#update: previous tag is a lie. i am tired

[buglaur]

[starrynite7114]

perfume (drabble)

A/N: Hello peeps! Mayans Season 3 is almost done and I guess I’m here with a drabble. I got the request and the inspiration just flowed. I’m not going to lie, my inspiration has been non-existent lately due to personal reasons. I’m trying little by little, but I think my muse for Angel is not as strong as before. If anything, you might even see me posting for Rio, Ez, Miguel and Bucky Barnes. Regardless, I hope you will all bear with me, I am trying to finish all my works in progress for Angel, I do not want to leave any of you hanging. You never know, my muse might return! 

I hope everyone has been well. It feels like it’s been ages, but it’s only been a few months and everything is just kicking my butt. 

Please enjoy this little drabble! <3

Requested by anon! Thank you!

i don't know if you take requests or not, but please if you do can you make this tiktok with angel??🥺? like she sees the tiktok and think abt doing it with angel when he comes home tired or anything you think is good...

thank you very much and if u don't feel like writing it i understand ❤️

Groupchat for updates! Please join since the tags could be a bit iffy at times!

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know! My tag list is a little messy, but please let me know if you want to be added!

Also, if you’re not being notified when I post, please let me know! <3

Masterlist

Word count: 730

You yawned, your head against Angel’s pillow as you watched the next episode of Shadow and Bone. Angel was out late due to a late run called by Bishop. You tried your best to stay awake since you wanted to see Angel. With how busy the club was and how busy you were at work, you’ve only seen Angel a few times this week.

You were used to it, you’ve been together for six years, this was just another busy season. You heard the rumble of his motorcycle which woke you up. Sitting up, you leaned against the headboard and placed a pillow in front of you. The door opened and your boyfriend’s voice reverberated throughout your house.

“Mi Dulce, I’m home.” Angel called out.

“Room, baby.” You replied.

Angel walked in, kutte already off and boots gone. “Let me shower.” He walked over to you and dropped a kiss on your lips. “Hi mami, you look good.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words and you smiled. “Such a charmer.”

“Only to you baby.”

He walked out and left you to your own devices. You paused Shadow and Bone, opening TikTok. It was addicting but such a blessing during this pandemic. Scrolling through, you saw a woman talking about spraying perfume in between your breast and shoving your significant other’s face between them. You looked at your perfume on your vanity. Standing up, you pulled your tank top down and sprayed your perfume. When you sat back down, you heard the water turn off. Settling in your previous spot, Angel walked in with just a towel around his waist.

Your boyfriend was too fucking sinful.

“Like what you see?” Angel smirked.

“Yeah, Ben Barnes is looking good.” You matched his smirk, giving him a wink as well. 

Angel looked at the screen and rolled his eyes. “He’s on another fucking show?”

“Yes, he is.” You opened your legs and arms, “cuddle?”

As much as Angel wanted to fuck you, he was exhausted. He wanted to lay down and just hold you or be held by you, regardless, he just wanted to relax. He slipped on some boxers and basketball shorts before joining you in bed. 

He crawled over to you and laid his head in between your breasts. You hugged his head to your chest, kissing his forehead, rubbing your fingers through his hair. Angel breathed you in and he was immediately intoxicated with your scent. He knew that perfume, it was your favorite one.

“Fuck baby,” he breathed in your scent again, burying his head further into your chest. Your fingers continued to run through his hair and it was lulling him to sleep. “I love you.”

“Me too.” 

Angel poked you, hating it when you replied in such a nonchalant way. He looked up from your chest, glaring at you.

“Okay, Jesus Christ, I love you too.” You kissed his forehead again.

“Thank you.” He turned to face your chest again.

“Everything go okay?” You questioned as you resumed your show.

“No, but I don’t want to talk about it.” His voice was muffled by your skin. “How was your day?”

You continued to rub his head. “Good, you know fending off men.” 

Angel’s head shot up and you laughed. You hugged his head towards your chest and kissed the top of his head. “I’m joking. It was fine, busy, but it was fine.”

“I can’t believe you started this show without me.” He pretended to whine, knowing fully well he didn’t care for the show. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You said you didn’t want to watch it!”

“Yes, but I’ll watch it cause it’s our thing.” He snuggled further into your chest. You were his favorite pillow. 

You and Angel always watched TV shows together. You two took turns picking and this was the first time you veered from that tradition.

“I feel betrayed.” Angel added. 

You laughed. “Babe, did you want to see me gush over Ben?”

“Yes, I don’t care as long as I’m there with you.” His voice was fading, you knew he was getting sleepy. Today was such a tense day, but having your arms around him, your scent invading his senses, he was at peace.

And just like that, Angel fell asleep. You heard his light snores and smiled. Maybe TikTok wasn’t all about pranks, sometimes, it could be useful.

=================

tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic : @carlaangel86 : @woahitslucyylu : @encounterthepast : @enamoured-x : @anangelwhodidntfall : @briana-mishell24 : @bribri-82 : @chibsytelford : @agirllovespancakes  : @twistnet : @everyhowlmarksthedead : @trulysuccubus : @jadert15 : @sammskellington : @cind-in-real-life :  @onmyspookysblock : @sadeyesgf : @thickemadame : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass : @gemini0410 : @elcococruz : @samcrobae : @sesamepancakes : @iambabyharry : @blackmissfrizzle : @mrs-losa : @1-800-imagines : @phoenixhalliwell : @lady-pswrld : @dazzledamazon  : @getyourcrayoncas : @fvckthisbxtchup : @lukealvxz : @scuzmunkie : @lilac-tea-time : @danie1432 : @cocotheclown : @soaronmywings : @my-rosegold-soul : @buttercup812 : @un-poetryy : @angelreyesgirl : @sheeshgivemeabreak : @vicmackeybullshxt : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer : @khyharah : @strawberrywritings : @cherry-icetea : @fuzzy-jellyfish : @losolvidad0s : @brownsugarcoffy : @courtrae89 : @prdsdjarin : @blessedboo : @marvelmaree : @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat : @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead : @thesandbeneathmytoes : @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind : @maddie-georges : @pearlkitten33  : @incorrect-mcdanno : @that-chick212 : @imanerdychubbyqueen : @60shannon : @deeandbobbymcgee : @marquelapage : @justlikebreathing : @mindless-x-dreaming : @thesewordsareallihavetogive : @wiccanmetallicrose : @appropriate-writers-name : @likedovesinthewnd : @admirehermind : @krysiewithak : @helli4nthus : @robbosvgdens : @scuzmunkie : @proudlittlewitchbitch : @lilacyennefer : @witchyhours : @amorestevens : @skyofficialxx : @booksandlatenights : @appropriate-writers-name : @capnsaveahoe : @aria725 : @miss-nori85 : @acelovestoread : @withmyteeth : @luckyharley1903 : @berberriescorner : @pananegra : @montanaraed : @cherieann-2001 : @chaeycunty

[hela-avenger]

To the Stars Who Listen- Part 8

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1789

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: I’ll have a special update on Saturday in celebration of my favorite holiday ever Halloween! I hope you enjoy this part though it was a toughie to write. Tags are open! (Send me an ask/message/response.)

TTSWL Masterlist

Loki was surprised when the artificial voice alerted him of your current whereabouts. It hadn’t led him to the pasture you claimed as your outside training area. Instead, Loki was led towards the gymnasium that resided indoors in the building next door. 

He finds you seated in the middle of the floor mats. You are tucked into yourself as the gold siphons rested on top of your knees. You stared at the distant unknown very unaware of his presence. It was obvious that something was currently occupying your mind but he had no idea what it could be. 

Loki’s curiosity over you makes him desire to know the inner workings of your mind but he was nowhere prepared to start what he expected to be a personal conversation with you. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. It doesn’t matter in the end as you finally snap into focus and turn to look at him. 

“Oh, Loki,” you greet as you jump to your feet. “You’re here.” 

“Hi, little mortal,” Loki nods in return, deciding to ignore the previous cause of concern for you in preference of remaining distant overall. “Did you practice with your siphons for the day?”

“Yes, I did,” you answer. “Did some target practice with Sam actually. He wanted to practice evading airborne attacks and I needed to practice sending those same attacks.” 

“Sounds dangerous,” Loki scowls. 

“Well, Wanda was there too just in case things went wrong and nothing did,” you explain. “No falling bodies or unnecessary confessions. I expelled my extensive power for the day and I’m ready for my lesson with you.”

The excitement you had the day before is gone. In fact you seemed a bit hardened and slightly colder. 

Something had shifted in you and Loki hated that he was aware enough to notice it. 

He is still unsure of how to initiate such an emotional-riddled conversation. It wasn’t exactly a strength of his but he had been at the receiving end of them enough to know the benefits of them. Loki thinks back to his mother and how she pulled him aside for these exact talks. 

Perhaps you just needed the same. 

Except Loki was nowhere near as experienced or caring as Frigga. 

“Is uh… Are you…” Loki stammers out unsure. “Did something…” 

You stare at him expectantly and Loki is annoyed at the growing frustration within him. 

“What is wrong with you?” 

Those were not the words that Loki had wanted to choose and yet they topple out of his mouth so graciously. 

You smile though. 

It’s not as warm as the one you had offered him previously but it was a smile nonetheless. 

“I didn’t realize I was that obvious,” you answer. “Sam and Wanda didn’t even notice.” 

“I’m more vigilant than most,” Loki states a bit proudly. “Will your melancholic mood disturb my lesson?” 

You start to shake your head and feel a sharp sting run down your spine. 

“I take that attempt of a lie as a yes.” 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “Ever since I’ve got this power it’s hard to ignore all of my emotions.” 

“The downside of the truth, I’m afraid.” 

“I really am sorry, Loki,” you apologize again with a sigh. “I guess we’ll have to postpone my lesson.” 

You start to move away and Loki hates himself for speaking up. 

“Wait.” 

You stop and turn back around surprised to find him perturbed. 

“Just…” he hesitates once more. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” 

“I don’t think…” 

“Everyone, including you, have a tendency of burying their emotions when they don’t want to deal with them,” Loki states. “And it leads to catastrophic results… I should know.”  

You watch him closely now making unnecessary connections of his personal experience. Loki clears his throat and continues on.

“Perhaps it's a good thing that you have to face them. Saves you time and energy in the long run.” 

You register his words and let out a sigh knowing he was right. 

“I guess I’m still stuck on the love spell we did yesterday,” you confess. “I know you were hiding something from me which then reveals the truth you were trying so hard to avoid admitting. The love spell… It didn’t work because my soulmate doesn’t exist.” 

Loki regrets initiating the conversation now, but the tension you held in your body is slowly released with every word said. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” you laugh lightly. “With all the glamour and glory we get as heroes, there are a lot of things we sacrifice in order to keep the world safe. We take punches, we bleed, and we… we can’t love without putting them in danger.” 

You move to run your hands through your hair but are stopped by the golden gauntlets you wore. 

“And I mean… how am I supposed to find someone when I have to wear these 24/7 and I can tell when they lie,” you exclaim. “Love was not in the cards for me. It’s not in the cards for any of us.” 

You stare off into the unknown then and your smile fades away. 

“We’re not promised happy endings,” you whisper. “Those are reserved solely for fairy tales.” 

This cynicism was so unlike you and yet you spoke the unfiltered truth. 

“Your friends have found love. I’m sure you can…” 

“This isn’t the best time to tell me a lie, Loki,” you interrupt him.

“I’m not lying to you,” Loki argues. “I’m trying to offer you hope.” 

You frown at his response. He’s being honest but you still sensed that something was off in his words. 

“Hope?” 

“Yes,” Loki answers. “Hope.” 

He steps towards you and oddly enough you don’t shift away from him like many do. You stare up at him waiting for him to continue.

“It can sometimes feel like a lie,” Loki explains. “Hope is a fickle thing. A hard thing to keep honest since it's based on uncertainty.” 

You hum in response as you ponder his words. You watch as Loki waits for you to make up your mind, but something pesters on.

“Why don’t you want to fall in love?” 

“Why do you?” Loki spins the question back to you. 

You’re both at a standstill waiting for the other to break. 

Loki doesn’t. You do. 

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.” 

Loki is surprised at your response and it shows.

“What?” 

“I have friends. Great friends,” you correct yourself. “But I can’t help but want more. I want to come home to someone. I want to hold their hand as I tell them about my day and hear about theirs. I want to be challenged and I want them to help me continue to grow as a person. I… I want to do the same for them as they do for me. I just… I just want to matter to someone.”

Loki doesn’t know how to respond but you didn’t expect him to. 

“You don’t have to tell me why you don’t want to fall in love,” you whisper. “But maybe you are right… about holding onto hope, I mean. Maybe my soulmate isn’t ready for me yet and that’s ok. I’ll wait until they are. However long it takes.” 

You smile at him again and it is filled with warmth once more. 

“So your lesson?” you shift the subject. “What is it?” 

It takes Loki a second to register the emotional backlash he’s having. The way you shifted from one emotion to another was hard to keep up but Loki followed along with it. 

“Right, my lesson,” Loki stammers out. “I want to try something out so bear with me.” 

Loki closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He concentrates the little power he still held and extends it outward. Your sharp gasp proves its working and that’s when Loki decides to open his eyes to find his copy standing next to him. 

He felt tired and it took most of his concentration to withhold his clone. 

“Your power…” Loki breathes out with slight difficulty. “It should allow you to discern which one is the clone and which one is real.” 

Your smile widens as you approach him. 

“This is amazing. Loki… I…” 

“Can you or can you not tell the clone from it’s maker?” Loki grits out. 

Noting the sharpness of his tone, you look between the two Loki’s and reach out for the clone. Like a stretched out rubber band, the extended magic snaps back into him at it’s release. Loki staggers back and you are quick to reach for him. 

“That took up a lot of your limited power, didn’t it?” you ask him in which he nods. “Then why would you still do it?” 

“To test you,” Loki answers. “And I was right, wasn’t I?” 

“It wasn’t worth the risk, Loki,” you answer. “You have to take better care of yourself.” 

Loki opens his mouth to respond. Most likely an annoyed retort to push you away but you stumble back without prompting. 

The room grows colder, but not by your repulsed actions. 

No, it had to do with the patch of skin on his wrist that revealed itself blue. 

“Loki?” 

The dark prince in question pulls his long sleeve down trying to shove down the array of emotions that were threatening to burst out. 

“It seems your power can reveal illusion spells as well,” Loki states quietly. “I should have known.” 

“Loki,” you call out to him, sensing his incoming retreat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to expose something you weren’t ready for.” 

Your sincere apology is real but Loki can’t register it at the moment. He had involuntarily placed himself in a position of weakness which you had taken advantage of. 

“I really am sorry.” 

Loki takes a step back and averts his stare from you. 

“Lesson’s over. We’ll start up again tomorrow.” 

Before you can say anything, Loki makes a haste retreat. You wish to follow after him but FRIDAY chooses this time to capture your attention. 

“Now that you are free. Mr. Stark sent you a message.” 

“Not now, FRIDAY.”

The AI doesn’t register your command as a hologram appears at the nearby wall displaying Tony tinkering away in his lab. 

“Hello there, my favorite agent! And please don’t tell anyone I called you that. People will grow jealous. Anyway, this is your favorite Avenger speaking and I am cordially inviting you to the party I’m having this weekend for Halloween. I’m sure Reindeer Games has got you in a tizzy so I thought a break would do you some good. The whole gang is invited so be ready. I’m sending all of you a jet. Study hard, play harder. Iron Man, out!” 

TTSWL Tag: @catsladen @is-it-madness @manyfandoms-marvel @mejusttryintogetby @illogicalfangirl @ariel-snow-tmnt @islinglivesinshire @musicconversedance @missmadwoman @smaranshakthi @adaydreamingdragon @poetic-fiasco @like-a-wildfire @jasminecalia @ha-tep @charbokbok @setsuna-meiou31 @ms-blvck @country-cowgirl-101 @bepo-is-sorry @hufflautia @waitforthehurricanrose @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @sanniegirl1214 @telenari @anonymouscastiel12

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-nightshade @aoirohi @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @just-a-donut-who-reads @day-dreaming-fox @heykathchuu

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @ariel-snow-tmnt @badhollandfluff @what-a-flammable-heart

[commander-rahrah]

RESIDENCY: SECOND CHANCES (AN OPEN HEART FIC): PART FOUR

Pairing: MC (Jordynne Holland) X Ethan Ramsey X Bryce Lahela; MC X Bryce; MC X Ethan. Please note that both pairings are present in this fan fiction — off & on, at the same times, and the relationships do ebb & flow. Please keep this in mind. Thank you.

Masterlist: Click Here

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 3940+

Description:  Everybody’s first day back at Edenbrook. Is this second year everything they will need it to be?

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Jordynne’s background is my own creation, based loosely off of MC in-game’s personality and provided with more details.

Author’s Note: Ha. Soooo, its been a while. A long while. Many factors went into delaying updating this fic. First of all -- the pandemic. I am an essential worker. I am tired, and stressed. Yes, still. I am tired. I wake up, drive, work, drive, home, eat, sleep. That’s it. My freetime, creativity. mental health, etc. has been at an all time low. Second of all -- life. Soooo much has happened for my little family. My partner and I bought our first home and rescued our absolutely gorgeous puppy from a rescue shelter. It can be a bit hard to find time to write between putting your entire life into boxes, not having any furniture for 3 months and chasing after a puppy. Third -- I honestly felt like I lost my touch with my characters after reading Open Heart 2. The hiatus was understandable but long. There were chapters that were amazing, and heartbreaking and made me feel like I was soooo excited to write them. And then... by the end of Book 2... I felt lost? My favorite characters voices seem muffled. And I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep going. Do I ignore scenes/rewrite them? Would that compromise the premise of my fic? Being a fic that is in addition to the original PB story? I’m still a little lost if I am completely honest. Fourth -- general posting anxiety. Which I try so hard to avoid, and not think of. But comparison games, lack of notes and activity can get to you when you open yourself creatively online. 

But messages of encouragement and inquiries into the next update helped! And I thank everyone who checked in on the fic and on me to see what was going on ♡♡♡ Honestly, I felt like I had no time to write, and even if I did I wasn’t motivated or inspired enough to do it. Tonight, I felt good. The news of OH3 was a bit of a kick starter for me I won’t lie. But I want to get back into these character’s heads -- I want to figure out the god damn mess that Jordynne has made for herself with Ethan and Bryce!! 

As always any likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated. If you would like to be added/removed from the tag list please just let me know! It has been a long time since the fic updated so please let me know if you no longer want to be tagged or want to be tagged. 

Taglist: @drakewalkerfantasy​ @owleyes-374​ @lahelable​ @mayah-mahdy @paisleylovergirl​ @nicquix​ @emilymay100​ @octobereighth​ @llamasgrl​ @timmagicktoad​ @lilyofchoices @msjpuddleduck​ @mfackenthal​ @paulfwesley​ @ccolz88-blog​ @mindlessdreaminxo @jooous​ @lapisreviewsstuff​ @choicesarehard​ @themingdynasty​ @omgjasminesimone​ @hopelessly-shipper​ @binny1985​ @perriewinklenerdie​ @jens-diamondchoices​ @indiacater​ @chasingrobbie​ @writingsbymissy @dimitriwife​ @tacohead13​ @amy-choices @mrsmatsuo @checkurwindow​ @imrookieramsey​ @bitchloveskcbaseball​ @mrs-ramsey​

Previous Updates: Residency — Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen Part Nineteen

Residency: Second Chances – Part One Part Two Part Three

Bryce stood near the entrance to Edenbrook — shuffling from one foot to another. Both hands were wrapped around paper coffee cups — one of which he took a careful sip of. 

So he had stopped to get her a latte from her favorite café. He knew she would probably be in a huge rush to get to work early and wouldn’t stop to get one. He wanted her day to start off right. At least he hadn’t shown up to the apartment.

Well, the thought had crossed his mind but he had quickly pushed it away. This was about being her friend. He just wanted Jordynne to have a good first day.

His dark eyes kept flicking towards the subway stairs, waiting patiently for that familiar blonde head to come bobbing up. Placing one of the cups on top of the other, he balanced them carefully as he dug into his jeans pocket for his phone. Maybe she had texted — 

“Oh Bryce — hey!” His ears perked up at the voice, and was met with a warm smile. The smile that occupied his waking dreams. He liked being the reason for that smile. 

“Hey Jordy!” God, why did he sound so breathless.

“Happy first day as a resident!” He shoved his phone back into his pocket, before grabbing onto her latte and extending it out, “I thought you should be extra caffeinated for your day, so I got you...” But his voice trailed off as he realized she was already clutching a travel mug to her chest. “Oh you already got one.”

“Uh, yeah,” Her smile turned sheepish, “I had the exact same thought process as you actually.” 

“Heh—,” he chuckled, “I guess I know you pretty well.” 

Her green eyes flashed with a look he couldn’t quite read, “Guess you do.” “Well, do you want it still...?” He held out the lukewarm latte again, unsure what to do with it. 

“Hey, I’m still Jordynne Holland. When have I ever denied extra caffeine?” Bryce’s white teeth bit his lip as they stretched into a smile. He handed her the cup — their fingers grazing slightly. 

“Thanks.” 

They fell into step behind the other roommates, trailing into the hospital. As they walked together, Bryce suddenly struggled to find what to say. He had never been one to stay quiet — usually he was the outspoken one. But now he just watched her grasp onto her two coffee cups tightly, her eyes low as she walked into Edenbrook. 

Once they made there way into the staff locker room, they separated to their own lockers. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she carefully sat her two drinks down, before grabbing her white coat. She slipped it on effortlessly, before wrapping her stethoscope around her neck. Flipping her blonde ponytail out, she turned to speak with Sienna — her voice to low for him to hear.

Jordynne looked amazing — her lean legs and hips wrapped in a deep green skirt that showed off just enough that it was both sexy and tasteful. Her high necked pale blouse brought out her olive skin. She could be the woman on the front of the pamphlets they hand out to pre-med undergrads. She already was the doctor she was aspiring to be — and he knew she would fit in well with the Diagnostics team. He thought of Ramsey — his pressed trousers, and leather dress shoes. His watch that probably cost more then Bryce’s car. Grinding his molars, he looked down at the wrinkles trousers and Nikes in his hands. Peeling his shirt off he tossed it gently into his locker, letting out a sigh.

But he quickly masked it as Jordynne went to leave the locker room. “Hey,” He caught her attention before she went to leave, “You’re gonna kill it, Holland.” 

“Thanks Lahela,” She gave him that smile again. The one that made everything flutter. 

“I’ll save you a seat at lunch?”

“Oh—“ Her eyebrows furrowed slightly in the middle, “I’m not sure how my day will look with the team... I’ll play it by ear?” She offered, looking a little guilty. 

“Yeah— yeah of course...” His voice sounded a little strained. “We’ll catch you later.” 

She nodded at him, pushing her hands into her pockets, “Okay, yeah. See you guys in the atrium,” She called out over her shoulder, her blonde ponytail swinging as she walked away. 

Bryce’s brown eyes flickered over to the rest of her roommates, who were all watching with slightly worried looks. It was starting to settle in. Maybe this second year, this second chance — was the beginning of everything changing. ________________________________________________________________ He had originally come up here to get accustomed to his new surroundings. Get a lay of the land. The board had spared no expense with the new wing expansion — and the Diagnostic team’s new office was no joke. 

Ethan was standing across the hall from the room — staring into the room through the glass walls. Everything inside was sleek, shiny and new. His hands were bunched up fists in the pockets of his trousers, and the tie around his neck felt a little tight. Had he forgotten what all of this was like while he was away?  

Thirty minutes he had stood there. 

Thirty. 

Standing there and imagining where he would sit at the table — discussing with the team, leading them to the right diagnosis. Researching at the desk, pouring over the hundred books that was supplied for them in there. 

But the picture in his head was fuzzy. Even in his imagination Ethan felt like something didn’t feel right. What was it? 

The team? No. Mirani and Hirata always did excellent work. He could rely on them.

Was it that Naveen was missing? So many of his biggest successes with the team was with Naveen. And he definitely felt his absence this past year. He had also never really adjusted to the idea of being the team lead for the department. It was thrust upon him, not once but twice. And both times he had been unprepared. Being a leader wasn’t exactly what he had always hoped for in his career.

Ethan’s thick brows were furrowed as he thought, the gears in his mind whirling. Why had he been staring at the office for thirty minutes? What was stopping him from going inside and just doing his damn work? That’s what he came back for — so what was his trepidation? 

The light flickering on in the diagnostic teams office brought him back to reality. The room was illuminated, the white light shining through the glass walls and spilling into the hall. 

There she was. 

Jordynne stood at the entrance of the office, her back facing him as she took it all in. She hadn’t notice him from across the large hallway. Ethan stepped back into the shadows — hoping she wouldn’t see him capturing the moment. A silent laugh escaped him as he watched her set not one, but two coffee cups down onto the table. His lips remained upturned as he watched her wander deeper into the room, running her fingers over the smooth surface of the whiteboard. She had a soft smile on her face as she looked around her. 

“Good morning Dr. Ramsey!”

Ethan almost hissed at the sound of the cheerful voice next time. Looking over he saw Dr. Baz Mirani standing next to him with a wide smile spread across his face. 

“Morning,” He grumbled, looking back to his view of the diagnostics office where Jordynne had started to settle in. 

“That’s Dr. Holland right?” Baz followed his line of sight, and watching her for a moment. “Are you going to head in?” The young doctor questioned, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. 

He cleared his throat, before shaking his head, “You go ahead.”

The young man didn’t think anything of it, and marched over into the office. Ethan could hear their muffled voices through the glass as they introduced each other.

