#the fucking medical field just fills me with rage

[wraithdance]

The TF 141 Compatibility Love Report

For: @buttdumplin

Disclaimer:

This is based on my personal opinion and interpretation of you and the character.  the user makes no claims to be a real doctor or any medical professional. Unfortunately for you I am but a figment of your imagination so you can't sue me. *scary ghost noises* whoooooo

The Doc says your TF 141 Perfect Match is…

Captain John Price!

Don't act surprised my friend, it's time to face the music!

Romance: You like em big. You like em tall. You like em loyal. You damn sure like em a lil bossy with a firm grip and a propensity to calling you some combination of sweet boy and love :)

You and John are the most compatible to me by a landslide. You're cut from the same cloth, both self assured about the things that matter to you and loyal to a fault. The difference is one of you has a raging size kink and I'm not looking at Price. The mountain also known as Captain would be the partner who stands firm at your side with a guiding hand. There would be no greater- or worthwhile -challenge for him than staying in your good graces. He's naturally a giver and would make your comfort a priority for him. He's also not afraid to do the heavy lifting and will not hesitate to bust a jaw for you as long as you're there to kiss his knuckles after.

John and you would not be without your ups and downs. You're both naturally headstrong and when you do find yourself on opposite sides of an argument it's one for the books. He'd be frustrated by your logic and sense of justice and you by his bull in the china shop technique to getting the job done. But it's okay, because like a tether the string of fate would lead you right back where you started. Reading books under a nice tree, domestic tasks made intimate by cracking teasing jokes about his bad back, drinks on the patio pointing out the stars. A once in a lifetime love affair.

Sex: Let's circle back to that size kink shall we. Price would love, that you love his height and the broadness of his shoulders. He'd also love that you love when he can't wait to bully you into that position where he can slide righttttttt there. If there's one thing that you both would be consistently on the same page about it's fucking. You two would be like teammates on the same field, quickly going over the game plan and executing with perfection. I think he'd like it if you bossed him around a lil bit in bed. he'd certainly take it until you've gotten your fill before he says 'my turn' and flips your world on it's axis. His favorite though would be the really lazy days where you're both just looking for connection, half fucking and laughing about your day and kissing each other tenderly :')

Possible points of Contention:

He doesn't understand the fun in DnD

Hides his hurt behind gruff one liners

Beard shed like a goddamn poodle

Your Poly Pairing (haha) is….

PriceRudy or (Pricegaz)- What? A weird obscure poly pairing?? Hear me out, I think you'd work for the awkward but efficient Sergeant Major of Los Vaqueros! He's a boy scout who needs a lil bit of teasing and in return you get to see him flustered and heart eyed over you. I can also see Gaz in a poly pairing with you and Price for similar reasons that we've already extensively yapped about lol. Either Gaz or Rudy's attentive and self assured nature would please you and they would flow well with Price's seasoned methodology to keep the love going. I think having the shared cultural connection with Rudy would be a safe space for you in this poly pairing (and being able to gang up on Price would be an added plus.)

[getsemantic]

I don’t care how good of a top surgeon she is, no one should be using BMI as a guideline for anything

[whynot-tryit]

Angel of Small Death

Chapter 3

Pairing: John Price x Female! Reader

Summary: The team is sent on a mission, someone is hurt. You doing everything in your power to do your job, keep them alive, even if that means you break some rules and get your ass chewed for it.

Word count: 3523

Warnings: inaccurate medical terminology and procedure, blood, slight angst, yelling, name calling, bullying, lmk if I missed anything.

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

You had been excited about the meeting you had set up with Price, it had been plaguing you for days but it was quickly pushed to the back of your mind and to the bottom of your to do list. 

The base was a mess, rushing bodies in and out of buildings, some on stretchers and some on their own two feet. An informant had given the location of a well known terrorist leader and his men, the information was only going to be good for at most 48 hours. It was rushed, but it was enough time to get Price and his men ready. It would be their first out field mission with you being their medic. Part of your job to get them ready was to pack their med kits, a small fanny pack type of thing in their vest in case of anything. You’ve done it thousands of times but you couldn’t help the slight tremor in your fingers while placing wound compresses inside of them, praying they wouldn’t have to use it.

You’d be in the med bay, helping whoever you could, waiting until your men got back. They would only page you if it was something serious. The sound of the machine at the edge of your scrub pants is playing faintly in the back of your mind, all the times you have ever heard it go off playing over and over again through your memories. You keep yourself busy for what feels like forever, bandaging random soldiers, taking inventory and filing paperwork. It's been hours and a part of you is scared that they won’t be coming back at all. 

They know what they’re doing, they’ve done multiple times without me before. You keep telling yourself over and over. It's like your lungs can’t fill up with air, like your ribs are in the way and a part of you wants to rip your chest open just so you can breathe. 

Beeping breaks you out of your thoughts, its high pitched it makes your lungs shrivel up deep within your chest. Fuck.

You rip the pager out of its clipped position on your scrub pants, the electronic screen flashing at you. They’re two minutes out. 

There’s nothing else you can make of the message, there's no description of an injury or who exactly was hurt. Your feet start carrying you, running towards the evac landing dock. The sound of the soles of your shoes connecting the tiles that make up the hallway floor and your heartbeat is all that invades your ears.

 You finally get to the mouth of the landing dock, there's three medical personnel already waiting for you with a stretcher. It barely takes you a second to take in the scene before you see the helicopter, the wind picks up- venting through the fabric of your scrubs, your hand coming up to shield your eyes from both the sun and the dust picked up by the violent wind. The noise is almost deafening, you can barely make out the bodies piling out of the body of the helicopter. You can see the shapes of what you can guess is Ghost and Soap jump out, but there's one more still inside, kneeled over the body of another. 

It’s Gaz. 

You’re rushing to the side of the helicopter, pulling yourself up to take a look at him.

John is putting pressure with both hands on his side, you can see a bit of cloth peeking out, a compress, but it doesn’t seem like it’s making anything better. You can finally hear something besides the sound of the wind, and rushing people.

“It's a gunshot wound, Ghost tried to patch him up but it's not stopping!” John has to scream just to get his words past the noises raging around everyone. You take a look over Gaz’s face, he’s pale from blood loss and his eyes are staring off into the space between you and John. 

“Let me take over!” You grab a hold of John's wrist, there's a moment where he won’t budge and you finally meet his eyes instead of the blood that's now on the floor of the metal frame. You see something flash through his eyes but his grip finally loosens and you don’t waste time. You scream over your shoulder to bring the stretcher closer and John helps you get Gaz onto it. 

You take a second to check his pulse, and you fight back a gasp when you don’t feel the light jump underneath the skin of his neck. You don’t hesitate to jump onto the stretcher with him and situate yourself above him, your hands clasped over his chest to start compressions. 

It takes the breath out of John's chest. It’s the last sight he gets of the both of you before you and Gaz are wheeled out back into the base. 

You’re trying to keep count of your compressions but the slight bump of the stretcher going over the saddles of the doorways and the sharp turns of the base are trying to throw you in for a loop. Your elbows are locked, the ache starting to settle deep in your bones from the action. 

The white walls and fluorescent lights finally fill your senses and you jump off the stretcher to move Gaz onto the bed. As soon as all the hands disperse you're quick to open up his shirt, his tactical vest removed long ago. 

“I need one round of epi now!” As soon as you see his bare chest you place the shock pads on while they administer the shot. “Everyone step back!” You take two steps back and everyone else in the room does so too. You hear the machine let out two beeps before it administers a shock and Gaz’s body tenses up before going limp again. 

You rush back to his side and check for a pulse, but find nothing. Your hands go back to their tiring position to start compressions again while ordering your people around. 

“Get the machine ready for another shock, set up another shot of epi and get me a heart monitor now!” 

You keep counting the hard beating of your hands on Gaz’s chest while people around you grab what you need and put them into place. “Clear!” You back up and watch the repeated action of his body yet again. Fuck.

“Give him the second shot of epi!” You’re about to start the compressions again while they administer the shot when someone grabs you by the shoulder to turn you. 

“We’ve already given him one and shocked him twice, we can’t do anything more.” 

You quickly shrug off the hand and words. “Epi now!” There are hesitant looks around the room but no one moves. You stop the compressions to grab the syringe on the table and put it into his forearm and press the button on the shock machine “Clear!” 

You know there’s a protocol, you had spent hours reading over them but you weren’t going to let that stop you from doing your job- not when it came to you team, your men. You can imagine the look in John’s eyes when you tell him that Gaz is gone. That he died while under his orders, under his hands. The idea makes you swallow a lump in your throat, the taste of bile lingers in your mouth. 

Gaz’s body falls back and you try in a final fit to give him CPR, you keep your eyes on the heart monitor- praying, begging. It feels like hours, years, where the flat line haunts your eyes and the slight cold damp skin beneath your hands. 

The line spikes. You stop the compressions. The Heart monitor keeps a steady rhythm and you finally let out a breath. “Okay let's get the wound taken care of, let's start an IV and give some antibiotics and fluids.” The urge to yell is now non-existent, the adrenaline is still in your system but you try to calm your shaking hands as you move to start examining his wound. 

—----------------

It takes an hour to get Gaz stable. The compress had been taken out and the bullet extracted- the wound now clean and stitched. The shot hadn’t hit any bone or organ- thank god- but it was bloody, his iron deficiency making it easier for him to bleed out. 

The adrenaline had left your system, a tired achy feeling now taking its place. You wanted to take a nice long shower and crawl up into your bed but you know the other boys are waiting outside of the med bay waiting for news. 

You discard the bloody gloves that were once on your hands into the trash and make your way to the entrance of the med bay. Your eyes make their way across the large area, trying to find John. His hat makes an appearance in your peripheral vision and you turn to find the blue eyes that come along with it. Before your feet can start their way towards the figure a hand closes around your upper arm and drags you in the other direction. 

Your eyes come up and see the same doctor that had tried to stop you from giving Gaz that last shot of epi. “Hey, what the fuck are you doing?” 

He finally lets you go after you’re a good distance away from the entrance of the med bay. 

“Are you fucking stupid?” 

“Excuse me?” You’re startled by his attitude, a surprised look making its way on your face. 

“You broke protocol, even though I tried to warn you.”

“I did my job, and I did it pretty well if you tell me.”

“Well I’m telling you you fucked up, big time. There are rules for a reason. You’re not special, they don’t just disappear because you need them to.” 

You let out a chuckle. Things with the other medical staff had been tense, you had always had this feeling they didn’t like you. Sure, you broke protocol, but as most things come- this was not the worst way things could’ve played out. “I saved my patient.” 

“You want a fucking medal?”

“No, I want you off my ass.” 

He chuckles back at you, his eyes gleaming with annoyance and anger, yours undoubtedly  holding the same. 

John had seen the man grab a hold of you and whisk you off down the hall but still in his eyesight. He had sent Soap and Ghost to their rooms, to clean up and get a bite to eat while he’s been pacing back and forth by the med bay, waiting for you to give him an update on Gaz. 

His feet make their way to you and the other doctor, who has now taken a closer step towards you, invading your personal space. 

“You’re lucky that I wasn’t the one who hired you. No one fucking wants you here, you better remember that before you go around doing whatever the fuck you want.”

You stand your ground, hands clenched into fists by your side. His insult hit home for you as much as you hated it. The feeling of being needed was much more common for you than being wanted. It took years, many of them including your childhood and young adult years realizing there was a stark difference between the two.   

You can see the anger boiling behind his eyes, his lips pursing to throw out another insult at you. 

“Is there a problem here?” You turn your head to the familiar voice, John just standing a few feet away from the conflict. Your hands unclenched on reflex once your eyes meet his. 

The furious doctor barely acknowledges the captain before taking a step back from you, finally giving you enough space to breathe. “No, no problem here.” His eyes never leave your face until he turns to head back into the med bay. 

It hits you that you’re covered in blood, Gaz’s blood, and it must look like a bad sight to the captain. The dark red stands out against the green of your scrubs. 

You take a deep breath and turn your body to fully face the captain. “He’s gonna be alright, he bled out a lot easier because of his iron deficiency. He hasn’t been on those iron supplements long enough yet to help him and that's why he flatlined for a little.” There's a knot in your throat, it's been there for a few minutes, since the insults thrown at you settled in your skin. It feels like no matter how much you swallow or breathe you can’t get it out. 

John lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders loosening from the weight lifted off his shoulders- hands on his hips. His head hangs low, not able to meet your eyes. You realize how worried he’s probably been, he saw you perform CPR on Gaz, his body limp from the second they pulled him out of the helicopter and he’s just been waiting for something- anything since then. 

You finally will the knot in your throat to go down, it takes up residence in your stomach now but you raise a hand to touch his shoulder, thumb grazing the rough fabric of his jacket. “He might need six weeks minimum to recover but he’s gonna be okay, John.” Your voice is slightly above a whisper, your eyes now roving over the bodies around the two of you, a few feet away. 

The small crowd seems to be bothering John too, not just you. You softly use the hand on his shoulder to guide him a few feet down the hall to your office. 

You guide him into the room before closing the door and turning back to him. His eyes have finally torn themselves from the floor, shoulders still loose. “I’ll give you updates everyday if you’d like. Gaz is gonna be knocked out for the rest of the night so there’s not much to do till then.” 

“Is he comfortable?” The question makes you blink, a hand coming to rub the back of your neck. 

“Umm, I did put two pairs of socks on his feet and two warmed blankets on him so he stays warm, blood loss will make you pretty cold.” Your voice trails off towards the end, unsure what he meant by that. “Oh I also left him some apple juice on his bedside, he really likes the ones they serve here- the ones with the peel back lid. He likes them half frozen.” Your words die on your tongue when you see John trying to fight back a smile.

You don’t get to see the warm look on his face often, years of service engraved into his skin but it makes you sort of breathless. Like that feeling you get in your chest after a good laughing session with your friends. It makes your lips dry and you wet them with your tongue.

John’s eyes trace the movement and he finally breaks into a full smile. “I meant, is he in pain?” 

A part of you wants to punch yourself in the face or just slam your forehead into a cement wall. You stutter out a response, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks out of embarrassment.

“Oh! No. He’s on some morphine so when he wakes up he won’t be in pain.” Your hands are outstretched in front of you like you’re trying to calm down a wild animal, followed by your frazzled sentence. This makes a small chuckle rumble through him. 

The shake of his chest makes you take him in- in his tactical outfit. The beanie does wonders on his facial structure and the tactical vest- has his shoulders always been this broad- and his waist, the military was doing god’s work with those cargo pants. The sight leaves your mouth dry, like you can drink a whole lake and still not be satisfied. 

His height also finally hits you. You’re a decent height, it's never been a problem but his boots add a couple inches and all of a sudden you realize how he’s already towering over you even though he’s still only standing a few feet away. 

Your train of thoughts continues as he takes a slow step towards you, your eyes catching onto his chest before making their way up to his eyes. He’s close enough for you to smell him, sweat and gunpowder, and what you would guess is a hint of red clay. 

A hand comes up to your shoulder, almost where you had placed yours on his earlier. His hands are bigger than your- of course- covering more surface area than your own. His thumb catches the naked skin of your collar bone peeking out from your scrub top through the neck line. 

“Thank you, love.”

His voice is deeper than his previous ones and you’re praying to god that he can’t feel your heartbeat through your skin, you can hear it in your ears. His eyes are boring into yours, a solemn look, gratitude mixed with exhaustion. The idea of kissing him crosses your mind for a second and you quickly look at something past him, the wall behind him, to get the thought out. 

“I was just doing my job, captain.”

His thumb grazes your collar bone again and you can feel goosebumps form on the back of your neck and down your arms. The feeling causes you to meet his eyes again. 

“You did more than that. You do more than that everyday. So, thank you.”

His eyes harden when he utters the last words. Like as if he was trying to gently drill it into you for you to understand his gratitude. The look makes you gulp and you almost move to look down at your feet, his touch- his eyes- too much for you to handle at the moment.

The hand on your shoulder moves to the side of your face, his thumb on your cheek and his palm cradling your jaw. You suck in a breath, the noise loud enough for John to hear but his face doesn’t give it away. “You’re a good medic, love.” 

He most likely heard the insults that the doctor had thrown at you, his words ringing through your head and you place one of your hands on his forearm, the one attached to the hand on the side of your face. “John, I-” 

Another hand comes up to grab your bicep, his touch is sturdy and strong- not painful but the heat that radiates from it is almost scorching. The new movement pushes you even closer to him, your breathing is soft, a whisper of it brushing John's face- a small ripple through his facial hair. 

A part of you thinks he’s going to kiss you, and another part of you wants him to. Flashes of Gaz’s limp body and the blood littering the metal floor of the helicopter appear behind your eyes and your jaw tenses under his hand. 

It’s like John can hear your thoughts, the images of Gaz and all of today's earlier events registering. He should let you go, say goodnight and never touch you in such a way again. A part of him wants to shut down the idea immediately, your skin was soft, warm, everything he prayed for in his most desperate moments. He wants to kiss you, slide his hands across your body- memorize your curves, the taste of your lips. He wanted to know how you’d whimper, moan, gasp. 

His eyes glance down at your lips before looking back up at your eyes. 

You catch his diverted glance and you feel your stomach flip. God, you wanted to kiss him, but something told you this wasn’t the right time. Your other hand comes to grip the fabric of his jacket, the bit of it that peeks out from under his tactical vest. “Y-you should probably go tell Soap and Ghost about Gaz. Unless you want me to.” 

John takes in the look in your eyes, you don’t look put off, embarrassed or uncomfortable. You don’t hate his touch- but the moment isn’t right. His hand on your face moves down to your bicep, both of his hands still on you.

He sighs, “I’ll go tell them now.” His hands finally fall back and you suddenly feel cold. It seeps into your bones and all of a sudden exhaustion hits you, hunger gnawing at your stomach and a headache hinting at your temples.

“Rest up, love.” John gives you a once over before pulling the door to your office open, throwing you a small smile before heading out, leaving the door slightly ajar. 

You finally take a deep breath in and run your hands down your face. Fuck, fuck, fuck ,fuck ,fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. A part of you wants to laugh at how unprofessional the situation was, how childishly giddy it made you feel. 

It would have to wait, Gaz was unconscious just down the hall and you had a job to do and so did John. 

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Taglist: @sharkiestory @midwesternwitchery @lavenderhhze @thriving-n-jiving @rivalriotrenegade @bitchoftoji @wasteland-babe @chloepluto1306 @sagewtff @not-so-innocent-now @scuftryo @cityoffallencrows @cumbermovels @iamaliceinwonderland @namelessnikki2 @honeyr4ven

[restless-witch]

better not wake the baby - spring part 2

link to chapter on ao3- ya gotta be logged in though

Fic Summary: Jaskier isn't helpless. He'd been a shepherd before. He'd killed a wolf before. He'll slaughter again if that's the price of freedom.

Fic Rated M: explicit gore/medical descriptions and miscarriage/abortion aftermath, swearing, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, really gross attitudes towards omegas, abusive relationships, references to fucking, brief suicidal ideation, tbh I'll probably write some actual fucking later

This fic was current up and to part 17 of Honey - Sometimes the Tunnel Only Leads to Darkness and after better not wake the baby- spring part 1. You'll enjoy this fic more if you’ve read them <3

Witcher 3 + Netflix / This part is rated T for contains references to sexual stuff and swearing

heyyo @oldandkinky it's a treat for you and me we've got some plot happening

Drown yourself in crocodile tears Curse the gods what made 'ye Pine away for your banner year But it better not wake the baby How long will this go on? How long, indeed? bang a drum 'till the money's all gone- but it better not wake the baby -The Decemberists -  What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World

He'd spent his first weeks on the lam in the wilds and resolves not to fucking do that again- even now that he's got his pack properly filled. It's easier to avoid Geralt in the woods but the constant trapping of game for supper wore on him as quickly as the misery of waiting out the spring rains did. 

All told, he was lucky to be in this part of Redania, where itinerant work was a little easier to come by and the locals generally still observed the customs of hospitality.

He emerged from Lettenhove in time for the spring plowing and thanked the lone lucky star watching over him that the local gossips were still chattering over the white haired witcher that left weeks ago. 

He was free of outrunning Geralt, for at least a little while.

Geralt was hunting him, he was sure- the scorched garden back home confirmed Geralt's rage even if Jaskier was foolish enough to think the witcher would take his flight easily. Living on the path, however, was not free and Geralt would need to slow his chase for coin. 

Jaskier really hoped he wasn't banking too much on gossip to keep him ahead, or behind, Geralt. 

He drifted between towns for a few weeks, living just a little better than hand to mouth, taking jobs in the fields and hunting for herbs to sell. The cuts and bruises he accumulated on jobs went away as easily as if he'd wiped them off and, more out of boredom than anything, he forms the sign of igni and a sputtering flame erupts from his fingertips. Which scares the shit of him enough that it's another week before he tries again: the signs have mixed success but he's torn between the terror of his foreign body and the desperate drive to take any advantage he can. He feels unsettled by this life- too close to what he experienced on the path, too close to the little jobs he'd take back home- feels like he's stagnating and mouldering even as he pushes his body farther beyond what he knew he should be capable of.

It's outside of Rinde that the grift begins.

It was raining- a heavy downpour through the night and into the day that seemed to follow Jaskier as he slogged through the muddy roads and only the guess-timate of Rinde being a three hour walk that forced his feet all the way to the inn.

Well, he thought it was the inn, but the unamused Ealdorman's clerk quickly dashed that presumption. The clerk mutters a curse into his ledger before asking if the amount on the posting is enough for him to just get on with it .

"Pardon?" Jaskier can't help but be polite.

"One drowner," the clerk enunciated, like Jaskier was some kind of fool, "I understand that's more a nuisance in your profession," he exaggeratedly looked down at Jaskier's chest, "but Kazimierz finally emptied the orphanage."

Oh. The medallion. The lover's medallion, smaller than Geralt's but, proclaiming an allegiance to the school of the Wolf. He'd nearly forgotten he wore it at all and had kept it around his neck merely to keep it safe for when he eventually pawned it. It must have wrested itself outside of his clothes while he hunched from the rain. With Tomek wrapped and strapped to his back and his gambeson worn to protect him from the cold- he can't even fault the clerk for his assumptions. 

Before he can help himself, he's agreeing to the contract.

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

In retrospect, killing his first drowner wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever done but it was the most frightening thing he'd ever done by choice. The White Wolf killed the others a few weeks back, but the lone remnant had made enough trouble by the bridge that the ealdorman promised him room and board for a week if he'd rid them of it. The room was a barn stall and the board was a meager basket of vegetables and eggs, but he'd been on the road enough that a week with the same roof over his head was plenty. 

He's so fucking stupid- but wasn't like trying to outsmart a witcher had really gotten him any progress. He knew a lot about drowners, for all that the witchers griped about contracts for them- it really was because they were a nuisance to a witcher. Hardly a monster and more of giant rancid smelling pain in the ass that mostly got handled by witchers because a crowd of them would overwhelm a normal human by the stench alone.

This was... doable if he didn't act a complete fool.

He went out the next afternoon when the rain had finally abated and found a gnarled yew tree. He climbed up and tested the boughs- swinging himself from a few of them and settling on the one with the best line of sight. He hung his pack on the branch above him and nocked his bow. He waited-

and waited-

well, fuck maybe he should've tried to track it during daylight hours.

At twilight it dragged itself out of the water- happily munching on a bullfrog. Jaskier loosed an arrow and the drowner squealed when it sank into its foot. It squalled as it tried to yank its foot off the ground- the beast didn't even wonder where it came from. He loosed a second towards the other foot but it sailed peacefully into the water. The third trapped the other foot and the drowner had enough mind to rip the fifth out of its chest.

He'd have to get closer then. 

Jaskier pulled Tomek from the branch above and hopped down: he tried casting igni but panicked and the sputtering flame just alerted the drowner to his presence- the drowners' fins flaring when it turned to claw at him. It lurched forward uselessly with its feet stuck, but it kept screeching and Jaskier wondered if his ears were bleeding. He threw his whole weight behind a clean aim towards its neck.

His swing went wide and when he rolled to the side to try and not trip he ended up just bashing its skull in with the blunt side. It crumpled to the ground but he frantically hacked away at the corpse until the head was completely severed.

He vomited onto the rocky shore. 

The body had stopped twitching: the gills dried out quickly and the revolting smell of rot and fish blood got stronger. Dawn was an hour or two away and Jaskier carefully crept back up the yew and pulled down his pack. He drank a little water and then a little temerian rye when his trembling wouldn't stop. He sat on the bank of the river and by the time daylight had started creeping over the body- he saw that the outside flesh was a mottled blue but the inside of the neck was grey. He stood back up and ambled back to the body, wrenching out his arrows, and kicking it over. It didn't look like a drowned person. It looked like a fish person with fine little scales and fins like a catfish. That-

that made it easier. It didn't really look like a person. if it was once a human then it hadn't been one for a very long time. 

