been oblivious to them until now but they all knew that there was something that was going on with him when it came to you. It was evident in the way he had sprung to talk you out of donating your liver. Clearly, he had been worried about you. In a way, his actions were only confirming their suspicions about his feelings for you. 

"So, he's just sitting in her room for hours and watching her sleep? Like does that not sound creepy at all to you guys?" Sam asked as he shook his head. "The boy's lost his mind." 

"He hasn't been home in three days." Steve informed as he finished his lunch, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I had to drop him off a change of clothes this morning. I don't think he plans on going home... ever." 

Clint chuckled as he shook his head. "Who would have known that our little surgical robot even had it in him? I think we should be proud of the effort that he's putting in to be there for her." 

"Clint, there's a fine line between being there for her and watching her sleep like an absolute maniac." Sam retorted. "Bucky's the latter. He's gone officially insane. I would suggest getting him a psych consult with Rhodes if I were you." 

Natasha rolled her eyes as she set down her sandwich. "I still don't think he's going to fess up to having a thing for her once this blows over."

"I have a little faith." Wanda shrugged. "But it's nice of him to be there fore her. Her own mother hasn't been down to see her and... it breaks my heart, poor Y/N has to go through this alone." She couldn't help but frown at him. "It was so selfless of her to do what she did." 

"I'm proud of her." Steve admitted, smiling. "And I'm glad Bucky's finally decided to do something about his feelings for her. If anyone could thaw out his cold dead heart, it's Y/L/N. And if anyone could handle a selfless risk-taker like her, it's him." 

"And if anyone could grab some food for that sappy romantic asshole, it's me." Wanda mocked as she stood up from her seat and chuckled, just as a confused Peggy Carter walked up to the table. 

"Hey, do any of you happen to know why Barnes texted me to drop off a copy of Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice?" She asked as she sat down next to her husband, earning a confused look from the rest of the table. 

"What did I tell you? He's reached absolute insanity." Sam announced as he stood up from his seat and picked up his tray. "I have to go. I have an appendectomy in twenty minutes. I'll see you guys later." 

Watching him walk away, the nurse turned back to the table. "I'm going to get the guy some breakfast before I leave. Miss. Carter, I can take that book to him for you if you want?" She offered.

"Sure, darling." The hospital's in-house attorney handed her copy of the Shakespearean play to the nurse before sitting down on the seat next to her husband. "I don't even want to know what's gotten into him."

"I'll see you guys tomorrow." Wanda bid farewell to the rest of them before she made her way over to grab some food for Dr. James Barnes. 

The mid-afternoon sun peaked through the curtains in your hospital room when you woke up, the drowsiness of the pain medications wearing off as you slowly began to feel the pain in your abdomen once again. You winced slightly as you opened your eyes, your hand moving quickly to cover them as you squinted at the light. Your throat was so dry that not even trying to swallow your own saliva would help. Your turned your head to your side to reach for the remote and call for a nurse when you noticed the familiar dark-haired doctor still sitting by your bedside.

It took you a moment to take in the sight of him. He looked so different from the last time you had seen him. His navy blue scrubs have now been replaced with a pair of dark jeans and a plaid shirt, his formerly disheveled jet black locks now scooped up into a messy man bun. His baby blue eyes were glued to the paperback book he was reading and his eyebrows furrowed, something you noticed that he did a lot when he focused intently during surgeries. You had to squint to make out of what he was reading, but all that was picked up by your blurry eyes was the name 'William Shakespeare' in big bold letters. It made you wonder, since when did Dr. James Barnes even like Shakespeare?

"James..." You whispered, clearing your throat as the dryness making you feel uneasy. "James."

His sapphire-like eyes darted back over to you as the look of worry blanketed over his face. "Hey..." He set down his book, not even bothering to mark the page and leaned over to take your hand. "How're you feeling?"

You took his hand and held it tightly, feeling him give you a gentle squeeze. "W-Water..."

"Oh... yeah, one moment." He reached for the plastic cup on the nightstand before bringing the straw over to your lips. "There you are..."

You took a few sips of the water as you finally got rid of the dryness in your throat, giving him a nod. "Thanks."

Bucky set down the water before sitting back down in his chair, his hand still holding onto yours. "How are you feeling? How's the pain?"

"Better." You told him before letting out a sigh as you shut your eyes for a moment, still not used to the light. "How long was I out?"

"A few hours." He said, softly. "Natasha was here during morning rounds. She said that the internal sutures and the Steri-Strips are still in place. There's no bleeding from the incision so that's good. The tubes can come out in a few days once your intestines start working again. You should be able to go home in about a week."