He noticed the next person that came up to him — Dr. Hirata. She gave him a nod, before pausing for a moment and staring at him in the dark side of the corridor. He could tell she was calculating, attempting to deduce what was keeping him out of their new office. But her face remained neutral and she turned on her heel and headed into the room. 

Maybe there were too many variables for her to figure it out too. 

His blue eyes watched as the three colleagues got familiar with each other, shaking hands and pleasantries. Maybe this would be a perfect time to go in. He had missed the awkward introductions — the worst part was over. He just had to go into the room. 

Running his hands over his white coat, Ethan crossed the hall and stepped into the brand new office. 

“Introductions done?” He asked, his thick brows raised. He glanced over them quickly, not long enough to make any eye contact. “Great. We’ve got work to do.” The glass door behind him gently hissed as it closed — leaving them all in the office together. 

Ok. First step done.

“We have an incoming patient from Manhattan Presbyterian.” The trio slid apart to make room for him as he marched to the board, pining up an abdominal CT scan. 

Jordynne, June and Baz grabbed a spot at the circular wooden table in the middle of the room. 

“Can you describe the patient?”

“Male, aged 45. Asian American.” He watched as Jordynne took out her trusty little black notebook, and started jotting down notes. 

“Symptoms?” 

“He presented with a fever, vomiting and diarrhea, and was treated for the flu. He returned several days later with enlarged lymph nodes, abdominal pain, and a rash on his shoulder.” Grabbing onto a black marker, he started to write the known symptoms down on the white board. With his back turned to the group for a moment, he let the corners of his lips turn up for a split second. This felt good. “What did his former doctors think it was?” 

“Hodgkin lymphoma.” He made sure he kept his face neutral -- to not give any answers away. 

June scoffed, “Amateurs. And his blood?” 

He almost laughed.

As the conversation started to amp up, Ethan slipped back into his role on the diagnostics team easier then he had imagined. Bouncing off of each other during the differential — he had missed this. 

Then he realized Jordynne hadn’t said anything. She was sitting in her chair, looking slightly awestruck. But she was still writing notes diligently and observing them going back and forth. 

“Six months ago, however, he was admitted for flu-like symptoms and a rash on his arm.” Ethan continued, drawing his eyes away from her and focusing back on the conversation. 

“That could be the key. Did they biopsy it?” Baz asked, eyebrows raised and face hopeful. 

He pursed his lips, “They didn’t.”

“Any history of dermatitis?” 

“Was he on any medication prior to being admitted?” 

June and Baz asked one after the other, going through their mental lists. “No and no.” 

“It could be cutaneous Kikuchi disease.” Hirata suggested. But she didn't do suggestions -- she diagnosed. 

Interesting.  

June had gotten there first. But she was always like that. It was a race for her.  

“The symptoms do add up.” Dr. Mirani nodded, giving his colleague a look of approval. 

“I agree.” 

There was a knock on the door, and they looked up to see Danny on the other side of the glass. Ethan waved him in where he announced the patient's arrival at Edenbrook.

“Excellent. Dr. Holland,” He spoke directly to her for the first time that morning —holding his breath as he waited for her reaction. But her face remained neutral, looking up at him through her lashes as she waited for him to finish, “Run a biopsy on the patient’s rash. If we’re correct, we’ll begin the patient on a treatment of nonsteroidal anti-inflammatories and prednisone.” 

He noticed her swallow for a moment, listening to her instructions. “And if we’re wrong?” 

“We’ll re-evaluate.” 

“But we won’t need to,” June said confidently, leaning across the table at Jordynne with a wink. 

“Team dismissed. I’ll page you if I need you again today.” He turned around, going back to the white board to add their final notes and treatment plan. 

Out of his peripheral vision he saw Baz put a gentle hand on Jordynne’s shoulder. He lowered his head to speak in her softly, “I made the same face my first few days on the team. You’ll get used to it.”  

Ethan crossed over to his desk to find the patient's file. Rummaging in his pockets, he found his glasses and slid them on. Without looking up from his file, he spoke to Jordynne who had remained in the room, “After you’re done with our patient, you can see Ines and Zaid for further assignments. You’ll be balancing your work here with your usual resident duties. Now that you’re in your second year, that will include rotations at the free clinic.” 

“Yes, Dr. Ramsey.” Her voice was so professional, so trained. He had never heard her sound like that. It was like she had practiced.

He heard the sound of her crossing the room, and stepping towards the door. But then she hesitated. “Will we always diagnose a patient without seeing them?” She asked. 

“No, but we’re often asked for help by other hospitals all over the country, so it’s a good habit to keep our blind diagnosis skills sharp.” He finally looked up from his file, using his finger as a bookmark in it. But when he looked over to, his stomach flipped slightly as he found that her green eyes already staring at him.

He could see her hesitation, and maybe some nerves. She had just been thrown into the deep end -- and it seemed she was struggling to stay afloat. 

“Is everything alright, Jordynne?” 

He couldn’t help himself. Plus, it was his responsibility to ensure her success on the team now. It was apart of his job to check in on her.

“Actually...,” She made sure the glass door closed, before stepping further into the room, “Could we talk?” Her fingers were knotted together in front of her -- she looked nervous, and vulnerable. 

Ethan studied her for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek, “About the job? Or about us?” 

Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment, like she was in pain. But it was for just for the smallest moment -- he had barely even caught it. “The job.”

Placing the file down, he pulled a chair from the center table out for her where they sat down together. He adjusted his glasses on the crook of his nose, before settling into his chair. “I’m all yours,” He said, folding his hands carefully on top of each other on the table as he waited for her to speak up.

“Dr. Ramsey...," A flicker of doubt crossed her face, before she opened her mouth, "How are you sure you made the right diagnosis?"

Grabbing the file in front of him, he pulled out the patient's previous charts and placed them in front of them. “In medicine, the most logical answer is usually the correct one. In this case, the most obvious answer was Hodgkin lymphoma.”

“But the other hospital had already eliminated Hodgkin lymphoma.” She finished for him. 

“Correct. Which allowed us to take it off the board and considered the next most logical answer.” He pointed back over his shoulder to the symptoms he had written on the board in his chicken scratch, “The patient had a persistent rash. Paired with the symptoms present, the most logical answer is Kikuchi disease." He met her eye easily across the table, before matching her vulnerability, "But as to how I’m so sure, I’m not. Which is why you’ll be running a biopsy. We need to trust in our diagnostic instincts, but the second we let arrogance overrule the results, we fail as doctors.” 

“So I should use logic... and be humble?” Her eyebrows were tugging in the middle as she processed his advice.  

“And read journals. I want you to turn yourself into a walking disease encyclopedia. You can’t diagnose the patient if you don’t study up. If the patients we saw had more common diseases... they’d never have been referred to us in the first place.” 

“Got it.” She nodded -- eyeing the bookshelves behind them that were filled with textbooks.

“So what did you think of the team?" He asked curiously, "It was the three of us under Naveen last year, until he put himself out to pasture.” 

A soft chuckle escaped her, “You mean became Chief of Medicine?”

He smiled at the sound, “Precisely.” 

“Well, we just met but I think I liked Baz.” Jordynne offered, pursing her lips.  

“He’s hard to dislike. Walking proof that genetics aren’t everything.” 

“When did he join the team?”

“A couple years ago, when Zaid began his residency. He sought a position here to be closer to his brother.” 

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, “Can’t believe Zaid would be okay with that.” 

“Supposedly, the old chief cleared it with Zaid before he approved the transfer. But I heard a rumor that it was Baz, dressed up pretending to be Zaid.” 

Her mouth fell open, “He wouldn’t!” 

He shrugged, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. “I don’t pay any mind to rumors.” 

She smirked back at him -- and he could feel the nervousness and ice melting between them. They could do this. 

Two colleagues conversing normally. This was fine. 

“So if I want to get on Baz’s good side, how do I go about that?” She leaned in a bit more towards him, putting her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her fist. 

Ethan thought for a moment before replying, “Baz is earnest to a fault. He respects authenticity more than anything so... as much as I despise saying anything so incredibly banal, my advice would be... “be yourself”,” He grimaced as the words left his mouth. 

“Oof—“ She chuckled, “That must have hurt to say aloud.” She knew him well. “That’s why you’ll never hear it again.” 

She let out another laugh, but this one sounded more sad. Then a sigh escaped her, and she started picking at her lip, “I thought I was so ready for this year. How do I feel like a clueless intern all over again?”

“Because you are clueless, relatively speaking.” 

She frowned, “Gee, thanks.”

His stomach dropped -- that's not what he meant. “It wasn't an insult," He scrambled to get out, "You get to spend the second year of your residency in a small room with over three decades of collective medical knowledge and experience. Learn from it. Be inspired to become a better doctor from it.” He looked up, and found her already looking at him again. His thick brows furrowed, “What is it?” 

“Oh uh... your glasses...," Her words trailed off as she looked at him, "They make you look smart.” She sounded a little breathless. 

He did his best to ignore how that made him feel, the blush that might have been creeping up on his cheeks. So he hid between cheek and tongue. “You’ve caught me. The illusion behind my status. Without these I’m a simpering moron.”

The pair was quiet for a beat, before bursting out laughing. As they laughed, she casually tapped his hand with hers. “Thank you,” She spoke again, but this time her voice was quiet. 

Her fingers had lingered on his hand, so she gave it a squeeze. They were cold on his warm skin.

Ethan's jaw set as he felt those familiar sparks. Jordynne...” His voice was a warning. It was only the first hour of their first day. 

“I know.” She said carefully, but she looked down at the table. 

“We’ll be okay. We’ll make it work.” 

He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. 

“Yeah,” She breathed out. 

He moved his thumb gently across her fingers, daring to give her just that smallest bit of comfort. But the sound of the glass door whooshing open caused him to rip his hand away. 

“Whoops! Forgot my pager! That could have been very bad!” Baz strolled back into the office -- oblivious to what he had just walked in on. 

Both Ethan and Jordynne bolted out of their chairs, stepping away from each other. 

“Hmm. Yes. It’s right over there on the table.” Ethan pointed before shoving his guilty hands into his lab coat.

“I’ll get those tests run.” Jordynne had moved to the door, her arms crossed over her chest and face flushing red with embarrassment. 

“Excellent. Thank you.” He said with a nod, watching as she turned on her heel and marched down the hallway. 

Why was nothing ever easy with Jordynne Holland? 

Would this year be any different? 

_______________________________________________________________

"Cholecystitis." Jordynne said as she finished adding it to the whiteboard in the diagnostics room. Her perfect block letters standing out drastically against Dr. Ramsey's messy scratch. "Inflamed gull bladder which explains the abdominal pain after eating. Which is entirely separate from Kikuchi disease."

She turned around, capping the pen with a confident smile. Esme was standing near the door, watching the scene unfurl with crossed arms. 

"I have to say, I'm not sure I would have spotted that." June spoke first -- looking mildly impressed. 

"Nice catch, Jordynne." Baz gave her a big smile. 

"Indeed. Especially since we had been diagnosing based on reports, not our own face-to-face interviews. Dr. Holland's specialty has always been listening to her patients. Well done." He gave her a nod, a smile threatening to show on his face. 

"It wasn't just me. Dr. Ortega assisted." She nodded to her intern at the door. She knew that drove Ethan crazy -- passing along credit to her colleagues. But Esme deserved it. 

"Hey," Esme nodded her head at the trio from the corner of the room, attempting a smile.

"So this is your intern?" Ramsey stepped forward, eyebrows raised. "Well, Dr. Ortega...," He sized her up for a moment, before moving his steely eyes over to Jordynne. "Dr. Holland's one of our best. Consider yourself lucky."

Jordynne felt warmth spread in her chest -- feeling proud of herself. High praise from Dr. Ramsey -- everything between them aside. 

"I do, Dr. Ramsey." 

"Keep me updated on his treatment." Ethan asked politely, before filing out of the room with the rest of the diagnostics team. 

"So I guess you're pretty good at this." Her intern looked at her with a little smirk. "You saw for yourself, I learned from the best. Edenbrook has some of the best doctors in America, and you'll learn from them all. And not just the attendings, but your fellow interns too. I wouldn't have made it through without my friends."

"You telling me to what... be more social?" Esme looked up at her -- her face filled with doubt.

She shrugged, the corners of her lips tugging up, "It can't hurt."

"It definitely can."

"Donahue's from the other night? That's where everyone goes. But first, let's get you back to your patients." Jordynne started to shuffle out of the office, but Esme's voice stopped her. 

"Right... Hey, Dr. Holland? Thanks for not bailing on me. Gotta say, that's a new one." She sounded genuine.

"Sure thing, Ortega. I got your back." 

This year could be different.

[scullydubois]

Only the Light: Ch. 10

10/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: s2, ep 12, Aubrey (post-ep) | T (for now?) | 4.5k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic

Missy accompanies Scully to a doctor's appointment. Afterward, Missy confronts Scully about her feelings for Mulder, and Scully slips-up on the phone.

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

She digs through her suitcase, searching for the business card she tucked in the pocket with her underwear. A sharp edge penetrates her skin, stings immediately. Her fingers close around the paper card and pull it out. A thin red cut traces the length of her middle finger, blood begging to seep out. She ignores it and grabs the phone off her nightstand, plugging in the number for the Aubrey Motel. 

As she’s dialing, she realizes that it’s already past lunchtime in DC, and even though Missouri is an hour behind, there’s no way Mulder is in his room. She lets it ring anyway, then asks the man who answers for room 12. He patches her through, and sure enough, the line rings until it gives up. 

Impressed by her own newfound patience, Scully hangs up and dials Mulder’s cell instead. She’s not exactly sure why she didn’t just do this in the first place; maybe she likes the idea of Mulder being stationary without her, stuck in his room like a lost little boy with no one to guide him. Her heart sinks when she thinks about Mulder gallivanting around Aubrey, solving the case like there’s nothing to it, like he could have been doing it by himself all this time. She wants him to need her. Naturally, she is ashamed of this desire.

She hits the call button and waits while an invisible force shoots across states and connects her to her partner. She does not have to wait long; he answers after the first ring.

“Hello?” He sounds the same as always. Simultaneously there and drifting, one body split between two minds. 

“Mulder, it’s me.” 

“Hey Scully.” There is a lightness in his voice now, like a balloon cut free of its tether. He is smiling, she thinks...She hopes.

“I just wanted to let you know I made it home safely…” She trails off, not wanting to stop talking to him, but finding herself with nothing else to say. 

“I’m glad, Scully.” He always addresses her by name more when they are apart. This is a comfort to both of them. “How’s Melissa?”

Scully looks through the doorway, confirming that her sister is nowhere near to cause any antics. “She’s alright.” She deals in half-truths. “We’re going to the doctor later to get an x-ray, but I think it’s just a sprain.” 

“Well, keep me updated. I found a lead on the case--Harry Cokely, the suspect of one of the 1945 murders. I’m on my way to see him. He’s been out of jail since ‘93.”

Scully gulps. “Are you alone?”

“Uh-huh.” He senses her tension through the line. “But I’ll be fine, Scully, he’s an old geezer now. What kind of agent am I if I can’t defend myself against an eighty year old?”

“You could have taken BJ with you.”

“And put a pregnant woman in the line of fire? I’ll be fine, Scully. They wouldn’t have let him out if he were still a danger.”

“Okay, Mulder.” This is not what she means, but it has already been a long day, and there is too much left of it to get into an argument with him. 

“I might be able to come back tomorrow,” she blurts out, as if saying it will make it more true. “...I’d like to come back tomorrow.”

“Take all the time you need, Scully. I’ve got this.”

She knows he is trying to be accommodating-- though he so rarely is--but his casual manner confirms her worst fears about her own superfluity. “I want to work, Mulder, you know that.”

“I’m not gonna stop you.” Then, his voice uneven, suspecting but not willing to confront--”Just take care of Melissa--and yourself--okay?”

She nods into the phone. “I will.”  She is staring at the barrel of Mulder’s metaphorical gun, knowing he won’t shoot, almost wishing he would. Bleeding out feels like the simple solution. “Bye, Mulder.”

She is leaving so soon, he thinks, grateful to have had her voice accompanying him on the trip. “Bye, Scully. Call the motel tonight, will you?”

“Alright.” She kills the line, each extra second another thorn in her side, a lie allowed to linger. Sin multiplying.

She stands there, clasping the phone in her hand and feeling like a stranger to herself. Her sister thought she should tell him before she flew a thousand miles and let an hour fall between them, and she disobeyed. What Melissa didn’t understand was that vulnerability is not a word in her and Mulder’s shared language. There’s no way to spell out the situation, even if she had wanted to. And she didn’t want to at the time. Or rather, she had wanted to so badly that it was dangerous, that she knew she risked more pain by telling than by withholding. She would have had to invent new words in their language, expand its bounds, and who knows what would come next. Give someone the language to express their feelings, and they will say them. And what then?

She is scared of her own feelings--and his too--because she knows that admitting means losing, somewhere down the road, and she doesn’t ever want to be without him. If she had never met him, she would never have to live without him. This is the gun that is always pressed to her head. She and Mulder are both holding the trigger.

She doesn’t know if he has such a gun against his temple, thinks that maybe he doesn’t, hopes so at least. There have been others for him, she knows this. Phoebe and...well, Phoebe’s the only one she’s met, and she wasn’t that impressive. But he’s a good-looking guy, and a good guy at that, and the whispers of a dark-haired woman who broke his heart float up and down the hallways of the Hoover building. He doesn’t tell, and Scully won’t ask because she worries that the mystery woman is the gun he holds against his own head.

She sets the phone back in its receiver, tired of thinking about guns and triggers and brains blown out. For now, she is in one piece--she’s pretty sure--and she would like to stay that way for as long as her soul will let her.

Her sister calls from down the hallway. “Dana, are you ready?”

Scully managed to book a last-minute appointment with her OB-GYN, thanks to Missy’s insistence that it was an emergency. Personally, she wouldn’t use such a strong word--I mean, it’s not like she’s hemorrhaging or anything. It’s the absence of blood that’s the problem. But there are tests, scans, and probing of the like that can be done, and once Scully admitted this her sister would not drop the issue. Off to every woman’s favorite place they go. 

--------

The waiting room is a stepping stone, a purgatory, a beginning and an ending rolled into one. She has been here before, many times. In the past, it felt like an inconvenience, not a threat.

She makes an appointment every year, does everything exactly as she is supposed to do in between, and still she is here and scared. She is careful as careful comes, as prepared as one petite woman alone in the world can be. She can dislocate a jaw, strike a man’s legs out from under him, break a nose. And yet, and yet, and yet...Who first uttered “fairness,” thought it existed on this Earth?

Even so, the consolation of knowing lingers in the distance. Like the minutes between calling 911 and the ambulance arriving. Help is on the way. The nightmare will end, or it will settle in. Lucky or unlucky. Win or lose.

Scully is not sure what she wants to hear. Three tests is quite definitive; pregnancy is unlikely. And what else is there? That her cycle has been thrown off by stress, that it’ll come back on its own time, don’t worry about it? That’s no comfort. She doesn’t want something to be wrong with her, but she knows something’s not right, and what’s worse than knowing that you don’t know? She and Mulder have lived in that hell for years. She can handle mysteries of the outside world, but what a cruel trick for her own body to blockade her. 

Missy nudges her from the adjacent vinyl seat, elbow meeting bicep. “What are you thinking about?”

“How my mind doesn’t know what’s going on with my own body,” Scully replies dryly. “I mean, I know I have a tendency to close myself off, but I’ve cloistered myself so much I no longer know what I am.”

Melissa frowns. “Don’t you mean who? Who you are?”

“No.” Scully shakes her head, looks at her lap. In her darkest thoughts and most blistering nightmares, she is not human anymore. They desecrate her, ravage her body, and leave a memento in her skin, a touch of them. It’s so vivid it might be a memory. Mulder wants an alien; he may have one. That would be ironic, huh? 

Can you learn to believe in yourself when you become something you never thought existed?

Can you still believe in God?

Every job she has dreamed of doing involves solving. Knowing enough to know what you don’t know, then figuring that out. Taking the pencil lines, shading them in. Seeking and finding and never wondering why. She cannot keep this up. There has got to be a meaning.

It is not enough, anymore, to simply wonder for the sake of wondering. To cast light over the darkness because you are tired of the darkness. Why? Is she doing it for Mulder, for the traumatized twelve-year boy locked inside him? Is she doing it for herself, fending off the fallibility, reconciling her belief with proof so that she can get off her own back? Or is she doing it because she was told to, because she is still the daddy’s girl who wants to please? 

Twenty-nine years, and she is still coming to terms with herself. We are all our own x-file. We are all taking ourselves apart and piecing ourselves back together and looking for meaning and losing our minds. 

Missy reaches over the wooden arm of the seat and pats Scully’s hand. Scully is reminded that she hasn’t yet ruled out the possibility that her sister is a mind-reader.

“Dana?” a nurse calls. Her first name feels so secondary that Scully feels certain they’re calling someone else.

“Right here!” Missy responds, getting up and pulling her sister along with her. Scully tugs her sister’s sleeve like a child might, wonders if Missy has ever considered motherhood. 

Once in the corridor, they separate. The nurse takes Scully to get her vitals checked, while Melissa seeks out waiting room D, where the nurse’s flat voice--already tired from hours on the job--told her to wait.

It is not long before her sister joins her there.

“How was it?” Missy asks before Dana even manages to sit down.

Scully shrugs. She turns her left hand to show the pink bandaid on her index finger. “My iron levels are above average.”

“That’s not serious, right?”

“No, it’s usually a good thing.”

They sit quietly, listening to the staticky alt rock song coming through the speakers. They are alone in this particular area, but nurses and doctors bustle just around the corner from them.

Scully regards her sister with a latent curiosity. “Have you ever thought about having children?”

Missy turns to her, laughs. “What?”

Scully is somewhat perturbed by her sister’s nonchalant reaction. “Do you want to be a mother?” she reiterates. “It’s not something we’ve talked about since we were kids, so I was wondering.”

“If my life unfolds that way, then surely I think I’d enjoy it. But I’m not prioritizing it.”

“Ahh.” Her sister has always had a particular reverence for destiny. 

“And besides,” Missy continues, “it could be hard, you know, with Trinity and all.”

It takes Scully a moment to realize what she means. “Oh.” That’s something she’s never had to worry about herself. She runs her finger along the grooves of her bandaid, feels her heart clench up for her sister. “There’s always adoption.”

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s a long, drawn-out process from what I’ve heard.”

“Mmm.” Scully nods, wondering how two women could have two such conflicting problems. 

Before she can voice the irony of this, another nurse pops out from around the corner, peers at a clipboard. “Dana Scully?” Her voice is bright and chipper.

“That’s me,” Scully says, raising a hand to show the bandaid, her battle scar.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

Missy pats Dana’s shoulder as she stands up. “I’ll stay here. Come get me if you need me.”

“Okay,” Scully breathes, grateful to be given her space yet to know support is right around the corner.

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

For someone that went to medical school--and enjoyed it, for that matter--Scully always feels much too out of place in a gynecology office. It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before. In textbook diagrams, in wall art, in her own flesh. Yet the 3D model of the reproductive system, the color-coded illustration of the uterus, and the various pamphlets on everything from STDs to birth control to what to expect postnatal smother her, serving as a fresh reminder that Catholicism’s tendency to repress haunts her still. She’s more bothered by her involuntary discomfort than what she sees. 

Dr. Zapolsky enters, easing some of Scully’s nerves immediately. Tall and dark-skinned, she has been practicing medicine for 20 years, and Scully has been seeing her since she moved to Washington. She can be intimidating if you don’t know her, but she’s honest and extremely competent, two things Scully requires of her doctors. And herself.

“Hello, Dana.” Scully sits up straighter as the woman’s voice hits her eardrums. She’s admired Dr. Zapolsky for years, seeing her as an exemplary figure, someone that might have been a mentor to her had she put her medical degree to work. “What can I do for you today?”

There are few things Scully hates as much as being the patient. If she’s the patient, that means she has failed at being her own doctor. That means she didn’t know--and worse--didn’t think she could figure it out on her own.

She wrings her hands. “My cycle is over a week late, which is very concerning considering that it’s always been timely. I’ve been having migraines and nausea and nightmares, and I just know something is wrong.”

Dr. Zapolsky drops Scully’s file on the counter. “Well, the pregnancy portion of your urine test came back negative.”

“I took three drugstore pregnancy tests too, and they were all negative. That’s why I’m here.”

“Have you had any notable lifestyle changes over the past few months?” Dr. Zapolsky asks. “Anything out of the ordinary? Stress is a major contributor to fluctuations in the menstrual cycle, as I’m sure you know.”

Scully nods, gathers herself. Dr. Zapolsky is oblivious to the rabbithole she has just fallen into. “I was, um, abducted, about eight weeks ago, and I have no memory of it.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Dana.” Dr. Zapolsky wheels her stool beside the medical chair. “We have a bit of catching up to do.”

“Yes,” Scully looks at her feet. They dangle a few inches above the tile like a child’s. Nothing new. She glances back at her doctor. “There isn’t much to say. I don’t know anything about what happened.”

“Well, tell me what you do know.” Then, seeing the apprehension on Scully’s face--”I’m not trying to play therapist, I just want to understand.”

Scully blinks slowly to keep from crying. It goes like this, it always does: she can manage the trauma until she has to say it out loud. This is a story no one wants to be in, but everyone wants to hear.

“I was taken by a man involved in a case that I worked on. Well, that my partner worked on, actually. I got involved--and long and complicated story short--the man broke into my apartment, bound my wrists and ankles, and stuffed me in his trunk. That’s the part I do remember. After the trunk, it’s all a blur really.”