The tongue, he remembered, was the traditional proof of the kill for a drowner. Something that annoyed Geralt because of how long they were. 

By this point, death had opened the jaw of the drowner's head for him and it was quick if very messy work to cut the tongue out. He panicked again. He hadn't thought ahead about what to do with the tongue. He paced the shore and panicked and panicked and panicked and until he was laughing hysterically. 

The great shuddering laughter did make him feel better in a way- it made the bit of flesh in his hand seem so fucking stupid and he did do it, he'd killed a verifiable monster. 

Gods he was so fucked- 

he'd done it though

-behind his heaving laughter he could feel the smallest reluctant flutter of hope in his chest. no he wasn't a witcher but maybe-

maybe he could go along with the hoax better than he thought he could. Most of their contracts were small like this, right? Maybe his grift wasn't as foolish as he'd thought it was.

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

He'd persuaded the ealdorman's wife to let him use her wash tub and fetch water from their well: he dragged them into the barn and stripped down. It was then he realized his smallclothes were sticky with drying slick. He felt revolted. He hadn't felt aroused but it must've happened when he was slaying the drowner. He'd been so caught up in the urgency and the terror, he hadn't noticed his body readying for what usually followed. Panic and arousal were tied together in his body. He'd known Geralt had ruined his twinges of lust but this was different. He was disgusting. A wretched example of an omega. A wretched example of a lover. He hated it. Hated his body. 

But it was all he had now. His silly dream of being a bard would never happen with his scarred face. Perhaps a wandering worker that occasionally busked, but no true bard could make it without a bit of wooing and he wasn’t feeling so vain as to pretend they were easy to ignore. No good alpha would take him with the bond mark or scarred womb, even if he claimed Geralt's death. He wasn't soft anywhere an omega should be. Not anymore. 

He stood above the bath a long time, avoiding looking at his blurry reflection. He tries casting igni again and his (traitorous) body didn’t hesitate to actually call the chaos this time so at least he was staring into a frothy  steaming bath instead. The minerals in the water filled his chest in a different way than the well water at home: which now that he thought about it, very rarely steamed with as much fervor either. He's told the air by the sea is salty in a good way, the only things he could compare it to are Kaer Morhen's springs and the Pontar, which sounds so strange and foreign he can hardly imagine it. Maybe he'll go to the coast, it's just as good a direction as any, become a sailor, just because he's playing Witcher now doesn't mean he can't try to wheedle a life aloft. 

The water was a bearable temperature by the time he finally calmed his thoughts enough to step in and it was like he cast axii on himself, the hot water sluicing all his thoughts away.  

He made up for the lack of payment by winning a few boxing matches: the smattering of scars on his torso and face were enough to convince the local tavern owner that he'll give a good show. The food in the basket left as payment by the ealdorman's wife dwindled quickly- he honestly hadn't planned on staying for the full week- but Zosia seemed to have a soft spot for him because a few more eggs and turnips and even a loaf of bread rolled in.

He paced the fields some- he killed a wolf prowling around and traded the pelt for a pair of boots and a handsome belt. The belt, regrettably and unavoidably, got traded for a fresh quiver of arrows and a proper sharpening for Tomek and his knife.

All told; a week earned him a purse of coppers (perhaps a lean two crowns when added up), Zosia ladling him a secret pot of milk as he leaves, and pointers to a few towns where he might find a little work.

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

He stumbled his way through the rest of the spring, mostly making coin helping with the tilling and taking on a contract for a warg which wasn't so different from killing a wolf besides the fact that the medallion that earns him the contract also earns him the missive to take his coin and leave before sundown. The same goes for flashing his medallion when he sells to the apothecarist- less bartering on the prices or the quality, but the same directive to leave the damned town the same day.

Town to town he goes and mingles and meets a handful of people who spot his medallion and ask after their friend Geralt . Jaskier briefly, in a moment of near insanity, wonders if there's a second witcher named Geralt of the Wolf School that just never returns to the Kaer for the Geralt they tell him of is gentle and carries a tome of poetry and permits brave children to ride Roach.

But the details remain the same- white hair, School of the Wolf, and a predilection for plums and brunettes- and Jaskier was forced to hold up the possibility that Geralt was a master manipulator of a caliber he didn't even know was possible to have charmed people in so many places into believing he was kind .

He supposed he too once thought Geralt was kind, for an afternoon, and perhaps they just never frustrated him enough for Geralt to lose his patience. The lone exception is an elf in the market who proclaims Jaskier and the other members of his guild "fine enough" but asks him to spit on Geralt the next time they meet as payback for "whatever striga crawled up his ass and died."

He agreed to do it for the both of them and feels vindicated when the elf elaborates that the witcher had been good-natured enough until their last meeting two years ago.

Jaskier traveled, he worked, he met folk foul and fair.

He survived and, for a time, that was enough.

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

Towards the end of the day, Nenneke was sealing her correspondence with wax, when Anka informed her that "an acquaintance has come by on an important matter." Anka added that it's a witcher but not the same one as last time, she thought, she's not sure. Anka's devotion to the goddess was admirable but her attention for anything but nurturing plants was rather lacking- Nenneke was surprised Anka noticed a visitor at the gate at all. Nenneke sank into her chair a bit, closing her eyes as she drew in a long breath, because she was getting a little done with Geralt breathing down her neck like she was his errand boy.

"Make sure there's a bed available," she finally said, resisting the urge to just turn him away, "and tell him I'll attend to him when I'm done." 

Done ended up being close to supper, after the postulant's vows of evening silence had taken hold: so she arranged for Geralt to eat with her in the hall outside the infirmary ward. She was tucking into a bowl of pottage when the witcher arrived but it wasn't Geralt that hesitantly strode across the hall. 

It was his little omega who wasn't so little anymore. His frame had thickened out and he was bearing more than a few scars- but the mating mark on his neck was still clear to the world. Anka must have arranged for him to bathe as well because he smelled merely of soap and soft citrusy omega nervousness. She carefully took a long breath and couldn't detect the acrid smell of terror he had last time or Geralt for that matter. 

This was going to be interesting.

"Priestess Nenneke," he said softly, taking the seat across from her, his frame curled small as he humbly bowed his head to her,  "thank you for taking the time to see me."

"You weren't 'the witcher' I expected to see," she said, leaning back and gesturing for him to accept the bowl across from her, she huffed a little laugh, "I'd be a poor priestess of Melitele if I turned away a traveler." 

He gave a little snort and the two ate in silence for a while. If Nenneke were younger, she would've tried to pry more from him: but he wasn't her first battered omega to show up without his alpha and he certainly wouldn't be her last. She wordlessly pressed a second serving on him- he'd bulked up a bit but there was a leanness to his cheeks she didn't like in omegas. 

"Has Geralt come to see you?" he finally asked, eyes trained on pulling the crust off his bread.

"Since we last met?" He nodded, "Yes, once. About a month ago- after Belleteyn." She watched him carefully and, instead of a spike of worry, his smell remained carefully nervous.

"Did he take Essi?" he started to press the inside of his bread flat.

"He couldn't if he tried," Nenneke said plainly, his eyes darted to her face and searched her eyes, "her rearing is in the temple's hands now. Besides," she gave an arch smile, "he can't tell her from Embla," there's no mistaking the relief that floods out of him and she started to feel a real fondness for him when his shoulders go slack. 

"Is she happy here?" 

"Truthfully, I don't see her often," Nenneke gave a little hum, "but we take care of our girls. She's the temple's now and I wouldn't even let you take her."

There was a pause as he took that in, he must have settled on accepting it because he sighed and turned a more serious glance to Nenneke, "Thank you, for taking care of her and easing my mind," he chewed his lip a bit, "I suppose I should tell you I've been traveling and working a bit as a witcher. The Witcher Yulek."

"I don't suppose it's with his permission you are doing this," she said, Jaskier shook his head, "you're too old for Vesemir to try and make a real witcher out of you anyway."

Jaskier swallowed and Nenneke could smell a load of trouble.

"Why are you here, Yulek?" she asked him firmly, "you knew when you signed Essi into our care that she'd not be leaving until she was an adult. Geralt isn't stupid enough to break the peace just to get her away from me."

"Will you tell him I was here?" she could smell anxiety begin to bloom in his scent.

"Is that what you want?" she retorted sharply and wrinkled her nose from his scent bursting with emotions, "I suppose that answers that. My allegiance isn't to him and I'll forgive the insult you'd think it would be," she scrutinized him intensely and saw his hands tighten on his lap like a child getting a scolding- she felt herself soften a bit, for he wasn't yet much more than a child, "my duty is to the people seeking Melitele's help here, now what is it you came here for?"

"My body," he said quietly, "I don't recognize it. Something is happening to me. He was going to kill me: he was going too far. And then I noticed- the changes. You must see-"

He wordlessly took a knife from his belt and cut into the flesh inside his arm- over a spot where she noticed a curious handful of similar scars.

He must have done this before. 

She kept herself in her seat and the two sat in silence as the blood quickly clotted- before he could bleed out- far quicker than should have been possible. She cycled through thoughts- a curse, some sort of latent skill for chaos, the trials-

She still wet her apron and tended to it, wiping away the blood as she'd done so many times to so many omegas.

"It's not the food," he continued, "I've been on my own since before Birke- I don't-" he trailed off.

That ruled out going through the Choice like Leo.

"He used to drink something,"Jaskier said, "some kind of fertility treatment, could that have changed me?"

"That doesn't sound likely," she said frankly, "for a draught to do that, it would need to be very concentrated in his body, not yours." Nenneke looked him over again, new eyes examining the way his shoulders had filled out and the thickness of his hair and the scars scrawled across his face, "is there anything beyond what you have shown me?"

"I can cast a sign," he bit his lip, "sometimes."

"May I touch you?" she asked and Jaskier nodded. She patted along his body, the nodes where chaos was prone to collecting, and felt the latent hum she associated with the witcher adepts.

How strange-

"Did you meet Eskel?" she could recall, many years ago, Eskel studying at the temple with all the other Witcher adepts and massaging a lame kitten back to health, "he has more chaos in his hands then the stones of power."

Jaskier's body locking under her hands was answer enough, "we wintered together," he said through his teeth.

"If that is what is changing you," she said carefully, "I think you need to go back to Kaer Morhen to find out- that's beyond the scope of anyone here. They were secretive enough about that before the school fell."

"Was he always like that?" Jaskier gritted out, "was Geralt always like that?"

"I've never seen him take an omega before if that's what you're asking," Nenneke said. She watched Jaskier seem to collect himself, letting out a shuddering breath as he unlocked his jaw and kneaded his palms into his thighs.

"I've met people," he said, mouth full of piss and vinegar, like each word was pulled from his teeth, "who speak of a Geralt I've never met. Kind. Gentle. Funny, even. I can't imagine you being a friend to an arse like Geralt, was he like that once or are they liars?"

"People change," she said carefully, "he's had his shortcomings. But-"

"But?"

"The summer after Blaviken-" she said, "he changed. Blaviken was bad enough- but the summer after was especially cruel to him."

"It's like some kind of poison in his mind-"

Oh. The basilisk. 

She hadn't even thought of that.

She needed to think.

She invited the boy, Yulek, Jaskier, Julian- whatever name worked- to stay at the temple while she thought.

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

Jaskier ended up staying at the temple for a whole week: earning his keep milling medicinal ingredients through the day. Nenneke introduced him to the novice Sorcha, a former Temerian Blue Stripes, who gave him a dirty tutoring in bomb making, battle dressing, and making medicine.

He leaves Ellander with a haircut, a silver dagger, and the dread that he must eventually, actually, realistically, return to the Kaer.

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

A/N- Encouragement and kind words will always make me more excited to write stuff <3 and feel free to dash off a message to me! I haven’t really made any friends in the fandom yet :3c

Thanks for reading, friends!

Rough and tumble ragged drafts on tumblr here: Actual Fic Better Not Wake The Baby

This fic is based on OldandKinky’s Honey-verse and you can also find them here: Honey-verse on Ao3 and OldandKinky on Ao3

and if you like my writing, I’ve also got “Varieties of Exile” 

[verbo-s-e]

july 22, 2023 9:39 pm

it happened again. i’m beginning to think you’re some kind of mix of beetlejuice or voldemort, where you say or think the name and then BAM. there you are.

i wish it was comical. it almost is. but i’m just not there yet. i don’t see any of it as funny where as normal me would. the before me, at least. we both know i’ve never been normal a day in my life and nothing between us has never been so, either.

this time, instead of an awkward wave off a steering wheel, i got a peace sign out the window. why does it enrage me so much? i’ll tell you why.

it feels like continued gaslighting. that, oh! let me just wave or peace sign it and it’s all ok! nothing changed! eh! wrong! convenient, that for you, nothings different. i should’ve known better. then and now and every single fucking time in between. you’d probably tell me as always, i’m overthinking things. and ya know? MAYBE I AM! but you don’t get to do that and you don’t get to fucking wave at me. b

i want to hate you. regret you. part of me does. i want to scream at you. i did, but you didn’t hear me. every time this happens, my blood instantly boils as if it’s in an electrical kettle set to HIGH and fills me with such a white hot rage i worry i might turn into the hulk herself. i don’t know who i am when this anger takes over and the more this happens, the less i trust myself to not self sabotage. of course, because naturally — i’m worried about self sabotage and you’re fine. fucking typical.

it took me an hour and a half, nearing two to calm down and i still haven’t settled into homeostasis and honestly? i don’t think i will for a while. it’s embarrassing. this whole fucking thing, this whole fucking time has been embarrassing. from loving you so boldly, writing all of this, to enabling your bad behavior. she says as she rattles an orange bottle. it’s pavlovian as it is embarrassing and speaking of! i had to get on meds just to fucking cope and i have to say: i much rather raw dog it. this new medication makes me feel like hot syrup that was put in the microwave too long. that doesn’t make any sense. but neither does the feelings that easy over me when i take it.

i already don’t recognize myself in the literal and figurative mirror. i’m not sleeping or sleeping too much and eating! oh forget about it. maybe one or one and a half meals a day if i remember. and don’t worry, although 85% of this can be attributed to us and our tailspin into molton lava, i can’t give you all the credit. we don’t need to talk about the other 15%. that’s not why we’re here. but i will say to that: this is me doing my very best.

it’s starting to feel scary in the sense that i’m losing whatever grip of reality i had. what’s real? what’s not? always a question i ask throughout my day, even when things were good between us. now, it’s a war torn battle field and i don’t know which way is up. do i need a permanent vacation? i don’t know and i don’t know how to fully answer that. but it does scare me.

you’ve broken me many times and i’ve put myself back together many times. but this time? this time the pieces are too small and i can grab them with my fingers after years of shattering on the hardwood floor.

i’m never going to know or feel peace as long as i’m here. you made me hate this city.

[bean-pronounced-bawn]

A long rant on bitterness and jealousy - feel free to ignore

I hate that I feel jealousy or anger when I see my trans friends accomplishing things that I hope to accomplish, instead of feeling happy for them and proud that they're doing things that make them happy. I have put so much work into making myself a person who puts good out into the world, who lifts my friends up and takes interest in their lives and shares in their joys and their successes, and yet every time I see that another one of my friends has scheduled or gone through top surgery, or has gotten a legal name change, or has managed to grow a full beard, or has done something that I hope to do or that I am trying to do, all I feel is this boiling rage in the pit of my stomach and I hate that I feel that way. I try not to show it, obviously, because I don't want to undercut their joy and their excitement with my curmudgeonly bitterness, but I have more than once had to cut short a conversation or stop responding to messages for some time because what was going through my head was either fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyou or just blind screaming, and it feels so fucking dramatic that I literally have to walk away because I can't be around someone who is doing something I currently cannot. And I know why I feel that way, I know that I currently feel like I'm in a rut or like I'm stagnating because I either keep getting thrown around by a stupid fucking system that purposely complicates everything for trans people or I just don't have the time or energy or I'm not in the right place to work towards my goals -- towards the end of last year I got all my paperwork in order to get my name legally changed and I had everything filled out and I was going to take the first step towards submitting it, and then I remembered that I was travelling out of the country this summer to a place known for its homophobia and transphobia, and I made the frustrating decision to postpone the process for my own safety, and now with this being my last year of college and I'm doing my thesis and I'm working two jobs and I'm preparing for life after college and I simply don't have the energy to go back and start that over right now -- but it's so infuriating that I'm letting myself get overtaken by something as petty as jealousy and bitterness. I am not a petty person and I have worked hard to be someone who doesn't compare themselves to others, although I'm surely still working on that every day, and I am not happy that I feel like I am backtracking in many ways. I am so tempted to go on a rant about how all my beloved friends who have gotten name changes and top surgery and who have been able to start on T soon after coming out have these wonderful support systems and amazing family who work with them and good connections to the medical/psychiatric field while I have parents who only call me by my name in the most scathingly sarcastic tone of voice and who go out of their way to make sure I know they think I am ugly because of my medications and who have told me to my face that people only call me by my pronouns to be polite, but that would only play into the anger and the jealousy and I don't want to be feeling that but I don't know how to work through these feelings either and I just want to scream.

If you are one of my trans friends on this app -- I know I have several of you on here -- and you find yourself thinking back to our recent conversations, please know that I am so sorry that I have thought these things about you. Know that it does not reflect how I view you as a whole, and know that it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with my own insecurities. I am ranting on this app as opposed to my Snapchat story because I have many more trans friends on Snap than Tumblr, but I want to acknowledge that you may still read this. I am sorry, and I really do love you.

[thatharringrovehoe]

When Billy was little, him and his ma would dress up in their fanciest Sunday best and play pretend. Tea parties and princesses and dragon’s slain by a knight in shinning armor. He would stand between her and his favorite dinosaur plushie, chubby little hand gripped tight around a cardboard sword, and tell her not to worry. He would protect her from the beast.

It wasn’t until he was nine years old and crying on his knees in the middle of a dirt road, watching his mother drive out of his life forever that he realized his mistake. He hadn’t saved his mom from shit. The princess cut and ran, leaving him in the beast’s lair with nothing but a bent cardboard sword and a hole in his heart.

*THWAK!*

The sound of nine inch nails embedding themselves into a stud behind the drywall of the Hargrove’s sitting room is loud. A sickening crack that leaves behind a pocket of silence filled only with the thud thud thud of Billy’s heartbeat whooshing in his ears. Or he’s pretty sure at least. His dad knocked him pretty good on the back of the head so. He’s not at his best.

Steve though.

Steve is a vision.

Those pretty pink lips Billy has been dreaming about for going on a year are pulled back into snarl, pearly whites almost sharp in the yellow light cast from the ceiling. He’s got blood on his knuckles and fire in his eyes. Angry and vengeful like Billy has never seen him. He wrenches the nail bat out of the wall and levels it at Neil Hargrove’s face.

“Touch him again and there won’t be anything fucking left of you for your wife to bury.”

Gone is the goofy pretty boy who throws popcorn at Billy’s head whenever he makes a shitty joke. Not a trace of the babysitter with a heart of gold who can patch Billy up better than any field medic, but who’s so useless in the kitchen he could burn water if Billy isn’t keeping a close eye on him. Neil Hargrove looks about two seconds away from popping a blood vessel; Billy can see his pulse in the veins protruding from his temple.

But he doesn’t move.

Because standing between him and his father isn’t a knight. Or a prince or even a dragon. No. This is King Steve in all his glory, ready to paint the livingroom with Neil’s brains all for calling Billy something he’s been calling him every day for the past fourteen years. And Steve is ready to draw blood over it. Is ready to end a man’s life to keep Billy safe. And it’s the farthest thing from sobbing into loose dust and gravel as his mother abandons him to a monster. It’s a king standing up to a beast all for Billy.

Because-

“Get the hell out of my house. And take that faggot with you.”

His dear old dad hawks spit at Billy’s feet, won’t even look him in the eye as the boot print from a few moments ago blooms purple and black across Billy’s ribs. Steve’s eyes flash and for a moment Billy wonders if Steve Harrington is going to spit literal fire, burn his father alive right here into nothing but a pile of ash on the linoleum.

But. Billy’s so tired.

“Stevie..”

It’s not very loud and he’s definitely slurring but Steve’s head whips around anyway, eyes full of vengeance and rage and-

God. Fucking damnit. He’s not gunna cry in front of his old man. Not like this. That piece of shit doesn’t get to see this.

“Get me the fuck out of here. Please.”

And just like that, the Steve he knows and loves is right there, helping Billy up and leveling a glare at his father that wouldn’t mean shit if he wasn’t also holding a bat full of construction nails. Because Neil Hargrove is an ex marine and Steve only got the jump on him because he kicked in the door right when he was in the middle of cracking his own boot across Billy’s skull.

They hobble out to the car, Steve still puffed up like a pissed off cat and if Billy wasn’t so close to crying he would laugh. He’s settled into the passenger seat of Steve’s beamer and even buckled in; because no matter how much he denies it, Steve is one hundred percent that mom friend. Billy feels warm even before Steve kicks on the heater.

Steve white knuckles it all the way to Loc Nora, adrenaline still pumping through him like a racehorse. Billy can’t relate, he’d already been exhausted when Neil dragged him out of bed to talk about that boy he’d been hanging around with. About why he had Steve’s sweater under his bed. About why Mr. Jenkins had seen Billy pull Steve in for a kiss when he was out on a midnight hike up at the quarry.

It gets a little fuzzy after that.

Billy seems to time travel, each blink a new place he doesn't remember getting to. From the car to the door and then the couch, he’s slipping fast. Out of nowhere his hands are almost uncomfortably hot, a steaming mug of coffee placed gently in his palms. Without thinking, he takes a sip. It’s made exactly the way he likes.

“So Joyce said not to let you sleep for at least twelve hours after a kick to the head like that. She’ll be over in the morning to look at it. Then you can sleep but I gotta wake you up every hour to make sure you’re okay.”

Billy think’s that’s fine. Because he gets to sit here with Steve and drink the coffee he made just for Billy, exactly the way Billy takes it. And he knows what he wants to ask. Can feel it climbing up his throat. His tongue feels thick in his mouth.

“Why r’you doing this?”

Steve jumps a little, like he didn’t expect Billy to speak. He looks like his heart is breaking. And Billy is so tired.

“Tell me Stevie”

Steve looks like he might cry. And any other day he would let it go, leave that curtain be no matter how bad he wants to yank it back. But not tonight. Billy has to hear him say it. Needs to hear it. Please.

“Please Steve.”

Steve breaks. Sits on the coffee table in front of Billy with a soft *thump*. He’s looking down at his shoes, chestnut air flopping in front of his eyes.

“Because I fucking love you, you jackass.”

Steve’s voice is wet and resigned. Like he’s ready for Billy to shut him down. To reject him. And if he were anyone else, he would. But he’s not anyone else. He’s Steve Harrington. Who took a bat to Billy’s dad and saved him when no one else ever even cared enough to try. Who had patched him up almost every other night for the past six months with nothing but a tight smile and gentle hands. Who shakes apart in the dark in his sleep and hates Christmas lights and can’t cook for shit and tucks Billy in when Steve thinks he’s already sleeping and won’t notice. Who took one look at who Billy really is under all the bullshit and loved him anyway. Loved him because of it.

And Billy is so fucking tired.

“ ‘Ve loved you since you put that stupid sparkly bandaid across my nose the first time I showed up at your door.”

Big brown eyes snap up, spilling with tears. In an instant he’s got a lap full of lanky rich boy and careful fingers gently tangling in his curls.

Steve’s smile tastes like sunshine.

[a-game-of-stars-and-ink]

Run with the Wolves - Chapter 2

Warnings: Blood, Vivisection aftermath - dead dove do not eat, past lady whump mention, past death mention, painful wound cleaning, delirious whumpee, reluctant caretakers, harsh caretaker, swearing, victim blaming, death threat.

Taglist: @equestrianwritingsstuff, @whumpwillow, @brutal-nemesis, @the-three-whumpeteers, @befuddled-calico-whump

A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged in the face claims for the boys later today.

In the end, it was Rain who helped Jake move the delirious soldier into the barracks.

He was still deeply shaken by the way Bela had been about to outright defy him.

I knew she didn’t respect me, but now she doesn’t even listen to me.

It was a sobering thought.

Rain helped him get Zayne onto the wooden table, already reaching for her medical kit. The man shifted, squirming weakly. He groaned faintly, the sound full of pain and fear.