"That's good news." You opened your eyes to look up at him and gave him a weak smile. "Have you been sitting here for a while?"

He had been by your side when had fallen asleep a few hours ago, and now that you had woken up, he was still here. It made you wonder if Dr. Barnes had spent the hours of your unconsciousness by your bedside. A part of you wanted to believe that he did because you remembered the gentle kiss he had given you on your forehead as you drifted off. But you still held yourself back from making that assumption. Certain events of your past were reason enough for you to not have any expectations or make any assumptions regarding people's affections.

"I mean, I did step away to use the bathroom a few times. I showered and got changed. But other than that, I've been sitting here, just me and my book." He held up the book he had been reading and you finally noticed the title of it. He had been reading The Merchant of Venice, the play that you had made a reference to while you were in your medicated state. You remembered that.

You couldn't help but let out a chuckle. It did not surprise you that he had taken your recommendation in Shakespearean plays. A part of you was well aware that if you weren't confined to you bed the next couple of weeks, he would be willing to do much more than just read what you had told him to read. Even if James Barnes hadn't confessed his true feelings for you, there were times when be couldn't conceal them from you either. Aside from the fact that he had tried to talk you out of donating your liver, Bucky's previous displays of affection only ever included several occasional cups of coffee during your shared late night shifts.

"This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood; the words expressly are 'a pound of flesh:' take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh; but, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed, one drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods, are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate, unto the state of Venice." He recited the passage as his lips curled into a smirk. "That scene almost made me regret not going to Law School."

You were slightly surprised by the fact that he was able to memorize the lines even though he had probably just read it. "How are you saying that on top of your head?" You asked, curiously. "It's certainly not a passage that one could remember so easily."

"I may have a bit of a photographic memory, believe it or not." He replied as he laughed softly.

"Yet you didn't do well in English class?" You remarked, your eyebrow raised at him.

"I just never liked Shakespeare." He admitted, laughing softly. "So, I didn't even bother trying with that class."

You let out a breathy laugh, wincing slightly at the pain in your abdomen.

He frowned for a moment and squeezed your hand once. "Is there anything I can get you, Y/L/N?"

"No, I'm alright." You shook your head before letting out a sigh, your free hand rubbing your temples as you leaned back in your bed. "You should go home, Dr. Barnes. You've been here for a while."

"It's fine, I don't mind. I have today and tomorrow off and there's not much I can do to keep myself entertained." Bucky informed with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "I know how awful it could be, being stuck in bed like this for a whole week. I have no problem keeping you company until then."

"But you said that you reached your weekly limit. That means you must have been here for what, three or four days now? If you stayed with me until you were due back at work, and knowing you, you would work another sixty-hour shift. That's almost a whole week of not leaving this hospital and..." You shook your head. "Staying in this place for that long can drive anyone crazy. You should go home, Dr. Barnes. Get some sleep in your own bed. Honestly, I'm not going anywhere. I have the nurses and whoever is the intern on call for tonight to keep me company. I'll be right here when you come back."

"You've been here for a few days too, doll. And you're stuck here for another week, just like I am." He reminded. "There's no point in going home when I know that I'm going to keep thinking about what you're up to. Even though I would be home, trying to sleep on my own bed, my mind would be right here in this room."

You rolled your eyes at his argument. "Barnes, I really don't have a choice in that matter. But you do." When he said that his mind would be right here in this room, right here with you, you knew exactly what it meant. While either of you were willing to accept your feelings for each other and confess, the subtly of it all was finally getting to you. You wanted to tell him that you always felt like the two of you were more than friends but you couldn't. You couldn't afford to let someone in to your messy life, because usually they end up hurting you or you end up driving them away. And you did not want either of these things to happen with Bucky. "Just go home."

"And I choose you." He blurted out, not even second-guessing what he had just said. "I'm staying."

You bit down on your bottom lip as you gently pulled your hand back from his grip. Your eyes glazed over as you looked away from him. "James... I'm..." You were at a loss for words, not knowing what to say. You had been living alone since you were eighteen years old, trusting no one but yourself to take care of you. It wasn't easy for you to be out in the real world on your own but you had learned to survive. Three minimum wage jobs and eight years of school had toughened you up, but in the presence of Bucky Barnes, you felt yourself breaking down.