The doctor furrows her brow. “How were you found?”

“I wasn’t found, I was returned. To the hospital. None of the staff had any idea how I got there, and I was bathed and cleaned by my abductors so no trace evidence was collected.”

“So no rape kit was done, then?”

Scully shakes her head.

The doctor uncrosses her legs, recrosses them with the opposite leg on top. “How long were you missing?”

“About a month...My mother bought me a gravestone, she didn’t think I would be found.” This is a detail she has never spoken out loud. Saying it feels like letting air out of an over-inflated balloon. 

“I’m so sorry, Dana.” Dr. Zapolsky lifts a hand, then puts it back in her lap. “May I hug you?” Scully nods and lets herself be embraced, though she does not feel it necessary. “That sounds like a horrific ordeal.”

Scully shrugs as best she can with Dr. Zapolsky’s arms wrapped around her. “It comes with the job.” Always modest about her suffering, she is. 

Dr. Zapolsky speaks into Scully’s ear. “No, I don’t think it does.” 

The doctor lets go. Scully doesn’t say anything. She curls the fingers of her left hand around her right wrist and squeezes hard enough to be certain that it’ll leave a mark.

Dr. Zapolsky slides her stool back over to the counter, flips through Scully’s file.

“I’d say the best course of action is to start with a blood test. I’ll check a few hormone levels---follicle-stimulating, anti-mullerian, luteinizing. That’ll give some insight into your pituitary gland function and your egg reserve.”

Scully nods along. Those hormones are complicated names she barely remembers, but she trusts it’s the right course of action.

“With that, we can determine whether this is a symptom of a larger problem, or if it’s simply a result of the stress you’ve been under. It should only take a couple days to get the results back.”

Scully nods, bites her lip. More waiting.

“Have you been seeing a therapist by any chance?” Dr. Zapolsky asks.

Scully shakes her head. Dr. Zapolsky should know her better than that. 

“Well, I highly recommend it even to those who have not gone through any trauma. And for a survivor, it can truly be life-changing.”

A survivor. What is she, a war hero? That word is fitting for her father, who lived on the sea and sought eternal rest there. Not her.

“Thank you, but I’m okay.” Scully cannot meet her doctor’s glance.

“If you need any referrals, I can give you some names.” Dr. Zapolsky is just trying to help, Scully knows this, but this is not the help she came here for. 

“The FBI has an on-site psychologist,” she says to close the subject.

“Oh, what a wonderful resource.”

“Most definitely.” Scully smiles weakly and ducks her head, ready to get out of here.

-------

There are many things she is afraid of, but physical pain is not one of them. The unknown, slow but certain death--these are the things that spook Dana Scully. When you’ve spent years being told that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, you are prepared to suffer for honor. 

This is simply the prick of a needle, a relinquishing. Doctors used to prescribe it as the cure for any ailment, believing it to vanquish toxins from the body. Med school would have been a lot simpler if that were true.

She watches the blood flow out of her veins and into the vial. Some people can’t look; she can’t look away. Missy is seated in the chair next to her, chin resting in her palm after her offer to hold Scully’s hand was rejected. She traces the path of her sister’s blue eyes as they slide from her arm to the vial in the nurse’s hand. Dana has never been afraid to look--that’s the problem.

In an instant, it is done. The nurse smooths a bandage over Scully’s skin, tells her they will call with the results in a few days. And then it is two sisters, going, going, gone.

----------

They have a pleasant ride home, a soft and sisterly evening in. The prospect of Dana going back to Aubrey in the morning never even comes up, much to Melissa’s relief. Perhaps the illusion of normalcy her sister pedals in her head has finally given way to their unreal reality. They don’t waste a moment on the uncertainty circling them, instead curling up on the couch with popcorn and gummy bears for another Golden Girls marathon.

“Which one do you think Mulder is?” Missy asks during a slow moment in the episode.

“Huh?” Scully laughs. “Which Golden Girl, you mean?”

“Uh-huh.” Missy pops a red gummy in her mouth. “Or is he too interesting to be pinned down?” she teases, mimicking the swoony non-answer he gave about Scully some weeks ago.

“I don’t know honestly,” she says, pushing a blanket out of her lap. “I’m not sure that I know him well enough to decide.”

“You’re kidding.” Missy glares at her. Clearly her sister has not dropped the illusion after all.

“No, I’m not,” Scully intones, getting up to refill the gummy bear bowl. “And that reminds me, he wanted me to call.” She glances at the clock. It’s half past 8 there, so surely Mulder is back in his motel room. 

Missy isn’t letting her off the hook that easily. She follows her sister into the kitchen. “Dana, I guarantee that you know him better than anyone else in the world. If they conducted a test on every single living human being’s knowledge of Fox Mulder, you would get the highest score.”

“Knowledge isn’t the same as understanding,” Scully murmurs, dumping the remaining gummy bears into the bowl. 

“I’ll give you that, but you know what? You do understand him, you’re just too afraid to confront it.”

Scully wants to recoil, but freezes in place instead. It’s just as dramatic but gives less away. After a breath, she crumples the plastic bag into a ball and dunks it swiftly into the wastebasket.

She speaks rigidly, each word cutting through the air. “If I understood him, there would be no fear.” 

Missy feels this in her chest--the aching, the truth in her sister’s voice. Dana is as close to crying as she ever gets. Missy strides over, clasps her sister’s hands in hers. “You don’t have to be scared.” She pulls her little sister in, squeezes her heart to Dana’s own. “He loves you. And I’m not talking about in a romantic way--I don’t know, maybe--but just in general. He loves you, and he would never hurt you.”

Scully’s eyes are glassy with tears now, but Melissa cannot see this in the midst of their hug. “Haven’t you ever been hurt by someone who loves you?” She says into Missy’s ear. “We never mean it, but it happens. It happens all the time.”

“And then you apologize, and you go on. Being hurt once doesn’t mean being hurt forever.”

“It can.” Scully pulls away, wipes her cheeks before her sister can overanalyze. 

“It won’t, not with Mulder. I know enough about him to know that.” She brushes her sister’s hair out of her face. “If anyone was going to cut off the relationship, it would be you.”

“Wha--” Scully gives up the protest. She is partial to burning bridges that are prone to collapse, a last-ditch attempt at dignity. Yet Mulder doesn’t strike her as a bridge that would burn even if she set it aflame. Maybe that’s worse though, it prolongs the struggle.

“Hurting him would be worse than getting hurt,” Scully mutters. 

“Loving him would be better than not loving him,” Melissa responds.

“The correct phrasing of that argument is ‘loving him would be better than being loved,’ if you wanted to copy my logic.” Scully gets curt and analytical when she’s annoyed. 

“Hmm, well, consider that too.”

Their eyes meet and Scully can tell that neither one of them is going to win. “I’ve got to call him before it gets too late.” They both know who he is. She turns on her heels and heads for her room. 

--------

He didn’t pick up the first time she called, which scared her more than she’s willing to admit. She sat cross-legged on her bed until the phone rang again about twenty minutes later, until she heard his voice on the other line.

“Hey Scully, sorry, I was out wrapping up the case.”

“Wrapping up?” She doesn’t even bother to say hello. “It’s over?”

“Open and shut...or, err, something like that.”

“What happened?” Her voice strains for no reason. She clears her throat.

“I’ll catch you up some other time,” he says breezily. “How’s Melissa doing?”

For a moment, Scully forgets her lie and tries to figure out why he’s asking about her sister and not her. Then--”Oh! She’s okay, yeah, it was a sprain like we suspected. Nothing broken on the x-ray. She can just about walk normally now, I think she’ll be off crutches by tomorrow.” Embellish, embellish, embellish. Missy had taught her to lie in the 6th grade, and she finally had some use for that knowledge.

“That’s great! I’m flying back tomorrow morning, I can be at the office by 10 if you wanna meet me there.” 

“Will you tell me about the case? And BJ? How is she?”

“I’ll...I’ll tell you that tomorrow, Scully.” There’s a bit of gravel in his voice, which Scully has noticed comes out when he’s tired or holding back. 

“Fine. Should I assume that by 10, you mean 10:30?”

“Well, you know how the line at the Dulles Chick-fil-A gets,” he wisecracks.

Something goes wrong between her brain and her tongue as she goes to wrap up the conversation. “Alright, 10:30. Love you, bye.”

Mulder makes a noise like a stifled laugh or a cough that couldn’t be held in. “What was that, Scully?”

Her face is flushed, and she’s thankful he can’t see it. ���Sorry, I’ve been talking to Missy on the phone a lot lately. Habit.” The voice flowing out of her sounds calm and collected, like that was just an honest mistake. In a way it was...a much too honest one that has made her anything but calm.

“Oh, is that who you say that to?” he teases. 

She laughs. Surely he couldn’t think there’s anyone else, could he? 

“Just Missy, and maybe my mom.” She says it like a promise. He hears it like a prayer. Unusual, for both of them.

“Bye, Mulder,” she says, ushering any sentimentality away. 

“Bye, Scully. Hate you. Oh, sorry--that’s what I say to my dad on the phone.”

Scully giggles into the phone. She’s still giggling as she sets the phone back on the hook.

Even after the call flat-lines, Mulder holds the phone against his ear like it’s a seashell echoing Scully’s giggle back to him.

[snowdice]

Goblin Brain Study Session Fic 1 [Day 58]

Because I don’t want to just have walls of text for my Goblin Brain Study Session posts, I’m separating them by days. If you want to read the previous chapters, click the links below. Chapter 23 and what’s done of chapter 24 is under the cut.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 My Master Post

See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. Also, if you’re interesting, don’t forget that I am constantly updating the timeline as I write. :)

Okay, I’m still not feeling 100%, but lets see how much I can do today. :)

Chapter 23

“Would anyone care to explain themselves?” Logan asked the room filled with the most frustrating human being he’d ever met. He must have infused his voice with the desired amount of ire, because everyone in the room seemed to wince simultaneously except…

“No thanks!” Remus chirped. Logan shot him a tired look and stepped forward. “Wait! Dad! No!” Logan swiftly put him in a headlock.

“We’re going downstairs,” he told the others. His son was a bit wiggly when Logan started to pull him towards the elevator in the other room, but he didn’t actually put up much of a fight.

 He let Remus go when they got to the elevator. The elevator was small enough that they ended up taking it in two groups. Logan ended up in an elevator with Lena, his sons, and his brother.

There were a couple of moments of awkward elevator music. “I am very displeased with everyone in this elevator.”

No one responded but Patton who patted him on the shoulder. Logan turned on him. “You are at the pinnacle of my ire.”

There was a few seconds of drawn out silence, and then Patton removed his hand. “Wow,” he said after a moment. “You could hear a pen-acle drop.”

 “Kids, you no longer have an uncle,” Logan said coolly.

“That’s right,” Patton said with a smile despite the glare Logan was sending him. “You only have a puncle now.”

Roman snorted out a laugh but looked quickly away when Logan glared at him.

The elevator came to a stop and they climbed out of it. “You all go to the conference room while I wait for the rest. Except you,” he pointed at Lean. “Fred can debrief me. You go get that checked out.” She shot him a thumbs up (because apparently the lack of disrespect for his authority had rubbed off on her) and wandered off towards medical.

 “Um,” Roman said tentatively.

“Yes?” Logan asked, already even more tired.

“Also, Janus may or may not have a broken rib. At least he said he might have.”

“Why on Earth is he walking around, then?” Roman just shrugged in response to Logan’s question.

“And send someone down to look at his Janus,” he called after Lena right before she turned the corner. “Anything else pressing?” he asked the three still with him. “No? Then I’ll see you all in the conference room in a few minutes.”

“Conference room 16 or 17?” Remus asked.

“Remus, everyone here is aware that room 17 is a broom closet,” Logan said.

Remus sent him finger guns. “Conference room 17 it is,” he said turning to strut off down the hall. Roman shot Logan an awkward half smile before following after his brother, and Logan’s own brother jerked forward to smack his lips against Logan’s forehead before waltzing off after them.

Why was his family like this?

 He turned to wait for the elevator to go back up to the factory and down again. He crossed his arms as it arrived. “You’re injured?” Logan asked as the doors opened.

Most of the occupants looked confused, but Janus looked slightly annoyed. “Remus,” he muttered.

“Roman actually,” Logan corrected. “I’m having someone sent down to look at you.”

“I’m f-”

“Don’t even try to argue right now; your second on my list today.”

“Remus is first?” Janus asked.

“Of course, Remus is first.”

“Where am I on the shit list?” Remy asked with interest.

“Somehow, only 5th.”

“Score!”

“But you’re inexorably moving up.”

 “But I’m not in the top three.”

“No, my children and brother fill up the spots above you.”

“You said I was second,” Janus said with a frown.

“Yes,” Logan said. “Also, you’re grounded.” Then, he turned to walk towards the conference room.

“Wait, Logan, what does that mean?!” Janus asked his back.

“It means, Logan owes me a buttload of child support,” said Remy.

“I am not your kid. You are not my dad.”

“Sure, son.”

When Logan made it to the correct room, his family was already hard at work making his life a series of aggravations. Before even stepping into the room, he turned to the opposite side of the hallway and opened the door to the supply closet.

 “Get in the correct room before I make you get into the correct room,” Logan said.

“Come on dad, you know it’s not nice to force someone out of the closet.” On most days, Logan would not have found that at all funny, but today for some reason, it elicited a snort of surprised laughter. Remus smiled up at him from his seat on the floor like he always did when he’d done (or thought he’d done) something clever.

“Don’t,” Logan warned, wagging a finger at him. “Don’t. That doesn’t mean your forgiven. I am very, very unhappy with you.”

 Remus just kept grinning.

“I’m relieved that you are safe and happy to have you back with me,” Logan said, “but I am also very angry.”

“Eh, that’s fair.”

“Now get out of the closet.”

Remus found it fit to obey him for the moment, and stood, following him to the conference room where the others had gathered. Patton had somehow found a stack of name tags and a box of markers somewhere and had managed to convince Roman to help him draw little pictures on them along with the names. Patton stuck one with a broom drawn on it onto Remus when he came in.

 Remy and Fredrick were currently forcing Janus into a chair while Roman avoided the glare the injured man was sending at him, and Emile was talking quietly to Virgil.

“Okay,” Logan said. “Let’s start with the ones who haven’t started to explain yet. Roman?”

“My phone got broken probably somewhere between Janus tackling me and hitting me in the face.”

“Oh, is that why Dad texted me about where you were a thousand times?” Remus asked

“Yes,” Logan said, “and you said you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t say that actually.”

“Remus.”

“I was in the middle of something! …And then I forgot.”

 “And then it ended up in the bottom of a lake,” Roman said.

“And then it ended up in the bottom of a lake!” Remus agreed. “Along with Roman’s car and us for a minute.”

“You drove your car into a lake?” Logan asked Roman. “Is that why you are all wet?!”

“Yes, he did!” Remus said.

“Hey! No!” Roman said. “I managed to stop the car before it went into the lake. It’s not my fault the guys behind us aren’t as good drivers as me and slammed into us!”

“Roman destroyed another car!” Remus crooned. “What’s that? Three? And you say Janus is cursed!”

 “I take so responsibility for the Taurus or for this one!”

“Two’s a coincidence; three’s a pattern!” Remus sang joyfully.

Logan shook his head at them and chose to look over at Janus instead. “And you?” he asked. “You looked at your mission details and never responded.”

“You were trying to send me on a wild goose chase when my brother was missing!” He tried to stand up and Remy pushed him back down again.

“I was trying to get you in a controlled environment before telling you of the issues for fear you would overreact and do something careless if you found out on your own.”

 “I already knew,” Janus growled, “and that is not your call to make.”

Logan considered that. “Perhaps it wasn’t,” he agreed, “but you still should have attempted to communicate with me, at the very least so I would have known you were okay. For all I knew, Nelson had caught you in a lie and your cover had been blown.”

“It is blown,” Janus muttered. “I smashed her phone, blew up her car, and disobeyed her. She sent men to kill me.”

It was honestly a relief. Janus had been in danger constantly while being a double agent and he’d grown more than fond of the man in the last few years. Not having to play nice with Barbara all the time would do him some good.

“We’ll have to reassign you,” Logan said. “As well as Remus, and you’ll both need new permanent residences.”

“We already decided we’re getting an apartment together,” Remus said.

“You decided,” Janus said weakly, clearly not actually interested in protesting, but needing to keep up appearances.

“And we’re going to get a kitty.”

“Ah,” Logan said. “Well, in that case, I would highly suggest you verify it is in fact a ‘kitty’ before you allow it on the premises. I have made that mistake before.”

“You love Raphael,” Remus claimed.

“Possum,” Roman explained at Janus’s questioning look.

“In fact,” Logan said. “It may be advisable that Remington consider moving as well. Nelson very much knows where you live and will likely be unhappy with your continued existence. At least, you should consider taking up residence somewhere else temporarily. For tonight, I’ll get everyone set up in some of the rooms in the base, but that will come later. For now, we need to get everything sorted out. I have a good overall idea about what happened at this point, is there any other important information I need to deal with immediately?”

Mostly everyone shook their heads and Logan was about to move on to getting more detailed reports when Remus raised his hand.

“Yes?” Logan asked.

“There are two of Barbara Nelson’s men tied up in the trunk of Lena’s car,” he offered.

“What?” Logan asked.

“They were the guys shooting at us that caused Roman to drive into the pond.”

“I did not drive into the pond.” Roman said.

“You were shot at?!”

  Chapter 24

Logan had kept them in the meeting room for literal hours, pausing only to feed everyone except Patton and Virgil (who had actually eaten dinner). Eventually, he decided that he was satisfied with the explanations (Well, no, perhaps not satisfied, he was still very displeased with everyone except Virgil and maybe Emile, though Emile had not helped himself when he’d realized that he’d spoken both to Patton and Remus in the grocery store near Remy’s house and he and Patton had proceeded to go off on a tangent about pasta.) and had taken them all to some of the hotel style rooms in the base.

[susiequaz12]

Carrot Top- 16: The Choice

Woohoo! Finally another Carrot Top update! It’s been a weird thing trying to update and work on this while also wanting to keep up with Whumptober- so we’ll see how the rest of the month goes.

Tag list: @imagination1reality0 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @thehopelessopus @burtlederp @whump-me-all-night-long

CW: manhandled, possessive whumper, messed up head space, restraints, dehumanization, just a lot of crappy manipulation and stuff going on.

Previous part can be found here. Masterlist is here.

- - -

“Now carrot top, who do you belong to?”

Andrew looked up at the man with confusion. What did he want from him? He couldn’t answer with the muzzle on, and his head hurt. His heart and chest still pounded from- from whatever it was that the man had done earlier, and it felt like he couldn’t quite breathe right. He still was unsure of exactly what his torment had been. All he remembered was being strapped to a chair and injected with- with something. Something bad.

His eyes pounded. He was so tired. Everything was close, too close that it made his eyes hurt. There was a permanent ache in his bones that seemed to flare up when he heard Splice ask the question once more.

“Who do you belong to?”

Andrew’s eyes met the man’s, and he fell forward, his head pressing into the man’s side. He closed his eyes as he felt a hand on the back of his neck.

Gasps and whispers of words echoed around him, but he couldn’t make any of them out. His head felt too jumbled for cohesive thought, other than the blaring, constant, “avoid pain” that flashed through his mind. 

“Good.” He heard Splice say. ”Now lie down.” Andrew slowly began to move and Splice clarified. “On your stomach.”

Without the use of his hands, Andrew fell, more than lied down on his stomach in front of the man. His hands were pulled from underneath him where they were bound, and moved until they were set above his head on the floor. You could visibly see the shaking in his chest as his body was wracked through with silent sobs.

Mickie couldn’t stop the tears that poured down her face as she watched the torment and humiliation that her brother was put through. What on earth had this man done in order for him to become this submissive? She didn’t think she ever wanted to know. 

Splice’s boot came down in between the chains that connected his wrists together, pinning Andrew to the floor. She heard a small whimper as the man’s other foot rested on the top of Andrew’s back near his shoulders.

“You see, there’s no point in taking him back with you. He clearly knows where he belongs.” Splice stated. He dug the heel of his boot in at the base of Andrew’s neck and a small squeak seemed to escape from his mouth through the muzzle. The boot moved down his back, to the center where lash marks and bruises were still sore. More pressure was added slowly, the heel of the shoe grinding into his back- until a groan broke through, followed by a strangled scream. 

That sound tore directly into Mickie’s chest. It burned through her and she tore herself forward out of the man’s grasp with strength she didn’t know she had. She launched herself at Splice’s feet, knocking him to the side and threw herself on top of her brother- shielding him with her own body.

“NO!” She cried. All eyes were on her, but she didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around Andrew’s back and around his shoulders- his shaking shoulders.  

“Don’t hurt him!” She demanded. 

Andrew flinched at the noise, and mumbled something through the mask- something confused, weak, and strangled- something that vaguely sounded like his sister’s name.

“Ohhh, well this just got interesting.” Splice stated. 

The guards gripped tighter onto the three boys as they stood struggling in their grasps.  

Mickie growled through her teeth and glared up at Splice. “I won’t let you hurt him.” 

“Oh how noble of you.” She felt the guard’s grip on her shoulders once more as the man came forward. “Unfortunately, that’s out of your control.”

“No!” She cried. She held on as best she could, but was pulled off of Andrew and dragged back towards her team as she screamed. 

“No, don’t! Let him go! Let him go!”

Strong arms wrapped around her sides, pinning her arms down as she struggled, lurching herself forward and crying out, before a hand was clamped down hard over her mouth. Tears streamed down her face as Splice grabbed Andrew by the back of his collar and pulled him up to his knees. The boy gasped, eyes wide and grasping about for something to focus on. 

They landed right on Mickey.

She stared back at him, but it seemed he didn’t recognize her. That he didn’t register that it was his sister standing in front of him.  

Splice commanded Andrew as he stared ahead, trying to get his attention. 

“Look at me.” 

Andrew didn’t move.

“Come on now carrot top, look at me.” 

Splice sighed as the boy stayed still.

“Look at me now, Andy.”

The boy flinched at the name and turned to stare up at Splice unwillingly. Mickie shook with rage as the tears welled in her eyes.

“Good.” The man stated. He pulled Andrew up to his feet and the boy’s legs trembled as if they were barely able to hold his weight. He kept a hand on the back of Andrew’s neck, keeping the boy’s face pressed against his shoulder to keep his head turned away from his friends. Splice’s attention turned to the group being held captive.

“You want him back, don’t you?”

“Of course, that’s why we’re here.” Malachai stated. 

“Hmm. Have you considered he doesn’t want to go back? That he’d rather stay here, where he belongs?”

“Of course he’d want to come back! Are you insane?” Justin shouted. “Who would rather stay here and be tortured by a psychopath, than be safe with their friends, their- their family?!”

Splice’s eyes stared straight into Justin’s. The younger boy shivered. 

“Are you willing to test that theory?” Splice asked. “You believe he’ll choose you over me?”

Mickie squirmed and wiggled as her arms were pulled tight behind her, a hand muffling the words she clearly wanted to say. Before anyone else could speak up or voice an opinion, Justin answered for the rest of them.

“Without a doubt.”

“Alright then.” Splice stated. “Here’s this. I let carrot top over here choose. If he can walk over to you, if he chooses to go- I’ll let him leave. You can take him and walk right out of here, live happily ever after, whatever.” His fingers snaked up the back of the boy’s head to grip tighter onto his hair. “If he chooses to stay- then he stays and I let my men deal with you how they see fit.”  

The group looked around at each other. And then at Andrew. His head hung limply over Splice’s shoulder, each shuddering breath that he took seemed a chore. Splice smiled and spoke up again.

“I notice you don’t have your little secret weapon with you- the Mind Reader. Hmph- pity. I can’t tell if that was a smart move, or a stupid one on your part. She coulda been a lot of help to you all right now.”

Ali. Justin thought. His girlfriend- Andrew’s bestfriend. She was sitting outside the building in their getaway van. But Splice didn’t need to know she was so close. He began to question their whole plan. If she came in with them, she could have overpowered everyone, and gotten Andrew out easily, potentially avoiding this whole mess. But if things had taken a turn for the worse and she had been captured as well, then Splice would have been practically unstoppable. There would be no hope in getting Ali, or Andrew back.

“Regretting some choices now aren’t you? Do you accept my offer?” Splice chuckled as he looked over the group. “Though then again it seems you don’t have much of a choice, do you?”

The group sighed, but nobody said a word. He was right, they didn’t have a choice.

Splice turned the poor boy back around and pushed him a bit further out in front of him so he was equal distanced from both sides. He stumbled on his feet and stared straight ahead.

Andrew had his bad hand tucked under his arm, his arm still stinging and aching from the cuts he’d received that morning. He leaned heavily on one side, favoring one leg over the other,- the after effects from his second grammar lesson with Splice. He swayed a bit and stared ahead but it was hard to make out the figures he was looking at.

They were jumbled together but as he squinted his eyes he could make out four main people in front, with other men standing behind them. One of the four was- was a girl. A girl with a long braid running down her shoulder- standing almost as tall as the other men she was with. 

It was- it was-

No-

He blinked his eyes and shook his head.

It couldn’t be- it wasn’t-

Mickie?

He took the tiniest of shuffles forward, wincing with every move of his body. He tried to look harder, to make out features and signs that were distinct enough to tell if she was actually real-

As he stepped forward again, he heard a small cough from behind him.

Without looking he knew who that was.

His shoulders shook harder and he clutched his hands tighter to his stomach. 