Bela sat on one of the bunks, watching every movement with her cold amber eyes. Kodi sat next to her, looking equally pissed.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jamie asked. “Wouldn’t it be best we just kill him?”

“I think it would, but our glorious leader who never makes any mistakes says otherwise.” Bela sneered, maintaining eye contact with Jake as she said it.

“Careful Bela.” Jake said firmly.

“Or what?” She asked coldly. “We’re miles away from base, and we both know I’m the better fighter. So don’t push me, team leader.” The mocking tone made the sting of the words even sharper.

“Bela.” He warned, knowing he could not back down.

She stood up. “You come out here and demand respect, demand we trust you, demand we follow you, when you have done nothing in the field before.” She snarled, her eyes blazing. “If you were half the man that Mark was-”

“Stop.” Rain said quietly. “Bela. Now isn’t the time.”

For just a second, those amber eyes softened. Then, they flicked down to the man on the table, and filled with rage again.

“You should have let me kill him.” She said quietly, and walked outside, Kodi and Jamie behind her.

Jake sighed.

“Don’t take it too hard.” Rain said, offering a weak smile, even as she prepared to clean the horrific wound on Zayne’s abdomen. “Bela’s just scared.”

That surprised Jake.

“What?” He asked, wincing as Rain began to disinfect the wound, causing the enemy soldier to thrash and cry out.

“No!” He screeched, his legs kicking desperately.

That’s the first coherent thing he’s said. Jake noted.

“Help me hold him, please.” Rain said, gritting her teeth, even as the door flew open, and Bela rushed in, her gun drawn.

She took in the scene, her whole body rigid. Then she lowered the gun, releasing a shaky breath.

“I thought he was- that you were-” She stammered, her eyes wild.

“He’s not dangerous Bela. Not in this state.” Rain said gently, as Zayne began to mumble incoherently.

“Don’t underestimate him.” Bela said quietly, her voice sounding even hoarser than usual. “He’s a monster.”

Jamie and Kodi rushed in.

“What the fuck happened?” Kodi demanded.

“He screamed.” Rain said, keeping her voice soft.

“Jeez Bela, are you okay?” Jamie asked.

“Fine.” It came out clipped.

Kodi looked pained. She stood next to her best friend, hugging her tightly. “It’s going to be okay.” She murmured, then shot a glare at Jake out of the corner of her eye. “Even though he doesn’t deserve to be helped.”

***********

Bela shook her head, dangerously close to tears.

“No... He’s dangerous. You have no idea what he’s capable of.”

“But I do.” Kodi’s voice was strained. “I saw what happened to you and Mark. I know it wasn’t all him... but a lot of it was.”

Bela shook her head, even as her mind dragged her back to her time as a prisoner.

Zayne crouched next to her, resting his forearms on his knees. His eyes remained unreadable as he looked over her wounds.

‘You know, all this can be avoided if you simply tell me what you know.’

Bela looked at the floor, closing her eyes.

His hand gripped her chin, almost gently, as he forced her to look up at him.

‘It can all be over. Just tell me.’

Mustering all her courage, Bela shook her head.

Zayne sighed. “Then we do it the hard way.” He said, and hauled her to her feet, dragging her over to the water tank...

“Bela, hey.” Jamie was saying. “Bela, look at me. He can’t hurt you. And if he tries, I’ll kill him.”

Zayne shrieked suddenly, writhing under Jake’s hold as Rain treated him.

Anger flooded her veins. He doesn’t deserve help. He got what was coming to him.

She turned away, closing her eyes, but unable to block out the sounds of his struggles. The pathetic whimpering and sobbing.

Did I ever sound this piteous when I was his prisoner? She wondered. She didn’t think so.

It’s not so fun on the other end, is it, Zayne? She thought bitterly.

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

It was dark outside by the time Rain finished stitching and wrapping the wound. Kodi looked down at the man who had done so much harm to her best friend.

He was, she could confidently say, a mess. Deathly pale aside from his flushed cheeks, shivering despite his being drenched in sweat.

Do you understand now, I wonder, how awful it was for Bela when you were interrogating her? Kodi wondered. How scared she must have been?

A bitter taste filled her mouth. Jake was actually making them help this monster.

The man shifted weakly, a distressed whine making it’s way through his parted lips.

“No, please...” He moaned. “Please...���

Please. She thought bitterly. Did you ever pay attention to it when other’s begged you for mercy? Did you ever even think of what it must have been like for Bela when you were hurting her?

She doubted it.

**********

It had been four days since they’d, against their wishes, rescued Zayne. And in those four days, he did not seem to be getting any better.

The first time he had ‘woken up’, he hadn’t even realized that Rain and Kodi were there.

The second time, he seemed to register Jamie and Bela’s presence, but was so delirious that he seemed to be hallucinating as well.

So far, he’d been very quiet today. Bela glared at the bunk harboring one of her former captors, still rather nervous about going to sleep with him around.

It was well after midnight that she finally drifted off.

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

Zayne drifted into consciousness in darkness. He wasn’t in the torture room anymore. He didn’t know where he was.

Had Neavters suddenly decided that there was more use for him? Or just to torment him longer for his insubordination?

Upon realizing that he wasn’t restrained, he struggled into a sitting position, and stood up on wobbly legs.

He took a step, his legs threatening to give, when something hit him from the side, hard.

He collapsed with a scream of panic and pain, writhing under whatever had landed on top of him.

“Move and I’ll cut your throat.” An oddly distorted, but distinctly female voice snarled. Zayne fell still with a gasp of pain.

“Bela, get off him!” Another voice called.

“Bela?” Zayne groaned, flinching as the light turned on, illuminating the familiar face of a former prisoner.

Zayne panicked, thrashing around as hard as his weakened body could manage.

He fell still with a yelp as Bela slammed a knife into the floorboards next to his head.

“I said don’t move, you bastard.” She hissed. She looked up as someone called her name, exposing the scars on her throat.

Zayne whimpered.

“Bela... It’s okay. You can let him up.” Another woman said, kneeling next to them.

Bela hesitated, her amber eyes burning holes in him. Then, she yanked her knife free.

Zayne jerked. “No! Please!” He cried, cringing back and waiting for the pain that was sure to follow.

“Don’t tempt me.” Bela’s hoarse voice sneered, as she got off of him.

Zayne immediately rolled over, trying to crawl away, but the other brunette grabbed his shoulders, flipping him onto his back and holding him down again.

“Stay down.” She snapped, before releasing him again.

“Jeez Kodiak.” The blond girl said. “Go easy.”

“What? You really think I care about being gentle after what he did to Bela?”

Zayne sobbed at the mention, curling up to protect himself as best he could.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, please...”

A male voice snorted. “Yeah, and look at all the good that does, asshole.” The man who was speaking glared down at him with cold green eyes. “Hey, Bela, did that undo anything he did to you?”

“Well, I still have scars, so...”

“See? Sorry doesn’t cover it.” The man snapped.

“Jamie. Enough.” Another man spoke.

“Oh, now comes the team leader.” Bela sneered, regarding the newcomer with disdain.

The man ignored the jab, and crouched down beside the blond girl.

“Rain, I’d say you’d best check him over.”

“Yeah. Bela tackled him pretty hard.”

“I was protecting you.” Bela snapped.

“I know.” Rain said. “I’m not angry, Bela.”

The team leader hooked grabbed him under the arms, hauling him back to the bunk.

The blond girl leaned over him, and began to unwrap the bandages around his midsection.

“No.” Zayne moaned, picking up his head to look down at the bloodstain on his stomach. “Please, no more. I’m sorry.”

“Just lie still, okay.” The girl said, not a hint of malice in her voice. “Just lie still.”

[ace-aro-fandroid]

Hi, i have so so many asks in my inbox and i cant respond to them individually so ill just make one post and go

Thank you to every person who messaged me nice things about the blog, or who messaged me asking if im okay. Yall are super nice and i appreciate it.

Sorry i disappeared. I just havent had the energy or time for this blog. I'm glad yall enjoy the content i already posted though

Im okay. Got correctly diagnosed and medicated after 7 years of worthless fucking doctors ruining my life. Got commonlaw married. My cat died. I got a job as a server and I teach voice lessons on the side, which lets me pay my bills AND save money to buy land for the landback plan. Got a neat tattoo. I was part of the Pfizer vaccine trial back when it was being made, so as a part of that I got vaccinated very early and I'll also be getting the booster shot very soon. I live in an apartment and my living situation is stable. I'm writing music and me and my friends are attempting to start a little band. I'm about to start EMDR for the first time, and after that I'll start poledancing classes. I'm writing a comic and hopefully one day I'll be able to get it drawn and published. I've fundamentally changed as a person in so many ways, mostly good, but some bad. Some days im filled with the warmest exhilarating joy from just being me, some days i want to erase myself entirely. Life is constantly exhausting, and the noise of being alive is so loud that i constantly ache, and sometimes I can barely handle it but almost every day I get to come home, shower, put on warm and dry clothes, eat a meal i cooked and am proud of, and watch some silly little show with my partner, who is the love of my life.

So i guess if youre anything like me, if you were abused, if you were raised in a cult, if you've been mentally ill since you were conscious, if you grew up queer in a violently anti-queer environment, if you never got to just be a fucking kid, if you feel like your past and future were stolen from you before you even realized who you were, then please please keep going. Even if you feel like you aren't managing, remember that you're still breathing, and maybe you're BARELY managing, but you're managing. And you're fighting. And as long as you're still fucking breathing then you're still fighting. And remember that the existence of all the worst days PROVES the existence of the best days. Your ability to feel crushing, suffocating rage and sorrow PROVES your ability to feel soaring joy and pride one day, even if you can't right now.

I know this might seem all melodramatic and out of left field just coming out of nowhere on a Data fan blog, but this is the only social media i have, and this is where i reach the most people, so i wanna say it all here. Consider this a sign if you're looking for one. Keep going, you'll have good things someday. You will. You will. You will.

I hope everyone that reads this has something very cozy and wonderful happen to them today, and i hope things get better for everyone very soon.

[sparktober]

Sparktober Bingo 2021!

Back for a new generation: Sparktober Bingo!

Instead of coming up with an Atlantis-specific list of prompts, I compiled a bunch of 2021 -tober prompt lists into one google doc here. (Links to original prompt lists are on the google doc.) Add in a list of Atlantis episodes and...

How to play:

Choose a “flavor” from the prompt sets below the cut, then paste it into this fandom bingo card generator.

Adjust your browser size til it looks right and take a screenshot, or use the html script if you’re familiar with using html on tumblr. Tag @sparktober​ if you want us to reblog it so everyone knows you’re playing!

  Sparktober Bingo Rules:

Complete a row/column, corners, or a blackout of your card by November 1, or not! Update as you go.

All fan-works are allowed: art, edits, fic, meta... bonus points to anyone who picks the “sprinkles” flavor and goes full mid-aughts by filling their bingo cards with 100x100 pixel icons.

You are allowed to pull multiple cards until you get one that inspires you, and you can also go through the prompt list of your choice in advance to pull out squicks or things you absolutely won’t write. I recommend not googling unfamiliar words from your work computer.

Use the prompts liberally! Episode titles can be treated as the episode or as generic prompts (e.g. “Epiphany” can be for an episode-related fic or a prompt for an epiphany of your choice).

  Flavor descriptions:

VANILLA: Gen prompt lists from Fictober, Inktober, Trektober Gen, and Trektober Trek.

CHOCOLATE: Zesty prompt lists from Trektober NSFW, Kinktober, and Whumptober. The multiple-prompts-per-day from Kinktober and Whumptober have been broken into individual prompts.

CANDY CORN: Fall / holiday themed prompts from TUA-tober.

SPRINKLES: Atlantis episode list (in order, in case you only want to copy certain seasons), along with characters and a few Atlantis-specific prompts.

TWIST: All of the above! (You can also manually mix and match different flavors, of course.)

Text blocks to copy into the bingo card generator are below the cut. Enjoy!!

VANILLA

“I need you.”; “You have no proof.”; “I’ve waited for this.”; “Fine, I give up.”; “I’m not saying I told you so…”; “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”; “That could have gone better.”; “This is it, isn’t it?”; “There’s no right side to this.”; “It’s so quiet.”; “I swear, it’s not always like this.”; “You keep me safe.”; “The things you make me do…”; “Your information was wrong.”; “I like that in you.”; “Not this again.”; “I’m with you, you know that.”; “This was not part of the plan.”; “I feel strange.”; “That’s what I’m known for.”; “What did I say?”; “No promises.”; “This time, do what I say.”; “Is this supposed to impress me?”; “Do you know what time it is?”; “I’m sure this has never worked, ever.”; “You could have died!”; “I don’t have to explain myself.”; “Why are we whispering?”; “Don’t ruin this.”; “Take me with you.”; Crystal; Suit; Vessel; Knot; Raven; Spirit; Fan; Watch; Pressure; Pick; Sour; Stuck; Roof; Tick; Helmet; Compass; Collide; Moon; Loop; Sprout; Fuzzy; Open; Leak; Extinct; Splat; Connect; Spark; Crispy; Patch; Slither; Risk; Meet-Cute; Amnesia; Age Difference; Pining; Sick Fic; Fake Relationship; Accidental Meeting; Epistolary; Secret Identity; Historical AU; Nightmares; Monster Hunter; Reunion; Soulmates; At Pride; Angst; Seasons; Fix-It; Coffee Shop; Movie Plot AU; Kid Fic; Actor's Other Crossover Work; OT+; Getting Together; Only One Bed; Pirates; Making Up; Forbidden Relationship; Tattoos; Halloween; Prime Directive; Lower Decks / Background Characters; Away Mission; Ship's Bar; Aliens Made Them Do It; Observation Deck; Crew with Family; Holodeck; Science Crew; Character Survives; Headcanons; Diplomacy; Decontamination; Trek Crossover; Replicator; Worldbuilding; Redshirts; Sex / Love Potion; Medical Crew; Transporters; Medbay; Interspecies Relationship; Mirrorverse; Uniforms; Mutiny; Stranded on a Planet; Rec Room; Academy Era; Second Contact; Command Crew; Off-Duty

  CHOCOLATE

A/B/O; Soft; Anonymous Sex; Penetration with Object/s; Sleeping; Intercrural Sex; Restraints; In/Under Water; Group Sex; First Time; Possessive Behavior; Dry Humping / Grinding; Overstimulation; Roleplay; Rimming; Stretching / Fisting; Power Imbalance; Food Play; Fingering; Body Worship; Sex Work; Voyeurism / Exhibitionism; Safewords; Technology; Oral Sex; Omorashi / Wetting; Crying; Underwear / Lingerie; Friends with Benefits; Pain Kink; Dirty Talk; Trick or Treat; All trussed up and nowhere to go; Talking is overrated; Sticks and stones may break my bones...; Trust fall; I've got red in my ledger; Touch and go; My spidey-sense is tingling; Coughing up a lung; Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated; Oops, I did it again; Just keep swimming; It'll be fun, they said; That's gonna leave a mark; Under pressure; Feed a cold, starve a fever; On a need-to-know basis; Field care 101; The doctor is in; Just a scratch; Lost & found; That's where the blood's supposed to be; They made me do it; You break it, you buy it; One down, two to go; Hide & Seek; You will go down with this ship; “I'm fine, I prom...”; It's (not) just in your head; All work and no play; Digging your grave; Hurt & Comfort; “You have to let go.”; Garotte; Taunting; “Do you trust me?”; Betrayal; Bruises; Helplessness; Pneumothorax; Presumed Dead; Hospital; Adrift; Torture; “This is gonna suck.”; Crush injuries; Delirium; Recovery; “Please don't move.”; “Now smile for the camera.”; Bitten; Trunk; Bleeding through bandages; Cursed; Auction; Self-induced injuries to escape; Escape; Fallen; Passing out; “Good, you're finally awake.”; “You're still not dead?”; Major character death; Disaster zone; Barbed Wire; Choking; Insults; Taken Hostage; Misunderstanding; Touch Starved; Numbness; Exotic Illness; (Blind) Rage; Flare-Up; Drowning; Made To Watch; Burns; Beaten; Fever Dreams; Scars; Hemorrhage; Doctor Visit; Bleeding; Trapped Under Water; Pressure; Demon; Ransom; Flashback; Flight; Waterfall; Vertigo; Nightmares; Too Weak To Move; Left For Dead; Trauma; Bound; Gagged; “Who Did This To You?”; Pushed; Broken Nose; Hunger; Blindness; “Definitely Just A Cold”; Tears; Ice Chips; Dehydration; Begging; Cauterization; Force; Bees; Aftermath; Dread; Cpr; Stabbing; Solitary Confinement; Blood-Matted Hair; Obsession; Pursuit; Revenge; Hiding; Trap Door; Collapse; Panic; Overworked; Ghosts; Prisoner; Losing Control; Threats; Caning; Mercy; Forgotten; Head Injury; Screaming; Comfort; Self-Sacrifice; Trapped; Near-Death Experience; Regret; Tragedy; Battlefield; Anxiety; Gore; Petplay; Bimbofication; Panties & Lingerie; Bondage; Double Penetration in 2 Holes; Breeding; Humiliation; NTR; Incest; Emeto; Omorashi; Free Use; Crossdressing; Public; Three (or more) some; Daddy & Mommy; Double Penetration in 1 Hole; Distention & Cockbulge; Xenophilia; Shotgunning; Watersports; Pregnancy; Lactation; Waxplay; Grooming; Human Furniture; Feet; Prostituion; MacroMicro; Spanking; Cockwarming; Glory Hole; Somnophilia; Body Modification; Temperature Play; Leather; Size Difference; Sounding; Stockings; Tentacles; Medical Play; Stripping; Orgasm Denial; Master & slave; Scissoring; Titfucking; Frottage; Knifeplay; Formal Wear; Breathplay; Fisting; Pegging; Scat; Beastiality; Fucking Machine; Tickling; Boot Worship; Bukkake; Collaring; Foodplay; Non or dubcon; Feederism; Sensory Deprivation; Oviposition; Clone & Selfcest; Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Impact Play; Sadomasochism; Bloodplay; Praise Kink; Body Swap; Sweat; Branding; Massage; Role Reversal; Armpit; Masturbation; Inflation; Sex Toys; Burnplay; Menophilia; Stuck in Wall; Deepthroating & Facesitting; Dacryphilia; Hate Sex

  CANDY CORN

Birthday; Sick Day; Autumn; Candles; Plaid / Flannel; Leaf Piles; Sweaters; Baking; Cinnamon; Pumpkin Spice Latte; Carnival; Movie Night; Candy; Graveyard; Black Cats; Goosebumps; Pumpkin; Party; Monster; Ghosts; Witch; Vampire; Traditions; Magic; Mask; Haunted House; Trick; Treat; Costume; Monster Mash; Halloween

  SPRINKLES

Rising Part 1; Rising Part 2; Hide and Seek; Thirty-Eight Minutes; Suspicion; Childhood's End; Poisoning the Well; Underground; Home; The Storm; The Eye; The Defiant One; Hot Zone; Sanctuary; Before I Sleep; The Brotherhood; Letters from Pegasus; The Gift; The Siege Part 1; The Siege Part 2; The Siege Part 3; The Intruder; Runner; Duet; Condemned; Trinity; Instinct; Conversion; Aurora; The Lost Boys; The Hive; Epiphany; Critical Mass; Grace Under Pressure; The Tower; The Long Goodbye; Coup d'Etat; Michael; Inferno; Allies; No Man's Land; Misbegotten; Irresistible; Sateda; Progeny; The Real World; Common Ground; McKay and Mrs. Miller; Phantoms; The Return Part 1; The Return Part 2; Echoes; Irresponsible; Tao of Rodney; The Game; The Ark; Sunday; Submersion; Vengeance; First Strike; Adrift; Lifeline; Reunion; Doppelganger; Travelers; Tabula Rasa; Missing; The Seer; Miller's Crossing; This Mortal Coil; Be All My Sins Remember'd; Spoils of War; Quarantine; Harmony; Outcast; Trio; Midway; The Kindred Part 1; The Kindred Part 2; The Last Man; Search and Rescue; The Seed; Broken Ties; The Daedalus Variations; Ghost in the Machine; The Shrine; Whispers; The Queen; Tracker; First Contact; The Lost Tribe; Outsiders; Inquisition; The Prodigal; Remnants; Brain Storm; Infection; Identity; Vegas; Enemy at the Gate; Ronon Dex; Teyla Emmagan; John Sheppard; Carson Beckett; Elizabeth Weir; Rodney McKay; Jennifer Keller; Samantha Carter; Aiden Ford; Radek Zelenka; Kate Heightmeyer; Evan Lorne; Laura Cadman; Kolya; Chuck; Peter Grodin; Steven Caldwell; Lantea; Ocean; Ancient(s); Richard Woolsey; Athosians; Daedalus; Wraith; Nanites; Asurans; Genii; DHD; SGC; Stargate; Earth; Antarctica; Ascension