Perhaps it was the drugs or the fact that you were emotionally traumatized by the process of this surgery itself. But you did not feel like yourself right now and it sucked. As much as you wanted to give in to your desire to feel loved by someone, you knew you shouldn't. You would only end up getting your heart broken, again. "I'm sorry, I... I almost forgot." You quickly blinked away your tears before turning back to face him. You couldn't see the sight of his frown but it was for the best. "Wanda told me that she would look into the status of my sperm donor but she never got back to me on that. Do you mind... looking into it? I'm worried that he might start rejecting... that piece of me."

This was no metaphor but it seemed like Bucky had figured that out. While he did not know of your current situation with your family or what exactly had happened in the past that made you leave them in the first place, he intended to find out. He was curious as to why you were willing to put yourself through this and why you were indirectly refusing his affection as well. He knew that there was more to you that what everyone in this hospital knew of, something so personal to you that you had hid from almost everyone you knew. "I'll find out." He gave you a weak smile before nodding.

[orderofthefanfic]

It’s All Over But The Laughing

Summary: Gotham was a trash heap of destitution and neglect. The rich barely even saw those less wealthy worth enough to step on and any who suffered were helpless. Arthur Fleck was no exception. Suffering from a disorder that left him ostracized from his world, even in the smallest of places, it felt as if no one even saw him. Until he met you. A similar case of loneliness and despair, it was never a case of whether you were seen, but of whether you were heard. Despite your gigs as a cheap singer, the words of your heart were never understood, with a stutter that frightened you from saying your mind and a world that silenced you from showing your truth. The day you met Arthur Fleck was the day your life changed forever.

Pilot

It wasn't completely unusual for people to linger in the halls of the social office, but her face, Arthur hadn't seen before. He slowed his pace, out of curiosity, most of all, and studied the stranger's nervous form. She sat in one of the decrepit chairs in the main hall, left as a makeshift waiting room despite the lack of people who even came to this office, shaking her knee as her hands, clasped tightly, bounced atop it. Her eyes scanned the room frequently, in Arthur’s favor, stopping just short of where he stood to observe, and a sickened look enrobed her aura. With a harsher bounce of her leg, she pushed a breath of air through her pursed lips, flattening her back against the chair and leaning her head back to face the ceiling. He intended to move on from watching her when one of the other psychiatrists in the building made their way towards her. At their approaching footsteps, she shot her head up, an anxious grimace playing on her face.

“(Y?N)? What are you still doing here?” The doctor looked to her watch, furrowing her brow, “Our sessions been over for 20 minutes.”

“Dr. Setler!,” The girl, who Arthur now overheard as (Y/N), began to wring her hands roughly, “I-I don’t...d-didn’t,”

She stopped suddenly, scrunching her nose and huffing a burst of air with a twitch of her head. He thought she was just stammering, her nerves getting to her, but as she continued to speak, he realized she struggled through multiple words, stopping almost entirely in between some, and continuously scrunching her face as she grappled through her sentences.

“I th-thought we had an extended session today and I didn’t get your call it was sh..compressed. I was going to wait until my ride arrived.”

Setler raised her brow, a tight-lipped smile flashed towards the girl that seemed in the least bit forced, “That’s going to be quite some time, yes?”

“Well, yes,” When she finally stuttered out her answer, she spilled out with a slight panic, “I’d rather just wait, I don’t truly want to call.”

Her mouth hung open as if to say more, but the doctor waved dismissively in her face, placing a hand on her back and leading her, quite reluctantly, to the public phone in the foyer, “Nonsense, Remember we talked about practicing with phone calls? You’ll only get better. Waiting here all day is obscene.”

She attempted desperately to disagree, but between her struggles to speak and dismission of Setler, she was unwillingly shoved to the device, and a receiver was thrust into her trembling hand.

With a rough pat on her back, Dr. Setler gave a short wave goodbye and took off down the hall. Arthur was not one to enjoy eavesdropping. He knew, and it was ingrained in him, that it was rude, but even with his consciousness scolding him as he stayed out of suspicion and listened, he was unable to stop. She stood blankly for a few moments before she slowly began to spin in the numbers, swaying on her feet as she unknowingly sealed her fate with each rotation. Although he couldn’t hear the speaker on the other side, he gathered enough.

The conversation looked painful to be involved in, the girl’s already debilitating stutter exemplified over the phone, and the stress that seemed to be gripping her was tightening with every word. In summary, she was behind on her paycheck, thus placing her behind on her already reduced-price medications. The man on the other end, who she’d addressed as her uncle, was audible even from where Arthur stood, although his words were indistinguishable, his distaste was crystal-clear.

“No meds, no roof.”

A persnickety individual, he seemed set on his personal philosophy that if she wasn't on whatever medications she was prescribed, instantly, she wasn't mentally sound or safe to be in his home. The ideal made Arthur sick.