How could he forget.

I belong to Splice.

I am a tool to be used as he sees fit.

Here, and for forever.

Because I deserve it.

He shook the blurry images of the people in front of him out of his mind. He slowly turned around to see Splice standing in front of him with his arms folded. 

I belong to Splice.

Andrew nearly sobbed. 

He looked- disappointed. 

And if Splice was disappointed, it meant that he had done something wrong. It meant that he was bad- he’d disobeyed, and that- that he’d be punished.

Andrew wanted to cry and plead- to beg and beg, and sob and apologize. To apologize for being bad- for disappointing him- and to plead for an easy punishment.

The sobs had taken over his body before he made it the whole way back to Splice. He stumbled over his feet as he moved, turning his back on the people that he didn’t realize were his friends. He practically collapsed at the man’s feet, knees hitting the ground, folding in on himself. Splice placed a hand on the top of the boy’s head and smiled. 

“Looks like he made his decision.”

“No! Wait-” Justin cried out. He yelped as his head was thrown back and a fist landed in his gut. He coughed, trying to catch his breath as the other team members struggled- realizing what they had just lost.

Mickie squirmed and wiggled as much as she could- thrashing about, kicking and screaming- but the man holding her back was much larger and stronger than she was. The tears instead just poured down her face.

Splice lifted up the weeping figure at his feet and dragged him off down the hallway, passing him off to guards that were waiting to take him.

“So sorry your touching reunion didn’t go as planned. Oh well.” Splice called back to the team. Guards, do what you want with them- make sure they won’t be a problem again.”

[exodusmc]

Insider 04

Genre: Power au, war au, rebel au

Words: 1605

Paring: Light manipulator Baekhyun  x  Reader

Side character/s: Exo, 

Warning!: Short mention of death

a/n: I’ll try to update more, am sorry for keeping you hanging D:

Gif is not mine 

Previous  Next 

Staring at the wall, you ate quietly, ignoring the low laughs from Minseok and Jongdae, or the glares from everyone else. It was earlier than usual for breakfast, so there weren't as many as it should be there, but those who sat on the other side of the canteen sure sent daggers at you, eyes hard and hateful. 

“Ah, it’s going to be nice being outside…”Jongdae waved his fork around, blonde hair just as wild as his movements.”I’m starting to get sick of these walls..”

“Yeah..”Minseok hummed, glancing at you before he ate more of the porridge. The water in his glass was frosty so you guessed his power was ice, every time his fingers touched it would cracks form.”How about you Y/n? Are you happy to leave?”

Both men looked at you, the question giving you a bad feeling, like everything you could say would be wrong. If you said yes, would it incriminate you but if you said no, would it feel like a lie. 

“Of course she is...This place is no fun and there probably something better we all could do..”Jongdae grinned, leaning on his elbow.”Besides, what kind of question even is that Minnie?”

They started to bicker, playfully, but you blocked all noise out. Why would he be so nice to you? If you met him on the battlefield would you shoot him without a second thought...Your eyes widened because that wasn't true, there was someone who showed that, a change of you which made you cold. 

-

“Are you mad?” Baekhyun glanced at Yixing who sat behind the desk, slightly frowning. Neither of them could sleep so Baekhyun followed the doctor to his office, watched tired eyes follow lines after lines.

“No, why would I be?”the smile was fake, a stretch which isn't natural. Baekhyun knew it had something to do with you, the fact that you were leaving.

“I just wondered…”Baekhyun’s eyes fell onto a dropped file, an angry red mark staring right back at him. He grabbed it, following the word dead. It was your father’s file, his picture holding Baekhyun’s eyes, the man from when he was a child.”I met him once..”

Yixing raised an eyebrow, tearing his head from the mess it was. Baekhyun kept staring at your father, a hurting feeling crawling up his skin at the fact that he was gone. The man had helped him, probably many others, but he didn't make it and it led to his daughter’s fall.

“You did?”Baekhyun nodded, reading the word wind and high class threat.”Both of them were leaders of the rebellion when Junmyeon and I were young, around fourteen years ago, but I read about them in news from the republic and Junmyeon heard their stories from allies…”

There was so much Baekhyun didn't know about Yixing, what his life had been like and so many why’s, but asking was scary as well because it would make his fears so real. 

“They gave birth to a child who they only got to raise a short time but they did bulid an rebellion which was stronger than ever before..”the doctor grabbed the document carefully, placing it neatly on a corner of his table, right next to your mother’s.”..Maybe we should get some sleep? There will be a long day after this..”

-

The upper part of the rebels hideout had dirt walls and you could see roots breaking through. It was mostly empty but the green car, you and the others. Junmyeon spoke quietly with Jina, a girl with dark eyes and grey hair, a girl which would drive all of you. She had a piercing over her eyebrow, something you had only seen on performers in the republic.

“Ey Y/n catch!” Jongdae threw a backpack at your face, laughing lowly at the slight tilt in your stands from the impact. He grinned teasingly before hoping inside the truck, followed by Minseok who opened the front door.”We don't want you all defenseless out there!”

You opened the backpack, feeling sweat travel down your spine. It was hot inside the tunnel but the shine of a blade made your mouth twitch slightly. There were ropes and other supplies in the bag, however, there was also a knife. You had a knife, a way to escape. 

“Yixing?” your head snapped towards the back wall, seeing the doctor wheel himself in. Junmyeon furrowed his eyebrows, leaving Jina to stand by you.” Aren't you up early?”

“Maybe but I wanted to say goodbye..”his smile was strained, like the times you would point out the unnatural, when you would point out the people you were surrounded with.”and I wondered if you could call me when you get there?”

His eyes landed on you, dressed in simple clothes which masked you to be anyone, not a lieutenant, just a person. Yixing wasn't a fool, he knew you were looking for a way out but maybe things would change so that’s why he asked you to call because if you did..then would he be right. 

“Of course doc, we will call all of you when we get there, jeez..”Jongdae leaned out the window, shaking his head with a small grin.”..Why is everyone acting like we are going to war and won't return? Have I missed something?”

“I’ll call…”Minseok watched the whole ordeal unfold, a little surprised at the melody of your voice. Junmyeon told him that you were surely trying to escape so he had to be careful but at the same time couldn't he force you to stay. The reaper...He actually didn't believe it was you at first, the crying girl, you seemed too regular and small, but you proved him wrong later on. 

“Good...well good luck then..”Yixing waved before he rolled away, leaving everyone looking after him. 

“We should get going…”Jina glared at you from the driver's seat, gloved hands already holding the shifting gear. You hopped into the back, ignoring Jongdae’s teasing smile.

No one ever saw Baekhyun hiding behind a dirt pillar, eyes seeing the car drive away towards the outside, the light in the end of the tunnel. He swallowed, breathing sounding like thunder in his head as Junmyeon disappeared, leaving everything empty. 

“What are you doing?”Baekhyun almost screamed, head smacking against the wall behind him. Chanyeol raised an eyebrow, leaning around the corner and seeing nothing.”Are you trying to run away?”

“No!” he said it too fast, like he tried to cover up something but Baekhyun truly only followed Yixing when he rolled out to see where he was going. Catching the last glimpse of you.”I-I..”

“Save it..”Chanyeol grinned, walking out into the open. He didn't seem faced by the warmth, head held high with clear eyes.”Let’s go outside for a while, no one will care.”

So Baekhyun got to see the outside world for the first time in what felt like forever but it wasn't as grey as the city he once lived in. There was green on the ground, a few strands of grass which danced with their dead siblings. He wasn't used to the tiniest bit of colour or the high trees standing around the opening Chanyeol took.

“Sehun!”Baekhyun flinched, glancing towards his right where the youngest came walking. His hair blended into the sky above their heads.

“Are you sure about this Chanyeol?”the named nodded, smirking proudly. He opened his palm and let a flame dance over it.

“A 100 %..”making a fist, the fire died.”Let’s show Baek what our gifts can do.”

   Flames broke through his mouth, ripping their way up beside the trees but they never ate at the material, no the strong winds which dragged through all their hairs stopped the fire from spreading. Sehun held his hands open, caught every inferno Chanyeol playfully threw. It was a game to them and Baekhyun could feel the growing energy puls through his veins. He hadn't dared to call out for light ever since the incident, not even a little bit, but seeing them so happy with their power gave him back some trust. Light was a part of him and something he used as protection, it shouldn't scare him.

“Come on Sehunnie, you can do better!” Chanyeol taunted the younger, sweat dripping both their hairlines. Baekhyun grew more forward, a tingling feeling spreading through his fingertips. He wanted to let it go, feel the power sore through him, make him strong again. 

Baekhyun never learned to control his power, only fear had brought out the light, so it was with rushing heart he grabbed the strings of light. It came to him like a fresh breath of air, creating a ball in his hand.

“Oh! See I knew you could do it!”Chanyeol laughed, the shadows on their faces tall from his light, hands shaking. Baekhyun actually grinned, saw the small movements inside the golden globe. He did it! And he didn't lose control!

Parting his hands, two balls formed, weightless over his palms. Baekhyun raised his arm to throw one of them at Chanyeol, who easily dodged it. He felt completely safe now, like his power was a gift and not something else. 

Sehun pushed a stronger wind at him, making it so he dropped the last ball, but Baekhyun could create more, he wasn't scared. Chanyeol smiled warmly at the sight before him. This was what he wanted, to make Baekhyun feel at home, like he fit with them because after all weren't they just like each other?

Tags; @shesdreaminginoverdose​

[msjr0119]

The Unexpected Roommate

Part 1

What happens when your roommate of many years falls in love and moves out unexpectedly? Drake Walker was in this situation, until his friends fiancée suggested that her friend moved in to replace her fiancé. The new roommate is causing tension already. Will they be able to survive living together? What’s the worse that could happen?

Drake x Riley

Leo x Olivia

Warnings: Swearing, tension, mention of smut.

Tags- using combined tag list for this, as always if you want to be removed please do let me know. I won’t be offended.

@pedudley @kacie-0156 @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @drxkewalker @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012 @nz1091 @cordonianroyalty @custaroonie @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @princess-geek @jared2612 @desireepow-1986 @twinkle-320 @queenjilian @forthebrokenheartedthings-blog @princessleac1 @scarletreesex @bebepac

******

“So why is your roomie such an arse... what’s up with you, Riley? With every other roomie you’ve used that charm. He can’t be that bad?” Riley rolled her eyes back, knowing that no one would fully understand the extent of Drake’s awful attitude. Most people would assume that she was over exaggerating- wishing deep down that she was. Ordering another tray of shots for herself and her friend Daniel- she believed that this would numb all the negativity at home, even if it was only going to last for a few hours. I hate him. Or do I? Hate is a strong word. I think I’d have a closer friendship with a serial killer. Yes, I hate him. He doesn’t deserve me to be nice to him. He hates me too, so the feelings are mutual.

“He’s just... so frustrating. He’s horrendous towards me. He hasn’t even given me a chance- you know to get to know me.”

“It’s still early days, moving in with a stranger is going to be tough at first especially as you don’t know each other. Maybe when you are both off work, sit down and talk. Find out what each other like, what you both dislike.” Daniel had his own thoughts regarding his friends new roommate but wouldn’t dare expose this. Not needing to give her an excuse to pour alcohol down his new Armani shirt. In his mind, he believed that the man possibly actually liked Riley rather than hate her. Using the ‘hate’ as an excuse to not confess his true feelings- Daniel believed this way the reason why. Daniel himself had been in the same situation with a previous relationship.

“He wouldn’t even give me the light of day, so he’s definitely not going to talk to me like that. Fuck him. Is there any overtime at work? The less time I spend at home, the better.”

“I’ll text Carlos and find out. But for now, let’s drown our sorrows. Let’s drink!”

****

Fumbling through her bag for her key, she soon regretted having far too many shots with Daniel. Squinting her eyes, she was staring through the keyhole rather than inserting the key. Not knowing how long she had been stood up attempting to complete the ‘difficult’ task of opening a door- she believed that there was a god, saving her from any embarrassment if anyone was to walk by. As Drake opened the door, he caught her before allowing her to face plant the floor. For fuck sake, muttering to himself- he helped Riley stand up. As soon as she regained her balance after a few wobbles- he soon let go of her.

“Heh. Thanks, roooomieee.” Giggling like a naughty school girl, she was grateful that he was still awake in a way. That was until she saw his body tense, and the anger that surrounded his face.

“Past your curfew! It’s a good job that I’m still awake. Get inside now!” Shrugging her shoulders, she wasn’t his child, but she damn felt like it. Deciding to act like a teenager, to suit the ‘role’ allocated to her- she decided to become cocky and back chat him.

“Technically, I could stay outside for another minute. It’s 2.59am. So I’m back before my curfew. Arsehole.” Checking his phone, she was in fact correct- much to his annoyance.

“Just get inside before you vomit everywhere. I’m going to bed.” Following his commands, she walked into the kitchen- turning the kettle on she knew that she needed to sober up. Mainly to be able to provide Drake with any insults back- insults that would actually make sense, rather than them being garbage. Removing her dress, once it had reached her ankles- she kicked it through to the living room. Landing in the bin, she spun her body around in circles- even her drunk mind was contemplating doing a back flip to celebrate. “Goalllllll....” She cheered, before becoming silent hearing that all familiar stomp echo around his room.

Impatiently waiting for the kettle to boil in her matching lacy underwear, she was wondering if she had actually turned it on- knowing full well that didn’t trust herself when intoxicated.

I will wait, I will wait for youuuu 🎵.... to boil. I’ll wait for the boil to kettle. Maybe I should become a songwriter? I’ll send the updated lyrics to Mumford and Sons. She laughed to herself.

And I'll kneel down 🎵 ... oh fuck how am I getting back up?

Wait for now 🎵.... did I even turn it on? I need to stand up!

Struggling to stand back up, she pulled the drawer handle off, rather than stand up. I’m a dead woman, he’s going to kill me. Get up Ri! Eventually after a few attempts she stood up, and held on to the side for the dear life. Finding some gum in her purse, she hoped that it would hold the drawer handle in place- for now at least. Continuing to sing, random songs to herself-the noise of the door swinging open with full force, muted her- she was prepared and ready for Drake to comment with some sarcasm or a insult. One, two, thr...

“Will you shut the fuck up! You sound like a strangled cat! Put some fucking clothes on too! Jesus Christ, Riley! I don’t want to see all your flab.” That’s a lie. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. Just be nice to her. Remember the letter. Shit. Where did I put it?

Flab? Who the fuck does he think he is? What an insensitive comment to make.

“Yeah, because I’m a fucking obese whale aren’t I? I don’t really want to see your face or smell your whiskey scent breathing down my neck, insulting me every fucking goddamn opportunity that you get!”

“At least I can handle my drink. Stick to one drink next time and you won’t stumble around...” Actually stumbling as if on cue, she regained her balance yet again- losing count of how many times she had been in this situation. Making sure that the coffee was black she picked up the mug and began making her way to her room.

“What the fuck do you want from me Drake? I stuck to the curfew; I cleaned up whilst you was at work, I replaced all of your food. Just get a pen and paper, write down your likes/dislikes- anymore rules and I’ll fucking abide to them. Goodnight!”

“Oh, I will do. Another rule. Don’t leave your clothes scattered on the floor, or in bins. I dislike you and your attitude.”

“Ditto!” Unable to prevent her bottom lip from trembling, Drake soon realised that he had upset her. Did he care? He wasn’t too sure.

“Riley... I’m sorry. I’m tired, you keep disturbing me. I’ve got work in a few hours. You are being pretty damn selfish.”

“Don’t. I didn’t ask for you to fucking be a parent to me- I didn’t ask for you to be my babysitter. Good fucking night.”

“I need to be a fucking babysitter, you’re a loose canon! You couldn’t even insert the key into the keyhole. Good fucking morning, you idiot!” Slamming the door like some stroppy teenager, Drake slightly jumped realising that he had once again become the bad guy. Picking her dress up from inside the bin, he lift it up to his face as he inhaled the sweet perfume that was on it. Throwing it into the washing machine, he shook his head not knowing why he insisted on wanting to be close to her by smelling it.

****

Has he gone to sleep?

Yeah, I think. Come up now. I’ll sneak you in. He’s a wanker.

Ten minutes later Daniel text her, informing her that he was waiting outside. Since she had her spat with Drake, she had sobered up a bit- seeing her friend at the door, she soon realised that the hangover was due back on the agenda for the next day.

“I’ve brought alcohol! Alcohol is fun. Nice place.” He whispered, as he tip toed inside.

“You are the best! It would be nicer if he wasn’t here.” Quietly they snuck off into her room, Riley reiterated what had happened when she had returned. Also explaining about Drake’s silly rules- one that made Daniel laugh was ‘no visitors without permission’.

“Well you’ve broken a rule. He’s going to go apeshit.”

“So?” They both provided each other with a mischievous grin.

****

Drake stirred in his bed, many thoughts were roaming through his mind. One, where the fuck did he put the letter that he had wrote after supping a full bottle of Jack Daniels. Two, his obnoxious attitude towards Riley- again, making him feel slightly guilt ridden. Three, why the fuck had he woken up at four in the morning? Knowing that he must have only shut his eyes for a slight moment- they were heavy and he wished that he could just fall asleep instantly. Forcing his eyes closed, the banging and the noises suddenly awoken him.

“Oh. My. God. Yes!! Right there... harder Daniel!”

“You like that baby? You like my big hard cock inside of you...”

“Yes.... give me more! Please!”

What the fuck? Shooting out of bed, the noises increased- attempting to block it he couldn’t. Riley was getting fucked, she wasn’t his but he couldn’t help but feel disheartened. Why do I wish it was me instead? I hate the girl. Hearing her continue to moan, gave him a slight stiffy. Get down, Walker. We hate her. She’s an annoying bitch. Talking to his cock didn’t help the situation, no matter what he did- it was still growing thinking about Riley.

“Riley! Shut the fuck up!”

“Do you want to join in Drake?”

“Do I fuck! You’ve broken a fucking rule! Some of us have work in a few hours! Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m... I’m so close... oh.... Drake? I’ll be quiet soon.... I promise....go and get some beauty sleep babe!” Punching the door, he stormed back to his room- practically suffocating himself with the pillow, he was thinking about how he was going to get revenge on her.

****

Riley bit her lip as she listened to Drake stomp off to his room. Daniel was sat on the edge of the bed practically hyperventilating due to the reaction of Drake. They were the best of friends, colleagues - most people believed that their friendship was odd. On many occasions when they had been drinking they often masturbated in front of each other not giving two fucks. It turned neither of them on. Tonight she was debating whether or not to use a dildo for that extra effect, to make their prank seem sincere and real.

“Imagine his face if he finds out that I’m gay and that I actually would never fuck you. Fishy fannies. No, thank you. Big hard swollen cocks- yes! They are welcoming. What are we doing with these condoms then?”

“I have just the plan. But first, more shots!”

****

Drake had never been able to sleep in late, unless he was on a bender. Usually he would have an early night and be an early riser. Despite the annoying disturbance only a few hours ago, he was fully awake- deciding to work at home rather than go into the office, he was grateful that he had the option to do this. Sneaking quietly out of his room, through to the living area- his eyes widened. Firstly noticing the mess that Riley and her one night stand - as he assumed - had caused. Then he saw her half naked on the couch, his previous anger had deteriorated- instead he was admiring her. Placing her into a more comfortable position than she originally was in- he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her. Caressing her cheek, his hand lingered there for a moment. Kissing her on the forehead, he was unsure as to why she was like a magnet pulling him closer to her. Fluttering her eyelashes open, shock was written all over her face. Why is he so close? Has he found the condoms? Oh god, he’s going to kill me.

“Drake! What the actual fuck? You pervert! Have you just kissed me?” Using all of the energy she had in her, she pushed him away- forgetting how she ended up in the living room, she quickly scrutinised the room for clues. Empty bottles on the floor, my bra is on the floor- when did Daniel leave? Fuck, my head hurts.

“Have I fuck? Why the fuck would I kiss you? I hate you! I was just checking your pulse. I don’t really want to have to hide your corpse down the laundry chute!” Feeling slightly embarrassed that she called him out for something that he would always deny doing- he opened the curtains and decided to do something productive- work.

“Soz to disappoint ya but I’m very much alive! Get me some pain killers please.” The constant ache surrounding her head felt as if someone was hammering at her brain. Wrapping the blanket around her, she didn’t really want to move from the couch- however her dry chapped lips and the dehydration couldn’t be ignored for much longer.

“Enjoy your hangover, darling. I have work to do. And thanks to your antics, I need a lot of caffeine- get off of your arse and get your own pain killers.” Rolling his eyes back, he just wished that she would leave him in peace- at least until she was sober. Remembering that he wasn’t her ‘babysitter’ he didn’t owe her anything as far as he was aware. Standing up, the room was spinning and her body was swaying- Daniel you mother fucker- why is he such a bad influence? Drake typed away on his laptop- every so often he looked over towards her, quietly laughing as she was struggling to cope he had no empathy for her.

“Hey, Drake?” She turned to face him, as she swallowed the pain killers and water- not really knowing what she wanted to tell him. In the back of her mind, she felt slightly guilty for her drunk antics as she noticed that he was knackered. Feeling like she had to apologise, she decided against it- he deserved it in a way.

“For god sake what?” Slamming the cup of coffee on the table as he shouted, she flinched. No he definitely doesn’t deserve an apology.

“If you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask.” Smirking at him, he returned the smirk followed by the middle finger gesture. “Oh so you prefer fingering a girl, I see.”

“No, that was my polite way in saying fuck off.”

“I am. Don’t worry. I’m tired. Sorry, by the way.” Pausing, she noticed his perplexed expression. Sorry, that’s a start- he thought to himself.

“I used all of your stash of condoms. I also gave my lover your ‘Tom Ford’ aftershave too, to thank him for the passionate night that we shared together. I’m sure you won’t mind, it’s not like you need it. It’s only aftershave. You’re a boring bastard so don’t need it to pull. No girl in their right mind would go on a date with you.” Waving to him, she left the room- looking smug with herself. Drake assumed that she was lying about the aftershave, after a while he walked into the bathroom- it was indeed missing. There was however a lingering smell of it, as if it had been sprayed.

“Fucking bitch!” Condoms were scattered around the bathroom, each filled with different things such as; shampoo, shaving foam, toothpaste and Drake’s aftershave. Cleaning the mess up, he wasn’t sure as to why he was doing this- she made it, so she should do it. But he didn’t have time to argue, he needed to complete some work today. When he believed that he had finished, his eyes filled with anger as he looked into the mirror. Riley had left him a message on it with what he assumed was lipstick as well as a ‘kiss mark’ - his teeth grit together as he read the message.

Don’t fuck with me Drake, this is only the start! Be nice, and I’ll be the most sweetest roomie. Ri 💋

“Enjoy your hangover and work Riley, because when you return home later- I’m going to get payback.”

[nymphl]

Lie to Me - Hux x Reader x Ch. 15: Reliance & Mistrust

A/N: Hello there xD Well, this time I’m ahead of schedule. I’ll see if I can keep the updates here thrice a week. I think it’s best to update what’s already written at once here, before I get caught up with my schedule and other real-life things and all. So here we go xD 

Story Summary: Falling for the enemy… That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Letting him live… for he should be dead. And you should’ve been the one to kill him. You had him, right there… and you let it escape through yours fingers. He lived. And now only the time could tell if you made the right decision — more likely wrong — by saving the amnesiac General of the First Order and telling him he was your husband. [Hux x Reader - Hux x You]

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: from enemies to lovers; eventual romance; memory loss; fake marriage; fake marriage becomes real marriage; rebellion; married couple; canon divergence; slow burn romance; politics; rebel alliance; resistance; first order; OOCness; eventual smut; eventual sex; power play; power dynamics; syndicate; lies; you lie; Hux lies; Hux backstory; manipulation; political alliances; political betrayals; secret organizations; tros fix it; anti tros; nobody likes general pryde.

Wordcount: 5747

PREVIOUS CHAPTER *** NEXT CHAPTER

YOU HATED IT.

And you should hate him…

…for his cryptic…

…cold…

…unfeeling…

…kriffing …

Behavior.

Instead, you hated yourself.

You hated that it hurt.

That you let him hurt you…

…emotionally and physically…

With the pain came the anger…

…strong…

…fervent…

…unstoppable…

However, your mind worked differently when you were furious. You became much more reclusive. Focused. As you were right now. Instead of lashing out, you did take greater care with everything you did.

Tightened your hold on the blaster, you did your best to control a pained hiss. Your arms seemed on verge of falling off as you waited for him to finally tell you to stop. To be in this kriffing position for so long, waiting for his instruction, was torture. And he knew it. Otherwise he would not have you going through the same simulation so many times. As you managed to get through the next phase of the staged attack, he would set you up for another round, till you were almost begging him for mercy.     

As if you could…

Outside bedroom affairs — which, you thought would not happen anytime soon —, the General hated when you begged. And you did not want to be seen as weak. Even if it would render you another lecture on not showing your weakness unless out of necessity — you wondered if that would be the way to get him to talk to you again.

Honestly, he was talking to you. But only what was necessary. Your husband was gone. In his place, only a General was left — and this General could be harsh when he wanted. 

Your worst nightmare.

Biting your bottom lip forcefully, you held the blaster firmly between your hands and waited for the targets — Imperial Troopers — to leave their hideout before you could fire. This time, however, there was something different. One of them — one of the targets — was hurt. You knew it was not true — apart from being a make-believe situation, the targets were not even real beings —, but even so, you lowered your arms.  