 TWIST

“I need you.”; “You have no proof.”; “I’ve waited for this.”; “Fine, I give up.”; “I’m not saying I told you so…”; “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”; “That could have gone better.”; “This is it, isn’t it?”; “There’s no right side to this.”; “It’s so quiet.”; “I swear, it’s not always like this.”; “You keep me safe.”; “The things you make me do…”; “Your information was wrong.”; “I like that in you.”; “Not this again.”; “I’m with you, you know that.”; “This was not part of the plan.”; “I feel strange.”; “That’s what I’m known for.”; “What did I say?”; “No promises.”; “This time, do what I say.”; “Is this supposed to impress me?”; “Do you know what time it is?”; “I’m sure this has never worked, ever.”; “You could have died!”; “I don’t have to explain myself.”; “Why are we whispering?”; “Don’t ruin this.”; “Take me with you.”; Crystal; Suit; Vessel; Knot; Raven; Spirit; Fan; Watch; Pressure; Pick; Sour; Stuck; Roof; Tick; Helmet; Compass; Collide; Moon; Loop; Sprout; Fuzzy; Open; Leak; Extinct; Splat; Connect; Spark; Crispy; Patch; Slither; Risk; Meet-Cute; Amnesia; Age Difference; Pining; Sick Fic; Fake Relationship; Accidental Meeting; Epistolary; Secret Identity; Historical AU; Nightmares; Monster Hunter; A/B/O; Reunion; Soulmates; At Pride; Angst; Seasons; Fix-It; Coffee Shop; Movie Plot AU; Kid Fic; Actor's Other Crossover Work; OT+; Getting Together; Only One Bed; Pirates; Making Up; Forbidden Relationship; Tattoos; Halloween; Prime Directive; Lower Decks / Background Characters; Away Mission; Ship's Bar; Aliens Made Them Do It; Observation Deck; Crew with Family; Holodeck; Science Crew; Character Survives; Headcanons; Diplomacy; Decontamination; Trek Crossover; Replicator; Worldbuilding; Redshirts; Sex / Love Potion; Medical Crew; Transporters; Medbay; Interspecies Relationship; Mirrorverse; Uniforms; Mutiny; Stranded on a Planet; Rec Room; Academy Era; Second Contact; Command Crew; Off-Duty; Soft; Anonymous Sex; Penetration with Object/s; Sleeping; Intercrural Sex; Restraints; In/Under Water; Group Sex; First Time; Possessive Behavior; Dry Humping / Grinding; Overstimulation; Roleplay; Rimming; Stretching / Fisting; Power Imbalance; Food Play; Fingering; Body Worship; Sex Work; Voyeurism / Exhibitionism; Safewords; Technology; Oral Sex; Omorashi / Wetting; Crying; Underwear / Lingerie; Friends with Benefits; Pain Kink; Dirty Talk; Trick or Treat; All trussed up and nowhere to go; Talking is overrated; Sticks and stones may break my bones...; Trust fall; I've got red in my ledger; Touch and go; My spidey-sense is tingling; Coughing up a lung; Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated; Oops, I did it again; Just keep swimming; It'll be fun, they said; That's gonna leave a mark; Under pressure; Feed a cold, starve a fever; On a need-to-know basis; Field care 101; The doctor is in; Just a scratch; Lost & found; That's where the blood's supposed to be; They made me do it; You break it, you buy it; One down, two to go; You will go down with this ship; “I'm fine, I prom...”; It's (not) just in your head; All work and no play; Digging your grave; Hurt & Comfort; “You have to let go.”; Garotte; Taunting; “Do you trust me?”; Betrayal; Bruises; Helplessness; Pneumothorax; Presumed Dead; Hospital; Adrift; Torture; “This is gonna suck.”; Crush injuries; Delirium; Recovery; “Please don't move.”; “Now smile for the camera.”; Bitten; Trunk; Bleeding through bandages; Cursed; Auction; Self-induced injuries to escape; Escape; Fallen; Passing out; “Good, you're finally awake.”; “You're still not dead?”; Major character death; Disaster zone; Barbed Wire; Choking; Insults; Taken Hostage; Misunderstanding; Touch Starved; Numbness; Exotic Illness; (Blind) Rage; Flare-Up; Drowning; Made To Watch; Burns; Beaten; Fever Dreams; Scars; Hemorrhage; Doctor Visit; Bleeding; Trapped Under Water; Demon; Ransom; Flashback; Flight; Waterfall; Vertigo; Too Weak To Move; Left For Dead; Trauma; Bound; Gagged; “Who Did This To You?”; Pushed; Broken Nose; Hunger; Blindness; “Definitely Just A Cold”; Tears; Ice Chips; Dehydration; Begging; Cauterization; Force; Bees; Aftermath; Dread; Cpr; Stabbing; Solitary Confinement; Blood-Matted Hair; Obsession; Pursuit; Revenge; Hiding; Trap Door; Collapse; Panic; Overworked; Ghosts; Prisoner; Losing Control; Threats; Caning; Mercy; Forgotten; Head Injury; Screaming; Comfort; Self-Sacrifice; Trapped; Near-Death Experience; Regret; Tragedy; Battlefield; Anxiety; Gore; Petplay; Bimbofication; Panties & Lingerie; Bondage; Double Penetration in 2 Holes; Breeding; Humiliation; NTR; Incest; Emeto; Omorashi; Free Use; Crossdressing; Public; Three (or more) some; Daddy & Mommy; Double Penetration in 1 Hole; Distention & Cockbulge; Xenophilia; Shotgunning; Watersports; Pregnancy; Lactation; Waxplay; Grooming; Human Furniture; Feet; Prostituion; MacroMicro; Spanking; Cockwarming; Glory Hole; Somnophilia; Body Modification; Temperature Play; Leather; Size Difference; Sounding; Stockings; Tentacles; Medical Play; Stripping; Orgasm Denial; Master & slave; Scissoring; Titfucking; Frottage; Knifeplay; Formal Wear; Breathplay; Fisting; Pegging; Scat; Beastiality; Fucking Machine; Tickling; Boot Worship; Bukkake; Collaring; Foodplay; Non or dubcon; Feederism; Sensory Deprivation; Oviposition; Clone & Selfcest; Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Impact Play; Sadomasochism; Bloodplay; Praise Kink; Body Swap; Sweat; Branding; Massage; Role Reversal; Armpit; Masturbation; Inflation; Sex Toys; Burnplay; Menophilia; Stuck in Wall; Deepthroating & Facesitting; Dacryphilia; Hate Sex; Birthday; Sick Day; Autumn; Candles; Plaid / Flannel; Leaf Piles; Sweaters; Baking; Cinnamon; Pumpkin Spice Latte; Carnival; Movie Night; Candy; Graveyard; Black Cats; Goosebumps; Pumpkin; Party; Monster; Witch; Vampire; Traditions; Magic; Mask; Haunted House; Trick; Treat; Costume; Monster Mash; Rising Part 1; Rising Part 2; Hide and Seek; Thirty-Eight Minutes; Suspicion; Childhood's End; Poisoning the Well; Underground; Home; The Storm; The Eye; The Defiant One; Hot Zone; Sanctuary; Before I Sleep; The Brotherhood; Letters from Pegasus; The Gift; The Siege Part 1; The Siege Part 2; The Siege Part 3; The Intruder; Runner; Duet; Condemned; Trinity; Instinct; Conversion; Aurora; The Lost Boys; The Hive; Epiphany; Critical Mass; Grace Under Pressure; The Tower; The Long Goodbye; Coup d'Etat; Michael; Inferno; Allies; No Man's Land; Misbegotten; Irresistible; Sateda; Progeny; The Real World; Common Ground; McKay and Mrs. Miller; Phantoms; The Return Part 1; The Return Part 2; Echoes; Irresponsible; Tao of Rodney; The Game; The Ark; Sunday; Submersion; Vengeance; First Strike; Lifeline; Doppelganger; Travelers; Tabula Rasa; Missing; The Seer; Miller's Crossing; This Mortal Coil; Be All My Sins Remember'd; Spoils of War; Quarantine; Harmony; Outcast; Trio; Midway; The Kindred Part 1; The Kindred Part 2; The Last Man; Search and Rescue; The Seed; Broken Ties; The Daedalus Variations; Ghost in the Machine; The Shrine; Whispers; The Queen; Tracker; First Contact; The Lost Tribe; Outsiders; Inquisition; The Prodigal; Remnants; Brain Storm; Infection; Identity; Vegas; Enemy at the Gate; Ronon Dex; Teyla Emmagan; John Sheppard; Carson Beckett; Elizabeth Weir; Rodney McKay; Jennifer Keller; Samantha Carter; Aiden Ford; Radek Zelenka; Kate Heightmeyer; Evan Lorne; Laura Cadman; Kolya; Chuck; Peter Grodin; Steven Caldwell; Lantea; Ocean; Ancient(s); Richard Woolsey; Athosians; Daedalus; Wraith; Nanites; Asurans; Genii; DHD; SGC; Stargate; Earth; Antarctica; Ascension

[elizabeethan]

Watch the Sunlight Fade: 15 / 17

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: get ready for some whumpy aftermath

Rated M

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Read on Ao3

~~~~

Emma creeps through the building, eyes scanning each door for any indication of Elsa’s whereabouts. Robin told her in haste as she was leaving that Elsa lives in this building, too, but he failed to inform her of what unit she was in. 

 As she walks the halls, a door opens slowly and reveals the face of someone she recognizes and is relieved to see. “Tink, hi.”

 “Looking for El?” 

 She nods. “Killian asked me to make sure she’s safe.”

 “Is he okay?” she asks with concern. Emma almost smiles at how much his friend truly cares about him. 

 “I don’t know,” she shakes her head. “They really hurt him.”

 Her voice is heated. She won’t get past the anger that boils the blood singing through her veins. They hurt the man she loves, and she isn’t sure how she’ll get past that fact without making someone pay. 

 “Well, let’s get the hell out of here so we can get him help.”

 Tink shows her where Elsa’s apartment is and she knocks on the door, answered quickly and coldly. “Yes?” 

 “Elsa,” Emma greets, confused by her clipped tone, less confused to see that she looks entirely unharmed. “Killian wanted me to check on you.”

 She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure he did,” she says sarcastically. 

“We have… we have a safe place for you. Come with us,” she tries. She doesn’t actually want to even bother convincing her, but she knows it’s what Killian wants.

 “Safe? You’re full of it.”

 She knew it. Killian feared that she had the information tortured out of her, unable to believe that she could have betrayed him with her own free will, but Emma had a sinking feeling that that wasn’t the case. Now, she thinks she’s right. “You told them,” she accuses. 

 “Yes, I did. He should know better than to try to betray the club like that.”

 “He trusts you,” she tries. “He loves you because you loved his brother.” 

 “I love my family,” she argues vapidly. “Killian tried to destroy it by shacking up with you and killing one of our own. He betrayed Neal, just because he can’t get over what happened to Liam.”

 Tink laughs, shaking her head, and Emma says, “They killed Liam! How can you not see that?”

 “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t see. You don’t know anything; you certainly don’t understand the inner workings of the club or why Peter makes the decisions he does.”

 Her thoughts are swirling in her head, moving too quickly as she tries to straighten out what Elsa says to her. She’s too forgiving, too accepting of what’s happened to the man she was supposed to love. Her actions have been too cruel. Someone who loves Killian wouldn’t have given him up; she wouldn’t be taking such a black and white stance if… 

 “You knew,” she accuses knowingly, without needing to ask. “You’ve known all along that they killed Liam.” 

 With a roll to her eyes, she says, “Liam’s actions no longer reflected his promise to the club. They did what needed to be done, and I understood that-- unlike you. The club has been my family long before Liam came around.” 

 “How could you…” she whispers, unable to say anything more. She can hardly vocalize how horrified she is to learn that someone she thought was sweet and innocent has been working against the people who love her all along.

 With a scoff, she says, “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Go back to your real boyfriend, you slut. You’re lucky he even still wants you after all you’ve done to betray us.”

 “You’re a monster,” Emma grumbles, backing away from her. “I don’t know how you can do this to someone who really loves you.”

 The sting against her cheek is immediate and sharp, Elsa’s hand delivering a solid slap and making Emma and Tink gasp in unison. “The club loves me. They’ve taken care of me since I was a kid. Now get away from me before I tell Peter what you told me about a safe place,” she goads. “Go back home, and maybe you won’t get hurt.”

 “Like Killian did? And Liam?” 

 “They got what they deserved. If you’re not careful, you will, too. I’m willing to look past this transgression, only because I know Neal loves you and thinks you’ll be a good candidate at carrying on the bloodline. But make no mistake; fuck up again and I’ll be taking this little conversation to Peter.”

 Emma couldn’t have convinced Elsa to come with them if she tried, because she wasn’t even able to try. The door slams in her face before she has a chance to get another word in.

 ~~~~

 His surroundings are barely visible before the pain sets in again. 

 It’s blinding, no matter what he does. Opening his eyes is painful. Keeping them closed is, too. 

 He doesn’t need to be awake to know where he is, either. The waves rocking the boat violently give away their location.

 “I think he’s waking up,” someone says with a voice he doesn’t recognize. “Get over here.” 

 “Mate,” he hears from Rob, his voice vaguely recognizable through the fog in his brain. “Killian, come on.” 

 “You shouldn’t have let him sleep. He probably has a concussion.” 

 “You try stopping him.” 

 “Shut up,” he groans, his lip cracking again as he speaks. Each of the men by his side laugh in relief. 

 “Killian,” he hears Robin breathe. “You alright, mate?” 

 He winces as he tries to take in a grounding breath, his ribs protesting vehemently. “Where is she?” he asks, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice. 

 “Who’s that? The one looking for me?” 

 “Emma,” Robin confirms, and Killian forces his eyes open. He only hopes that the look he gives his friend is enough to relay his fear and anger at him telling this stranger anything about the woman he loves. Doesn't he know she’s in danger already? “Don’t look at me like that, mate,” he says, although Killian can detect a hint of relief in his voice at seeing his open eyes. 

 “What did you do?” he asks, unable to expend the energy it would take to say much more. 

 “This is David. You, and especially Emma, might recognize him as James Spencer.” 

 Killian groans as he lifts his head, the crushing pain of his headache almost unbearable. Truthfully, he thought he would be worse off. Sure, he’s quite certain several ribs are broken, and he worries that he might have a fracture or two in his cheek from how many times Cassidy beat on him, but the pain isn’t quite as bad as he expected it to be. 

 It’s still bloody excruciating, though. 

 “Spencer,” he answers, looking at the familiar stranger. “The cop?” 

 He nods. “You’re girlfriend’s good. I’m with the FBI now, deep undercover. I thought we’d buried everything.” 

 “Of course she is,” he agrees, trying to take a breath deep enough to actually fill his lungs. He digs his fingers into the thin mattress and winces. “So, what now? Where is she?” 

 “She’s meeting me here,” Robin tells him. 

 “You left her alone?” he asks angrily.

 “You told her to round up Tink and Elsa. Begged her. I had to get you the hell out of there before they bloody killed you.” 

 “Why the hell would you listen to me?” he grumbles, rolling his eyes painfully. “How long has she been gone?” 

 Looking down to his watch, Robin answers, “About two hours. But she’s smart, she’ll get out of there alright.” 

 He can’t even answer, can’t even tell his friend how stupid it was to let Emma go off on her own, unprotected, before Nolan speaks up. “Your friend tells me you always seem to have a plan.” 

 “Give me some water and something to get rid of this damn headache and I’ll be much more amenable to talking.” 

 He can barely keep up with his surroundings, too disoriented and dizzy and in too much blinding pain to keep his eyes open or to form a coherent thought beyond his worry for Emma. He isn’t even sure how much time passes, how long it takes for the glass of water to appear in his hand.

 “I checked you out,” David says after what must have been a few minutes, the water finally washing away the taste of blood from his mouth. “I have field training. I think you have some cracked ribs, but I don’t think your face is broken.” 

 With a sigh and a roll to his eyes, Killian says, “Well aren’t I lucky.”

 The medication he gives him sets in after a few minutes more, numbing the pain slightly and making it so that Killian can finally breathe in enough oxygen to not feel like he’s drowning. Satisfied with the lessened pain, he takes another gulp of water and says, “Aye, I think I have a plan.”

 “Go on.” 

 “Peter’s on a rampage, ready to destroy whoever he can, but I’m assuming that if you’re here, the Kings of Elsinore must be close.” David nods in agreement. “He doesn’t know they’re coming. He planned to attack them first. Have your gang found the Lost Boy’s clubhouse yet?”

 “No.”

 “Good. We can tell you where to find them and you can set up a raid with the FBI, take both clubs down at once. On one condition.” 

 A particularly forceful wave rocks the boat again, the one that’s all too familiar to Killian, and sends David stumbling to the right. Killian’s stomach flips once more. “What’s that?” he asks once he gets his bearings. 

 Despite his pain, and his desperate need for some chapstick, Killian smirks. “You’re going to help us get out of this mess.”

 ~~~~

 It’s almost midnight by the time Neal finally falls asleep. His adrenaline and anger has kept him up, his anger directed at his plaything being taken from him rather than his girlfriend potentially being hurt before he finally crashes. He hasn’t even noticed her swollen, red cheek, too busy focusing on his rage. 

 She plays it up dramatically, acting like she’s relieved that he finally found out and got her out of the dangerous situation, while also terrified at the fact that it happened. Really, she knows she’ll be having a similar, but still drastically different, exchange with Killian the moment this is over. 

 She takes a final look around the apartment once he’s sleeping, looking for one thing and one thing only and unable to find it. She isn’t sure what he’s done to her only possession; the children’s book is the only thing she cares about aside from her friends' safety. But she isn’t surprised to know that he stole or destroyed it given his complete disregard for her well-being in any capacity. 

 She sneaks out the front door, content to never return, and creeps down the hall towards Olivia’s unit. 

 “It’s time,” she says once she gets there, her voice just above a whisper. 

 As they quietly tiptoe across the dock once they arrive, she briefly wonders how Robin will know of their arrival, before her question is answered for her. He pokes his head out of the cabin of a rather large yacht, and Emma scans the area before hurrying towards him. 

 “You made it,” he exclaims, taking her backpack and helping her onto the deck of the boat. “Where’s Elsa?”

 “Where’s Killian?” she asks, willing to ignore his question and put her out of her mind a bit longer. 

 “Below deck. He’s awake.”

 She’ll tell them about Elsa soon. Right now, she has more important things to worry about, and she can’t imagine bursting Killian’s bubble once again by telling him the truth. 

 Stepping down into the cabin is daunting. The boat reminds her of the clubhouse, weapons on display wherever they can fit. She wonders about how safe that can be, the clubs and knives and primitive looking tools bound to fall eventually with the way the waves are rocking the boat. 

 “Killian,” she exclaims, excitement to see him sitting up on his own taking over her resolve to stay strong for him. The tears are leaking from her eyes before she even realizes she’s about to cry, and she hurries towards him. The last time she saw him, he was so broken that she was worried she would lose him. 

 He breathes her in when she collides with him, wincing as she puts too much pressure on his ribs but not releasing his firm hold on her. 

 “You alright?” he asks her, his lips brushing against her neck as he speaks. Leave it to him to worry about her after he was beaten within an inch of his life. His hand reaches up to touch her cheek, the redness fading but evidently still noticeable enough, at least to a man who truly cares about her. “What did he do?” 

 “I’m fine,” she answers. She wants to crawl onto his lap and hold him in her arms for the rest of their lives, but she knows she can’t. They have to move. “Can we go now?”

 “Where’s El?” he asks, confused. 

 Robin interrupts, not letting Emma answer, and says, “we can’t go yet, unless we want to get arrested. Emma, meet Special Agent David Nolan.”

 Her eyes widen when she looks up and sees a man she recognizes, stunned to have his identity confirmed for her. “James Spencer,” she says, nodding her head. “So you are undercover?”

 “I am. Props to you for figuring it out, although it’s a bit disconcerting.”

 “I didn’t tell anyone,” she shrugs. The agent laughs. “Plus, I thought you were just a cop.”

 “Close enough.”

 “Emma,” Killian says softly, his hand closing around hers and squeezing again. “Where's Elsa? What happened to you?”

 She bites her bottom lip when she looks into his eyes again and is met with his painful stare. It’s unfair that she has to be the one to tell him this. That a woman he thought was his family should betray him like this and she has to be the one to pass the information along and to see the look on his face when she does. 

 “Killian,” she answers softly. “Olivia and I went to her and tried to get her to come with us. We told her we had a safe way out, that we would help her escape. But she wanted nothing to do with us.” 

 He touches her face again, the concern written across his face pulling at her heart. “What happened?” he nearly whispers. 

 “She said some awful things,” Tink tells him. “Emma told her she was being stupid, essentially-- ripped her a new one for selling you out-- and El gave her a good slap.”

 His fingers dance along her tender skin once more as he shakes his head in disappointment and disbelief. “She did this to you?”

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to tell you--”

 His lips find hers effortlessly, his touch gentle and delicate and careful not to let things between them get too passionate while they still have an audience. She’ll have to tell him about Liam eventually, but it’s too much right now. He’s so broken, and she worries that telling him that his sister-in-law knew about his brother's death could put him over the edge when he has to focus on healing. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I can’t believe she would--”

 “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we really should get moving. The SWAT team will be here soon.”

 “SWAT?” 

 “Love, David is planning a raid on the clubhouse. We’re going to give him the club’s location in exchange for our freedom and immunity during any investigations.”

 She lets her jaw drop in surprise, her expectations of their evening completely shattering before her. “Oh shit…”

 “Aye,” Killian confirms. “We just need to figure a way to get them all to the clubhouse. We need Peter to call another family meeting, but me simply being gone likely wouldn’t be enough of a reason.”

 “If I may,” David offers, Emma looking up from Killian’s distracting eyes at him. “Isn’t she the leader’s girlfriend?”

 “She is called Emma, and if you think she is going back there, you might as well just haul me off to jail right now because I’ll bloody beat--”

 “Killian!” she insists, placing her hand on his and squeezing to try and calm him down. “Just hear him out. He might be onto something.” 

 He turns to her, his cheeks flushed in his pain and anger. “I’m not sending you back there! You just left; I’ll die before I let anything more happen to you.”

 She rolls her eyes, but it’s only to protect herself. The fact is, he did almost die in favor of letting anything happen to her. “No you won’t,” she says definitively. She stands from her place beside him and looks seriously at the agent. “What did you have in mind?”

 “Emma--”

 She turns around sharply. “After everything you’ve been through today, don’t you dare tell me I can’t do something to protect you. We can end this, Killian. We won’t be on the run; we’ll be completely free to live the lives we want.” Turning back to David, she asks, “Right?”

 “She’s right,” he agrees, though he’s looking at Killian. “With all of your cooperation, I’m positive I can get you off scot free.”

 “Killian,” she whispers, sitting back at his side and taking his hand once more. “I can do this.”

 “I know,” he agrees immediately with a firm nod, a look of consternation on his pained face. “I’ve yet to see you fail. I just hate that I have to put you through this.”

 “You’re not,” she promises. “I am. And I’ll be fine. I can handle Neal.”

 “Aye, you’ve proven that much,” he smiles, his hand finding her cheek again. His eyes are starting to look heavier and heavier, whatever he was given for the pain taking over his consciousness again. “You’re a mighty strong lass.”

 “You sound so much more British when you’re high,” she laughs, leaning over to kiss his broken bottom lip softly. 

 “I just happen to know you like my accent,” he flirts, and she giggles in response, pecking the tip of his nose. 

 “Alright, my love,” she whispers. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

 ~~~~

 “Neal,” she whispers when she arrives in his bedroom. Their plan is a solid one, fully formed and ready to be put into action. That fact doesn’t make her any less anxious. 

 Killian gave David plenty of information on the club before she’d arrived. He told him about the millions in merchandise they’ve stolen, and where to find the pieces and the blueprints for evidence. He told them about the countless murders they’ve committed, including that of his own brother and where his body can be found. He told them about the illegal pornography business they’ve been running, and in exchange, David and his team will look past Olivia’s involvement. 

 Now, all that’s left is to gather the club for a family meeting and wait for the shooting to start. 

 She won’t be there, though. She and Killian made sure of that, making a plan just before he fell asleep and just after David left to make a call to his superiors. 

 “Neal, baby, wake up,” she says, appealing to his distorted senses and shaking his shoulders. 

 “What is it?” he asks grumpily, pushing her hands away. 

 “I found something.”

 He groans and snaps, “Just tell me what it is.”

 She clears her throat awkwardly and says, “I was able to pin Spencer’s last known location. He’s here, in Storybrooke. I think the whole gang is.” 

 He sits up suddenly, his eyes glowing meanly in the moonlight and making her shudder. “An attack,” he says, his tone definite, as if he’s the one who figured this out. 

 He doesn’t bother to even question how she found out, but she’s fine with that. “I think we should ask Peter to call a family meeting. This changes the whole plan, right?”

 “You’re right,” he agrees. “Come on, get dressed.”

 For once in her miserable relationship with him, she happily does as he commands. 

~~~~

~~~~

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly​ @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx​ @itsfridaysomewhere​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @rapunzelsghosts​ @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice​ @batana54​ @sailtoafarawayland​ @deckerstarblanche​ @zaharadessert​ @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza​ @captainswan21​

[burnedbyshoto]

Attraction

Kinktober Day 27 ~ kink: rivalry

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cussing, alcohol mention, college!au

word count: 11,000

a/n: I went.... plus ultra on this... I wrote it all day and I think its amazing. if you’re concerned I even made a literal summary of what it is. by all means you can read most of this even if you don’t like smut!!!

Synopsis: You and Shouto have to work with each other on a psychology project. A psychology project on attraction. The hard thing about this of course is that the two of you hate each other. 

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Being a doctor was the biggest dream you’ve had since high school. You wanted to take care of people, improve their physical and emotional wellbeing. A doctor was your everyday hero and you wanted to be that.

When university applications began during high school, you submitted an application to the best school in Japan.

Yuuei University.

They were now known for their very low acceptance rate, it's high retention and graduation rates! As well as most graduates becoming the most successful individuals in their field! It was no question that you applied there!

When you got in, your family and you had celebrated for an entire week. It was extraordinary.

Of course, Yuuei was a rigorous university. You spent days and nights studying. Even the weekends weren’t filled with partying due to the nature of your classes. As a Biochemistry Major, you had a lot on your plate. All while taking the needed courses as well as the pre-req classes for medical school. You were always at the top of your game.

So when you were selecting classes for the second semester of your third year, it shocked you to hear that four more units of a psychology class were needed. A class needed to complete the core requirements that the university held.

So you sat in your advisor's office. Your eyes looked at the different courses offered for psychology. All the weird ones were for the second semester. You had first pick still, given that you had so many credits and were now an upperclassman.

“Is there anything in psychology dealing with physiological or neurological issues?” You asked, only seeing Abnormal Psychology which you’d already taken.

Your advisor looked up at you, his tired eyes bloodshot as he skimmed the course list. Aizawa had been your advisor since you were admitted. You came in already declared as a Biochemistry major and had stuck with your decision all this time.

“There’s a 400 level class called Psychology and the Brain,” Aizawa told you, moving his computer screen for you to look at. “It looks like you met the requirements to take the class, and it’s the only class close to what you want.”

You nod your head as you type out the class on your phone.

“It meets twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday for two hours,” Aizawa tells you as you nod. All of your other classes were on other days. It worked within your schedule.

“That sounds good!” You chirp standing up, slinging your backpack over your shoulder you sigh. “You’ll let me know if I have any of the same classes as him?”

“No can do, you two have the same major. You need to get over this childish rivalry.” Aizawa deadpans as your nose wrinkles.

“Fine.” You moan as you wave goodbye, your pace quickening so you wouldn’t miss your one p.m. lecture.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

The Next Semester

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Your eyes widened as you stepped into the Psychology lecture. It was a bigger class then you were expecting. With a total of what you were guessing to be already sixty people in the class, your eyes locked onto your friends.

“Y/l/n!”

“Hi, Mina.” You smile as you walk over towards the empty seat next to your best friend.

“I can’t believe I’m taking this class!” She gushes as you sit down next to her, your fingers pulling out your laptop in preparation for the class. “I wasn’t going to take this class at all, but then you told me you were taking it! I also heard that this is a huge partner-based class, so if we get paired up together it’ll be super fun!”