At some point, the girl had half resulted to begging, pushing the phone tightly to her cheek and clenching her fist until her knuckles turned white. Her uncle was highly impatient with her stutter and as the conversation pressed on, she, too, was becoming increasingly frustrated with her inability to converse concisely. Within the limited range of the phone cord, (Y/N) paced and screamed internally. After desperate convincing, she managed to buy herself a day, 24 hours to pack up whatever life she had in her uncle's apartment and leave it behind. Part of her was relieved, the other was still preoccupied with finding a new apartment.

When the death buzz of an empty phone line stung in her ear, she finally gave up on trying to hold whatever was left of her together. Tears sprang to her eyes the second the receiver touched the hook and her palms rubbed her face angrily. Stumbling and shuffling to the seat in the hall, she slumped heavily into the worn and flaking leather. Her face was covered by her hands, muffling her weary cries, and a frown took over Arthur's own expression.

A moment or two passed, the otherwise quiet hall echoing with her sadness, before Arthur finally forced himself to stop creeping on the poor girl and at least do something . And so, Arthur Fleck did what Arthur Fleck wanted to do most: make somebody laugh.

He approached her slowly, his light footfalls rising only slightly above her sobs and cautiously lowered himself into the seat next to her. She stiffened but remained otherwise unchanged. He placed an immense amount of will power into keeping his own self calm, hoping a fit of painful laughter wouldn't rip through him. An awkward second passed, and when he thought about how uncomfortable his silent presence probably felt, the joke he'd been balancing on his tongue jumped out.

"Why are poor people so confused?"

Although she didn't verbalize her acknowledgment of him, he sensed a loosening of her hands as he cries quieted ever so with curiosity. She was unnerved, she wouldn't deny that, but she couldn't ignore what he'd just say out of the mere oddness of the question. Unknowing of its humorous intention, she stayed unmoving and waited.

Whether it was with good or poor judgement, Arthur nudged her shoulder as he delivered the punch line, "Because they don't make any cents."

Nothing. At first, there was absolutely nothing, then what to him sounded like harder sobbing, and then finally, a sound he was all too familiar with (maybe just not from others), laughter. Sad and bitter laughter at first, but soon it morphed into soft but genuine chuckling. Her palms began to rub her face with a pitied groan, her head shaking in self-disbelief and she assertively wiped the fallen tears from underneath her red eyes.

"Th-That's the worst joke I've ever heard," Arthur's heart plummeted, "I love it."

She finally turned to look at him, a weak smile tugging at her lips, and something deep in him glowed.

"Well, I'd hoped you would." He returned the grin, shifting in his seat as she took a few steadier breaths.

It was evident she was apprehensive about speaking, something Arthur understood, although perhaps from a different perspective. Her eyes darted quickly to the brown paper bag in his hand, her ears honing in on the unmistakable sounds of pills, and she seemed almost to relax more at the realization he was a fellow patient at the office.

An awkward silence grew quickly between them but he rubbed his palms on his knees and confided, "I didn't mean to listen in, but I overheard you don't have a ride and you're nervous about taking the subway alone. If you want, I take the subway all the time, I wouldn't mind joining you, if it would make you feel better."

He felt like he may have been rambling, pulling back as he pressed his lips together. She was staring at him silently, a strange look on her features and Arthur began to panic that he may have said the wrong thing. Or maybe he sat the wrong way, or did the wrong thi-

"I'd r-re..verily appreciate that." She tripped out, her head nodding softly as her eyes seemed to gleam. "Seriously, it would mean a lot."

His lips twitched upwards again and he sighed in relief, rising from his seat as he extended his hand towards her.

"My name is Arthur."

Her hand, still trembling, slipped gently into his, contradicting the firm grip and sharp shake she gave him.

Nodding, she flashed her teeth at him genuinely, "(Y/N)."

(A/N): Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I watched this movie opening day and I have not stopped thinking or talking about it since. It was stunning and I just fell in love with the characterization of Arthur. Joaquin did a phenomenal job and everything about the film was beautiful. Also! I have never written a character with a stutter and I, unfortunately, do not personally know anyone who does that I can ask and get advice from. I tried to do research and watch video examples of how a stutter affects someone, the types of stuttering, and what it sounds like, but as someone who does not have a stutter and doesn't see it in person, I may not portray it as well as I'd like. I would love any feedback or advice you can give me on how I do or should depict stuttering and if there are any inaccuracies or over (or under) exaggerations, please let me know! I love to hear your feedback and comments!