“How did you manage to get us here?” You breathed out in your speaker device. Apart from the VR glasses, you had your earmuffs firmly in place. The glasses set up the parallel reality and the earmuffs kept the outside sounds at bay.

The Crystal Cave indeed had training facilities that were more than adequate in your opinion. This was different from any simulation room you had seen before; instead of a practice field in which teams worked together towards some goal, you were alone and unmoving. The targets came to you and you had to shoot them before they could reach you in your own hideout. If your avatar got hurt, it would be the end for you. Luckily, you managed to escape their blasters twice now.

As expected, he did not answer your question. He seemed very focused on the targets ahead — even if he did not participate in your training, he had no avatar for himself, he too could see whatever you saw through your glasses. It was all it took for you to take a deep breath and let your attention slip somewhere else.

Even if he was a jerk, you felt safe with him.

It is… you did not let your mind drift to the last time in which he had his hand wrapped around your throat…

You were very tired; physically and mentally exhausted — every single person you knew worked overtime. The new disease in Dantooine continued keep you — and your peers — on edge. In no time, the number of alien dead would surpass the number of those who died in the last few days; even the most talented physicians in the planet were worried. So far, in pediatrics almost ten alien kids had died — in your shift. You had no idea if you could trust the data provided by those in charge. And as much as you understood they were merely trying to prevent some sort of collective hysteria, at least you and your coworkers were entitled to know. Everything you had found out was your own doing.

Shaking your head, you tried to focus your attention on your surroundings. You knew this place — this part of the cave. You had been there once with Aurra Sing before, when you were in your late teens. If your husband — the General, you quickly corrected yourself, there was no need to keep indulging your thoughts of that lie; he had figured out everything — thought it was adequate at best, it was because the First Order was… otherworldly.

A shudder ran down your spine.

He was fine now — more than fine, if you were to be honest, his physical condition was flawless —, so why would he still linger? Why not go back to the First Order?  

Honestly, you were not sure if you could trust him.

His negative answer when you questioned him about you being a bait to attract and defeat — that was important — the Resistance had you relieved.

Now…

…now you were not so sure.

“Fire.”

His voice, so detached and whispered through the speaker device, had you shivering. He was right behind you, quite but not touching. The last week living in the Cave he barely got within an arm of distance from you — always distant, always in his own mind. Having him this close now was… almost weird. Even when you trained — and for the maker, he made sure you trained hard every day and he could be as intense in your training as he was in your bed; your ardent lover had vanished, in its place, there was the business-like General — he would keep his distance. The last time in which you were in his arms, you were crying and asking how you could trust him, only to get a vague answer.

It was difficult to trust him — or get even near to it — when he barely interacted with you. How could he expect you to follow your krifing instincts when he barely looked at you? When all you had were a huge pile of doubts that only got bigger? When he was vague in his answers? For whenever he answered one of your questions you had another ten springing in your mind.   

You snapped your attention back to the targets, but nothing seemed to have changed in their previous stance. You furrowed your brows, but he paid you no attention.  

“Now,” he spoke again, this time his voice was firmer than before.

You had no reason to shoot when they were not moving — they were not attacking — and seemed to be paying some sort of medical care to one of theirs. Your moral convictions prevented you from attacking any hurt being — real or not, enemy or otherwise. The General was the living proof of that. It was simply beneath you and everything your father — your mother and Aquilla — stood for. However, you quickly realized your mistake as one of them — who was previously stretched out on the floor and apparently hurt — rose to his feet and opened his hand. A grenade lay in it, ready to be launched.

Without waiting for your move — you sincerely did not expect such plot twist —, the General opened fire against them — his avatar flashing before your peripheral vision —, knocking out all four targets quicker than your eyes could follow.

Next, he pressed a button at your left, shutting down the transmission before the grenade could go off. Your glasses darkened, forcing you to remove them. As you were greeted by the strong light in the simulation room, you had to blink a few times to get used to the new sight before your eyes. Honestly, you did not know which was worse: the light or the General’s judging eyes.

Not really ready for the reprimand of your life, you took your time to remove the earmuffs, letting them rest around your neck.

“I am sorry?” you tried, unsure on what to say. Besides, what could have you done? You certainly did not expect the targets to fake a situation — in a simulation! — just to attack you shortly after. Your first instinct was to always believe a hurt person — how else could you save lives if you did not believe your patients in the first place? You knew they did not qualify as such, but your point was still valid.

At least it seemed in your mind.     

“Your naivety almost got you killed.”

You pursed your lips into a thin line. You expected him to call your action one of compassion, not ingenuousness — and honestly you did not know which was worse in his eyes. You even opened your mouth to say it was only a make-believe situation, but you figured out it would do you no good. Apologizing would not do, as it would be seen as another act of weakness in his eyes.

“Who runs this part of the Cave?”

The General narrowed his eyes at you; he certainly did not see that question coming. With his hands entwined at his back, in what you called his General posture, he walked away from you; his shoulders set straight.

“I do.”

You furrowed your brows. It simply made no sense. No one in their right mind would simply abandon this place, only for the General to take it under his control, that much you were sure. And only one person crossed your thoughts at the moment: Aurra — and her precious Syndicate, of course.

“Aurra Sing gave up this place for me. In its entirety.”

At least you were sure of the first part; the second made no sense whatsoever. You did not know the details of their partnership, but you were sure she would not simply give up a Crystal Cave, that was so closely related and so important for the Jedi she hated so much that easily. Something smelled fishy.

Everything about him smells fishy.  

“Why?”

How?

“She already controls the Jedi Enclave, the Imperial Outpost and the Mining Outpost, giving up the Cave did not seem to bother her that much.”

You gaped. Besides the unlikely gesture or deal — that did not seem anything alike the Aurra Sing you knew —, it had been days since the General last spoke that much to you, that he even deemed you worthy of his stare. Shaking your head, you concentrated on the topic at hand: the Cave had training facilities unlike any other in Dantooine. Why would Aurra— you stopped mid-thought. Of course…

“She doesn’t truly know about the simulation rooms.”

The General snorted. You took a few steps closer to him and folded your arms at your chest. Contrary to your expectations, he did not step away.

“She does.”  

Then…?

“Aurra Sing doesn’t care about simulation rooms,” he said, taking two steps closer. It was enough to set his shiny boots barely an inch away from yours. “However, she isn’t aware this Cave has some old, albeit functional ships.”

It simply made no sense.

You shook your head. You did not know what that quick mind of his was working on, but you did not like it not even one bit. You did not trust Aurra…

…and you were not sure you could trust him either.

In spite of his words, in spite of your foolish heart that wanted so bad to believe him — to believe he had feelings for you —, your mind… your guts… told you to stay wide awake when near him. 

I trust him with my life…

A shiver ran down your spine. His involvement with the Resistance and the Syndicate at the same time made no sense at all. And made it very difficult to trust him. How could he be loyal to two distinct factions — with very different beliefs — at once?

I am loyal only to myself…  

You shook your head. You even reached out to him, but not sure if you should touch him or not, you entwined your fingers in front of your lap.   

“I don’t want you involved with her.”

And part of me wants you away from the Resistance now.

The fact that General Organa had not contacted you yet, made it all the more difficult for you to trust him.

His response was immediate this time, “I know.”

Then… why?

You even opened your mouth to ask him to clarify this issue, but his leather-gloved finger over your bottom lip made your freeze in place. It was the first time in days… It was the first time he touched you. Willingly. Sometimes he would fix your posture in your training, but that was not a lingering touch. Unlike this very one. He cast a sideways glance, directing your own eyes towards the point over his shoulder. Before you could say anything, his lips fell upon yours in a.. kiss.

You could not even describe it.

Mechanic?

Cold?

Thought-out?

Everything but passionate.

If his words made no sense to you before, his actions felt even more absurd. Either way, you sighed against his lips and kissed him back, holding onto him for dear life — you were touch-starved, which was laughable considering you spent five years without… getting any action. He seemed determined to keep it — the kiss — in a… professional level. His usual voraciousness was gone.

It was a relief when he broke apart when the lights went out and the two of you were left in the dark.

You could say now you missed the power shortages in Dantooine. At least it was something completely predictable, contrary to the General’s cryptic behavior. The growing doubt that gripped your heart and did not seem about to let go seemed to only increase.

“What was that?” you asked, but quickly shook your head. “She’s watching everything, isn’t she?” This time, you spoke in Ryl, your voice no more than a whisper against his lips — you were still in his arms, still holding onto him, still waiting for him to kiss you properly. Yearning for it. Even if she knew and spoke the language to perfection, you doubted any of her henchmen — if any of them was in the Cave following you, which was probably the case — knew.

He nodded.

“I just don’t understand…” you spoke in a rushed tone, trying to clear your mind of any doubts before the lights flickered back — part of you wondered if that was not staged by him; to act as if he was being watched to get you to believe Aurra was the enemy —, but it was very difficult. His shady decisions had you on edge. “Why would you do what she wants?”

“Why not?” the General replied. His lips moved over yours in a small caress that had you sighing against him.

In your current state — in your heart’s current state —, it was very difficult to say no to him. Unlike his kiss, his fingers ghosting over your clavicle — but never getting closer to your throat; he seemed very conscious how he snapped last time — was anything but mechanic. His lips moved from yours to your cheeks and then your jaw… running the length of your skin towards your chin and finally stopping at your chin.   

“It’s just…” You shut your lips when he started unbuttoning your shirt. You blinked. That was absolutely not the best moment to engage in intimacy, but you were so… needy right now. If you thought about using sex as a way to get the upper hand in this relationship before, now you knew you could never be as good as him. “How long till the power is back?”

“Two more minutes.” You shuddered as he parted from you and removed his own black shirt and brought you back to his arms. You were about to comment it was not enough time for the two of you to… do anything properly — the lights were about to flicker in and the cameras would record everything —, but his lips were on your ears, “She’s just found out about the ships and she’s going to destroy them.”

“But I thought…” You closed your eyes as he sat you over the balcony where you put your training devices and settled between your thighs; your legs automatically wrapped around his waist. “You’re making absolutely no sense.”

As his lips fell over your throat and he kissed it lightly, you knew you had lost your ability to think. He did not take his time there, however, going back to your mouth and brushing his tongue against your bottom lip. He merely teased you, not kissing you for real. You groaned in frustration.  

“Please.”

You were conflicted.

Part of you wanted — needed even — to go further with that. Needed him. Realistically, you knew it was all a game to deceive Aurra — or deceive you, you did not know anymore —, he knew what you wanted — he always seemed to know — and he was using sex as a tool to… — you swallowed, because you hated how truthful the word rang — to manipulate you.  

“So easily distracted…” the General finally silenced you with his lips. As the lights flickered in again, you could not be gladder that he was finally kissing you for real.             

A disappointed sigh left you as soon as you closed your eyes in the darkened bedroom.

Your bedroom.

Not his.

You were alone.

Not with him.

After bestowing you with a mind-blowing kiss, the General took you to your chambers. Part of you thought — you were hopeful even —, that the two of you would finally get physical.

Tsk.

All he did was to drop you onto the mattress and turn on his heels. He just left you alone. For a few minutes, you just stood positioned on your elbows waiting — hoping — for him to come back. Right now, it did not matter that he was using sex as a tool to manipulate you, you just needed it.

Now… as the lusty cloud left you — after you took matters into your own hands — you were glad he did nothing. You were glad he left.

At the same time, you were angry.

With yourself.

For the maker!

How could you be so stupid? You were never this irrational — gullible and stupid — with Aquilla. It is a fact that Aquilla never used sex as a tool… However, being married to an alien — and having sexual relations with them — was completely different than with a human — there was always extra care involved and twi’leks saw marriage was something sacred — not a lie to toy with. What you meant was that Aquilla would never tease you and leave you… wanting.

Perhaps next time you saw him you should tell him that.

If he said last time you kept comparing the two of them, then you should take comparisons to the next level. You wondered how long it would take for that nonchalant mask of his to fall after you told him Aquilla never teased just to leave you… unsatisfied.

Shaking your head, you tried to clear your mind of everything. Honestly, you were horrified you could think of something so mean. The General had issues — several, actually — and your childish behavior could — would — worsen them.

You closed your eyes and pulled the blankets to your chin, falling into an uneventful slumber shortly after.

It was middle of the night when you woke up by yourself. A nightmare about the General leaving you for good — without looking back — haunted your sleep. Your swallowed, but it was raspy. Your throat felt dry.

You sat on the bed and reached for the bottle, only to have it handed to you.

If the situation — if you did not feel so numb because of the dream —, you probably would have been startled. Instead, you accepted the bottle and drank the water in big gulps. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and looked at him in the darkened bedroom.

He was sitting in a chair close to your bed, completely focused on his datapad. The sound of his fingers working on the screen had you blinking a few times. Even if you had just woken up by yourself, you were still struggling to stay awake.

You bit your bottom lip and shook your head. So many questions you wanted — needed even — to ask, that you could not afford to sleep right now. It could — and would — come later.

“What was that earlier?” Your voice was small, unsure as you started. “Why are we really here?” You cast your eyes to your lap. Your body was covered with the softest fabric you had ever touched. The sheets were very pleasing to the touch. Even after a week living in the Cave, with sheets like that and a bed way bigger and comfortable than yours, you could not say you were happier here. You were very happy in the Cave in the first time you visited it, after your small adventure with the General. And even if you knew his demeanor had nothing to do with the place, you did not want to live in a place where he seldom spoke to you — in a place where he only kissed you because cameras would capture it. Your eyes widened when the thought hit you, “Are there cameras in this room?”

The corner of his lips tilted slightly upwards — which set your heart into a frenzied beat —, but his answer came quickly, “No.”

A relieved sigh left you. Honestly, you did not need for Aurra Sing to watch whatever you did in that room. Or even the General. That would be beyond embarrassing. You did not know about him, but you did mind being in the spotlight.

As you saw the lingering shadow of a smirk on his lips, you froze.

“You know.”

His lack of answer had heat touching towards your face… gripping it. That was the perfect time to compare him to Aquilla.

No.

You shook your head.

There were far more pressing matters. This… whatever this was… Is… — you had no idea anymore — could wait. You had to question his decisions concerning this very night. His touches — even if welcomed — came out of nowhere. He was using sex as a means of distraction. You were sure of it. If you yourself thought about it before — even if you did not act on it, you planned it —, the General would act on it; he was not above such machinations. What’s more, he proved for the second — third? you were no longer sure — time you were his to do as he pleased.

Easily distracted…

What bothered you was the fact he was right. The feeling of being beaten in a game you planned to play in the first place did not sit well with you.

“You manipulated me through sex.”

He shifted his attention to you. His piercing, impossibly blue eyes focused on your face. There was no need for a loud answer, for his orbs told you enough.

You bit your bottom lip.

“You think I am easy to manipulate.”

He did not look anywhere when the next words left his lips, “I know it.”

His answer knocked the air out of your lungs. You sat rigidly in your bed and tugged the sheets to your chin — you felt stupid for taking your clothes off. You would not feel so vulnerable right now if you put on something before you drifted to sleep.

But that was all.

It did not hurt you. His mean words. His cold demeanor.

By now… you were almost used to it. You felt so numb right now nothing he could have said would make you feel any worse.

“What are you doing here?”

Unlike last time, now he took his time to reply. You just sat there watching him type something on his datapad in silence. He was no longer looking at you — which was somewhat a relief —, his attention solely focused on the device.       

How long were you here? you even wanted to ask but gave up shortly after. You could deal with everything right now, but not with the fact of knowing he had seen you — watched — as you pleasured yourself and sighed his name — imagined him doing things to you.

You shook your head.

“My…” You closed your mouth — addressing him as my Lord when you suspected he may have caught you doing the deed was far too embarrassing —, and tried again “Armitage?” you asked, your voice wavering this time, you were not really sure what to call him. Going back to your usual my Lord would not do, not with all the memories of that first night in the cave… Calling him your husband was an even greater absurd. But would he find it weird if all of a sudden you stopped addressing him formally or he would welcome it that you called him more intimately?

Besides, going back was not what you had in mind. If you wanted to move on with him, with you wanted to have a real relationship with him, you had to get closer… Your heart sped at the thought, but you knew it to be truthful: you had to start trusting him.

Right…?

You rose to your feet and cast a look at his datapad. It took you a while to recognize what he was doing and where he was doing it — for you were seeing everything upside down — but as you realized he was staring at some sort of files concerning the First Order, you felt an irrational fear gripping your heart.

Trust him with my life…

He chose that exact time to ask you to repeat the symptoms you had told him earlier when you told him about your day at the Hospital. You furrowed your brows, but recited them nonetheless, “It’s like a common cold, except that those infected with it are dying in three days-time. They’re afflicted with nasal congestion, fatigue, coughing and high appetite. What does it have to—

You stopped yourself. He would not answer to your question. And you were afraid of his answers. This conversation had you leaving the bed and looking for your clothes in the dim-lighted room. If you were to have that conversation — or any sort of conversation — it would absolutely not do to stay naked.

He cast a glance at you, his eyes narrowing as he watched your covering yourself from his prying eyes. Very conscious of his rapt attention, you wetted your lips and sat back on the mattress, pulling the blankets to cover yourself, “They seemed to have acquired a new taste for human flesh out of the blue as well.”

There was a moment of silence between you as his fingers stopped working on whatever he was… working. His eyes remained on you the whole time as he seemed to contemplate the new bit of information you just released — something you did not tell him before and that you regretted telling now.

“You’re not returning tomorrow.”

And there we go…

You felt highly stupid for saying that. So far, only two of the infected alien species showed any sort of addiction to human flesh — out of several! You thought that you were particularly safe. Not to mention, you were responsible for taking care of the children — and they rarely represented any danger.

Not to mention… He did not seem to care about you.

To love you.

Did it really matter if you died or lived?

And if he wanted you alive, was it because he felt something for you or because he thought you could be useful?

“Listen,” you started, biting your bottom lip. Convincing the General you were out of danger would be a difficult task, but you were willing to reason with him either way. Then you furrowed your brows, curiosity — mistrust — taking over you. You almost said that Aquilla would never ask you to stop working — to stop helping others when they needed you most. But should the words leave your lips, you would regret them forever — like you regretted reveling the whole truth that day. You shook your head and said, “Why are you so interested? You’re not even a doctor.”

He narrowed his eyes at you — it was as if he knew your traitorous thoughts —, but instead of giving you a direct answer, he opted to ask, “What do you know of the Kryto virus?”

You furrowed your brows. You simply hated how cryptic he was sometimes.

It did not make it any easier to trust him.

For the maker!

Your doubts were bordering on paranoia. For the first time, you realized that him knowing everything — and not telling how he figured out everything — was a heavy burden. His silent, offended even demeanor — and what did he have to be offended about when he lied to you as well? — prevented you from trusting him fully. It prevented you from letting go of the past — look at how many times you compared him to Aquilla in a short spam of time! — and truly moving on.

Trust him with my life…

As if…

Not even ten minutes ago you were sure he was manipulating you through sex. He was hiding something from you.

Loyal to myself and to you…

For real?

If he could lie about believing — buying — your own lies, why would he say he truth his loyalty?  

“What does it have to do with—” You stopped midsentence, realization finally sinking on you, “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” he replied, handing you the datapad. He was reading some sort of article related to deadly viruses released by the Empire in an attempt to destroy the New Republic, of them was the famous Kryto Virus, a bioweapon responsible for taking the lives of millions of aliens back in 7 ABY.

You were a mere toddler when it happened and the subsequent Bacta Wars, but the misery you saw taking over the very planet in which you lived now would be forever marred in form of your father’s frown whenever he looked at you or you listened to him crying himself to sleep at night.

The mere thought of something of such scale taking over the galaxy again made a cold shiver ran down your spine and a deep, horrendous fear grip your very heart, squeezing it mercilessly. 

Clearing your throat, you handed the datapad back to him. All traces of sleep had left you and now you were wide awake and very much frightened. Subconsciously, you reached for his hand and entwined your fingers together. When you realized what you were doing, you were ready to pull away, but he tightened his hold over you lightly.

You will have to follow your instincts.  

For the first time his words started making sense to you. The paranoia was leaving your system. Understanding flooded you. He did hide tons of stuff from you, but if he did have anything to keep from you — concerning the disease at least —, he certainly would not show you the article, would he?

With his left hand only, he started typing something else in the flat screen and shortly after you were staring at several sketches. It showcased a Dantari with some red spots on the face and body. Each spot had a brief description that matched exactly the symptoms the patients at the Hospital displayed.

Instead of asking the obvious question, instead of putting the blame where it was due — paranoid! you were paranoid —, you said, “So… you have all of your accesses to the First Order database?”

You bit your bottom lip as you waited for his reply.

“Mostly.”

You took your time to voice your next question. You were really not sure you were ready for his answer — whatever it may be.

“Did you know it?”

“Possibly,” he replied, his eyes focused on you. When you looked down at your joined hands, he used his thumb to caress the inside of your wrist. His touch burned your skin, so you quickly disentangled your fingers and moved away from him. Your action made him straighten his back. “I have not regained all of my memories, so I do not know.”

The thought of his lost memories — he would not and could not know, for he knew nothing of his past before the attempt on his life — should make you feel relieved, but you felt even tenser now. Without knowing, he could be the very responsible for this new development in Dantooine. It is, if he coordinated the invasion of your planet, he could also have orchestrated this new virus, right?  

Not for the first time you wondered if you did the right thing by saving him. And even if it hurt you beyond imagination the thought of how empty your life would be, you could not help but ask yourself if you were not in the wrong right now.

“Have you ever lost your memories?”

He narrowed his eyes at you.

There was moment of absolute, sepulchral silence. You thought you forgot how to breathe; your heart was beating madly inside your chest as you waited for his answer. When it came, you were left agape. 

“You should sleep,” he said, getting on his feet. You were not sure if his face was that expressionless or if you were imagining stuff. 

He moved his fingers over your temple, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. Before he could caress your face, however, you snapped his hand away.

“Is there any cure in any of these articles?”

He had his eyes narrowed, but he did not comment on your sudden change in behavior. He retreated — both physically and emotionally —, looking for his leather gloves in the dressing table in the other corner of the room.

The silence was almost unbearable as he placed his blaster in its holder. You wanted to say something, your throat even burned with it, but you felt unable to even open your mouth.

“Do you trust me?”

…with my life.

You bit your bottom lip. You wanted to say yes. You wanted to be as sure as you were when you told General Organa just a few days ago, but could not.

For the maker!

You swallowed.

He grabbed his coat and headed for the exit. He had his hands clasped on his back when he spoke without even casting one last glance at you, “Do not wait for me.”

A/N - And that’s all for today. I’ll see you on Wednesday xD

[imagine-what-would-happen]

A Little Bit of Grey (Part 5 Kylo Ren Fanfiction)

Hey guys! Here is part 5! I try to update both stories every day but its been sort of a difficult time lately, I’m sorry for not updating yesterday! But I’ll be working to post a new chapter for “Since The Beginning” tonight! I hope you all enjoy! Again don’t hesitate to ask to be tagged in future instalments! Hope you all enjoy!

Warning: Mentions of blood and needles. Condescending tone against self injury. Statements of wanting to self harm/ self harming. Swearing.

Words: 1.9k+

Link to Part 4

Link to Part 6

Link to Masterlist

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99​

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

Kylo pulled against his restraints, he didn’t understand what was happening, he didn’t know how he got here. All he knew was that he was tied up to a cold medical bed aboard the resistance’s ship; this was all he was focusing on at the moment; anything else was just too much at the moment.

“Oh sweetie, you’re just going to hurt yourself. You’re too pretty to get yourself hurt” Neira stated in a condescending tone. She walked around the room toying with the medical supplies. It was strange seeing a supposed member of the resistance being so cold. Usually, all of them that he encountered were so warm and bright... being on the light side and all. If Kylo had assessed her based on her personality he would have pinned her for a member of the First Order.

The skin around his wrists was starting to tear, blood pushing through the irritated area. Neira was playing around with a needle, tapping it to take out the air bubbles. “So what are you planning on doing with me? Huh? You the one person on the light side who can torture me for information? Or does the resistance still not work that way?” He questioned, his eyes squeezed shut through the pain.

Neira scoffed, “Oh sweetie if you want me to hurt you, all you have to do is ask.” She smirked and winked at Kylo. He felt disgusted. She looked like Andy, sounded like her, but... it definitely wasn’t her. This wasn’t the girl he was going to leave everything else he knew for.

“Lets just cut to the chase, shall we?” She dropped the needle onto the table and walked back over to the tied up Kylo. “You want to know what happened, how I know you, where your precious girlfriend is, although... can you really call her your girlfriend?” She shrugged sarcastically. “Eh, doesn’t really matter I guess.”

Kylo looked on at the woman before him, silent, sweat dripping down him. He did want to know what happened. His head was killing him with the questions racing through his mind, he needed to know.

“Alright well..” Neira pulled a rolling stool over. “I came aboard the Supremacy around - hmmm.. I would say a few weeks after Cammie’s training began. Yeah, it was about then.” She looked over to an obviously confused Kylo. “Oh right, the time that you knew her for... she didn’t have a name... didn’t know where she was from right?” She sighed, “I’ll get to that. All you have to know is that her real name is Cammila... everyone here knows her by Cammie. But anyway, I came aboard... You know you guys really should up your security, that was way too easy.” She laughed softly as if recalling an old memory but then rolled her eyes.

“I got a few of my friends to take Cammie and I took her place, got the hang of everything fairly quickly, you guys really do have fairly basic training. No wonder your guys suck at shooting.”