You nod your head in agreement as the pink-haired girl rambles off. She speaks excitedly about what this new semester was going to bring! About how excited she was for the final year next year! While she was speaking to you, your eyes took a better sweep of the room.

There were a lot of people you recognized! You’d taken classes with many of these individuals before. It was for general biology, general chemistry, and the abnormal psychology class. You smiled and a warm feeling spread in your chest seeing that the one person you didn’t want here wasn’t here.

“Did you hear that Yao-momo is going on a date?” Mina asks you, and your eyes widen.

“What! No?! With who?!” Your jaw is on the floor as Mina catches you up to speed.

During your freshman orientation, you were then placed into a group of twenty kids. Under the name of Group 1-A, the twenty of you became very close friends! To this day, you were all very close! That is, except for you and him.

Well, he wasn't close to anyone except ten people.

Your eyes snapped towards the front of the lecture hall as Professor Midnight walked in. Multiple binders in her hands as she tossed them onto the table by the podium.

Professor Midnight was a blessing to your school, in your opinion at least. She was incredibly intelligent and was very open about her sex life. Midnight was funny and entertaining. It made you wish at times that you were a psychology major just so that you could have more classes with her. Midnight believed that being open with your sexual identity and things alike were important.

“Alright!” Midnight shouted towards the class and everyone quieted down. “The syllabus is on the website, make sure to read it! We have a lot to cover and not enough time so without further adieu, let’s get—“

The doors opened.

Your eyes looked back and your previous excitement died in your chest as you saw who walked in. Tall and serious, with a pair of black joggers and a black t-shirt he sat down near the front of the class.

A short giggle was heard from Mina who nudged you. You had to restrain the frustrated groan at the back of your throat as you rubbed your throbbing temples.

Why?

Why must this always happen?

“Todoroki-san, thank you for being on time for the first lecture.” Midnight jokes with no malice as she turns her attention back to what she was saying.

Your eyes wander toward the two-tone-haired man. Your fingers drum against the desk as you exhale, why was this always happening?

“As you may or may not have heard already, this class is a major project class. There is minimal lecturing, only presentations that will be conducted based on your topic. The final is a paper and formal presentation to be done with your partner.” You felt Mina nudge you with her elbow and you glanced at her and grinned. “That being said, I have already created said partners for you.”

Your smile fell off your face as Midnight connected her laptop to the projector.

“This list was created at random, so no, I do not care if you want to trade or switch partners. You don’t get that option. Please find your name and partner and sit next to each other. We will begin with your first assignment after you’re paired up.”

The list flashed onto the screen, and your eyes scour the list in search of your name.

Please just let it be someone good…

“Oh,” Mina exclaims, her hands on her face as she grins. “I’m with Aoyama!”

“Aoyama’s in the class?!” You ask looking around for your favorite blond.

“I guess so, but I need to go find him now! Good luck!” Mina cries as she grabs her things and looks around.

Your frown increases as your eyes continue down the list.

Y/l/n y/n.

Y/l/n y/n.

Y/l/n—

Your breathing stops in your throat as you find your name near the bottom.

Todoroki Shouto, Y/l/n y/n.

Oh no.

Your eyes immediately look over towards Todoroki who’s looking back at you. If this was an anime, the class would have dropped in temperature by fifty degrees by two of your’s icy glares. Both of you didn’t move.

Everyone else was already with their partner, introductions being made if they didn’t already know the other.

But you and Todoroki?

Neither one of you moved.

Your gazes still locked, but your bodies were unmoving. Like hell, you were going to move to the front of the room.

In fact, Todoroki was the only person in the front of the room! You had also decided that you were not moving.

With your gaze never breaking away from his, you point towards the empty seat next to you. Todoroki rolls his eyes, his own finger pointing towards the empty chair next to him.

Both of you refusing to move, and your heart was pounding in your frustration. Why was he such a fucking dick?

“Todoroki, Y/l/n…” Midnight called, her arms folded as her eyes swept between the two of you. Giggles erupt within the class. Oh yes, the hatred and rivalry between the two of you were legendary within the school. “One of you needs to move…”

“I was here on time, professor.” You say never once breaking eye contact with the heterochromatic man. Who the hell did he think he was anyway? Thinking he could act this way because his dad was rich and sort of famous?

“As was I.” Todoroki quirks his eyebrow. “Lecture starts at one thirty-five. It was one thirty-four when I walked in; Midnight was early.”

“Doesn’t change the fact I was here first.” Your lips pressing into a scowl as you crossed your arms.

“Too embarrassed to sit in the front, y/l/n?” Todoroki taunts and your rage spikes.

“Too stupid to pay attention near the back, Todoroki?” You retort.

“Children, children!” Midnight cries, her fingers rubbing her temples. “Let’s compromise! Why don’t you sit in the middle of where you both are.”

You want to say no, but you know what a pain in the ass the two of you are. Still, as you gather your things, the two of you refuse to break eye contact. You walk towards the middle and sit on the aisle seat. The class snickering as Todoroki takes the other aisle seat.

There was no winning in this war.

“...okay, well moving on. Let’s pick your first research project which is due next month!” Midnight exclaims her hands grabbing a jar with folded pieces of paper in it. Seeing that you and Todoroki were in front of everyone else, Midnight approaches you two first. “Who’s pulling?”

Both your and Todoroki’s hands shootout. Your eyes glaring at each other as Todoroki retreats his hand given that you’re closer. You smirked in triumph as you place your hand into the bucket and pull out a piece of paper.

You unfold the paper and read-aloud for the class.

“The Mental and Physiological Effects of Attraction…” Your voice trails off, your body seemingly wilting in on itself as you sigh.

Todoroki’s glare slams onto your face and ooh’s and ahh’s resonate through the class. Your hands rub your face as Midnight giggles leaving the two of you to get to the next pair.

Why were you so out of luck when it came to Todoroki?

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“So, you’ll never guess what!” Mina laughs as she drinks from her bottle of soju.

You roll your eyes as you look over your class notes from the week. After what you would call an average first week back to school, you and your friends were gathered together to study and drink. Was it a bad combination? Yes. Was it fun though? Yes.

“Let me guess!” Hagakure squealed. The medical mask she always wore was on the table, her stack of textbooks and notes on the floor. Hagakure wasn’t one too involved in her studies. “Todoroki-kun and y/n are in all the same classes together!”

Your cheeks flared up in embarrassment and anger as the six girls howled in laughter. “Come on!” You moan as you pouted. The many pages of notes you had been writing were currently being transferred onto a google doc for clarity and memory retention.

Mina nods her head excitedly, ignoring your protests as she rambles. “Not only are they in the same classes, but they’re partners for the entire rest of the semester! Plus they’re writing about attraction!” The girls seem to eat this right up as you try to ignore them.

Momo nudges you with her shoulder, her fingers grabbing at your notebook for the psychology class. “You two can’t get enough of each other, can you?” She teases as she flips through your notebook that was already filled with notes.

“You’d think with all those classes they have together they’d at least be lawful with each other.” Uraraka snorts as she takes a rather big chug from her drink.

“He’s a fucking dick that’s why.” You roll your eyes as you crack your sore wrist. You had finished up your notes for your biochemistry class. Now you would be moving on to starting the paper with Todoroki.

There was a good reason for this paper to take an entire month to be due. It was required to be at least fifty pages with fifteen different resources, and to your belief, it was going to be a pain in the ass to complete.

“I think he’s super hot, too bad he won’t ever give in to my seduction!” Mina sighs and you choke on your water, your eyes flying to your best friend.

“E-Excuse me?!”

“Just because you two want to skin each other doesn’t mean I don't want to.” Mina laughs and you groan.

“Why do you even hate Todoroki-san?” Tsuyu asks, her fingers on her chin in a quizzical fashion. “I thought you two were finally over your pride?”

“OH, I can explain this.” Jirou cackles as leans onto the table. Her musical compositions hidden behind her elbows. “Todoroki and y/n are in the same major! They have the same classes all the time somehow, and have received the same test scores on everything! They share the same ranking in school because of this, and y/n is super salty about it.”

“I am not salty!” You complain, your hands covering your face as the girls laugh at you. “I tried to be fucking nice, but he was a total cunt to me, so I stopped.”

“But Todoroki-san isn’t rude.” Momo defends her longtime friend.

“To you maybe.” You sigh, your fingers grasping the bottle of wine that Momo had been hogging. “I just think there’s no reason for me to be nice to someone who isn’t nice to me.”

“Sounds petty to me!” Uraraka laughs as you kick her shin from under the table. But the girls are too lost in their mirth over this situation that your protests fall on deaf ears. “Watch them get into the same medical school, too!”

You freeze as you look up from your new google doc, “What now?”

“He wants to be a doctor, too.” Jirou sighs, her head leaning against her palm. “This is really old news.”

“Wha--”

“Why do you even dislike Todoroki-kun?” Hagakure asks, her head tilted as she takes a long chug from her drink. “I’ve never understood why.”

“Because he’s arrogant, condescending, his voice is entirely way too annoying! He always rolls his eyes when someone says something wrong but never raises his hand to say the right thing! Then he always has this attitude! For the one philosophy class, I took, did you know he always was on the opposing team just to fight against me? I was never fucking wrong, but he never failed to be on the opposite team just because I was on the other team. Plus, that one time I had my hands full of shit and was trying to go to the elevator -- stop laughing -- he let the doors close before I even got there!” You scowl at your amused friends who were in very much enjoying your rant. “So no, Jirou, it is not because of school-related things!”

“Maybe they just need to fuck to get over whatever’s happening between them.” Mina stage whispers to Uraraka who nods in agreement.

“Come on, what is this high school?” You roll your eyes.

They could only grin as they shouted to each other their ideas as to what was happening between you and Todoroki. There was a knock on your door and you sighed as you pushed away from the table and walked over to the door.

“Who is it?” Tsuyu calls before you can even open the door.

“I don’t know!” You respond as you throw open the door and come face to chest with Todoroki.

A scowl solidifies over your face as you look up at the taller man. “What?” You ask, your arms folding as you lean against the door frame.

“You guys are being loud.” He says, his face in a deadpan.

“Quiet hours aren’t until midnight, and it’s only eleven.”

“I know, but we can still come over and complain.”

“We’ll be quiet at midnight.”

“I’m asking you to be quiet now.”

“You’re the only ones complaining, and I’m sure you and the boys aren’t being quiet yourselves.”

“Midoriya has a headache.” Todoroki narrowed his eyes at your stubborn position.

“Midoriya-kun was over ten minutes ago! He was feeling perfect because he was talking to Uraraka-chan.” You remark, your hands coming out to look at your fingernails.

“Who is it, y/l/n-chan!” Momo calls out this time.

“It’s me,” Todoroki responds as you made no effort to respond to your friend.

Your eyes shut in a grimace at the sounds of scraping chairs. You can hear them walking over. The small yet amused chatter ringing in your ears as you glare up at Todoroki who quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Hey, Todoroki-kun!” Mina exclaims and you watch as your friends all greet your bitter rival.

“You guys are being loud, would you mind being quieter?” Todoroki asks someone in the group, but his eyes are concentrated on yours.

“Oh, yeah! Sorry for being loud.” Jirou responds back for the group, but you roll your eyes as Todoroki smiles in thanks. It’s a smile directed at Jirou but his damn eyes are still on you. A stupid charming smile on a stupid fucking asshole.

“Is that it?” You ask, your nose sticking up into the air, your hand on the door ready to slam it into his face.

“Oh, for the paper. I’ve already started.” Todoroki tells you with a condescending smirk. “I’ll share the document with you, but I don’t expect you to write anything productive or of value onto it.”

“I can write a fucking paper in two minutes that is a trillion times better than you in a whole month.” Your sneer as your grip on the door tightens.

“You look like the type to forget to write your own name on papers, oh wait--”

You slam the door in his face, your ears burning with embarrassment as you refuse to turn around. You don’t want to see your friends faces as your head slams against the wood door.

“You… forget to write your name on your papers?” Momo asks you.

“It’s okay, y/n, I forget all the damn time.” Mina cackles as they drag you back to the kitchen. Despite your best attempts, the girls remained relatively quiet for the rest of the night.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Two Weeks Until the Paper is Due

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You walked into the library. Your fingers were holding onto your cup of tea. Your arms filled with books for your research paper, and your backpack was open. You ignored the looks of pity that followed you as you climbed the staircase of the library.

How was it only two weeks into the semester and you were looking like it was finals week? This was the fucking worst.

On top of your disheveled state, you were late for your meeting with Todoroki. On one hand, you hated being late. You were a punctual student and always arrived before necessary! So there was a part of you that felt bad even if it was Todoroki. But on the other hand, fuck him.

You giggled at that thought as you moved towards the study rooms on the back walls. Your eyes peered into each room. Looking for what seemed like the genetic phenomenon boy himself. You found him in the room furthest away sitting in there with Bakugou who was packing up his own things. Without knocking you walked in, the door slamming against the wall as you did so.

“Fucking hell, y/n/n!” Bakugou hissed as you walked in. “Learn how to open a fucking door correctly!”

Placing the cup of tea onto the table you smiled at the ash-blond who was zipping up his backpack. “Sorry, my hands were full and I don’t know my own strength.” You tease as the blond man pinches your cheeks playfully. “Ow, don’t be an asshole!”

“Respect the laws of the school first.” 

“Don’t become Iida!” You laugh as Bakugou pulls you into a one-armed hug. Oh, how the three years at Yuuei had changed this man.

“Hah? Shut the fuck up.” Bakugou rolls his eyes as he pulls his backpack on. “Alright, I’ll be going, see you guys.” His hand waves as he walks out of the room leaving you and Todoroki in the awkward silence of the room.

You move in silence. Pulling out your notebook, organizing the textbooks you had, and grabbing your laptop.

Todoroki is sitting by the wall, and in a room designed to hold at most ten people, you sat on the chair furthest from him. You pull out the rolling chair and sink in. Your eyes falling on Todoroki finally who was looking less than amused.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“I don’t want to waste my memory data on you.”

“Too bad, you’d finally have something of value on your phone.”

Todoroki rolls his eyes as he leans backward. “You were late though.”

“Oh get your panties out of a twist,” You mumble as you open the shared document between the two of you. “I lost track of time.”

“You said you were on your way thirty minutes ago. You’re five minutes away.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you stare at him, “I’m tired, Todoroki. I went to go get some damn tea and they messed up my order! But since it was the coffee rush hour they couldn’t make my tea right away as they typically do.”

Todoroki glares at you but breaks away from it as you both turn to the paper.

It’s silent outside of your fingers hitting the keyboard. The paper was being written at the very least.

Well, okay, it wasn’t really.

The two of you had fought at three in the morning about how ugly the paper was being written. Yes, your roommates were sick of the two of you when the argument was being fought. The same night he had told you and your roommates to shut up, you went over thirty minutes later to complain about how he was writing the paper. Under the combined powers of Momo, Iida, and Midoriya the two of you agreed to write the paper separately. Later you would join whatever flowed better between the two of your pieces. The prompt was the same after all, and you were both using the same resources.

“I’m playing music.” You announce, putting your Spotify playlist on.

You knew what music Todoroki hated. It took getting your best friends drunk, but you had managed to get a shitload of information on Todoroki. Details surrounding what he liked, but more importantly, what he hated.

You concentrated on the paper in front of you, but the curling grin on your face was unstoppable as you caught him freezing. His eyes snapping over to your hunched figure as I Want It That Way by the Backstreet Boys played through your speakers.

“I don’t like this song,” Todoroki says, his tone smooth. His hands pressing into the table in what could be an intimidating position.

“Hm, I don’t remember saying I was playing this song for you…” You murmur. You straighten up as you stare at him, your mouth dropping as you shake your head. “Don’t tell me you’re not a fan of pop music? This genre has the greatest artists in the world! Like when people say they like rap or lo-fi they’re insane for ever believing that!”

Todoroki stares at you, his expression unamused as he turns back towards his computer.

Oh yeah, you were both going to murder each other well before this paper was due.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

One Week Before the Paper is Due

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You sat on Todoroki’s bedroom floor.

Your hands shifting through the mountain of books the two of you were in possession of for the paper. The assignment itself was not hard at all. In fact, had you been with a less infuriating partner, you were positive it would have finished already. But for some reason, whenever Todoroki and you made one step forward, you shot back twenty steps.

Today you were working on the assignment in his room for a few varying reasons.

One is that for some reason all the study rooms were being used and the two of you didn’t have time to wait around. Second, being that Uraraka had requested to have the dorm room for four hours. Given that you have all requested to have the place to yourself before, everyone agreed. The third and final reason being that Todoroki’s kitchen and dining areas were now occupied by his roommates.

When the two of you trudged in together, his roommates nearly lost their shit. Kirishima and Iida were the most expressive, and Bakugou had quirked an amused eyebrow. You were a bit confused as to why they all seemed so excited by your arrival with Todoroki of all people. Most people were not so amused when the two of you entered the same room.

“We’re here to write the paper.” Todoroki inputted right away, walking to his room as soon as he could. You rolled your eyes as you went around and said hi to his own roommates-- your friends.

You, uncaring of what Todoroki thought of you, stayed out there and talked with your friends. Todoroki and you were both thirty-seven pages into your separate and yet to be fused paper. Given that you had a whole outline for the next at least thirteen pages, you weren’t in too much of a hurry to run over to his room.

“Y/l/n, really?” Todoroki snaps as you were talking to Kirishima about if he would help you dye your hair one day. You look over at Todoroki who’s changed into sweats and a white t-shirt.

Stupid fucking genetic phenomenon you internally cursed as you smiled at the other boys.

“I guess I gotta go, don’t forget about me.” You depart with a sad smile, Todoroki glaring at you as you pass him in the hallway.

Now, you sat on his floor as he took his bed. Your fingers were typing away as you hummed to the playing music. It was Todoroki’s turn to play the designated music, and you had to admit lo-fi music was extremely catchy.

Your feet tap along with the music as you think of ways to rearrange a sentence you had written.

“What did you get on Aizawa’s test?” Todoroki asked you, ripping your thoughts away from your writing. Your eyes fluttered as you looked at him.

“The test grades are out already?” You asked as you pull out your phone to look at your grades app.

“Just posted,” Todoroki grumbles.

You nod as you look at your result. A swell of pride shoots through you as you nod, “What did you get?” You ask a confident smirk on your face.

“Ninety-seven percent.”

“Fucking hell.” You growl tossing your phone away from you. “Same here…”

Your eyes glue onto your laptop again, and you miss the amused smirk on Todoroki’s face as you continue writing.

“Are you almost done yet?” Todoroki asks you, his eyebrow quirked.

You glance up, your eyes rolling as you scoff. “I’m on page forty-three, what are you on? Twenty?”

“I have fifty pages done.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

Your fingers trace your mousepad. Sure enough, there are ninety-three pages on the single document. Your lips tighten as your eye twitches.

“Well, it’s easier to write when you’re implementing an eighty percent quote paper.” You snark as you return to your pages.

“My paper has the bare minimum amount of quotes, you’re the idiot who can’t keep up.”

You huff your fingers returning to the paper as you typed away. The music kept playing as the two of you remained in silence. You pushed your hair out of your face. You continued looking between what you were writing and what you were needing to put.

“What are you even writing?” Todoroki asks you, his brows furrowing as you type away.

“The paper we’ll be submitting, why?” You ask, your eyes looking over at him before returning back to your screen.

“It’s kind of shit.”

“I bet yours is worse, so shut up.”

“You know, there’s no shame in admitting that you’re not good at writing.”

“There is nothing wrong with my writing!” You sneer as you continue writing, your fingers coming down to hit the keyboard harder. The clattering of the keys echoing in your ears as your heart hammers away.

“Nothing is making sense, it’s a research paper, y/l/n. Why are you trying to make the wording pretty? No one cares how many high-level words are in your vocabulary, be concise and stop being a fucking scholar.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, I forget that words like brain and neurology are too advanced for you.” You gasp as you stare at his unamused eyes. “Oh, let me dumb that down for you. My words too smart for your head.” You pout in mocking sadness as you return to your paper.

You can’t explain it, but your heart feels like it’s cracking as the two of you remain in tense silence as you finish writing.

It takes an hour, but you’re finally done with your fifty pages. You stand up without a single word. Your joints are sore from the uncomfortable floor, but you pack up without a sound. You can feel Todoroki’s eyes following after you as you throw your arms under your backpack and leave. His bedroom door slamming closed as you walk into the hallway.

Six pairs of eyes stare at you as you smile weakly.

“Bye, boys,” you say as you walk out.

This semester was nearly a month in and you were going to have to deal with him for the rest of the semester. Something told you that you were not going to be able to handle Todoroki for much longer.

Yes, you hated him, but you could not fight and argue with him every day of the week. It was just exhausting.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Three Hours Until Paper is Due

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Your eyes trained on Todoroki’s paper.

Your pointer dragging along sentences you hated. Editing basic issues he passed by and leaving comments where you deemed necessary.

“What the fuck was wrong with that sentence?” Todoroki asks, his eye twitching as you were busy typing in a reason why the sentence was wrong.

“Wait for my comments,” you sneer as you press publish.

You continue reading his paper. Your eyes concentrating on yet another sentence that you believed was subpar.

“You hate the entire thing because I didn’t use a semicolon?” Todoroki exclaims, his hand dragging against his face. “Are you fucking sane, y/l/n?”

“Very much so, you’re twenty-one, grow the fuck up.” You roll your eyes as you type up yet another rude comment on his paper.

The two of you had been in a study room together for the entire day. Yes, the entire past sixteen hours the two of you have sat in this room together attempting to fuse this damn paper. So far it was not working.

Since the two of you had edited your works during the week, today was actually supposed to be a fusion day only. The second the two of you began reading over your essay, Todoroki looked at you, his eyebrow twitching.

He had gone on to complain that what you were writing was atrocious. That it was by far one of the worst things he'd have to read in a while. You, not wanting to be talked to like that about your hard work, fought back.

The two of you were now editing every single little word of each other's paper. Nothing passed your eyes as suddenly you both became literary geniuses. Grammar and spelling suddenly making sense to you as you destroyed Todoroki’s paper in your hands. No word went unhighlighted. Comments littered the sides of the paper commenting on truly trivial things. Things that weren’t needed to be said. Things that a psychology professor would not care about in the slightest.

There was nothing productive about your comments. With the ticking time falling through your fingers the two of you should be paying greater attention to what you were doing. But the anger, the uncontrollable rage for what was happening was too large, too grand to be ignored.

The two of you were obsessed with every new comment that was made. Your fingers scrolling to the new comment to yell and argue about how the other one was being childish. It was infuriating and you wanted to leave. Fuck Midnight’s random matching machine, that thing had to be broken if it landed on Todoroki.

“I don’t know why I didn’t fight Midnight on why you were my partner.” You growl as you highlight an entire block text of a quote and wrote in that it seemed fictitious and off-topic. “You’re the most immature person I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

“Oh please, I have a niece who’s in her terrible twos and behaves better than you do on a good day.” Todoroki jeers his eyes like ice as he glares at you.

“I’ve met a four-year-old who’s able to write more complete sentences than you!” You sass, your elbows on the study room table, your face leaning in towards his. “You either write run-on sentences or a three-word sentence. Did you ever learn about the subject and predicate of a sentence? I would be more than happy to teach you because it’s obvious you weren’t taught!”

“Honestly, it shocks me that you’re even a STEM major. You want to be what? A doctor? Oh please, you have to be actually smart and a team player. But you? I have never seen you once try to be apart of the team. If it’s not your way, it’s no one's way.”

“Aw, you do know things about me.” You coo, but your words are steely. Your nostrils flare as you lean away. “Don’t even fucking start on me with the team playing. I participate in groups, I fucking love group work. Just because I don’t enjoy doing these things with you doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it at all. You’re not the center of my world.”

I’d beg to differ.” Todoroki coldly smirks, his body shifting closer to yours, and you move in too. Your eyes flash down to his lips that are pulled into a disgustingly attractive smirk. His muscles tensing on his arms. “Tell me, y/l/n, what are the different things the body goes through when you’re attracted to someone. It seems like you don’t fucking know this.”

Your eyes narrow, what was this some fucking test? Of course, you knew! You spent an entire fucking month researching it. Your hand moves to wipe a rolling piece of sweat from your temple. When did it get so damn hot in this cold room?

“The main components of being attracted to someone is summed up in the following physiological states. When attracted to someone, eyes dilate. Bodies sweat more. Bodies become in sync, due to mirroring habits people have when they are high on endorphins. Dopamine levels rise as well as serotonin. Dopamine helps regulate movement, attention, learning, and emotional responses. It also enables us not only to see rewards but to take action to move toward them. Since dopamine contributes to feelings of pleasure and satisfaction as part of the reward system. It also plays a part in addiction. Serotonin in the brain is thought to regulate anxiety, happiness, and mood. The more you have the better your mood. It was also seen that the putamen and the insula light up on an MRI. Indicating that the studied person is experiencing feelings of romantic love, or attraction.” You snark this all while staring him in the eyes.

Your body as tensed as his.

Neither one of you moving.

Neither one of you allowing yourselves to breathe heavily.

“You don’t even fucking see it, do you?” Todoroki growls as he leans back.

You lean back as well, your arms folding. His arms fold.

“See what Einstein? That I fucking know what I’m doing despite what you think? Are you fucking kidding me Todoroki? I deserve to fucking be here even if you hate me! Would you for one moment stop being a complete asshole to me and fucking leave me alone? And people fucking wonder why I hate you,” you hiss leaning in.

Todoroki’s hands slam onto the table. You jump taken off guard due to the loud noise, and you feel your breath stop in your throat as he leans in dangerously close. His face is centimeters away from you, his eyes angry and yet convoluted with something else...

Your eyes widen as your jaw drops slightly, did you finally push him over the edge?

You watch as his own eyes widen slightly he chuckles. The sound is deep, running against your skin in a way that sends chills down your spine as his eyes trail your body.

“Your eyes are dilated right now,” Todoroki observes, his voice low and husky. “You're sweating just the slightest bit, don’t think I didn’t catch you wiping it away. Your body has been moving in sync with my own this entire fucking month. I’m sure your dopamine levels are soaring on account to your attention to me, is your heart racing because of me? Are you anxious? I think you are, which means you have a healthy amount of serotonin in your body. The putamen and the insula make the hate circuit more interesting. Both of these areas light up on an MRI when the person is experiencing feelings of romantic love. So, you tell me, y/l/n, do you actually hate me? Or are you attracted to me?”

Your eyes are wide, Todoroki’s soft yet heavy breathing hits your lips as you continue staring at him. The wide and cocky grin on his face is infuriating, yet stupidly hot. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, anger and fury pumping through your veins as you take in his words again. The knowing laughter that slips from his mouth only further incites your swinging emotions.

“That’s what I thought.” Todoroki determined as he moved to sit back down.

Now you were no idiot. But what you did next was fucking dumb.

Your fingers lashed out, fisting into the collar of his shirt and slammed your lips into a searing kiss against his own.

The windows had been drawn earlier on account of your noisy roommates and friends taking pictures of the two of you fighting. The door was also locked due to that fact, and you were planning on using that to your advantage.

Your lips pressed against his, hot and heavy movements as you pressed further into him. Uncaring, unconcerned about his reaction.

Todoroki groaned softly, his lips moving to keep up with yours. His fingers digging into your biceps as the two of you stood up, leaning over the table as your lips continued this passion-filled battle.

His lips are fervent against yours and your mind spins from having his mouth against yours. Where you really all this time just attracted to him but refused to admit it to yourself? Todoroki’s hands move from your biceps to searching the table, your eyes barely manage to open. They’re heavy with lust, laced with growing desire as your lips part. The books and laptops are taken off the table, leaving the table meant for four students empty and clear. As you come back up from placing your laptop down, Todoroki’s warm hands feel like fire against your heated skin. And you let him pull your face in for another impassioned kiss.

His lips are heavy against yours, pushing and pulling you in with every movement of his lips. He continues pulling you closer and soon enough you’re climbing on top of the table, pants leaving your mouth from the high position of the table as you crawl closer to the boy who was making your heart beat faster than any strenuous activity. As you move closer, his hand runs from your face to rest against your ass. His hands are strong against your ass, and he pulls you nearer so that you’re sitting on the edge of the table, his body between your open legs.

You’re gasping now, sharp breathing as you try to calm your nerves. This man set your mind on fire, and you were drowning in his lips. His mouth dissipating all the anger and hatred you held in mere seconds. Your mouth opens and your tongue swipes at his bottom lip, pleading for entry. Todoroki moves his hands from your ass, trailing down your legs to pull you closer to him, and his mouth opens granting you entry.

Tongues crash together in the middle. Dominance riding high on both of your parts, neither one of you wants to let the other into each other's mouth. But lord, is his tongue working magic against yours. Your body shuddering as your legs wrap against his waist, your crotch pushing forward to grind into his pelvis. His budge is obvious against your clothed core and both of your moans tumble into your mouths.

His hands trail under your shirt and you arch against his chest, and in your moment of serenity, his tongue is able to push into your mouth. You shudder in his hold, his tongue tracing around your mouth in a way that makes your eyes roll back. His tongue runs against your tongue, swirling around it before tracing the roof of your mouth. A moan expels from your mouth as his other hand slips under your shirt. Todoroki laughs, his voice falling on his tongue and you tremble softly.

What the fuck was wrong with you? Making out with Todoroki Shouto in the library study room? There must be something in the air.

Todoroki’s mouth left yours completely, his hot mouth trailing down your neck. His teeth nipping at your skin, his lips sucking against your skin. Your head tosses back in increasing pleasure as your hips press against his bulge again. His mouth stays on the same spot, his mouth sucking harshly against your skin, his teeth biting down sinfully against your skin.

Your arms wrap around his body, pulling him desperately closer to you. The friction not enough, these actions not strong enough for you. “Don’t be a pussy about fucking me.” You can’t keep yourself from stating as Todoroki pulls away from your neck. Your skin throbs from the hickey that has for sure formed.

“Don’t worry,” Todoroki smirks as he lifts your shirt over your head, “I won’t.”

You suck in a sharp breath of air as the cold air hits your exposed body. You feel dirty for wanting to fuck Todoroki. You feel disgusting and delirious for wanting him to claim you right in an often-used library study room. You don’t have time to think anymore as his lips come back to claim your lips. This time, you’re not going to give in as your teeth sink into his bruised lower lip.

The harsh motion of your teeth sinking into his plump and used lips makes him moan. The sound is electrifying to your ears. Your tongue slides back out to soothe over his throbbing lip. Your grin spreading across your face as Todoroki picks you up from the table. Your body shudders as your aroused sex brushes up against his hard cock. His hips thrusting up against your own and you cry out in his mouth. Your own teeth sinking into your bottom lip as Todoroki’s mouth trails down your chin. His teeth brushing against your jaw causing your hips to roll out against him.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you bring your mouth against his neck. Your mouth trails peppering kisses against his strained neck, and your hips grind down against his bulge. “Please take your shitty shirt off, Todoroki.” Your groan as your fingers drag against his muscular back. The muscles delicious against your skin, yet you feel denied, you feel teased at the fact you can feel him better.

Todoroki moans as your heavy and hot breathing makes his mind reel against the cold saliva on his neck. “Call me Shouto, y/n, I think we’re past this last name business.” He growls. The simple use of your name sends a heavy shiver down your spine. You never thought you’d hear him call you y/n and Shouto felt like a stranger on your tongue, but you feel coy as you nod.

You push away, your hair whipping over your shoulder as you stare at his blue and gray eyes. You watch his pupils that are blown wide stare into you as you lean in close. The sweat building slowly on his temple as your mouth pressed against his ear softly.

“Of course, Shouto,” you accentuate his name and he groans.

His hands grip tighter against you as his lips come back against yours.

Your hands reach down for the hem of his shirt and you waste no time in tearing it up over his head. His toned body now exposed for your desiring eyes as you breathe shakily. Maybe you were always attracted to him.

You look at him and a proud blush spreads across your face as he stares at your breasts. You were not at all wearing a cute set, they were simple, black and not revealing. But the way Shouto was looking at you. The way his finger trailed up to your covered bra made you believe that you were wearing the best lingerie set in existence. “Do you like this set?” You tease, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip as you look into his eyes under your eyelashes.

“I think I’ve been the world's biggest idiot for denying you for so long.” Shouto groans as his face pushes forward to kiss your breasts. You feel like you’re melting in his arms as his lips ravish your tender breasts.

“Who says -- fuck -- who says I want you?” You gasp as his mouth continues trailing sweet and hot kisses against your skin. “I’m a wanted woman, you know.”

“Like hell, I’m letting you go now,” Shouto grunts his large hands enveloping your breasts as he gropes them. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to be mine.”

You don’t have the chance to respond back as Shouto’s right-hand moves behind your back and removes your bra with one hand. The smooth action somehow turning you further on. The bra is thrown off your body and your breasts bounce as they’re not entirely exposed. You don’t know how to feel bashful or to feel confident in the way that Shouto stares at your exposed chest. His eyes locked on your breasts, his lips dragging against his teeth as he looks back up at you.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Shouto groans as his mouth slips your nipple into his mouth. You cry out as your hips roll against his crotch again, and you feel him walking forward.

You whine as Shouto sets your back onto the cold surface of the library table. Your pants heighten as he slips off your sweatpants. The cold air hitting your hot legs making you shudder at the temperature difference.

His fingers roll your free nipple between his fingers. The sensations on your nipples overwhelming as your hips thrash against his. Moans and gasps pour out of your mouth as he continues ravishing your breasts. His teeth nipping and pulling on the sensitive skin. Your head throws back as he pulls away, a resonating pop filling your ears as he lets go of your nipple. Harsh heaves leave your mouth as you look down, your breasts shine with his saliva and you moan again.

“I’m going to fucking eat you out, and you’re going to watch me the entire fucking time,” Shouto commands you, his fingers hooking around your panties. “Do you understand?”

Breathlessly you nod your head. Your eyes locking onto his bi-colored ones as your panties join the rest of your clothes on the floor. Shouto chuckles as his finger drags against your soaked slit, “You’re so fucking wet.” Shouto remarks and your body shudders against his actions. Your eyes flutter closed before you force them back open to peer down at Shouto, “Good girl.” He praises and you feel your pussy throbs at those two words.

Shouto presses a hand against your waist and you watch as he sinks two fingers into your blazing heat. You cry out in pleasure as his heated fingers plunge in and out of you. Your eyes struggle to keep themselves onto his proud form. Your hand slaps across your mouth as his fingers curl within you. Their curvature adding even more stimulating pleasure within your body. Melodious moans are now muffled underneath your hands and Shouto sneers at that.

“Don’t hide what I’m making you feel, y/n.” Shouto snaps. His fingers increasing in their roughness as they pound against your soaked pussy. “Don’t you want the world to know that I’m the one making you feel this way?”

Your hand trembles as you move it away from your mouth, but your teeth subconsciously clamp down onto your bottom lip. You’re embarrassed at being caught in the library. Even though you were attracted to Shouto, you didn’t want to be found in this state.

On a public table, legs wide open, and Shouto’s fingers deep into your pussy.

Shouto, unsatisfied with your quiet affirmations of his actions, slips another finger into your aching pussy. A silent shriek leaves your mouth as you push up off the table. The additional width of his thrusting fingers overwhelming.

“Oh,” Shouto laughs smugly, his smile stretching wide across his face. “Did you like that?”

“Yes, you blind fucking idiot!” You thrash against his fingers, your head falling back in your distracting pleasure. The sensations are numbing your mind. Your rationale slipping away as his fingernails drag against your inner walls. Your cunt feels like it’s pulsating faster than your heart as he continues going.

“Aren’t you just a fucking sweetheart.” Shouto purrs and his hand reaches out to lock in your hair. Your head is roughly brought back up, and a low groan of pain rumbles in your throat as you stare at his slightly furious eyes. “Didn’t I say to fucking look at me?”

Your chest heaves in embarrassment and wounded pride. Like hell, you were being dominated by him.

Before you could try wrestling him for dominance, his mouth lowers towards your dripping cunt. His tongue takes a languid and slow lick. His tongue slipping between your slit and you fall back onto the table. Your eyes fluttering in their battle to stay open. Your eyes still locking onto his victorious face.

Your legs tremble as he thrusts his tongue within your drenched walls. His tongue swirling in circles and thrusting further in. His fingers still thrusting into you as you fall apart on the table. On one lick, one measly irresistibly mind-numbing lick, your legs come crashing against his head. Shouto’s free hand moves to grip onto your trembling thighs. His tongue coaxing your orgasm closer to the edge.

“S-Shouto!” You curse, your hips moving desperately against his mouth. Your hips were unforgiving against his merciless tongue.

Your eyes struggle to remain locked on his eyes, your body twitching with the building pleasure. The electricity igniting in your flesh and bloodstream. You can hear the sounds of your squelching pussy against his moving fingers, and your jaw drops. You’re under his absolute control and you're no longer able to hold back anymore as your orgasm is right on the edge, but then he pulls away. His fingers and tongue disappearing from within you. Causing you to whimper in pain, in lust, and in denied orgasm.

“Suck yourself off my fingers.” Shouto pants as his arousal covered fingers press against your mouth. You take his fingers without a second thought. Your teeth scraping softly against his fingers as you suck your juices off of him. Your eyes remain on his as your tongue slips between each finger. You suck onto his fingers as he pulls away and Shouto growls as he pulls his hand away from you.

“Get up.” Shouto snaps, his hands moving to remove the belt around his waist, and you are quick to slide off the table. Your knees buckling under your weight as Shouto removes his pants. You watch in an almost lusting horror as his cock springs out from under his underwear. He was by far the biggest guy you’ve ever seen and your throat feels dry as he gasps. His dick must be hypersensitive already.

Steeling yourself over, you drop to your knees, uncaring that he wasn’t quite ready as Shouto struggles to step out of his pants.

As soon as his feet are free, your hands immediately grab his length. His girth wide enough you struggled to hold it with one hand. You smirked at the fact that he had two protruding veins on both sides of his cock, how typical for this half and half genetic phenonium.

“Y-Y/n…” Shouto stutters as your hand fists up and down his length in pretense. Your eyes snapping up to meet his lust covered ones.

“Now,” You sigh as your thumb rolls over the pre-cum that slips from the tip of his head. “I better not catch you not looking at me, understood?”

Shouto licks his lips, his eyebrow quirking. “I don’t take orders from you.”

You smile softly, but there’s a strong sadistic tone to it as your hands twist his skin. Shouto curses as he nods, “Fine!”

“Good boy," you tease as your mouth opens and you let him penetrate it. His girth so wide you had to open wider than you were used to. You gasp as you push him further down your throat. Your eyes flashing up to see Shouto struggling to keep his head down and eyes wide. Good god, you hope you were wet enough to take him in without lube.

Your mouth sinks down as far as you can go while not straining yourself. Your fingers trailing up and down his toned thighs as you move your head up and down his length. You’re now in a smooth rhythm, sucking his cock with enough vigor to make Shouto curse your name.

Your movements signal to Shouto that he can move as well. Shouto groans and his hips move forward. You relax against his rocking hips, you're focused on your breathing as his cock moves up and down your throat. Deeper and deeper, you feel his cock move within you. His hand pressing against the back of your throat, and you gag softly against his length.

Your eyes look back up to see Shouto’s eyes closed. Moans and pants spilling out with every thrust, and your cheeks hollow out. Creating a vacuum sensation against his length.

“Fucking shit!” Shouto snaps. His hands tangling within your locks as he overtakes your dominance. Shouto then begins fucking your throat without hesitation. “Taking my cock like the dirty slut you are, of course, you would be good at this,” he hisses as his cock only goes further down your throat.

You struggle to breathe with his thrusting. His snapping hips overwhelming you with their speed and depth. He’s barbarous against your throat. Uncaring about the burning sensation erupting through your airway as he continues at his strength and speed. Your tongue swirls around his thrusting cock. Trailing against his veins as his hips stutter.

You moan against his length. The action allowing you to gain more air and sending a snarl from Shouto’s mouth as his pace increases.

His hips abuse your throat, and you’re delighted in the fact that you’re keeping up. The soft gags that occasionally slip from your mouth stirring him on. The hum on your throat allowing him to further his strength and speed as your actions overwhelm him. He’s sinful yet heavenly in your mouth and you want him in your dripping cunt. Your thighs shaking with the mere thought of him having his way with you.

He pulls his length away from your mouth. Your saliva stringing between your mouth and his still erect cock. You cough as you try taking in the air again, the lack of oxygen had been ignored as your pleasure was so high.

However, you don’t have the time to adjust to your new air as Shouto pulls you up from the floor. His mouth once again attacking yours as you find your back pressed against the table. His lips are intoxicating, and you can still taste yourself in his mouth. You moan as he lifts you up on the table again.

“Fuck you’re amazing.” Shouto grunts as his mouth trails down your neck and you shudder. How you craved a man you were ready to beat the shit out of earlier was beyond you. Maybe attraction and hatred ran on a fine line.

“I know I am,” you gasp as he spreads your legs, the tip of his cock stroking your soaked folds.

“I’ll get you to say it when my cock is in you,” Shouto chuckles and you moan at the feeling of the tip of his head sinking into your trembling cunt. “Are you ready?”

Your head nods nevertheless, and you still as he chuckles.

“Say it.”

“Shouto--”

“I want to hear you say it," he interrupts, and you stare into his bi-colored eyes and feel as if you’re drowning in his them. They’re desperate, needy, and full of want. It’s enough to steal your breath away as you nod again.

“Please fuck me.” You whisper, and Shouto smiles.

A shriek crashes through your mouth as he pushes his cock all the way into your awaiting cunt without hesitation. His girth stretches you out in an unimaginable way. Your walls fluttering as they attempt to relax and grow used to his size. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking huge!” You cry as your body trembles as Shouto leans forward. His own breathing a quiet hiss as your walls clench around him.

“I bet I’m the biggest you’ve e-ever had.” Shouto cockily rasps, but his words feel powerless as he is affected by your pulsating walls. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

You whimper as the painful throb in your pussy lulls and you wiggle your hips against him, “N-Now fuck me right. Don’t fucking make me regret giving in.” You gasp as his eyes lock on yours.

There’s something unsaid flowing between the two of you. An agreement, a secret being whispered through your eyes. Three years of frustration and denied attraction. Three years of forced hatred disappearing between your bodies.

Shouto smiles, small and sweet, yet terribly contrasting as he adheres to your demand. His hips position to a better angle, and you can only watch with fluttering eyes as he begins ramming into you. Your hips move in time with his. Both of you desperate under your denied orgasm and this heightened state of pleasure. Shouto’s hands grip your waist. His grip leaving bruised marks as he slams your body faster against his huge cock. He's stretching you out deliciously. His hands drag out under your ass, clenching your supple flesh as this tiny different position stretches you out in a mind-numbing way.

His hips crashing into yours is transcending, and your cries only fuel Shouto on. Your body feels as if it is on fire as he drags a single leg up onto his shoulder. His cock bottoming out into you making your back arch off the table as you wail out his name. Shouto’s heated fingers press against your throbbing clit. You sputter as he rubs harsh and delicate figure-eights onto your puffy nerve. Your pussy is clamping down on his moving cock, slowing him down slightly, before he grunts and increases his speed and strength.

Your noises of pleasure silences as his cock hits the back of your walls, your legs thrashing around as he drilled into you the same way.

Again and again.

More and more.

His cock smashing against your walls until he tilts his angle and comes down hard against your g-spot.

“SHOUTO!!!” You scream as he continues pounding into your g-spot. His name a prayer on your lips as he continues fucking your brains out.

You shoot up off the table, your screams sounding in his ear as you wrap your arms around him. Despite the fact that your leg was on his shoulder, you held on. The angle allowing Shouto to drive his cock against your g-spot over and over again, your screams drowning out as his mouth covered yours. His body is giving you exploding sensations, your tightness making Shouto moan and curse.

“I needa -- fuck yes, baby do that again -- I needa come!” You squeak as your body rocks against his own.

“Come for me, baby.” Shouto sighs into your mouth. “Come around my cock.”

The pleasure in your belly is overwhelming, it's building up so fast, and your toes curl in electrifying pleasure. You can’t handle it anymore, the pleasure being too much.

Your orgasm crashes through you, your vision turning white as your jaw drops as your screams go silent. Shouto’s mouth continues to move against yours, kissing sloppily against your teeth as he chases his own orgasm.

His hips continue slamming into you, they’re brutal as they slam over and over again. He’s chanting your name as your stimulated cunt continues clenching around his length. His pace is making you grow limp in his arms, although your hips still continue to roll against his. His breathing is short and tense. Panting as he struggles to keep himself composed.

“Come inside me…” You whine into his ear, desperate to feel his hot seed expelling within you.

His cock stretches you out in a new way as he presses you back onto the table his arm lifting your second leg over his shoulder. The twin bulging veins on his cock rubbing a fire against your walls. Shouto fucks you mercilessly, his fingers clenching your ass as you come apart for him. Shouto, unable to keep a controlled mind on his shoulder, loses himself within you. His hips drilling forward one last time. A heavy load shooting into your throbbing cunt.

Shaky breathing fills the air as he pulls out of you.

You whine at the lack of him within you, and your body relaxes as he steps back. Your hands pressed against the table as you pant, desperate to find your air again. A whimper on your tongue as you feel your combine cum seeping from your clenching pussy.

“You were amazing.” Shouto chuckles as he leans down next to you.

You moan as you look over at him.

“I can’t believe I let you fuck me in the library without you even buying me dinner…”

“...would you let me buy you dinner one day?”

Your eyes blink as you stare at your rival in front of you. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire as you nod.

“I’d love to…”

You moan softly as his lips press against yours.

You lose yourself in his lips until the reason why you’re in this library to begin with flashes across your mind.

“SHOUTO THE PAPER!”

Bonus!

Everyone stared as you held onto Shouto’s hand as you walked into your psychology class. Everyone was silent as the two of you sat next to each other in the same row you two had claimed as your own.

No one dared to speak as you kept your head down and Shouto, unconcerned about others' opinions, placed his arm around your shoulder.

You’re pretty sure you heard people choking on their air at that fact.

Midnight thankfully strolls in, her hands full of her things as she’s ready to get these presentations over with.

“Thank you to all of you who turned in your papers on time! We only had one pair not do that!” Midnight chirped as she stared at you and Shouto.

There was a spike of restless energy in the room as they all put together quickly that it was top students Todoroki Shouto and you.

“Care to explain to us why it was late, and why you two are suddenly… buddy-buddy?” Midnight grins, her cheeks blushing as she finally was able to bring the two of you together, not that you knew anyways.

Shouto stood up, and your heart beat in your chest as you had no idea what he was going to say.

“We fucked.”

And screams sounded throughout the classroom.

[scars-of-the-hart]

Tempest on the Shore: Shakarian angst on the Citadel

Her legs had finally stopped trembling. Shit. Shepard tried to hold onto the last tendrils of the woozy, tingling, mind-wiping high.  But it was like trying to hold water in cupped hands, it slipped away through the cracks no matter how tightly she tried to hold it, leaving emptiness behind. And the emptiness was loud. She let out a frustrated sigh and rolled over shifting to the edge of the bed, remembering exactly where she had dropped her pants and tank top. She hadn’t bothered with underwear for this in ages. 

“Um...excuse me?” Demanded the salarian in the bed pressing himself up onto his elbows.

Shepard gave him a puzzled frown.

The salarian (he had a name but she’d intentionally failed to commit it to memory) imperiously raised a scaled brow at her. “What the hell was that?”

“What?”

“That noise you made.”

“What noise?”

“You sighed.”

“Oh...um did I?”

The salarian scowled at her. “Yes, you did. Look honey, I don’t know what your problem is but two hours with me will not result in the most quad-rung overstimulated krogan feeling dissatisfied so you better get that little viscous crack looked at.” He narrowed his eyes at her, and cast a disgusted look between her legs. “Because it is the problem. Not. Me.”

Shepard just stared at him. She was tempted to pay him double because she was close to laughing, which was more of a service than anything he’d done in this bed. But the spark went out as quickly as it had come. 

She shook her head as she tucked a hand between her legs. Not too wet. Manageable for the walk back to the Normandy. That was the handy thing about salarians. The females created enough moisture of their own that the blokes were pretty dry in the bed. As she pulled her pants on she gave the salarain a hard look. “I appreciate that you take so much pride in your work, but you're worrying your giant head over nothing. You were great. Thanks.” He still looked pissed as hell. She vaguely tried to care, but just couldn’t.  “Keep to working with people's bodies, you’ve got no natural ability with their heads.”  She pulled her tank on, bound her tangled mane of red hair in a messy bun on top of her head, crossed to the door and waved her omnitool across the payment console. It registered her transfer of credits and the door clicked as it unlocked and hissed open. She gave the salarian a mocking salute as she left.

“See you in two weeks, freak.” He called after her, his voice full of venom.

She tried to ignore it. She wouldn't be back, she lied to herself as she made her way along the wards. The streets were wet from the rain that had been falling before she started her session with the salarian. The layer of moisture almost made this part of the Citadel beautiful. There was something about the extended blur of the neon lights that made them romantic, instead of just... seedy.  