Kylo was more lost than ever, looking down. If Neira... If she came aboard the Supremacy only a few weeks into Andy- Cam- ugh... the girl... if Neira came aboard the ship then... everything on the Silencer was a lie. It meant nothing, and he looked like an idiot. No wonder it had seemed so easy with her, it wasn’t real. He felt a pit in his stomach growing, he felt he would fall into it, drown in its darkness as he did so long ago when joining the First Order.

“Why doesn’t she remember her name...” Kylo whispered, trying to hold the tear that would throw him over the edge, he wanted to push his wrist more into the restrains, that pain was a hundred times better than the realization coming over him.

“It’s a new idea the resistance came up with... Cammie was one of us, she volunteered for the experiment, she said she could do it. It was fairly easy finding something that would erase her memory completely.” Neira looked down at her hands, seemingly completely unfazed by the topic at hand.

“Is she not your sister?” Kylo spat, “Don’t you care that she doesn’t know who you are? Don’t you care what you put her through?” He studied her, how could two people, two siblings be so completely different. He thought back to his mother and uncle. Sure they were different, but not to this extent.

“Of course I care,” Neira met his eyes and stood, showing her dominance. “But, its the resistance that matters, everyone’s lives are at stake here and she's the one who volunteered to do it.” Neira turned around. “I tried to talk her out of it.” She whispered, putting a hand to her arm, seeming to try to comfort herself, then in an instant turned around, “You think you know her but you don’t! You don’t know anything about her. You don’t know what makes her scream awake at night. You don’t know what her dreams are... You. Do. Not. Know. Her.” She spat every word.

“The sister you knew is gone.” Kylo retorted, “You made sure of that”. He watched her, and suddenly realized how idiotic he was. In all his confusion and storm of emotions, he hadn’t even attempted at using the Force. He had tried severely to remind himself not to use the Force on... on the girl. The fact that Neira looks exactly like her must have kept his instincts in line. The one time he should have lost control. He groaned internally. Time to show what he was made of.

“Untie me.” He whispered the words while looking directly at Neira.

“What was that..?” She asked stepping closer.

“You will untie me,” Kylo demanded in a breathy but louder voice.

Neira sighed and rolled her eyes, obviously tired of Kylo. “Kylo Ren. You may have abilities in the Force, but one thing you forget is that those mind games... they work on the weak of mind.” She touched his cheek almost sweetly. “I am so much more than that.” She pulled away and walked towards the door, hips swaying. “Goodnight you discount Sith” She called back, and then she was gone.

Kylo laid his head back and grit his teeth. What were they planning on doing with him? He tried to stretch out the cramp he was getting in his neck. What were they doing to do to the girl? He refused to call her by her previous resistance name, that wasn’t her anymore. He wasn’t even sure if it was the truth, although it would make sense why they would erase her memory. If they knew about Kylo having Force abilities, which most everyone did, he could easily read her mind and know why she was there... they would have never gotten close.

The way he felt about the girl... was it still real even if her memory was wiped, completely becoming someone else...? Would he still have fallen for the person she was before? He wasn’t even sure at this point if she had ever showed any affection for him. He felt so empty, nothing mattered now... He just wanted to get back to the Supremacy and blow up these good for nothing criminals. He bit his lip fiercely, drawing blood, the same as the first time he saw the girl.

The way she moved that day... the rage and pure force. She wasn’t afraid to do what needed to be done... except for when it came to killing someone. Was that a trait she had in her old self? He sighed and closed his eyes. It didn’t matter anymore.

The sound of something getting knocked over is what woke up the commander. He squinted, reaching to rub his eyes but then wincing at the still irritated wound and dried blood around his wrists. Fuck. He was here. It wasn’t a dream. He groaned, then letting out a breath of air he tried to look around again.

Through the bright white lights he saw a young girl at the medical station across from him. “Hold on.. I’ll be with you in just a second.” She mumbled and put some more instruments onto a trolley and began rolling it over closer to him. “Good morning Mister Ren.” She said quietly but professionally.

Kylo was quite confused. Why was such a young girl using medical equipment and why the hell did she call him mister Ren? “Uh.. Hi.” He said softly. “Who are you?” He questioned hesitantly.

“I’m your care taker...” She sat down on the rolling stool and searched for the items she needed.

“Okay, listen kid. I know you wanna play doctor but I’m actually hurt, you could cause more damage than good.” Kylo stated, he didn’t have time for this.

The girl wasn’t fazed by what he said. “First off, you can call me Doctor M. Second off, I’m the one who patches up the guys who you shoot at, and I’m the reason they get back on their feet.” She looked back up at an uneasy Kylo. “So what, kids on your planet can levitate rocks and mind control people but can’t put a bandaid on a cut? Get over yourself.”

Kylo seriously needed a reality check about the resistance. What happened to all the warm happy people? Everyone here was angry, sassy, and cold.

The girl began disinfecting Kylo’s wounds, and he couldn’t help wincing. He was so used to being spoiled by the medical facilities aboard the Supremacy, they would numb any wound before doing anything else to it. The girl chuckled softly, “You guys really are just stories aren’t you?” She looked up at him and then back down at her work.

“What do you mean?” He raised a brow.

“I mean, you guys fight with friggan lightsabers and blasters, constantly surviving battle after battle with each other and yet you’re in pain from a few cuts and bruises. I just find it funny.” She smiled. “It’s good to know the bad guys are human too.”

Kylo sighed, “You know we’re really not that bad.” The girl looked up at him with an are you kidding me look, “Okay...” He nodded at her. “I’m not that bad... hows that?” He tried.

“Well, the fact that the resistance hasn’t killed you yet, and the fact that you haven’t killed me yet would probably seem to make that statement true.” She stated matter of factly.

Kylo was more than taken aback. “Why would I kill you?” He looked down at the child.

“Maybe you’re having a bad day? Maybe you’re having a tantrum?” She shrugged. “You guys don’t ever have a real reason to kill anyone do you?” She looked up at him accusingly.

“Wha- yes we do.” He scoffed.

“Then how is it that the resistance doesn’t do that unless its in an actual battle and yet they’re still here?” The girl starred at him, he didn’t have a response. She was actually on to something, though he wouldn’t acknowledge it. “Thats what I thought” She sighed and stood up, pulling her trolley back to the station to dispose of everything.

She took a breath, leaning onto the counter with her hands stabilizing herself, “If everyone just sat down and talked everything out, maybe this war would be over even quicker than it started...” I don’t get what is so hard about it?

Kylo let out a soft sight, often enough he thought about the same. Things were far too complicated in this life.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 93

Chapter Summary -   Tom leaves for the Kong: Skull Island tour and Danielle is filling her life with time with her friends and work in his absence.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​​ @nonsensicalobsessions​​ @damalseer​​ @hiddlesbitch1​​ @winterisakiller​​ @fairlightswiftly​​ @salempoe​​​ @wolfsmom1​​​

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Tom kissed Danielle passionately. “Are you sure you want to bring me, I could get a…” She silenced him with another kiss.

“I won’t go back to sleep regardless, so I may as well give you a lift, a few last minutes with you. After all, when you come back, we are going to be at risk of being seen, and for that, we should enjoy this. No one is going to know when you are going and who is dropping you, so we get to relax with this.” She smiled.

“You ramble when you’re tired.” “Shut up, get a shower, I am going to get us some breakfast and you are going to add your phone and wallet to your bags.”

“Speaking of which, where are they?” Tom looked to the corner where he had placed the bags the night before.

“By the front door.” “Elle! They were heavy.” He reprimanded. “You know that as a paramedic you have to at least be able to lift heavy objects, trust me, those were not heavy.” She grinned, “Now get ready, you have a long day ahead of you, you need a good meal before you go.” “You are such a mother.” Danielle stared at him with a raised brow. “Just the way you insist on having a big breakfast and everything.” He wrapped his arms around her. “You are anything but the Hollywood norm and I love that about you.” He kissed her again.

“I am trying really hard not to allow this go further,” She groaned, squeezing his ass cheeks for a moment before stepping back. “Well, I will now, I could not resist that.” She added.

Tom chuckled. “I’ll be about fifteen minutes.”

“Tick Tock.”

* “Hey.” Tom’s voice was tired as he heard Danielle pick up on the other side. “When did the plane land?” “I am in the car to the hotel now.” He answered. “How are you?” “Good, Mac and I had a good day here, we just hoovered the whole sitting room, including in the couch.” “Elle?” “Fine, I hoovered, Mac just sat there shedding as I did it to give me more to do. I…Seriously, I groomed you fifteen minutes ago, where did that come from?” Tom laughed as Danielle sounded exasperated at the dog’s further shedding at the other end of the phone. “That’s it, I’m shaving him.” “I am sure he would love that, can you shave him?” “Can you, yes, should you, no. it ruins their fur apparently. I don’t know exactly how, but it is just not recommended. But I am tempted.” She sighed. “How was your flight?” “Long, but fine, it was a private jet, so we are all rested.” “Good, no transfers and waiting with the plebs that way,” she joked. As Tom laughed, she heard something, or more to the point someone in the background. “You’re not alone in that car, are you?”

“No, Brie is here too,” Tom admitted.

“She heard me, didn’t she?” “Yes, and before you ask, yes, she is laughing.” “I hate you right now, a little warning would have been nice.” She hissed in a low voice.

“She knows that you are mad, I told her about you already,” Tom stated jestfully.

“Oh well, that’s alright if she is forewarned.” Danielle’s tone lightened again. “So, what are the plans?” “Hotel, shower, something to eat and premiere.” “I am not going to lie, I am not the least bit jealous, that sounds exhausting.” “It is. What about you?” “Well, it is eleven at night here. I am meeting Emma tomorrow for lunch and we are thinking about going to see something in the cinema this weekend.” “I recommend Skull Island,” There was a distinctive hint of a smile on Tom’s as he spoke. “I cannot say I am surprised by the recommendation,” Danielle laughed back. “I better let you go, for now, I have to bring this fella out to the bathroom before we head to bed. He misses you by the way.”

“I miss both of you.”

“You should see the guilty look on his face, actually, I am going to take a photo of this and show it to you, it is too funny.” “I actually have a photo I forgot to show you when you went to Ireland, he made a mess on the floor with his water and tried to hide it, he looked so guilty, I will send it on. Goodnight Elle, I will ring you when it is morning here.” “Don’t put yourself out, give me a text after the movie to let me know how you are getting on and talk to you when you get a chance, Night Tom.” She sighed, her exhaustion blatant.

“Did you go back to bed this morning?” “Never got a chance, I got a phone call from Nacelle about a great project she is working on that she found out would be a couple days’ work for me in Suffolk, so I had to update my CV and send it on, then got caught in a Skype interview, walk Mac, the usual.” “Why didn’t you say that when I asked what you did today?” Tom asked, confused.

“Because I don’t want to talk work when I don’t have much time talking with you, I actually was going to tell you in the morning.”

“How far is it from yours and Mum’s?” “Half an hour.” “That’s perfect.” “Starts Monday.” “Brilliant.”

“Yep, so I am getting this place sorted before I go, Mac and I are moving out Sunday morning. Your mum is delighted, I think Nacelle is too, she hates the people she is supposed to be sharing an apartment with, so she is going to crash with us.”

“Excellent, you’ll have company.” There was no response. “This isn’t a good thing?” “She has sworn to ‘declutter’ my wardrobe.” “What will that entail?” Tom chuckled.

“Me hiding my favourite clothes in your mum’s until after she leaves.” Tom laughed. “No seriously, I fear for my clothes.” Tom laughed more. “I am glad you take pleasure in my torment.” “Sorry darling, but it is a funny image to have, you fleeing with your clothes to my mum’s, her staring at you in confusion.” “Thanks.” Her tone was deadpan. “If I was on talking terms with your car mate, I would ask her to give you a clip from me for that.” “What’s a clip?” Bree asked.

“A smack across the head…ouch!”

“Ha ha, thank you.” Danielle laughed, “Serves you right.” She yawned again. “Get some rest darling, you sound exhausted.” “I am, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Elle.” Tom took the phone down from his ear. “Was the necessary?” “What, you were mocking her, I did her a favour, woman to woman.” Brie shrugged as the car drove to the hotel. “You have never met Danielle.” “No, but you don’t stop smiling when you get a text from her, you only say nice things about her and she seems really funny, so I feel some sort of honour towards her.”

“She is great, how did you not meet her after the film in London?” “I am not sure, I didn’t realise she was there.” “She came with my sister.” “It’s great your family get on so well with her, Alex’s sister doesn’t really like me.” “That’s a pity, Elle was Emma’s friend before we started going out.” “Did that not cause conflict?” “For a few days, it’s my sister she is meeting tomorrow.”

“I am jealous, you really were lucky in the end with how things worked out for you Tom.”

He could only agree.

* “So, what’ll we watch?”

“I was thinking.” Danielle eyed Emma carefully, usually when her friend suggested such words, it resulted in them drinking and her feeling like death the next day. “It’ll be fun.” “I am too old for the fun I know you are suggesting.” “I haven’t even suggested it yet.” “Fine,” Danielle conceded. “What is it?” “You, me and a show.” “What show?”

“It’s one my friend Susan is in, remember her?” “She wore that gorgeous dress to your wedding, the one with one shoulder.” “That one, she is in it, it is being done by an Irish guy, something about moving over here and the difficulties it caused after everything that happened pre 90’s.”

“Okay, sounds good. What time?” “Six.” “I am not dressed for it.” Danielle pointed out.

“We’ll head to yours…Toms…God, it is weird saying that.” Emma admitted.

Danielle gave her a sympathetic smile. “Sorry.” “No, not bad, just weird. My friend and my brother. It is going to be so interesting when people realise that.” “I am sure I will be the worse friend ever, only using you to get to him, hell I probably even chose the house next to your mums pre-empting him becoming a huge movie star and her ex-boyfriend to get myself ahead.” Emma snorted. “Ten pounds says that is exactly what some rag is going to say.”

“We both know it.” Danielle laughed.

“Are you okay with it all now?” Emma questioned as the waiter brought their food.

“I am aware of what it entails, and though I am not overly welcoming it, I am not going to let it bother me, it was fucking things up between us, so I needed to either accept it or go, because it was not fair on Tom, or myself for that matter, I was losing sleep with it.”

“At least it won’t be as mad as with her. A few days of harassment then the occasional sightings.” “I am just looking forward to it getting boring and getting on with life.”

“You are incredibly boring, the two of you.” Emma jested, laughing as she dodged a small crust of bread Danielle threw at her.

*

Danielle – Hey handsome, I am just back from watching a show in the West End with your sister, we had a great time, I hope you are doing well there and catching up on sleep, though I doubt it. I can’t remember did you say LA or NY next, but best of luck, I will talk to you tomorrow. xx

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

A love that never leaves (7)

Summary: Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. A bit of fluff. Angst city.

A/N: We’re headed back to 1944! War really sucks and Bucky Barnes is a hopeless romantic. Their last night together in the village turns up something beautiful, but ultimately sad. The angsty stuff kicks off here...  

Tags are open, if you want on the list please send me a DM or ASK, it’s easier for me to track. Otherwise you can find the new updates each weekend!

MASTERLIST ALTNL MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Previously...

Instead, her mind weaves through their love story, pulling forward a memory she’s replayed a thousand times before. The memory of his one other visit to the village, right before their world went pear-shaped. She was hesitant to tell him about that night, about the question he asked, because she knows he’s not the same. They’re not the same and she doesn’t want him to think -

But her heart beats faster.

Twisting a lock of his hair around her finger, she gropes for the right words, his fingers stroking lightly down her arm.

I wanna know it all.

In the middle of the night, watching the stars wink through the window of her bedroom, she takes a deep breath.

*****

Late December, 1944 Somewhere in France

The sky is a deep, leaden grey when she hurries from the back door. Stepping carefully over slick paving stones, she heads to the tiny chicken coop, where one scraggly chicken remains. Every day, she expects she’ll arrive to find the poor thing dead, but against all odds, the hen has persevered.

As she walks, she picks at the fraying threads at her wrist. The moss green coat is looking worse for wear these days. Where the elbows have worn through, she’s patched with mismatched cloth from one of her old dresses. It’s not ideal, but still serviceable.

It doesn’t matter, not really, she tells herself.

After five long years, the war rages on. Ravaging the countryside, turning the world to ash, leaving nothing but death in its wake. Nearly all the men who left the village remain on the front; those who returned, are buried under weathered gravestones in the little cemetery.

Letters are less frequent, but far too often, telegrams arrive. Their messengers clutch their hats in sweaty fists when they hand it over, and that tenuous grip on sanity is ripped from a family's fingers.

But here, through everything and against the odds - she survives.

And every day, she holds her breath, waiting for him to come home.

Sleep, wake, work, sleep. Every day a dogged routine. But even though the world is on fire, sometimes when she’s sliding into that sweet headspace between dreaming and awake, she starts to think about the future.

It’s an indulgence, but she has this daydream. About wearing a pretty dress that twirls when she dances. About painting her lips with bright red lipstick and dabbing a bit of perfume behind her ears. About holding a glass of deliciously fizzy champagne and seeing Bucky in a sharp black suit, the collar of his crisp white shirt open, a bowtie loose around his neck. About him pulling her onto the dance floor while the band begins a slow song, something full of nostalgia, because they made it through, the soldier and his girl. About how in the middle of the dance floor, in front of god and everyone, Bucky picks her up and kisses her breathless, his breath like honeyed whiskey. About that little bead of sweat rolling down his temple and her kissing it away.

It’s a nice daydream.

“Good morning, little lady,” she says under her breath, reaching the busted down chicken coop. Searching beneath the warm feathers, she finds a single egg and pulls it away. Stroking the bird lightly, she receives a sleepy cluck in return. “Thank you,” she murmurs, clutching the warm egg in her palm.

Standing straight, she shivers when an icy breeze cuts through the thin dress and wool stockings. Latching the door shut, she trudges back to her house.

She pulls up short.

A soldier sits on the back step, staring at his boots, his hands folded patiently while he waits.

Bucky’s hair is shaggier than her memories and a thick beard covers his face, but he looks like everything she’s missed.

When the sound of her steps reaches him, he looks up and scrambles quickly to his feet. Standing in silence, he watches her nervously, strangely unsure of his reception, despite months of sweet words and declarations of love. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he swallows hard before he finally speaks.

“Hey darlin’. You look real pretty.”

His voice is raspy, exhausted and broken, and she closes her eyes, because she’s had this dream before. It was soul crushing when she woke up.

She counts to three.

When she opens her eyes, thank god, he’s still there. She places the lone egg in the small basket she carries and sets it carefully on the ground. Bucky watches her, longing clear in his face.

And she runs to him.

Throwing herself in his arms, he catches her and lifts her up, pulling her legs around his waist and wrapping his arms around her. With no preamble, she finds his lips and kisses him with everything she has. It’s sloppy and messy and frantic and Bucky savors it. Responding with a low groan, his mouth moves against hers, desperation in every twist of his lips.

“Oh god, I missed you,” he breathes, when they finally come up for air. “I missed you – Jesus Christ, fuck, I missed you so god damn much. I’m not leaving again, not ever,” he swears.

It’s a lie, they both know it. But like her daydream, it’s so pretty, they let themselves believe it. Just for a little while.

*****

“How long do we have?” she asks, pouring him a cup of weak coffee. It’s the last bit she’s been hoarding, but he looks so tired, so utterly obliterated, this seems like a good time. When she moves to sit in the chair across from him, Bucky makes a noise of dissent and scoots away from the table. Motioning to his lap, he gives her an imploring look and she can’t help but smile. She sits gingerly on his knees and he rolls his eyes and tugs her close. So, she throws an arm across his chest, tucks her face into his neck. Bucky sighs happily, keeping one arm curled around her, the other gripping the hot mug.

“Just a couple days, then we’re back out. Had to do a fair bit of sweet talking to get them to stop here,” he says and presses dry, chapped lips to her temple. “Convinced command back in London this was a strategic stopover before we pick up the chase.”

“What are you chasing?” She wraps the chain of his dog tags tight around her finger. It leaves an impressive ring of round indentions in her skin.

“Been searching for this guy, this sci – scientist.”

He trips over the last word, body tensing at the statement and she tightens in response. She still doesn’t know what happened to him as a POW, but this type of anxiety is all too familiar.

Scientists. Yes. She knows about scientists.

Sometimes he says things like this, about his job, and the confident mask falls. His breath comes fast and shallow for a moment, but then she squeezes him hard and kisses his neck. He remains rigid, but the soothing press of lips seems to help. Clearing his throat, he keeps talking. “Running after him for months now. He keeps slipping away.”

“You’re being careful out there?”

Bucky doesn’t respond. He wipes the rim of the coffee mug with his thumb.

“Course I am,” he finally answers.

There’s a lie.

She wants to argue. Make him promise to put himself first, to be careful and cautious, to steer clear of danger in every way possible, because he’s all that she has. But it would make no difference. War is what he does. A job he never wanted but one he picked up with horrifying ease.

Instead, she simply hugs him and changes the subject. Bit by bit, she coaxes him out of his head. Bit by bit, she brings him back to himself.

Himself. Someone he hasn’t known in a long time.

*****

The next morning finds Bucky and Steve jammed shoulder-to-shoulder into a small room off the nave of the village church. Piles of hand-drawn maps litter the polished surface of the priest’s desk and Steve sifts through the mess, setting aside the most relevant, while Bucky marks notes in the margins with a fat red pencil.

Dismantling Hydra across Europe has been swift and successful, but to keep going, they need more intel. And to get more intel, they need to find Arnim Zola. The game of cat and mouse between them gets trickier every day, as he slips through their traps, infuriating Bucky and sending Steve into fits of anger.

Hours pass as they add details from the local maps, using the roads and paths and markers unaccounted for in the debriefs from London to flesh out their search strategy. This has to work. This has to help.

They hope, anyway.

“You’re sure it’s okay?” Steve asks for the third time, looking up at the priest. Folding the maps, he clears the desk while Bucky tucks the pencil behind his ear.

“Take whatever you need,” the priest confirms. “Anything to help.”

Steve nods gratefully, stuffing the pile inside his jacket.

Leaving the stuffy air of the little office, the two men follow the priest down the familiar church aisle. As they pass the pew, Bucky automatically looks to where he saw her sitting that sunny Sunday. Clear as day, he recalls her pretty dress and her pretty smile and the way she peeked at him during prayers.

God, he loves that image. His dragging steps find a renewed bounce at the thought of heading back to her.

Coming into the dreary afternoon light, all three men pause on the front steps of the small church and Bucky hears the priest utter a nearly inaudible sigh. His white collar sits askew at his neck and he scratches at it absently, looking out over the dead grass in the small cemetery next to the church.

“Have you lost very many?” Bucky asks quietly. The town seems different than the first time they visited, the crushing fatigue of war bearing down harder than ever.

“Yes. We had a few boys come back last week from – from Italy. Had a hard frost a week earlier and couldn’t get them buried, there’s no way to dig through the frozen ground. Been tough on the families, having them wrapped up in the vaults below the church. They’ll have to stay there, until the ground thaws.”

This is not uncommon. This is how things work. Death in the winter is a grim affair.

Lips drawn in a tight line, Steve rubs exhausted blue eyes and looks over to Bucky; he raises an eyebrow in question.

Bucky considers him for a moment. He wants nothing more than to walk back to her home and crawl into the safety of her arms. But in war, and in life, it’s common courtesy to repay those who’ve helped you. He thinks about the maps that will hopefully lead them closer to Zola, closer to ending this madness, closer to coming back to her for good.

He swallows hard and nods.

“We’ll dig the graves for you. Least we can do for the help.”

The priest hesitates with his response. “That’s very kind of you boys, but the ground really is frozen. I don’t think you can dig through.”

Steve gives him a kind smile. “It’s alright. We’ll manage.”

*****

Bucky drives the sharp shovel into the mound of black earth. Leaning heavily on the handle, he swipes a shaking hand over the line of cold sweat on his forehead.

“M’done,” he says hoarsely to Steve. Four freshly dug graves line the edge of the little graveyard, waiting patiently for their occupants to arrive.

It took some doing, but between the two of them, they managed. Once they broke through the frozen layer, the rest was easy. Of course, it helps that Steve is stronger than the normal soldier and that Bucky is – well, that Bucky’s strong as well.

Steve tosses one final heap of dirt and stretches with a low groan.

“Go on,” Bucky urges, tugging the shovel from his hands. He needs Steve to sleep, because he hasn’t in days. “Get some sleep. You know we gotta leave first thing.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. He claps his hands, brushing away the dry feel of dust. “Guess you're staying with your girl tonight?”

“Course,” Bucky says with a tired smile. He toys with the button on his blue jacket. “Got something to ask her.”

Steve squeezes his shoulder affectionately. “Really gonna do it, huh? Nervous?”

Bucky squints up at the pinpricks of starlight peppering the dark sky and gives voice to the doubt in his mind. “Yeah. I don’t know. I’ve been thinking...about all the shit I’ve done, and I’m - fuck, Steve. You’ve seen me out there. I’m not exactly a good person. Not anymore.” He looks over, weary confusion in his face. “Am I selfish? Wantin’ her this way? Doesn’t she deserve better?”

Steve just looks at him. That same penetrating gaze he’s had since the day he found Bucky back in Azzano. Bucky still hasn’t told him everything and Steve keeps waiting, but he knows it’s in vain. Bucky Barnes is a master at stomping down his feelings.

So, Steve gets philosophical instead.

“You know, it seems like the world wants to romanticize this. The war. They write songs and poetry and tell all these grand stories, but we all know it’s fuckin’ bullshit. There’s nothing romantic here. I smell like actual shit and all Dugan’s toenails fell off last week and you got someone’s fuckin’ brains on your coat the other day.” He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “None of us are getting out of this war without changing. That includes her. Don’t go using that as an excuse. You love her and she loves you, and this world’s so god damn fucked up, but you have that. Don’t forget it.”