 A human who passed her made the mistake of eyeing the motion of her breasts under her tank and she gave him a look that told him exactly what kind of retribution that attention merited. He turned instantly pale and hastily turned down a different street. She should care-about the way he had looked, or his reaction or...or anything.  She pushed away that thought as she tried to push away every other, shifting her focus to the way walking made her recently stimulated vagina feel. She shifted her stride, trying to stir any lingering feelings of pleasure, to tease out a last rush of dopamine, but it wasn’t working. Between the bitchy salarian, and the oggloing tool...or maybe it was just her. Just the empty, broken, piece of shit she was.   She glanced at the time on her omnitool. She had half an hour before the end of their shore leave. Fuck. She could be fast but that wasn’t going to give her enough time for a session with anything if she wanted to avoid judgmental looks from Miranda and the Cerberus goons for coming back late when she was the one who had threatened to depart without any stragglers. 

You know what, fuck it. I didn’t ask to come back from the dead. 

She pulled up the booking page that had become the top listing for her “frequently used” extranet sites, and started typing in her preferences. Doesn’t matter if I pay for a full session and only use a few minutes. What am I gonna do with credits when the Reapers get here? Try to pay them off?  She filled out the request sheet as she walked: either gender, cunnelingus.  There literally wasn’t time to fuck around with penetration. Species. The form asked. Shepard grunted impatiently, didn’t really matter, she just needed something waiting for her when she got to the back rooms of Chora’s Den.  She selected turian by accident, and then physically collided with one. 

Shepard rubbed her forehead where it had collided with the offending turian’s armor as pain lanced through her head. Ok, any lingering effects of the salarian generated dopamine were definitely gone now. She glowered up at the mandabled idiot she had run into, preparing a curt, ufelt apology, and fell silent as she caught sight of the glow of a blue visor. 

SHIT

“Commander…” Garrus’ browplates furrowed as he stared at her in surprise. Shepherd’s mind went completely blank as she just stared at him. His crystalline eyes widened in concern and more than a little shock. A steadying hand went to her arm and his rough tipped fingers round her brow, testing gently.  “Are you...I’m sorry I should have-”

Shepherd’s gut clenched and she quickly brushed away his hands. “Been watching where the fuck you were going. Yeah. Work on that.” His head cocked ever so slightly at her harsh tone, his eyes narrowing a fraction.  

“I’m sorry, Shepard.” His mandibles flared in irritation. “I was endeavoring to make it back to the Normandy as you-”

“-yeah, well if you're that careless while carrying out an order you're not gonna last two minutes against the Collectors.” She snapped.  His eyes narrowed further, every calculating thought clear in those eyes. Fucker. Shepard though. Her stomach clenched. She didn’t have time for this. She didn’t have the energy or the...anything, for this. “ I’ll have to put what’s left of your cold ass carapace in a box.”

And then she saw his chin set: slightly raised, head tilted ever so slightly to the right. His pissed off defensive posture. She was too tired and empty and furious and stressed and scared and- 

Shepard turned on her heel and started stomping towards the nearest tram station that would lead her to the Citadel docks.

“Yeah,” Garrus called after her, “if you can still afford a box and you haven’t spent every last Cerberus credit at Chora’s.”

Ice shot down her spine. She stopped, turned slowly and stared at the turian.  “Excuse me, Vakarian?”

His chin was still set. “I’m sorry, is there something inaccurate in my assessment?” He drawled.

She hadn’t ever been followed...not that she cared if she had, you just didn’t survive the shit she did and remain capable of not checking for tails and hostels and whatever.  She didn’t care. She shouldn’t care. Why would she care if he knew? Especially if it was Garrus. Garrus who had gotten his whole crew killed. Garrus who’s medical chart after taking a rocket to the face had shown just what crap the turian had been pouring into his body (well...Moria wasn’t going to point fingers there..unless certain taloned fingers were already pointing at her), but that wasn’t the point why should she care? Except he shouldn’t know.

She gritted her teeth. “I would say there is as I have no idea what you are talking about.”

His eyes were cold as they narrowed. He casually lifted the hand that had, only minutes ago, brushed tenderly against her forehead, and sniffed it. His nostrils flared. “Salarian. Human sweat, yours, by the way, we’ve spared enough for me to recognize it. “

“Oh, fuck you, Vakarian.” She spat. “I probably smell like you, dipshit, after running into you. Who the fuck do you think you are throwing accuzations at your commanding officer?”

“You do smell like me.” Garrus snarled, “but it's different, and there's also a little krogan, asari and batarian-” she opened her mouth to snarl at him but he spoke over her “-not that those are from today, or you, not quite in the same way as the salarian. My guess is those scents are left over from whoever else was in the room before you.”

Rage washed through ther. “If you want to get back on my ship you’ll shut that pincushion of a mouth right now.”

Garrus’ nostrils flared, and she didn't think it had anything to do with him smelling her this time. “You asked me to come aboard!”

“Yeah,” Shepard snarled, “and I remember someone saying that he couldn’t exactly doubt my judgement.”

“That was before you were fucking everything and anything on the wards.”

It was like the world bottomed out around her. Nothing existed but his eyes and those words. She saw fear flash through them for a second, before being replaced by that same rage as before. 

“And what the hell makes you think what I fuck is any of your goddamn business?”

There was some hurt in the rage. “Because I’m your friend Shepard.”

“Yeah. Friend. And crew. Neither of which has anything to do with the personal choices I make.”

“Look,” he said, “taking on the Collectors, everything with the Council, coming back from the dead I get that its a lot to deal with-”

Heat rushed through her cheeks. “And I'm dealing with it so back the hell off.” 

“You’re being reckless there’s-”

Why was this happening? Why was she having this conversation? Why did it matter- she shoved the thoughts a way and glared at him. “Don’t talk to me about “being reckless” Archangel.”

It was a direct hit. Garrus blinked, a different type of pain in his expression. Shepherd’s gut twisted. It was a low blow. A fucking dirty low blow. 

He looked away from her, staring out at the skycars soaring past the walkway, then gave her a long look out of the corner of his eye.  “You are reckless in the field. You are tense on the ship. Its behavior I recognize. I was there recently, as you have so kindly reminded me.”

She wanted to say something. But she didn’t. She just held his gaze.

He slowly closed the difference between them, staring down at her. She refused to give ground: she didn’t move her chin an inch, and continued to glare up at him. He tilted his head so that he could meet her gaze and said slowly. “I don’t care who you fuck.” They were inches apart. “I care why you make bad calls when you know there are better ones.” She couldn’t breathe. His long slow breaths tickled her nose. “You asked for my help.” The challenge in his eyes made her blood sing. “So I’m going to call you on your bullshit, Shepard.” 

He’d been the one to support her after Eden Prime. Someone who had seen through Saren’s lies on his own. The one she wanted on her side on every mission. The only one who hadn’t questioned her using Cerberus…An feelings the salarian had left in her body were gone, the vague numb bliss replaced with the electric currents those eyes sent racing through her. She was rooted to the spot and ready to rush him all at once. She wanted her hands on him, to tear, to push against that immovable impossible weight and solidness of him. That was what she wanted. She wanted something real, something strong, something constant, something she could unleash herself against without fear. Her lips parted as a breath escaped them, crashing against his like a wave. 

But something broke the spell between them and Garrus pulled back. “No one on that ship is in their right mind.” He said quietly. “I have a feeling we’re all going to have to grapple with spirits that haunt us if we want a shot at taking the fight to the Collectors and coming back in one piece.”  He gave her a last long slow look. “But I think you need to figure out what the hell you're actually fighting for.” And with that he turned away, walking towards the docs without so much of a backwards glance. His crest cast a long shadow on the ground in the slowly dimming lights of the Citadel promenade, and Shepard felt herself fall into darkness as it slipped away.

[margoshansons]

Desperate Measures: 18/?

MASTERLIST

Summary: Y/N comes back to camp, where several people are waiting to welcome her. But she can’t stay long, especially with Finn and Murphy out there. Bellamy doesn’t take too kindly to a figure from Y/N’s past.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of a massacre, swearing, guns, death.

Notes: MY BOY DESERVES FUCKING BETTER JROTH! Anyway, I decided y’all needed some healing after that last episode so please enjoy this long chapter filled with plenty of Bellamy/YN. 

If any of you guys ever need to talk about 7x13 and what happened, I’m always here for you. Based on 2x05 “Human Trials”

***

Her breath threatened to betray how strained she felt from the walk to Factory Station and back. She clutched Monroe closer to her. The two women, suffering from similar wounds, leaning on each other for support as they struggled to cross the last few meters.

Her side split in pain, legs buckling underneath the weight of Monroe on her shoulders. She thought she could feel the stitches in her leg come undone.

“They’re back!” Someone shouted as they collapsed against the grassy fields, Octavia relieving the weight by taking Monroe off her hands. Y/N raised herself up, leaning against Bellamy for support.

“I’ve got you sparky.” He whispered, a reassuring smile on his face. Y/N couldn’t find it in her to berate him about the nickname. Her energy cells were depleted, and her leg was ready to bust open. “You’re going to be okay,”

Her balance was thrown off by a body colliding into her, disbelief erupting in her body as she removed her arms from Bellamy’s neck to her long lost friend. The blonde curls impedeing her vision confirmed her theory. Clarke was home.

Clarke was safe.

“You’re okay” She murmured through tears threatening to escape her, voice breaking, “You’re alive.”

She felt Clarke’s smile against her shoulder, “I thought I’d never see you again,” The blonde murmured, tightening her embrace, not ready to let go.

“Neither did I.”

When the two women let go, Clarke shared another tight embrace with Bellamy and Y/N felt herself almost plowed over by another body colliding with hers.

“Holy shit you’re actually alive,”

Her heart almost stopped when she heard the voice in her ear, hands running through the dirty blonde waves that had once been so familiar to her.

She pulled away, unable to believe who she was seeing. “Kyle?” Her voice broke as she said his name for the first time since solitary.

“Hey Sparky,” Wick’s eyes glazed over before pulling her back in for a hug, arms tightening once again around her waist as she buried her face in his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his familiar frame, “I missed you,” He whispered in her hair.

She pushed herself away, wrestling herself out of his stupidly strong grip. “Hey,” she spoke through unshed tears, voice thick with emotion, “Feelings are dumb remember?”

He let out a chuckle and she forgot how much she missed hearing him laugh. “Right,” Wick replied, pulling her inward toward his side, “Feelings are stupid.”

She let out a similar chuckle before a cough threw them out of their reunion. Y/N locked eyes with Bellamy, her throat constricting as nerves jumped upward at the thought of them meeting. This was going to be awkward.

***

Bellamy curled his lips at the sight of the taller guy holding Y/N so close to him, and he didn’t really like the anger stirring within his stomach as he caught the looks they gave each other.

Not that he had any claim over her, but he thought they were headed toward something at least.

“Who’s this?” He asked, trying to keep the irritation from leaking through his voice.

Y/n swallowed before plastering a bright smile on her face, “This is Wick, he was my partner in engineering on the Ark.”

“In more ways than one.” Wick remarked, garnering a playful snort and a smack across the chest from Y/N.

Bellamy nodded, hoping the white hot rage deep in his gut wasn’t visible to everyone the way he thought it was. What the hell did he mean? Who was he to talk about her that way?

“Anyways,” Y/N continued, gesturing toward him, “This is Bellamy, he’s my…”

He swallowed as she creased her eyebrows, struggling to find a way to define their relationship. “He’s my co-leader.” She settled on, and he tried to ignore the way his shoulders seemed to deflate at the sound of the term. He had hoped they were something more.

He wanted to be something more.

Didn’t she?

“Nice to meet you man.” Wick offered his hand out, which Bellamy took for the sake of being polite. “Y/N’s told me all about you, you know before Councilor Sydney went all batshit and crashed the exodus ship.”

“Wait?” Y/N asked, “That was her? That makes so much more sense.”

Wick nodded, wanting to continue talking. Bellamy was grateful for Clarke’s interjection.

“We can play catch-up later” She announced, turning back toward Bellamy and Octavia, “Where’s Finn?”

He saw the hope in her eyes die as Bellamy uttered those three words. “Looking for you.”

Clarke stepped back, ready to launch into a series of questions about what had transpired until a gasp of pain coming from Y/N’s mouth tore them from their conversation.

“Y/N?” Wick’s trembling voice came from Bellamy’s side, the two boys rushing forward to catch her as her leg buckled “Hey, Sparky can you hear me?” Bellamy shoved down his irritation at the use of the nickname and focused on Y/N’s smaller frame. 

“Come on,” He urged, pulling her into his side, her head resting on his shoulder, almost fading out of consciousness from how hard she had walked. His breathing increased rapidly, heartbeat pounding against his ribs as they made their way to the med tent, Bellamy’s gaze never leaving hers.

If they had he would’ve caught the look of realization crossing Clarke and Wick’s faces.

***

For the first time in a very long time, Y/N actually felt somewhat normal. Her leg was hardly bothering her anymore and she could actually move it without worrying too much about any extra pain.

“Hey Sparky,” A familiar voice called beside her, and she smiled in relief as she realized that her reunion with Wick hadn’t been a dream.

“Hey Kyle,” She moaned as she pulled herself up, the lack of sleep over the past few days finally catching up to her. “Where’s everybody?” She asked through a yawn as she gazed around the medical walls surrounding her. She drew her eyes to the gaping hole in her jeans as she ran her fingers down the perfectly neat stitches, the other hand embracing Kyle’s. “How did I get here?”

“Bellamy Blake,” Wick responded, the slightest smirk on his face as he leaned back, releasing his grip on her hand, “You know I think he really cares about you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, shifting her weight so her legs hung off the table, ready to jump to the ground. “I’m not doing this now.”

“Hey, you were the one who wanted me to come down to help with this situation.” Wick brought up, and she groaned, her feet slapping the floor as she remembered their conversation from long ago.

“I hate that you remembered that.” She uttered, able to walk better than usual. Her eyes glanced around until they fell on a pile of clothes not that far away.

Wick stood up to follow her, “I remember a lot of things, like how Jackson said that you shouldn’t spend anymore time on that leg until it’s fully healed.”

Y/N scoffed, ripping off her tank to replace it with a grey thermal from the pile. Wick’s eyes lingered on her torso, eyebrows shooting themselves up into an arch.

“You gonna stop staring or do I have to close that mouth of yours myself?” She teased, the familiar flirtation sending something uncomfortable ripping through her. 

She hated this feeling. 

She hated the fact that even having Wick here was bringing these memories back.

She hated that it wasn’t Bellamy she was trading innuendos with.

Y/N ignored the smirk spreading across Kyle’s face as he leaned back, “You were the one who broke things off, so just remember that when you want some of this.” He defended, gesturing to his body.

She threw her head back and cackled, the sound freeing her from some of the responsibility she had been shouldering since she came down.

It was true what they said.

Laughter really was the best medicine.

“You come all this way to try and rekindle something Wick?” She used his last name, knowing it was less intimate. First names meant something to them, they didn’t just throw it around because they could.

“Actually I’m here to check on you,” His eyes flickered to her bare legs as she pulled on a new pair of jeans, lacing up her boots as she turned to face him. “And to tell you that your friends are planning on going after the two you left behind.”

Finn and Murphy.

They were still out there and Clarke was back home.

As if sensing her confusion, Wick continued to explain, “The council’s cutting them loose, Raven and I are helping you guys sneak out.”

Y/N bit her cheek mirthlessly, “Great, when do we leave?”

The medical flap opened, revealing Raven standing there with a brace surrounding her bum leg, a duffel bag of rifles around her shoulder as she handed Y/N a pistol. “Now.”

***

Bellamy failed to hide his surprise upon meeting Raven and Y/N at the electric fence, the latter in fresh clothes with a pistol strapped to her side.

“I don’t like you coming with us.” He muttered, shifting his gaze between the two women.

“It’s a shame I don’t listen to you then.” She smirked, handing him a rifle as the pitter patter of footsteps rounded the corner.

Clarke smiled at the two of them, “Nice to see that not everything has changed.”

Bellamy scoffed, hiding the pleasure he felt at the idea of Y/N accompanying them on their journey. He liked her company, and he knew Clarke wouldn’t leave without several stashes of gauze and painkillers on her.

Octavia’s wild braids made an appearance and determination crossed her face. “I’m not letting you leave here without me.”

“Octavia--” Y/N moved before getting cut off by the other girl.

“Finn and Murphy are headed for Lincoln’s village,” She brought up, the argument clearly practiced, “I’ve been there, have you? Have they?” She threw a pointed look at Bellamy and Clarke before Y/N pulled out a pack.

“I was going to say I know.” She smirked, the two girls sharing a smile before Octavia moved forward.

“Whoa,” Raven drew her cane in front of his sister, “Not so fast Pocahontas.” Her cane touched the fence, electricity sparking and crackling as the five of them jumped back.

“I thought you said it was handled,” Bellamy growled.

“It is” Y/N spoke up, raising a radio to her mouth uttering three simple words. “Shut it down Wick.”

She handed the radio to Raven, and Bellamy once again tried to get a hold on the anger raging inside him at the thought of Y/N and Wick spending time together while he was out petitioning to save their friends.

He hadn’t been there for her. Not like Bellamy had,

The next time the cane touched the fence, nothing happened. And he supposed he had Wick to thank for that.

He sighed as they snuck out, barely catching the look Clarke gave him and Y/N as they shuffled forward behind Octavia, footsteps matching each other.

***

Bellamy shifted uncomfortably on the log, eyes locking onto Octavia’s sleeping frame, a small tug at his lips recalling everything the two had been through. Clarke slept a few beats away, curled up next to the flames, blonde hair splayed out on the grass beside him. He was grateful to have her back. Having her around made things so much easier.

When his eyes flitted to Y/N’s blanket, he perked up in worry, the pack abandoned on the forest floor as he looked around, searching anxiously for his co-leader, his friend, his...something.

“Relax,” Her soft voice answered, footsteps settling next to him before she sat down next to him, her body warming him more than any fire ever could. “I was just scouting the area,” She waved her pistol before holstering it in her pants like he once did, letting him know that she was armed and ready to defend herself.

He let out a sigh of relief before turning his gaze beside him, eyes scanning her illuminated features. She stared out at the fire before him, ponytail drifting over her shoulders as she leaned forward, elbows against her knees.

“Did you mean what you said?” He swallowed his nerves, ready to get an answer to the question that had been plaguing him since the day she got shot. “Back at the dropship, before we got seperated. Did you have feelings for me?”

He watched her shoulders tense at the question, and he knew he had taken it a step too far. They were in the middle of a war, they shouldn’t be talking about this. They shouldn’t be focusing on this, but he needed to know.

“Yes.” She breathed, eyes flickering to his mouth, “I do have feelings for you. Murphy was right.”

His chest exploded at the confirmation, nerves evaporating into relief as it pumped through his veins. 

“That’s a relief.” He joked to ease the tension, “I was afraid I had to beat Murphy if it wasn’t true.” She chuckled, the hushed laughter sending his chest pounding with pride. “Maybe I’ll beat him anyway.” He continued, his lips tugging involuntarily. “Just for kicks.”

“You should cut him some slack,” Y/N spoke up, surprising both of them before letting out a yawn “Even he and I have something in common.”

It was Bellamy’s turn to chuckle, “You should get some sleep,” He brushed a piece of hair that had fallen loose aside, pushing it behind her ear as he examined her beautiful face again, the touch sending shivers down his spine.

“So should you.” She pointed out, hands brushing themselves across the wrinkles in his forehead.

He couldn’t keep the adoring smile off his face, wanting nothing more than to press his lips against hers right then and there, to take her in his arms and forget the rest of the world existed. She made him want to be better.

She made him want to live.

“I’ll sleep when we find Finn,” He said, shoving those thoughts to the back of his mind as he remembered his own reality. “I knew what they were capable of, and I let him and Murphy leave with two automatic rifles.”

“We let them leave.” Y/N reminded him, grasping his hand in hers, drawing his gaze toward her intertwined digits. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

His gaze moved up her arm, meeting her exposed neck until it finally landed on her soft lips, and the desire to kiss her had never been greater until that moment.

It seemed so perfect.

The gap was almost nonexistent.

Inching closer and closer--

“I’m sure it was just like the dropship,” Clarke’s trembling voice rang through the fire, tearing the two apart. “It had to be done.”

Bellamy nodded slightly before shifting his gaze to the fire, one final question lingering on his mind. “How long until chocolate cake turns into being hung upside down and drained for their blood?” His voice shook, as if he couldn’t handle the truth. As if one wrong move would topple him.

“I don’t know” Clarke admitted, sitting up, “But we don’t have much time.”

Y/N nodded with him, “First we find Finn,” She chimed in, “And then we rescue our friends in Mount Weather.”

“And Lincoln.” Octavia announced, everyone finally awake. “Think we’ve slept long enough.” The rest of the group agreed.

“I’ll go find us some water to extinguish the fire.” Y/N announced, tearing herself out of Bellamy’s grasp to enter the darkened forest.

“She’s good for you Bellamy.” Clarke told him as soon as Y/N was out of earshot.

Bellamy nodded, ‘She’s good for all of us.” He said instead, ignoring the knowing look on Clarke’s face. “I don’t think any of us would’ve survived if she hadn’t been on that dropship.”

“You got that right.” Octavia snickered, a soft smile on her face as she caught the look in her brother’s eyes. “We got lucky.” She said.

Bellamy nodded, sending a look in the direction she had disappeared in. “Really lucky,” He murmured to himself.

***

“We’re almost there.” Octavia announced, continuing her way through the endless amounts of trees, “Once we reach the statue it’s only another kilometer or two.”

Y/N creased her eyebrows in confusion, she tilted her head as she linked eyes with Bellamy.

Statue?

Were there remnants of Old Earth that had survived the bombs?

Her question was answered once they stepped deep into a clearing, the dirt path stretching before them, but Y/N’s eyes were trained on a vine covered monument above her, a brief moment of awe crossing her face before a sob pulled her back to reality.

“The reapers came from there.” Octavia spoke, tears falling down her face, “I couldn’t save him Bell, I couldn’t save him.”

Bellamy pulled Octavia close, reassuring her that they would find Lincoln again and he would make sure of it. Y/N shuffled closer to Clarke, glad to have her with them as they traversed forward.

“I recognize this statue,” the blonde announced, “He was a great peacekeeper before the cataclysm.” Clarke and her stared up at the statue once again, letting Bellamy and Octavia have their moment. “I destroy my enemies by making them friends.” Clarke whispered, and Y/N tilted her head, not recognizing the quote. “It was quote of his. One that I think we need to implement.”

“How you reach the goal matters.” Y/N told herself, realizing what Clarke was hinting at, “You wanna seek peace with the grounders?” She asked, knowing it was the most logical conclusion.

Clarke nodded, “Their people are in the mountain too. We need--”

Shots rang out, pulling the foursome back to reality as they raced toward the village, hoping they weren’t too late.

They scrambled down the man-made path, dirt roads and statues forgotten as their eyes graced the horror awaiting them at the grounder village. A burnt farm crumbled at their side, blood poured onto the streets and a man with a face tattoo released a guttural scream to the sky. 

They scrambled down the hill, and Y/N’s gaze went to Murphy, whose gun was slung behind him. She turned her eyes to Finn, smoke rising from the barrel of his rifle.

She leaned down next to Octavia, examining the warrior--no, the child bleeding onto the pavement beneath him.

Beside her, the sobbing man closed the child’s eyes whispering one phrase. “Yu gonplei ste odon*.”

Behind her, Finn’s crazed eyes were locked onto Clarke’s whispering a phrase of his own.

“I found you.”

***

That night her mind refused to sleep, replaying the massacre over and over, recalling the final words the man with the face tattoo had spoken to that child, the screams that followed. She couldn’t get them out of her head, and when she slept they only made things worse.

She wanted Miller here.

She wanted him to steal moonshine and tell her that things were going to be okay, to cheer her up with his awful jokes and play games together as they spilled secrets they wouldn’t whisper to anyone else.

Pulling herself out of bed, she shoved the flap of her tent open, wind rushing against her exposed legs, not caring about who saw her. His tent was close enough to hers.

No one would question it.

Especially what remained of the hundred.

Warm light flooded the room, almost blinding her as she stormed into Bellamy’s tent, the brunette rushing his hands through his hair. She suspected his mind was doing the same thing.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Was all he asked, eyes widening.

She shook her head and he gestured toward his own bed, she moved in next to him, the last of the oil in the lamp burning out as she pressed her body against his, relishing in the warmth they gave each other.

***

A/N: IT FINALLY HAPPENED!!!! Our babies are together at last! I debated about changing it so it happened much later, but after tonight I think we all could use some romance in our lives, especially with Bellamy Blake. 

DM Taglist (closed): @chloe-skywalker​ @im-a-writer-right​ @clarkewithameme​ @shatteredlovesick​ @your-typical-giggle​ @rhyxn​ @amongthewildthingss​ @furiouspockettoad​ @niammain​ @cxddlyash​ @lena-davina @kaylinfayezink​ @gingerxarmy​ @super-marvel-dale​ @travelnottogoanywherebuttogo​ @nerdbookish​ @valeskasecco @strangerliaa​ @simsvetements​ @molethemollie​ @thebookisbtr​ @im-a-stranger-thing​ @jordangdelacruz​ @oopsiedoopsie23​ @multifandombookstore​ @okj232 @asian-male-enthusiast​ @minigranger​ @jooheonbee​ @libraryoffandomsuniverse​ @pancakefancake​ @weird-pale-blonde-person​

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Soldier - Part 15

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, gun violence. 

W/c: 2.9k

A/n: I’m double posting for @kalesrebellion​ because she called me out. So here you go babe. Also, I did an embarassing amount of research trying to come up with the basics for the serum. But I concluded that this is fiction and it doesnt really matter. But if you’re ur a science major and this doesnt make sense please dont come for me lol

There are moments in your life that define you. Moments you look back on after everything and wonder, if you had listened to your gut, maybe it would be different. This was one of those moments. Bucky’s world shattered around him as Natasha’s words rang through his comm. 

“We’ve been compromised, Buck. I’ve been hit. They got Y/n.” Her voice, broken and solemn. 

No. 

Dammit, NO.

This isn't how this was supposed to happen. This was an easy job. Only a few Hydra agents resided in this compound. The whole thing felt like a dream. One he was completely and utterly unprepared to handle. How could he let this happen. He should have been there. 

“Dammit. What's your location? I'm coming to you.” He shouted. His blood began to boil and he heard your heavy breathing on the other side. You were running. “Y/n, please come in. Please, doll. Where are you?” Bucky hated how broken he sounded. He knew the rest of the team could hear his begging, but he didnt care. He couldn't. He just needed to get to you. 

“You always were a fighter. Right till the bitter end.” A man’s muffled voice came through his comm. He didn't recognize it as anyone he knew, but there was something familiar about it. A distant memory he couldn't quite piece together. Before he could speak, your voice broke though, a small whisper shattering his heart and sending him into a blind rage. 

“Bucky” You breathed, choking on a cough. 

“Y/n. I’m coming to you, doll. Don't worry, I've got you. I’m going to get you out of this. Don't worry, I’m coming.” He pleaded, but was only met with static, and then finally silence. The rest of the team kept quiet, waiting for any kind of sign of life from you. When none came, Nat spoke up. 

“Guys, we gotta get out of here. They've set off a security alert, this place is going to blow in three minutes.” Her voice was now back to its usual tone, but Bucky knew better. She was scared, he could hear it.  “ There’s no sign of her out here. She’s just… gone.” He could hear that she was running now.

“Bucky, we gotta go.” Steve spoke from beside him. Bucky’s head snapped to his friend, eyes wide and body still frozen. 

“We can't leave. Not without her.” He all but begged. 

“You heard Natasha, she’s on her way.” He paused, “Nat, you got the files?” He spoke into his earpiece, motioning Bucky to follow him to the entrance they had come through. 

“Yeah, I have them. Thanks for asking by the way. I’m great, two more bullet holes in my gut, but yeah, files are more important.” She scoffed, causing Steve to roll his eyes.  “I’m headed to the entrance right now.”

“No, I’m not leaving without Y/n!” Bucky tried to pull away from Steve, but he was stronger. A fact he would never admit to the guy, his head was already big enough. 

“She’s not here Buck. They wouldn't blow the compound with her in it.” He persisted.

Sam’s voice interjected, “Jet’s fired up, you guys better get the fuck outta there. We have less than a minute.” 

Bucky and Steve ran through the dark hallways together until they almost slammed into Nat’s small frame. He gasped when she appeared in the hollow moonlight. Her face was contorted in pain, something he was all too familiar with. Guilt.

“I lost her. I’m so sorry, it was my job to-” She broke off into a sob. Bucky wanted to agree. Yell that if she was a better agent- a better person his girl would be coming home with them. But he couldn't... This was on him. He knew it was a bad idea to bring you on the mission. He deserved all the blame. 

“She’s not dead. Not yet anyways. But we will be if we don't get out of here.” Steve yelled over the alarms blaring in the hallway. 

Bucky and Nat both nodded, and followed Steve across the field. Before they could reach the jet, the warehouse behind them rumbled before letting out an earth shattering explosion, sending the two of them flying into the ground. Without hesitation, Bucky grabbed Natasha's hand and pulled her from the ground. He wrapped her arm around his shoulder and all but dragged her body onto the jet. 

“Vision’s been alerted we need medical. He’s been staying at a safe house in Munich. We can be there in thirty minutes.” Steve spoke urgently, rifling through the cabinets of the jet looking for the first aid kit. 

“Seriously guys, it's a flesh wound. I’m- Ah!” Nat screamed in pain as the jet hit a spout of turbulence. 

“Like you were saying.” Wanda smirked, placing her hands carefully on Nats' wound. Her hands glowed a deep red as she tried to relieve the pain. The spy’s face relaxed, but only for a moment before she was back to worried. 

“He’s alive, Buck.” Nat spoke, and when she did, he could hear the fear in her words. 

“Who?” Steve demanded, but Nat’s eyes stayed put on Bucky’s. 

“Tommy. She said his name in the hallway. It was him, Buck. He’s not dead. He’s the one that shot me, the one that took her.” Nat flinched in pain as Wanda's hands fell from her side. 

“That’s not possible.” Bucky shook his head. “Steve found my mission file. I killed him. I remembered it. You just don't walk away from that.” 

“Well, clearly you do.” Nat spoke sarcastically, pointing to the gushing holes in the body. 

“So Tommy’s alive? And he’s Hydra now?” Wanda asked, suddenly realising her hands were not on Nat’s wounds anymore. She placed them back silently apologising. 

“And he’s got Y/n.” Bucky added, his jaw clenched in anger. 

“We’ll get her back.” Steve spoke. He placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder which he quickly shrugged off, pacing back and forth through the small aircraft. 

“I know we will. And i’m going to finish the fucking job and tear that prick in two.” He seethed, mostly to himself. 

He tried to focus on the task at hand. Desperately brainstorming how to get to you, but his mind was spirling. How could he just leave you? How could he have been so stupid? The sound of his name leaving your lips echoed around him, only fuling his growing rage. 

“All our tactical suits have hidden trackers in the sleeves. We will hear it go off, but until then we wait. They cant have gotten far.” Steve started as the jet began its descent. “We're almost at the safe house. We’ll track her from there. In the morning, we’ll head out.”

“Morning? That's too long. She could be-'' Bucky cut himself off, too broken at the thought to finish that sentence. “I’ll find her myself tonight.” He grumbled. 

“Oh no you don’t. We’re a team, Buck. We do this together. Vision will be able to enable her tracker. But we need to work together. We can't lose anybody else to impulse decisions.” Steve scolded. 

He knew his friend was right but it didn't make it any easier to agree. All Bucky wanted to go but get you back. Keep you safe and never let anyone touch you again. He tried to keep his distance before, he really did, but that was out the window now. There wasn't a chance in hell he was leaving your side after this. As for the man that ripped you from his grasp, oh boy… He tried not to make a habit out of fantasizing murder, mostly as it resulted in the Winter Soldier coming out of the shadows, but if that was the case with Tommy, so be it. Only when Bucky stood in a pile or carnage and gore and blood would he finally feel peace again...

“We're coming up on the safe house. Y'all ready to bail?” Sam's voice tore Bucky out of his thoughts, and thankfully so. He was sure it was leading to a very destructive path. 

“Buck, help us get Nat inside. Wanda and Sam - sweep the area, make sure no one has followed us. I’ll fill Vision in on what's happened and see if he can turn on Y/n’s tracker now.” Steve commanded as he hopped out of the jet. 

“Can you stand?” Bucky asked, dipping down to tuck Nats arm around his shoulder, helping her up. She nodded reluctantly, wincing in pain as she moved. 

The safe house was a small cabin in the middle nowhere. Munich was only a few minutes down the road but the thick coverage of trees that surrounded the cabin made it feel secluded and hard to be spotted from above.  If they weren't followed, no one would ever know they were here. 

Bucky helped Nat inside, letting Steve and Wanda take over once they were through the door. Before he could enter, he stopped, taking a moment to gaze upon the sun rising over the mountains. In a few hours, he’d be with you again. He just had to make it until then, and pray to whatever god would still have him, that you were alive. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Продолжай копать. Нам надо её найти.” Keep digging. We have to find it. The voice rang in your mind, waking you from the recurring nightmare. Visions of Tommy and that boyish smile that once brought so much happiness.. His voice, the way it used to say your name, now only causing you ache. 

“Wait, rewind there! Вернись. That’s it.” The voice spoke again, echoing around the room. You opened your eyes slowly, taking in your surroundings, but all you were met with was darkness. You could feel movement around you, but the blindfold tied around your eyes masked their faces. 

“I’m positive she told me what was in that serum.” His voice caused your heart to just about leap from your chest. You knew that voice anywhere. 

“You better be right. You're as good as dead to me otherwise.” Another man spoke. 

“No I’m sure. Wait! Right there. Replay that part.” Tommy asserted. 

Suddenly a headache burned through your temples, scorching the inside of your eyes. You screamed in pain as it coarsed though your body until an image appeared in your mind. It replayed over and over, making you dizzy. 

“Whatcha doing?” Tommy cooed, taking a seat on your desk. 

“Just trying to find the right components.” You spoke, not taking your eyes microscope as you examined the petri dish below. 

“Cummon, baby. You've been at this for hours. Come eat something.” You looked up, Tommy stood there with that big goofy smile you loved so much. 

“I’ve almost got it. Just a little longer.” You reassured him, rolling in your chair and picking up another sample and analysing it. 

“What exactly is, it?” he asked, emphasizing the word. 

“If I mix the steroid with-” 

Another shrieking jolt of pain seared through you as the memory disappeared, leaving you trembling. 

“Go back, we almost had it!” Someone yelled from beside you. 

You tried to scream, to beg them to stop, but it was no use. Before you could try again, the same horrible pain erupted through your body, ripping you back to the distant memory. 

“If I mix the steroid with human blood, it does as it's designed.  But taking into account the theory of nuclear transmutation, we can assume given the right element we can use the serum to absorb its surroundings, right?” You spoke, like it was common sense. 

“Sure…” Tommy chuckled. 

“So, strip down the original serum, add radiation to its compound, now it needs the ability to absorb energy… What element do we know has that power?” it wasn't a question, nor did you think Tommy would know the answer so you continued, “Water, and our bodies are basically made of that. So in turn, if we can create the original serum mixed with high levels of radiation, inject the person, granted you're not killed by that high levels of toxicity, we're looking at a new type of Super Soldier. One that could, in theory, mutate around the serum and absorb its surroundings!” You finally finished.

“I have no idea what any of that means… But it sounds cool. Now put the vile down, and eat something.” He laughed, grabbing the sample out of your hands and carefully placing it on the table next to you.

“Thats it!” Someone shouted. “Of course, why didn't we think of this. Call the commander, tell him we found it.” 

You felt your body twist in agony, but soon the memory left, leaving you back in the dark with disembodied voices echoing around you. 

“What do you want me to do with her?” a man asked. 

“I don't care. убить её?” Kill her? You froze at his words. Even if you could move, your hands were tied down to the chair. Gentally you wiggle your fingers, careful not to draw any attention to yourself. Not that you would be able to tell. The ring that Shuri had made you was still there. If you timed in right, and you still had Wanda’s borrowed power, you could use it to untie yourself and hopefully get the fuck out of this hell hole. 

“Kill her?” Tommy choked. “You didn't say anything about killin’ her?” 

“You should be thankful. The girl’s been sharing a bed with the same man who killed you once before. In fact, I’m so pleased with your work developing this memory decoder that I’ll give you the honour.” The man spoke, shuffling around the room. “Here, tell me when you're done having your fun.” A few heavy footsteps later, and you finally heard the door close. The silence was deafening, but eventually, Tommy let out a deep breath and took a step towards you, ripping your blind fold off. 

You squinted as you tried to acclimate your eyes to the lighting of the room. It was small and dark, but a few dim lights hung above you illuminating Tommy's features. Once upon a time you would have described them as strong and rugged. Now they seemed to loom over you, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, softer than you expected. You quickly clocked the pistol in his left hand and tried to suppress a scoff. 

“Am I okay?” You gawked at him. “You just dug through my head like a sand pit. No- no I’m not okay you shit head!” You screamed. 

Tommy chuckled, using the gun to scratch the back of his neck. “Touché…” He spoke, pulling up a stool and plopping himself down on it infront of you. “I missed that attitude baby. Really, these past couple years have been hell without you. These guys are really scary, but I told em- I said, my girl will know what to do. And you did, baby. I never doubted you.” His voice was like honey. Thick and sickenly sweet. 

“What are you talking about?! I thought you were dead!? I mourned you, asshole. And you've been alive this whole time, working against me?” You couldn't believe how cavalier he was being about this. Tommy only shrugged, fuling the rage inside you. 

“Nah, it's not like that. I was dead, really I was. But then Hydra came and BOOM I was back. They promised me that they’d keep me safe, as long as I could help em get that serum you were always talkin’ bout. Said they wanted to give it time in your system, make sure it didn't kill ya.” He started, narrowing his eyes slowly, “You grieved me? That's a funny way of putting it. Cause from what I saw in that head of yours, you were pretty chummy with that Soldier.”  

You couldn't stifle the scoff that erupted in your mouth. “You're kidding right? Jesus, Tom. They brainwashed me. And I don't need to explain myself. You're sick, you know that?  How could you do this? Do you have any idea what they're going to use that serum for?” You fired the questions off like explosives into his chest, but he didn't even flinch. 

“I don't really care. They told me if I gave em’ your little recipe, they’d let me go.” He shrugged. 

“And so what? Now you're going to kill me?” 

“No… Maybe. I haven't really decided yet.” He looked down at the pistol like it was the first time he really noticed it was there. Contemplating your death like he was deciding between his morning coffee. 

“I would get going on that if I were you.” You lifted your hands, wiggling your wingers playfully “Really, Tommy, you're not cut out for this line of work.” You spat, jumping from your seat and landing a hard kick to his gut, sending him flying back. The gun ricocheted off the ground and hit the wall, but before he could react, you grabbed it. In one swift move you turned the safety off and placed your finger on the trigger. 

“Cummon baby, let's talk about this.” He raised his hands in surrender. “You wouldn't shoot me.” 

You cocked a brow, “You sound really confident in that statement. Especially for a boy who was debating my death a moment ago.” You argued. 

“Dont take it personally, baby. Anything you can do, I can do better. Remember?” You smirked. 

................................................................................................................................

A/n: Another Cliff hanger? Yes. Do I know how to wrote anything else? No... My bad lol. I hope your enjoyed this one as much as I did writing it! As always, @cutie1365​ is the bomb dot com for editing this for me. Tommy sucks, we both agree. I hope he gets whats coming to him... please leave some love and reblog if you read it! 

@kalesrebellion​

@projectcampbell​

@calwitch​

[earliebirb]

prompt: stevetony + accidental love confession during a fight? I'm loving your stevetony fics, thank you for sharing

Oh my God!!! The first prompt in my inbox and it’s from the lovely @ishipallthings !! What an honor. I have followed you for such a long time on Tumblr (at least on my other, messier blog, because this one hasn’t been around for a very long time) and to have you request a fic in my inbox is so surreal. Thank you so much for the prompt, I hope I didn’t disappoint you!

turning tides

steve/tony, hurt/comfort, getting together, 1783 words

When he wakes up, the first thing he sees is a mop of blond hair, the owner of which is seated in the visitor’s chair beside Tony’s bed, deep asleep with an arm pillowing his head.

Steve is back from his two-week-long, highly classified, solo mission. Tony missed him terribly. Steve is also still wearing his uniform, sans gloves and cowl, which is really weird. Surely he had time to change out of his uniform after the mission. What was the rush?

One of his hands is slipped into Tony’s. He obviously fell asleep with his hand holding Tony’s but his hold had loosened some time during his slumber. Tony resolutely ignores the way his heart flutters at the contact. 

Tony looks around the room. SHIELD medical, really? It isn’t like he is dying. At least, he doesn’t think he is. The last thing he remembers before this is the spinning sight of the workshop ceiling and the feeling of his forehead resting against the cool floor of the workshop. Then… nothing. 

Tony gazes at Steve, who has fallen asleep with his face tilted towards Tony, allowing Tony the rare privilege to indulge in his guilty pleasure of openly staring at Steve for as long as he wants to, getting his fill, at least until the guy wakes up. It’s probably a bit creepy, but sue him. He is in—

Tony pauses.

Fuck it. He has spent such a long time denying it to himself, it’s about time he admits it, at least in the safe and private confines of his mind.

He is in love.

There, he said it. Thought of it. Whatever. It doesn’t terrify him whatsoever. Not even a little bit.

Tony studies Steve’s eyelashes closely, gentle adoration blooming in his chest. He has the longest eyelashes Tony has ever seen, like beautiful blond waterfalls, casting dark shadows on his cheeks. Those coupled with Steve’s baby blues are absolutely a sight to behold, which probably explains why Tony has trouble breathing every time he has Steve’s full attention on himself. The thrill that runs through him every time Steve looks at him is addictive, has him turning greedy. He wants Steve’s attention on him and only him at all times. Tony tilts his head to admire the curve of Steve’s lips better, slightly ajar in his sleep. He can’t help but smile at the sight. Steve looks so peaceful and innocent when he sleeps. Tony feels like he could look at him forever and never get bored, always finding new details to marvel at without fail.

Tony reaches out to trace the straight line of Steve’s nose with his finger when Steve stirs. Tony withdraws his hand quickly, like a child just about to touch a boiling hot kettle before being reprimanded. 

Steve’s eyes blink open slowly, squinting as they attempt to adjust to the light shining just above the bed. Tony watches silently, waits for Steve to find his bearings.

When Steve’s eyes finally meet Tony’s, they widen with surprise when he realizes that Tony is awake.

“Tony,” Steve says with an exhale, standing up from his seat, “you’re awake.”

“I am,” Tony confirms. Steve has extricated his hand from Tony’s in the process and Tony pretends that he doesn’t feel suddenly bereft at the loss of warmth.

Steve stands there for a few moments, taking the sight of Tony in. Then, his back straightens. His eyebrows start to furrow, the corners of his mouth tugged down, the features of his face rearranging themselves into a scowl. 

Tony braces himself mentally. He knows what’s coming. 

Here we go again.

“I have told you, countless of times, that you need to take better care of yourself, Tony.” Steve’s jaw clenches, his voice heavy with disappointment.

“Steve,” Tony sighs, leaning back into his pillow as he closes his eyes, “can we not? I don’t have the energy to argue with you right now.”

Steve’s chin juts out stubbornly, inhaling deeply through his nose. Tony recognizes all the signs: Steve is not backing down.

Steve raises his eyebrows, leveling him with a glare. “Then muster some.”

Oh. Steve is angry angry.

First things first. “What happened?”

Tony has some inkling as to what might have happened, but it’s still good to know the details. 

“You passed out in the workshop out of exhaustion. Jarvis tripped the emergency alarm and the others brought you here. They told me just as my plane was landing,” Steve explains, his voice cold and clipped.

God, passing out due to exhaustion warrants a stay at SHIELD’s medical bay? What an overkill. Tony would like to stress again, that he is not dying. He just passed out from exhaustion and that can happen to anyone. Not everyone’s a supersoldier, Steve. Of course, since Tony values his life, he tries his best not to voice out his thoughts to Steve, who is still staring at Tony like he had insulted his mother.

“Alright. I’m fine now. I’m awake, see?” Tony gestures to himself with a smile. Steve’s expression remains stormy as ever.  

“You can’t keep doing this, Tony. When was the last time you ate anything? When was the last time you slept before you collapsed?”

The fact that Tony can’t seem to provide an answer for either of those questions is probably a bad sign.

“Why are you so dismissive of your own health? When are you going to learn to take proper care of yourself? God, it’s like you want to get sick,” Steve spits out, like the words had left a bad taste in his mouth, and that?

That has Tony’s hackles rising.

“Listen. I’m so fucking tired of you picking fights with me, telling me how to live my life? I don’t get why you’re so pissed off about everything I do all the fucking time. I can’t do anything right, can I? So I fainted, big deal. If Jarvis hadn’t tripped the alarm, I’m sure I would have come to eventually. I can just get some rest and then I’ll be fine. Why do you care so much? This had nothing to do with you. You weren’t the one who had to drag me to medical, anyway. Why are you so fucking worked up about it? I never asked for your concern, okay? I’m sorry if this event has inconvenienced you in some way.”

Steve drags in a sharp breath. His hands are curling into fists. His mouth is open and twisted in a way that suggests something like disbelief, his eyes turning red with tears. He lets out one long, shaky breath.

“And you think I asked for this?” Steve’s voice is breaking. Tony feels his heart plummet down to his stomach, panic rising in him. God, is Steve crying?  Whatever the fuck did he say that made him cry? Tony didn’t even say anything that was wrong.

Steve grits his teeth. God, that is definitely a tear rolling down his cheek. His eyes stay wide open, glaring daggers at him like he is trying to end Tony’s life with the force of his stare alone.

“I never asked to go insane with worry every time you get sick, or miss a couple meals in a row, or go without sleep for days on end, or get hurt doing something unbelievable reckless on the field.” Steve’s voice is trembling with barely restrained rage, rising in volume. Tony has never seen him so furious before.

“I’m sorry, okay, Tony? I’m sorry for caring about you. I’m so goddamn sorry for being in love with you but I don’t have a choice about that!” Steve roars, but near the end his voice breaks down into a sob, and, and—

What? 

Tony feels lightheaded. “...What?”

Steve is still standing there, tear tracks glistening on his cheeks, shoulders heaving up and down as he pants with exertion. He is still looking at Tony like Tony had personally ripped his heart into shreds, which—

Tony wasn’t even aware that he had Steve’s heart in his hands to begin with.

Tony swallows as he tries to wrap his head around this new, unbelievably absurd concept. Tony has always been in love with Steve. This is a fact. Not the other way around. Of course not.

Steve is not in love with Tony.

Tony looks at Steve, who is now frozen, eyes still locked on Tony.

Is he?

“…Steve?” Tony asks, whisper-soft, and he loathes the sliver of hope that slips into that one syllable.

Steve staggers back reflexively, like Tony’s utterance of his name has a force so powerful it knocks him backwards.  Then, he shakes his head, looking down at the floor.

Ah, okay. See? There is no way Steve is in love with him. Tony must have mishear—

“I’m sorry, Tony. This isn’t how I wanted you to find out. I mean— I knew that you must have… known, and you were just being nice about it, but… I never intended to bring it up. Please forget what I said,” Steve says to the floor, his voice sounding distant and polite and Tony absolutely hates it.

“I didn’t know,” Tony blurts out.

That makes Steve look up, tentative and unsure. “You… didn’t?”

“Not a clue.”

Steve pauses. He lets out a sigh as he closes his eyes, bowing his head once again. His long eyelashes are wet with tears, Tony notes.

“Well, now you know. I’m sorry.”

There is a pregnant pause in the room, neither of them knowing what to do with this revelation.

And then, after what feels like eternity:

“Steve?” Tony calls.

Steve looks up.

“Come here for a second?”

Steve shuffles on his feet hesitantly, his fight or flight instinct coming into play. He looks like he is weighing paradoxical options in a battle fought within: that getting physically close to Tony right now is simultaneously a viscerally compelling and undeniable need and also the last thing he wants to do. Eventually, however, because he is Steve and Steve will always, always be more lionhearted than Tony could ever hope to be, he approaches Tony with the air of a man accepting certain death. Once again, he finally finds himself back at Tony’s side.

Where he belongs, Tony thinks, and something unfurls deep in his chest.

Tony looks up at him, his hand reaching up to gently wipe away the tear stains on Steve’s cheek. Steve is still looking at him like he’s a ticking time bomb.

Tony gathers all of his courage and takes a deep breath, looking straight into Steve’s impossibly blue eyes.

He bites the bullet.

“Kiss me.”

When Steve’s lips meet his, it feels a lot like coming home.