Bucky tips his head back up, gazing at the stars. He thinks for a moment, then looks back at Steve and gives him a serious nod.

“Every now and then you’re not a total asshole. Smell like one maybe, but - ”

He ducks when Steve tries to cuff him.

“God you’re a jerk,” Steve states fervently.

“Damn straight,” Bucky says. “Now go on. It’s your dumb ass wanting to leave at dawn.”

Giving him a mocking salute, Steve trudges back toward the make-shift camp the team set up on the edge of town. Bucky watches him walk, until the outline of Captain Steve Rogers is swallowed up in the encroaching night.

All he wants is to head back to her, but he needs a minute. Needs to clear out the dark thoughts vying for space in his head, because he sure as hell doesn’t want to bring those within a mile of her.

Setting the shovels against the bullet riddled wall of the church, he drops to the frozen dirt and leans back. Digging inside his jacket, he fishes out the last smoke from the battered pack he keeps hidden inside. Holding it between his teeth, he pats his pockets, feeling for his lucky lighter.

“God fuckin’ dammit,” he swears softly, realizing the damn thing is still in his pack. Frustrated, he bangs his head against the wall and shuts his eyes.

Someone drops beside him. Bucky hears the metal rasp and a flame appears. Looking over, he finds the tired face of the priest giving him a wry smile. He leans over, tips the cigarette into the fire and inhales.

“Thanks Padre,” he grunts in greeting.

“Sure thing,” the priest says, snapping it shut. He leans against the stone next to Bucky and gets comfortable. “You know, the last time you were here, you were pretty intent on interrupting my service.”

“Ah yeah. Sorry about that,” Bucky says with a weak smile. He takes another slow drag. “Was awful interested in someone else that day.”

“Yes, that much was clear,” the priest says with a chuckle. Stretching out his long legs, he crosses the ankles, fiddling with his lighter. “So. How is it out there?”

What a loaded question.

How is it out there?

Hell. Black, bloody, brutal. The very worst parts of his nightmares magnified by a thousand. Humans are terrible and people are suffering in ways he never imagined, because war is fucking hell on earth. He wants to pack up his shit, break his rifle across his knee, get his girl and go home.

How is it out there?

It’s motherfucking awful out there.

“It’s - fine,” Bucky says instead. He examines the bright red cherry on the tip of his smoke. Takes another long drag, blows the thin stream into the icy air. “Just gettin’ tired. Trying to find a reason to keep fighting, I guess. I know it’s the right thing to do. These rumors you’re hearing. Camps and babies and…experiments. All of it’s true. Every fuckin’ word,” he grimaces at the effortless swear and looks apologetically at the priest. “Sorry.”

The priest just shrugs. “S’okay Sergeant. I’ve heard worse. Said worse, in fact.”

Bucky gives a humorless laugh. “Sure, sure.” He tugs at a loose string on his jacket and thinks. “Guess I’m having trouble finding something to follow, you know?”

“What do you believe in?”

Staring off into space, Bucky wonders. What does he believe in? A long time ago, he thought he knew. Life, liberty. Freedom. Fighting the good fight. But now? His morals are shot to shit and he has no idea which way is up. He’s drifting along, half human while he chips away at his humanity a little more with each bullet from his gun. Each slice of his knife. What the hell does he believe in?

He can think of nothing, until he can. Until the one word that makes it all right rises to his lips.

“Love,” Bucky answers honestly. He cocks his head to the side and considers to the priest. “I believe in love. Making the world better for other people. For my family. For Steve.” His eyes drift the familiar path toward her house and he smiles without realizing. “For her.”

“Then that’s what you follow.”

“You’re telling me to follow my heart? Little corny, ain’t it?”

The priest smiles faintly. “Maybe,” he agrees. “Up to you to find out.”

Renewed, Bucky drops the cigarette and grinds it with the heel of his boot. He climbs to his feet and offers a silent hand to the priest, hauling him off the ground.

“Thanks, Padre.”

“Good luck Sergeant.”

*****

Lugging the boiling water into the bathroom, she splashes it into the old porcelain tub. It’s taken close to an hour now, of heating water over the fireplace and transferring it to the bath.

She’s in the bathroom, adding the final bucket, when the backdoor opens. There’s a rustling and she hears Bucky shrugging out of the blue coat, taking off his boots and lining them up in a military straight line. When he pads into the kitchen calling her name, the bucket slips and she hisses a frustrated curse.

“Wha – are you okay?”

She comes out of the bathroom off the kitchen and huffs out a breath. Sweat drips down her face and her arms are shaking from the effort, but she gives him a broad smile.

“You interested in a hot bath, Sergeant?”

Eyes going wide, Bucky hesitates for the briefest moment, before he’s suddenly slipping over the cold stone floor of her kitchen, stripping as he goes. His shirt goes flying, he hops on one foot to remove each sock, his fingers scrabble furiously at his worn leather belt. By the time he reaches the tub, he’s down to his drab, olive colored military issue boxers and an ecstatic smile.

“I hope you’re serious, or this is gonna be real awkward,” he jokes and she laughs. Motioning to the water, she turns around and gives him privacy, busying herself while he removes the boxers. It seems silly, considering what they’ve shared, but she doesn’t want to presume.

There’s a splash and then Bucky is stuttering out a long, satisfied moan. The sound makes her stomach somersault.

“Can I look?” she teases, her throat suddenly and intensely dry. He chuckles.

“Please do. Ain’t much fun otherwise.”

She turns to see him slouched in the water, and then Bucky takes a deep breath and ducks under, immersing himself completely. Under the film of water, eyes closed and dark hair floating around him, he looks like an angel. He holds his breath for so long, she starts to worry, until he breaks the surface with a gasping laugh. Water cascades in rivers of bright sparkles down his face and spiky clumps of black eyelashes frame his blue eyes.

“Like trying to bathe a child,” she says, a mock stern note in her voice and Bucky gives her a crooked grin.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll be good, cross my heart.”

Poking him in the ribs, he shies away and laughs again and my god, she missed that sound. It sings through her blood, a drug she never realized she craved.

Wetting her hands in the hot water, she lathers up a small chunk of soap. Bucky hunches forward and she lathers his hair, scratching her nails deep to rub away the sweat and dirt caked at his hairline, relishing his soft little moans. Scooping up the hot water, she douses his head over and over, rinsing soap from the dark tangle of hair, until the water runs clear. Pressing against his chest, she pushes him back against the tub and he goes easily, but when she tries to move her hand away, he catches it. She feels the rough bristles of hair beneath her palm and she meets his eyes.

“Will you get in here with me?”

Those blue eyes pleading with her, the hitch in his voice, it stirs a fierce protectiveness in her. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t refuse. Nodding cautiously, she steps behind him and he leans back in the bath, closing his eyes with a sigh.

She sheds her clothes quickly and observes him for another moment. He looks thinner, the lean muscle trending toward a gauntness she doesn’t like to see. Dark circles are smeared below his eyes, the kind no amount of scrubbing will wash away, and there are new scars littering his body. Thick lines of raised tissue speaking of blades and bullets, and she feels a wave of ice sweep through her at the thought of him courting death on so many occasions. His plush lips, before so quick to quirk up into an easy smile, are curved down.

He looks ravaged, by this war.

In that moment, she decides – if they make it through this thing, if Fate gives them a chance to be together, to make a life together, then she will fix this for him. It doesn’t matter that she gave it up, that she vowed to never do it again. Seeing him like this, she can’t stand it. She can help him and she will.

So many thoughts flood her brain in the blink of an eye, but then she’s stepping into the hot water and sinking down between his spread legs. Leaning against him, she pulls his arms to wrap around her and Bucky sighs blissfully. Bracketing her with his legs, he holds onto her so tightly she can barely breath, but she welcomes the pressure.

It’s nice to be needed.

Water sloshes over the edge while he resettles. Steam rises in spirals around them, blanketing her skin with an instant layer of dampness. It should be a little cool, but it is the exact opposite; everything feels scorching hot. The water, the thick porcelain tub, Bucky’s hard body, Bucky’s lips at her shoulder, Bucky’s tongue licking up her neck. Everything is full of heat, Bucky is fire and she’s melting.

“You taste like heaven,” he whispers, sucking gently at the skin along her shoulder. “Better’n anything I’ve ever had.”

Nothing goes any further. Bucky holds her tight, his hands skimming reverently up and down her arms, his fingers occasionally brushing across her breasts. His touch leaves a deep-seated ache, one she grows increasingly desperate to slack. But he seems content with this, with simply holding her.

An hour passes and the water grows cool. When she lifts her toes from the water, she laughs quietly.

“I’m very wrinkly.”

Huffing a laugh into her ear, Bucky rises from the tub, dripping across the floor to search for towels. Finding two, he gives himself a quick rub down and then slips back into his boxers. They cling to his still-damp skin and she drinks her fill of him, before raising her eyes to his face.

The laughter fades at his expression, at the lust tightening his mouth; she rises quickly from the water.

“No, wait,” he urges when she goes to step out. “Lemme help.”

Helping her from the tub, he takes a towel and carefully pats every inch of her body dry. She wonders if she should feel self-conscious at his eyes roaming over her, but there’s such clear worship in his face, her nudity is nothing. Instead, she feels a warmth in her belly that grows, spidering into the tips of her fingers as she reaches for him.

Catching his face between her hands, she lifts it to hers, gently pressing her thumb into the cleft of his chin. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?”

There it is. The slow smile she’s been waiting for. It’s almost like watching the sun rise, the way it arrives, nothing and then everything. He rubs the tip of his nose against hers and hums appreciatively.

“No one’s ever called me that before. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Can I assume, that was your way of talkin’ me into bed?” he whispers and her heart skips at the playful glint in his eyes.

“Did it work?” she whispers back and Bucky tips his head back and laughs. It bounces around the small bathroom and fills her up, happiness spreading like molten lava through her veins.

“It definitely worked,” he confirms. Wrapping the towel snugly around her, he sweeps her off her feet. Carrying her through the dark house and up the stairs, they sink together into the softness of her bed.

*****

Neither one wants to sleep. If they sleep, the night will pass and when the darkness leaves, so will he.

Instead, they lay tangled together on her bed. Even now, she still feels the aftershocks of pleasure shivering through her body, settling into her bones. Face to face, they lay sharing a pillow, silently watching each other in the dying light of the fire. She twines her fingers with his, brings them to her mouth and rubs her lips over the long, thin white scar on his right hand.

It was what brought them together, after all.

“I wish we could stay here like this,” she murmurs, her wistful voice melting into the black silk of the room. “I wish the world would come back to its senses.”

Bucky hooks his leg around hers and brings her even closer. The comforting curve of his warm body feels like a protective shield against the world beyond her windows.

“It can’t last forever,” he says and he strokes his fingers down her bare arm. There’s an edge of bitterness riding his tongue when he speaks again. “It’s gotta end someday. They’ll run out of soldiers eventually.”

All she’s every wanted in this wretched world, was to find someone like him. Someone full of passion and life, someone who could make her feel again, make her want to live again. Here in this little village, she’s found exactly what she needs, but their life is so fragile. She’s terrified it will fall apart.

Sensing the swirl in her head, Bucky rests his thumb in the hollow dip at the base of her throat, rubbing small, soothing circles.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“Of course you can.” He doesn’t respond right away. There’s a longing in his face, one she recognizes - it’s a perfect reflection of her own heart. She waits expectantly, but nothing happens. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. A deep red flush is working up his neck, spreading over the apples of his cheeks. He looks nervous. “I love you,” he finally says.

“I love you too.”

“Okay, good. Okay. I want to – would you do something for me?”

“Bucky, I’d do anything for you,” she says encouragingly.

He nods at her words, absorbing them. She would do anything for him. He takes a deep breath.

“Would you marry me?”

Since the moment she knew she loved him, she’s dreamt of these words. Of Bucky asking her to stay with him forever. To wake up with him every morning and fall asleep wrapped in his arms. To fight and love and live and grow old together.

She wants to reply, but shocked hope steals her breath and the words won’t come.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers quickly, his eyes flicking rapidly between hers, sudden shyness in his voice. “I know we haven’t known each other long, it’s all mostly letters really, and I don’t know, maybe it’s too soon and we still have so much to learn about each other, but – you’re it for me. I really believe that. It’s just - every day I walk out there and I swear to god, death’s riding my ass so fuckin’ hard, and I don’t know if I’m gonna make it home again and I just – didn’t want to lose the chance.”

His words bleed together, punched fast and frantic from his lungs, like he needs to release them or he’ll choke. When he tries to keep speaking, she puts her fingers against his lips, shushing him.

“Bucky. You had my heart from the moment we met. You’re it for me,” she echoes and Bucky’s face lights up at her words. “I’ll be here waiting, as long as it takes. Come back when you can and I’ll marry you.”

Burrowing into his chest, she clings to him. Tears slip fat and hot down her cheek and when he feels the steady stream wetting his skin, he rolls her onto her back and hovers above her, leaning down to kiss each one away, one by one until every drop is gone and the taste of salt burns his tongue.

Salt and sadness. Is there a more defining feature of war than these two things?

The dog tags around his neck clink softly when he shifts, sitting up on his knees. The words come effortlessly, the ones every soldier presents his love, knowing full well it could be no more than another pretty lie. He takes her hand and holds it against his heart. Beneath his hot skin, she feels the steady thump against her palm. His low voice rings with promise when he speaks.

“I swear to god, on everything I have, I will come back for you.” He squeezes her hand, his eyes burning. “What we have – I’m always gonna fight for it. Down to my dying breath. You and me, this kind of love, it lasts forever, okay? It’ll never leave. I’ll never leave. Not ever.”

Out of nowhere, the nameless fear that sits dormant in her chest perks to life at his words. Terror seeps into the marrow of her bones, at the haunting phrase from her past.

But this is different, she thinks. It’s different, and she holds tight to his vow, desperate to believe that history won’t repeat, and she won’t be left alone again.

“It never leaves,” she echoes. Like opposing commas, they curl together, drawing comfort from the other.

*****

Just like before, Bucky rises before dawn. He dresses quickly, buttoning and buckling the uniform in the dark, a repetitious memory his hands have been trained to complete.

Just like before, he stokes the smoldering fire. Adds more kindling to send it blazing, filling the room with heat.

Just like before, he kneels beside the bed and lays his head next to her.

“Good morning,” she whispers. Cool fingers smooth his hair back and he leans into her touch.

“Good morning,” he breathes. She moves to get up, but Bucky gently holds her down. “No, don’t get up. It’s too cold.”

She shakes her head no and tries to rise again, but his arm is like iron, a silent rebuke.

“Bucky, let me go downstairs. See if I can find you any coffee, I might…” her voice fades at the sadness in his eyes.

“Darlin, I’d really – I’d rather you don’t watch me leave. I’m not sure I can go, if I know you’re watching.” He brushes his lips along her cheek and hums. “This here, you all soft and warm,” he kisses her other cheek, his lips lingering, a smile in his voice, “completely naked,” another kiss on her nose, his mouth a breath from hers. “This is what I want to remember.”

In the firelight, his eyes are so breathtakingly blue. It’s her favorite color, she sees it everywhere.

He could convince her to do anything with those eyes.

“If that’s what you want,” she murmurs reluctantly.

“You’re what I want. You’re what I’m always gonna want,” he whispers. His mouth slants over hers, the dry, cracked skin of his fingertips cradling her face and she leans into the rough touch.

“Good. Because I’m always going to be yours,” she answers and Bucky swims happily in her reply.

Unwilling as ever, he rises slowly to his feet.

“When I come back, I’m bringing you a ring.” A sweet, crooked smile pulls up his lips.

She plucks up the shiny medal he gave her from the chain around his neck, the outline of St. Michael clear on the spinning chain. “This is enough. I don’t need anything else, just bring me you.”

He watches her for a moment more, and then he’s stumbling back for one last heated embrace. Crushing her into the blankets, Bucky pours every last drop of love into the kiss, trying desperately to brand himself into the meat of her heart, so she never, ever forgets him.

It works, she thinks hazily, his mouth feverish against hers. Where he ends and where she begins, it’s impossible to define.

He ends the kiss abruptly and tears himself away.

And just like before, at the grey break of dawn, Bucky Barnes slips from the warmth of home and disappears back into the cold march of war.

*****

Two months later, a telegram arrives from Captain Steve Rogers.

The innocent piece of paper sits on her kitchen table, resting against the chipped white jug that was once full of the bright holly berries Bucky brought her. Hours tick by as she sits in silence, waiting. Night has fallen, before numb fingers find the courage to open it.

I lost him. A mission in the Alps. I’m not stopping until all of Hydra is dead. I’ll come find you when this is over. I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.

G.

Steve Rogers never comes. She hears the news later, that his plane went down. No survivors.

*****

The poets say when your heart breaks, the world will grind to a halt.

The poets are wrong, she thinks.

When your heart breaks, the world will in fact keep moving. The stars will still shine, the sun will still rise. You will go on living, despite having nothing to live for. The world doesn’t stop for trivial things like grief. It lumbers on, drags you forward kicking and screaming, forcing you to keep breathing, until you’re nothing more than a ghost of who you were.

*****

Next Chapter

*****

[winterisakiller]

Get Better - Chapter Eight

Title: Get Better

Chapter: 8/18

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Cath Richardson (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Love. Companionship. Family. These are all of the things Tom Hiddleston desperately wanted. But his life and his choices left that a distant and unlikely prospect. So he did his best to move on and live his life as is. When an opportunity to return to the theater arises, he jumps at the chance and along the way finds that maybe, just maybe, those distant and unlikely prospects are closer than he could have imagined. Sequel to Brave Face.

Authors Notes/Warnings: So as I was writing Brave Face I knew that Tom’s story wasn’t over, even if that particular part of it was. And while I knew, more or less, what the overall ending to the story would be, its taken me a while to figure out the time in between. Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for letting me continually throw ideas off and at you. I still can’t fathom why you put up with it, but I am eternally grateful you do. This story will update on Thursdays.

Tag list:@tinchentitri @noplacelikehome77 @nonsensicalobsessions @theheartofpenelope @blacksuitofdoom @messy-insomniac-bookgirl @wolfsmom1 @just-the-hiddles @theoneanna @hiddlescastle @echantedbytwh

Previous Chapter

CHAPTER EIGHT

 “Large English Breakfast with Almond milk and a double latte macchiato.”

 Tom smiled brightly at the barista and grabbed the two steaming mugs from the counter. He weaved his way through several tables towards the back of the small café. The store front was busy enough for a Monday morning; a stream of tired and warmly attired commuters parading in and out in search of much needed caffeine. But sitting in the back of the shop, tucked away by a small working fireplace, guaranteed they would be left more or less alone.

 “Alright, one tea.” He placed the white ceramic mug in front of Ben and settled into the cushioned chair opposite, placing his own steaming mug down on the dark wood table. “And my own spot of heaven.”

 Ben chuckled, blowing gently on the steaming tea before him. “I see the caffeine addiction is still running strong.”

 “Stronger than ever.” Tom laughed, picking up his gently steaming mug and taking a careful sip. He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the warmth and the rush of caffeine as the smooth and bitter drink hit his tongue. Bliss. He placed the mug down, resting his folded hands on the table. Ben stifled a yawn, rubbing his free hand over his face. Tom took the opportunity to study his friend; taking in his stooped posture, heavy-lidded eyes, and the tension in his shoulders.

 He hadn’t talked with Ben much in the past few weeks and hadn’t seen him in longer; between rehearsals and the birth of Ben and Sophie’s youngest, a boy, neither man had been much up for socializing. Tom had called the afternoon before to check in on Ben (and his newly expanded family) and had been not entirely surprised when Ben had jumped at the chance to get out of the house. “I don’t care when or where, but please take me away.” It had taken all he had not to chuckle at the desperation in Ben’s tone and plans were quickly set for a meeting at a café halfway between their two homes the following morning. “Thank you,” Ben had all but implored before the call had ended. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

 Tom picked up his mug and took another sip of his macchiato. “How are things with Sophie and the kids?”

 A tired but warm smile spread across Ben’s face. “Good…Exhausting, but good.” He took another sip of his tea, his eyes closing briefly, before placing the mug back onto the table top. “Sleep is a fond but distant memory.”

 “I can only imagine,” Tom laughed, with an understanding nod. He ran his finger up and down the side of his mug. “And how are the boys adjusting?”

 “Kit’s been a bit moody but seems to be settling in. He does however look at Sophie and me from time to time as if we’ve betrayed him in the worst way.” He chuckled softly, taking another sip of his tea. “But Hal seems fine for the most part. He’s been a bit fussy when Sophie can’t hold him but he overall seems to be handling it much better than either of us thought.”

 “And the littlest one?”

 “He’s been giving us a run for our money. Fussier than either of the other two unless he’s being held.” Ben laughed in earnest. He was drained, that much was abundantly clear, but he happy, albeit exhausted, pride that shone in Ben’s eyes spoke volumes. “So inevitably he spends most of his time in either mine or Sophie’s arms. Though he seems to be taking to the self-rocker Sophie’s mum sent up after Hal was born. Needless to say, we’re hoping it sticks for more than a week or so. I don’t think I can stand watching Hal cry because we aren’t able to hold him too.” Ben laughed again and took another sip of his tea.

 “I’m thrilled for you mate, both of you.” Tom took another sip of his macchiato. “Though,” he started again with a raise of his eyebrow, “I can readily admit I don’t begrudge you the lack of sleep.”

 Ben laughed and shook his head, pointing a finger at Tom with a knowing look. “It’ll be your time soon enough, mark my words.”

 Tom shrugged and shook his head with a soft sigh. There was no sense in trying to argue either way with Ben; he’d tried so many times and it was frankly exhausting. The best course of action, it seemed, was simply to let it be. He picked up his mug once more and took another long sip.

 After several minutes silence, Ben tapped his fingers idly on the tabletop and asked. “How is the show going?”

 Tom’s face lit at the question, a full smile spreading quickly across his features. “Bloody wonderful.”

 “Wonderful, eh?” Ben rested his elbows on the table and leaned his chin against his opened palms. “Do tell.”

 Laughing, Tom rambled through details about the play and the people he worked with. The ridiculous way Charlie had taken to try to make him laugh during a serious scene (he hadn’t cracked yet but Tom could admit it was coming) and the pranks he and Zawe had taken to pulling on both each other and, in turn, on Charlie. He talked about Cath and the way she made him laugh, shared silly anecdotes they’d discussed, talked about how she remembered how he liked his coffee after one run in at the coffee shop near the theatre. He smiled, rubbing his finger along the rim of the mug, as he remembered the way her face lit up when she laughed at a stupid joke he’d shared with her the evening before.

 In the week that had passed since their impromptu coffee meeting (he refused to let himself think of it as a date), he and Cath had taken to trading coffee runs and talking. She’d asked fondly after Bobby; it appeared the spaniel (the flirting menace) had left quite an impression and he’d found himself contemplating asking her to join them on one of their morning runs. The only thing stopping him (he told himself fiercely) had been the look of disgusted horror she’d worn when he’d mentioned running. “You’re telling me you do that for fun. Insanity. Complete and utter insanity.”

 Ben’s voice broke through the memory. He glanced across the table to find his friend shooting him a sly look. “This Cath sounds like quite the woman, to have captured your attention so singularly.”

 Tom blinked, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Ben, she’s just a friend.”

 He watched as Ben’s eyebrows rose comically. “And I’m a tea pot.”

 “And aren’t you a lovely one?”

 “Thomas, I know you. I know the way you get when you are interested in someone.” He raised an eyebrow at his friend. “And, my dear fellow, you are definitely interested in this one.” He paused for a sip of his tea. “Out of all the people you’ve worked with on this show, she is the one you’ve talked about the most.” He quirked an eyebrow once again.

 “She is a friend,” Tom insisted, pausing to take another deep sip of his coffee. “Or at least someone I could consider one, in time…”

 “And someone you find attractive.”

 Tom grunted under his breath. “That has nothing to do with anything.”

 “But you don’t deny it?” Ben countered with a grin.

 An exasperated sigh was his only reply for a long while. “Fine, yes she is attractive and I’m not blind to that. But it’s not the best idea.”

 “Why ever not?” Ben threw back. “You like her, no one is saying you’ve got to marry her this instant.” Tom narrowed his eyes. Ben simply ignored him and carried on. “I’m just saying don’t lie to yourself. You like her and from what I’ve gathered she doesn’t think you’re a complete waste of a man.”

 Tom narrowed his eyes further. Ben burst out into a deep laugh at that which only served to deepen his friend’s already scathing glare.

 “Oh poppet, fix your face. People will think we’ve had a falling out.” Tom fought the smirk that threatened to spread across his face. And lost. Ben grinned cheekily. “I’m just saying why not give it a shot? What do you have to lose?”

 “My track record with these things is…less than stellar. I don’t want to fuck things up by just jumping in. She’s a good person…She deserves better.”

 “That is utter bullshit.” Ben snapped, starling Tom with his ferocity. “Okay yes, you’ve made some spectacularly unfortunate decisions in the past but the fact that you’re pausing to think about them speaks a great deal towards just how much you’ve grown and to just how serious you are about this woman.” Ben reached out and placed a hand on Tom’s arm, squeezing it in reassurance and in understanding. “You don’t have to jump into anything. Just talk with her. Get to know her, be her friend. And see if this…If she is ultimately worth taking a risk for.” He offered Tom a warm smile. “The only thing you have to lose is this…” Ben waved his hand before him. “Fear that’s still holding you back.”

                                                          —

 Tom shook his head, pausing to tie his laces, the conversation from earlier replaying itself once more in his mind. His mid-morning run with Bobby had taken nearly an extra half hour as he thought over everything Ben had said to him and tried to figure out just what he was going to do about it. Bobby had been utterly delighted with the change and had taken full advantage; sniffing new territory, marking it as his, and finding even more wildlife to chase.

 It was still a relatively cool day, though warmer for mid-March, and he found most of the park and surrounding streets were dotted with people, but not as crowded as he would have expected for the time of day. He’d been stopped a handful of times, a few young women and a little boy who pointed at him crying out “It’s Loki, daddy!” as he pulled on his father’s hand. Tom had done his best to be friendly and open with each and every one of them. He’d refused pictures but had signed the receipts and other bits of paper they’d handed him. Thankfully, he’d managed to get away before a bigger crowd had a chance to form.

 Not a damned thing was any clearer though when he climbed his front steps and mechanically unlocked and opened his front door. Bobby shuffled around contentedly as Tom unclipped his lead and hung it on the hall tree next to his jacket. He toed off his trainers and jogged up the stairs to shower. He was hot, sweaty, and tired, but still utterly confused. He hated it, hated how indecisive he was being. Annoyed, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into the laundry basket by the bathroom door. His shorts, leggings, and socks were next. As he tossed them into the basket as well, he let out a resigned groan, knowing he couldn’t put off a load of washing for much longer. He could send them to a laundry service, it would certainly make his life infinitely easier if he did, but doing simple things like his own washing or running to the shops on his own helped to keep him feeling grounded. And despite everything, that was something he still desperately needed.

 The bathroom light flickered to life as Tom padded his way towards the walk in shower and fiddled with the knobs until he’d gotten the water temperature just so. He all but sighed in bliss as he stepped into the steaming water, letting it soothe his aching muscles and warm him from the chill of the late morning. He soaped and shampooed with a delightful lethargy, not quite wanting to give up the peace and warmth. But the day would carry on without him whether he was ready for it or not. Rinsing thoroughly, Tom shut off the water and rubbed his face with his hands. He reached for the towel hanging on the rack beside the shower and made quick work of wiping his face and rubbing his hair before wrapping the towel efficiently around his waist.

 He found Bobby curled contentedly at the center of his made bed. Tom knew he should scold the spaniel and move him, but couldn’t find it in his heart to do so. Bobby rolled onto his back, mouth hanging open and tongue lulling to one side and barked once at Tom.

 “You are trouble,” Tom laughed, making his way towards his wardrobe and pulling out jeans, a jumper, socks, and boxers. Laying the gathered clothing on the edge of the bed, Tom quickly dried himself and dressed. It was a late day today and he technically didn’t have to be at the theatre until around five. That gave him plenty of time to putter around before he needed to consider heading out.

 As he rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, the familiar ring of his mobile echoed from the table near the front door. Tom darted forward, managing to grab it and swipe to answer without dropping either the mobile or himself.

 “Hello?”

 “Afternoon, brother mine.” He could hear the amusement in his younger sister’s voice.

 Tom let out a soft laugh. “What do you want Em?”

 “Want something? Me? I’m hurt, Tommy. So hurt.”

 “Funny,” he quipped, heading into the living room. He plopped himself onto the couch, propping his feet up on the edge of the coffee table. He hit the speaker button and dropped his mobile on the couch beside him. Bobby padded in from the hallway and jumped up beside Tom on the couch, resting his head on his master’s crossed legs.

 “And don’t you ever forget it,” Emma chuckled. “Seriously though, you know Jack and I are planning to come see the show tonight.”

 “Yes…” A sense of foreboding rushed through him. He reached out and absently stroked Bobby’s ear.

 “If you are alright with it, would you mind me swinging by with Allie for a bit? Mum’s coming up tonight to mind her, but I have a few errands I need to run…”

 “And they’d be easier sans toddler?” Tom finished, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

 “I know it’s horribly last minute but I am utterly desperate.”

 Tom let out a quiet sigh. “What time do you think you’ll be back? Or is Mum coming here?”

 “Um, I should be back by half two…quarter after at the latest…” Tom heard shuffling in the background, followed by a car door shutting. “Come on baby.” Allie’s high pitched giggle filtered through the phone’s speaker. A few moments later his front gate buzzed.

 Tom groaned. “Please tell me you’ve not done what I think you’ve done.” The gate buzzed again and Bobby barked elatedly, jumped off the couch and made a mad dash towards the front door. “Very cute, Em.” He pushed himself up to his feet and wandered towards the panel by the door. He didn’t bother checking the monitor before buzzing Emma and Allie in. Bobby continued to bounce excitedly by his feet.

 A knock sounded on the door a few moments later. He made quick work of the locks and pulled the door open, using his back leg to keep Bobby from darting out. Emma smiled brightly at him, her daughter clutched in her arms.

 “Uncle Tommy!”

 Tom’s face brightened and he reached out to take the small girl from her mother. “Hello princess. Are you ready to have fun?” She nodded enthusiastically, clapping her hands together.

 A small, warm smile spread across Emma’s face as she watched the sight before her for several moments before seeming to remember herself. “Alright, darling,” she started, clapping her hands together. “Be good for your uncle. Mummy will be back in a few hours.” She kissed Allie on the cheek then smiled brightly at her brother. “Thanks, Tom. You’re the best.”

 He raised an eyebrow and pointed a finger of his free hand at Emma. “You’d do well to remember that.”

 Emma snorted. “Funny.” A horn sounded from the street. Emma leaned over and kissed Allie once more before running down the walk and towards the gate. “See you in a bit.”

 Tom pushed the door closed with his hip and placed his squirming niece down so that he could relock the door. He then made quick work of removing her pink coat as she squirmed and hanging in on the hall tree beside his own. Bobby, excited by the arrival of a new friend, barked once and began to lick Allie’s face causing the little girl to squeal in delight and reaching out to pat the dog in return. Tom found himself smiling at the sight and lowered himself to the floor beside them. There was something so simple and so beautiful about the innocence in which they interacted and he was taken by it so completely.

 He sat on the floor in his front hall beside his dog and his niece for what felt like ages before he broke the contented silence. “So my darling, what would you like to do?”

 Allie tore her attention away from Bobby with great reluctance and faced her uncle. She scrunched her face in thought, sandy brows nearly reaching her the coppery curls that brushed her forehead. “Park,” she finally answered with a decisive nod of her head.

 Tom laughed and nodded. “Park it is.” He let out a soft groan as he pushed himself to his feet and Allie giggled at his efforts. “Laugh now, little girl, but someday you will understand all too well.”

 “Uncle Tommy silly.”

 “Yes,” he answered with a chuckle. “Yes, I am.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs and grabbed Bobby’s lead from the hall tree. Bobby barked twice then sat still, his tail a blur against the hardwood floor. “Two walkies in less than two hours. You, my lad, are spoiled,” he joked as he clipped the lead and harness around the spaniel.

 Patting his back pocket to make sure he had wallet, phone, and keys, Tom grabbed his coat, shrugging it on before helping Allie into her own. Both dog and child bounced excitedly by his feet and Tom couldn’t help the smile which spread across his face. Taking Allie firmly in one hand and Bobby’s lead in the other, the trio made their way from the house and out into the bright early afternoon light.

Next Chapter

[knivestothroats]

Red Blood, Black Heart pt 8

Previous, Masterlist

This is a long one, folks! But I liked it better in one piece than split into two updates, so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Content warnings: Near death experience, brief references to gore, idk man. pain. i never know how to tag things. Magic healing, but don’t @ me. There Are Consequences.

~

“So everyone’s name ends in an ‘i’ except the one?” Simon asked as he and Red walked through the halls of X-Caliber base.

“Yep.”

“Have you tried convincing this guy to change the spelling of his name?” Simon asked.

“Not a guy, and I don’t know how you could make Harley end in an ‘i,’” Red said. “It’d have to be, like, H-A-R-L-I.”

“Yeah, tell them to do that. Is it ‘them’?”

Red laughed. “It is, and yeah okay, I’ll just convince them to change the spelling of their name next time I see them.”

“Hey,” Simon shrugged. “You’ve been saving their life, so I think they owe you.”

Red laughed again. Down the hall, Barnes looked like he was giving a tour to a group of people. There were four of them, looking just a handful of years older than Red from what she could tell at her distance. What caught her eye was one young man’s bold blue hair. Red nudged Simon and nodded in their direction.

“What’s going on over there? That a pack? Or do they work here?”

“Hmm…” Simon squinted. His eyes darted back and forth like he was reading. “Nothing is popping up about them in the database, so they don’t work here and they’re not known hostiles. Or I’m too far away. But, X-Caliber is always trying to stay cutting edge with tech across the ‘verses, so these people might just have a resource that XC wants. Barnes is probably giving them a sales pitch. Hey, Nadia!”

Simon caught the attention of a girl walking by who had gone through training at the same time as them. She stopped and walked over.

“You have any idea who those people are?” Simon asked, nodding in the direction of the group.

“Mm, heard it through the grapevine so it might not be reliable intel, but… I think they have some sort of defensive tech that XC is after. Like, anti-teleporting tech or something. But, somebody else said they were shapeshifters, so who knows.”

Nadia continued on her way and left Simon and Red to their conversation.

“I would love to be able to shapeshift,” Red said. “I hope that’s what it’s about. I hope we all get shapeshifting powers. That’s like top three superpowers I would want.”

Simon chuckled. “What are the other two?”

“Telekinesis and teleportation, so we’re on our fucking way, dude. If we can nail down shapeshifting, hell yeah. I don’t know where the telekinesis is gonna come from but so far so good.” Red checked her watch. “I gotta get going.”

“Yeah, good luck with the mission,” Simon said, then frowned. “Oh, not to jinx it. Break a leg.”

Red gave an easy shrug. “It’s been pretty uneventful lately; haven’t had a hostile in like a week. I think I’m more of a safety precaution at this point. But, I get to hang out with the band, so no complaints!”

~~

That day was not uneventful.

Red slammed her left hand on the ground. A shield popped up in a pink dome around them. It was big - big enough to fit all five of them - and the exhaustion of maintaining it was immediate. Red pulled her walkie from her belt and held it to her face with a bloody, trembling hand.

“I need an evac. Five total.”

Simon was part of the standby team that day. Red was glad to see a friendly face in what she was beginning to fear were her last moments. Idly, she wondered if her internal organs were still internal. She didn’t want to gross Simon out.

“Take them to the income bay,” Simon said to the rest of the team. “I’m taking her to med.”

Simon knelt down and put his hand on Red’s shoulder. She felt the ground beneath her change to cold linoleum as Simon jumped them into the infirmary at X-Caliber’s base. The dome, being emitted from Red’s ring, came with them.

“Red, drop your shield, we’re in the med bay.” Simon said, shaking Red’s shoulder slightly. Red breathed a sigh of relief as the shield disappeared. “I need help!” Simon cried out.

Medics rushed over. Red felt hands on her. Some part of her wondered if she needed to be fighting. Then, she was being moved. Lifted. The wounds on her torso seared with pain and Red let out a scream.

“Stop, stop!” she cried out, but she was already being placed on a bed. Rolling her head weakly from side to side, she blinked against the bright fluorescents. “Where’s my pack?” she managed.

“They’re safe,” Simon assured her as medics cut open her shirt to get a better look at her injuries. “The rest of the standby team took them to the income bay. They’re alright.”

Red relaxed a bit at that. The pack was safe. She was at the base. She didn’t have to fight. That was good; she was so tired. And she hurt. Maybe she could just sleep it off…

Over it all, Red felt the sharp pain of a needle going into her arm. Then, the pain changed. What had been a sharp throbbing ache across her torso turned into fire. It felt as though her skin was charring and curling up, crumbling apart like burning paper. A crawling sensation itched across her whole body. And yet, she felt cold, like she had the chills.  

This was the effect of what was colloquially known as Blue, and what Red referred to as health potion. In training, they were told it was a last resort for serious injury – that too much would be just as deadly. Red had never understood it until that moment. She couldn’t help but scream in pain. She writhed as much as her shredded muscles would allow, clawing at the bed beneath her.

“It’s not going to cut it,” one of the medics said. “The damage is too severe.”

The medics began to quickly discuss options when a new voice spoke up.

“Let us take her. We can help her on our world.”

Red didn’t hear any of this. She was too focused on trying to breathe through the pain, and trying to make her breaths not come out as pitiful whines. Even in this state, she wanted to seem strong. She wanted to seem tough.

Red felt warm hands on her. It was a comfort, until they began to move her. She cried out as she felt herself being lifted up. A warm body cradled her close. Red was peripherally aware of others huddling around.

The atmosphere changed. They were no longer in the bright white of the infirmary, but instead in a cave. There was a soft bioluminescence lighting the cavern, then, in a warm flash, torches were lit. The air was thick with moisture. Red could hear the soft lapping of water.

There was a growling, hissing language being spoken that Red didn’t understand. She heard gentle splashing, and then she felt the water.

Red flinched instinctively, trying to sit up as the person carrying her lowered her into the natural pool. Her wounds flared in protest and she hissed in pain.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” a soft voice said. Red looked up to the face of the blue haired man, into the deep blue of his eyes. “She’s going to help you,” he said.

Red allowed herself to be lowered into the water, the man’s hands keeping her afloat. She tilted her chin up and tried to breathe evenly. When the water rippled, Red flinched again, trying – and failing – to sit up.

Something was moving in the water. Red could barely see its shimmering form, long and curling. She began to panic, kicking her legs and grabbing onto the man’s shirt.

“What is that?! What–”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, she’s going to help you, try to relax,” the man said. “You need to stay still. You’re hurt.”

Red didn’t have the strength to fight. And if she didn’t have the strength to fight, she didn’t have the strength to swim. Tears escaped her eyes and rolled down to join the pool around her. She pictured the water turning red with her blood as she sank into it, but she couldn’t look. She couldn’t bend anymore. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even keep her eyes open.

~

Red wasn’t sure how long she was out. Slowly, she became aware of that strange language being spoken in low voices around her. There was an echo to them, washed out slightly by the lapping of water. Red felt comfortably warm, and although she was laying on a hard surface, her head was propped up on something softer. And she didn’t hurt.

Well, not as much. Not nearly as much. A residual ache deep in her bones, but none of the searing, burning pain she had been feeling before.

Red opened her eyes slowly. The light was soft. She was still in the cave. Her head was resting in the lap of the blue haired man, who looked down at her when he felt her beginning to shift.

“Hey,” he said in a soft voice. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m…” Red croaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m okay,” she said. It probably would have been her answer no matter what, but she really meant it. And that confused her. Before she could ask, she felt a hand on her arm.

Red turned her head to see a young woman with long black hair. She was in the pool of water, with her arms supporting her on the rocky edge.

The bottom must drop off very suddenly, Red thought to herself. How had she not drowned? Was someone holding her up the whole time?

“You’re going to be fine,” the woman said with a smile. “I won’t lie, it was a tough one. I really had to pull from deep, but you’re going to be okay.”

Red blinked at her, not understanding. Slowly, she tried to sit up. There was still resistance, but it felt like she had done too many sit ups the day before. Not like she had been eviscerated earlier that afternoon. There was a muttering she didn’t catch, and Red looked over to see the two others from the group.

A dark skinned young man with close cropped hair stood with his arms folded. His face was passive, but his hazel eyes seemed concerned. Beside him was a young man with snow white hair who was chewing nervously on his thumb nail. He smiled brightly when Red sat up.

“Um…” Red looked around the cavern. “Where are we? And what… happened? Am I dead? This isn’t really how I pictured the afterlife, but…”

“No, you’re not dead,” the woman said. “I healed you, so you’re going to be fine.”

Red looked at her. “You healed me?” She put her hand to her stomach and suddenly realized the shirt she was wearing was not her own. Red pulled at the hem of it, almost afraid to look underneath.

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to be cold.”

Red shifted around to look at the blue haired young man again. She had been so out of it when she awoke that she hadn’t even realized that he was shirtless.

“Oh!” Red looked down at the shirt again. She was wrinkling it with how tightly she had the fabric scrunched up in her nervous fists, but she couldn’t bring herself to uncurl her fingers. “Thank you. Um. Where… who are you… all? You’ve done a lot for me, and I don’t even… we don’t even know each other.”

“You’re on our world,” the blue one said. “This land is called Kressant. My name is Darralkian. Well, my human name is Darrell.”

You know what interdimensional travel is already so goddamn weird, this may as well happen? Red thought to herself.

“Your human name?”

“Yeah, someone told me that’s the closest name in your language,” he said.

“And… if you’re not human, you are…?”

“We’re all dragons,” Darrell said. “We just look like humans sometimes.”

“Usually if we’re trying to fit into small spaces,” the white haired one said.

Red started nodding, and then just kept nodding. “Dragons. Like, uh, flying reptiles that breathe fire.”

“I breathe ice,” the white haired one corrected.

“And I control water,” the woman said.

“But I breathe fire,” Darrell said, “and so does Igneous.” He gestured to the one with his arms folded, who gave a nod of affirmation.

“Okay. Igneous. I can handle that name,” Red said.

The white haired one introduced himself next, but it was a noise Red could not recreate.

“Okay, that one’s, uh, a little harder,” she admitted.

“Yeah, different kingdom,” he said by way of explanation. “You can call me Frost. It’s close to my family name.”

“And you can call me June,” the woman said. She said her real name as well, but it sounded like rushing water.

“My name is Red.”

“Oh, like the color, right?” Frost asked. “That’s fitting for you. You were very, uh, rakuud.”

The others all snapped at him in their native language.

“What does that mean?” Red asked.

“It means, uh,” Darrell rubbed the back of his neck. “The color of blood, or when something is so covered in blood that you can’t tell what color it used to be. It just looks red.”

“Oh,” Red thought about it. “Yeah, that’s fitting.”

June accompanied Red back to X-Caliber’s base, where they were met with a concerned Barnes and a near frantically worried Simon. June explained that Red would be fine after she had some time to rest and recover. Red thanked her, despite feeling like words didn’t quite cut it, and June returned to her own world.

Red slept most of the next day. On the following one, Red went back to Kressant.

She had been doing enough traveling to understand what Simon had told her about each world having its own sort of vibe. Red remembered the feeling of Kressant quite well, as if it were her own home. She held Darrell’s shirt in her hands and focused on the memory of him. His hair, his eyes, his warm hands holding her up in the water. Red traveled to him specifically.

Red appeared in a wide open field. Lush green grass, speckles of wild flowers, all under a clear sunny sky. And though she was aware of her surroundings almost instinctively, what caught all of her attention was the beast in front of her.

It was huge. Red’s entire body was smaller than its head. It lay sprawled out in the sun, wings spread and resting on the ground, tail lolling in the grass. The light glinted blindingly off its deep blue scales.

The dragon flinched when Red appeared before it, although a flinch from a creature that size was not a small movement. Twin plumes of smoke blew from its nostrils in surprise as it reared back. A wave of heat roiled off its form with such intensity Red had to step back and hide her face.

“Red?” an unsure voice said.

The heat was gone, and Red turned back. Darrell was standing before her in human form. Fully clothed, which Red was silently thankful for. She wondered how that worked, but didn’t ask.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to... I just wanted to return this. And, um, say thank you again.”

Darrell stared at her.

“Sorry,” Red said again. “I should have tried to contact you first. Barnes is really starting to rub off on me.”

“How did you get here?” Darrell asked.

“Oh,” Red furrowed her brow. “I… jumped? You, uh… you guys were doing the same thing…”

“Uh… one second,” Darrell said. He left Red standing awkwardly by herself, and returned a minute later with and equally confused looking June.

Red shifted uncomfortably on her feet as the two of them spoke in quiet tones, as if Red could even understand their language. June took a step forward.

“So… people who are not from this world cannot travel here,” she said.

Red didn’t understand. She didn’t even know what to ask, so she didn’t say anything. June continued.

“When you were injured…” June hesitated, then rested her hand gently on Red’s arm. “You were on the edge of death. It wasn’t enough to get you to the waters. I had to really call up life from the world to heal you. I think that you may be… infused with the life of Kressant. That’s why you’re able to come here, without being from here.”

Panic rose in Red’s chest. She felt the warning signs of tears, but she blinked them away and cleared her throat.

“Um. Okay. So. What does that mean?” she asked.

June and Darrell exchanged another look.

“It’s nothing to worry about, first of all,” June assured her. “You’re going to be fine. As far as traveling to this world…”

“We have to talk about it as a group,” Darrell said.

“What, the whole world?” Red asked.

“No, just the Draask.” Darrell said.

“Okay, well…” Red looked down. She could still feel the tightness in her chest, the tears behind her eyes. It would be stupid to cry now. She had already gotten past the near death experience. Red held out the shirt again. “Thanks for… you know.”

Darrell took the shirt. Red nodded once and jumped back to her room at the X-Caliber base.

~~

“She’s a security risk,” Igneous said.

“I don’t think she’s dangerous,” Darrell said.

“Not dangerous? She’s a trained killer!”

“Well, what are you suggesting we do about it?” Frost asked. “Kill her?”

“No!” Darrell and June yelled simultaneously.

“I’m not saying that, Igneous is saying that!” Frost deflected.

“I am not saying that!” Igneous snapped. “I just… we don’t know anything about her, is all. It’s a risk, we have to acknowledge that.”

“We know that she got hurt because she was trying to protect others,” Darrell said.

Igneous was quiet for a moment. “True. But I don’t trust that organization she’s with. That man Barnes just seemed like he wanted something from us.”

“Well of course he wanted something from us,” Frost said, rolling his head back. “He was pretty up front about that, honestly. Sure, maybe he’s the business man they put out in front, but if they really are just a group dedicated to protecting people…” Frost shrugged.

“I think we’re missing the big picture,” June said. “Kressant chose to give her life. She and Kressant are inseparable now. This place is as much her home as it is ours.”

“I don’t know if I would go that far,” Frost grumbled.

“She can travel here,” June continued. “That’s just a fact. It doesn’t matter how much we sit and debate about it. We’re better off treating her as a friend than a threat. I understand where you’re coming from, Igneous. We don’t know her. It is the biggest potential for a breach that we’ve ever seen. But the worst thing we can do is make an enemy of her. As it stands, she only knows us as the people who saved her life.”

“But if we let her in, her organization might want to use her,” Igneous said.

“For what? Honestly?” Darrell asked. “Barnes wanted to talk to us about our world’s security, which we told him we couldn’t replicate. The worst that will happen is that Red finds out we weren’t lying about it. And if there is a threat… we’re dragons. They’re human.”

“Maybe we should just… what’s the term?” Frost said. “Act like everything is fine but be ready for if it’s not.”

“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst?” June offered.

“Yeah, that.”

“So… what do you want to do?” Igneous asked the group.

They all exchanged looks.

“Uh… invite her… over?” Darrell suggested. “Just as, like, a friendly gesture. Tell her a little about the world, but not… I don’t know. Politics? What kind of information could she even use against us?”

“Political structure, geography,” Igneous began.

“Geography?” Frost echoed.

“If you’re going to invade you need to know the lay of the land,” Igneous explained.

“Okay!” Darrell put his hands up. “Let’s just invite her over for lunch or something.”

[contnues here]

[armsdealing]

TAGGED: i think it was @overlourdes​ so thank you! TAGGING: @undones​ (your pick) @apearlwrites​ (luisa) @neotropical​ (ivy) @starrdew​ (christie or anyone u’d like) @isolctions​ (veda) @streetsofsecrets​ (louis) + im tired, tag urself.

LAYER ONE : THE OUTSIDE

NAME -  isla meredith blackwell EYE COLOUR -  brown HAIR STYLE / COLOUR -  isla usually opts for protective hairstyles, wigs and hairpieces. she’s got a preference long dark blonde locks and wearing it in loose waves. (see here), but she’s got a nice collection of various shades and lengths and she always enjoys looking for new ones.   HEIGHT -  5′9″. 6′0 with when wearing her four inch heels. CLOTHING STYLE - i mean... when she isn’t rocking that medical couture? she likes a bit of variety. outside of her scrubs and comfortable shoes and lab coats, she likes to dress to the occasion, but always stylish. often it’s down to a nice pairs of jeans and a blouse. peplum tops, halter tops, sweaters (and turtlenecks), coats... i wouldn’t say they’re normally expensive clothes, but they look well cared for and quality. and she does have a few pieces that she’s proud of... like a pink satin duster. and now that we mention pink, she’s into a lot of colors, and that includes pastels. and while she does like to wear dresses, she doesn’t get many chances to. much like the wigs, she’s got a diverse wardrobe. clothes and dressing up is something she enjoys doing, when she’s got the time for it. since she often doesn’t, it’s not uncommon for her to just throw on sweatpants and a hoodie when she’s got to run to the grocery store. but like, nobody actually ever sees her doing that, so they just assume she’s got two moods: the scrubs, or really well dressed, until proven otherwise. BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE - she’s long legs with very strong thighs, and she likes her lips too. the former, coupled with her posture, makes her look statuesque.

LAYER TWO : THE INSIDE

FEARS -  losing the clinic, either due to money troubles or just the general mayhem that goes on in the neighborhood. losing patients is always a fear, and she gathers it’s a healthy one; it keeps her attentive.  GUILTY PLEASURE -  sugar in general. she likes to bake. and it’s perfectly fine to eat cookies at 2 am if you’ve been awake since 4 am from the previous day, in her opinion. BIGGEST PET PEEVE -  people who rip out their iv drips thinking that they’re in a movie and nothing will happen. that thing isn’t just in some random part of your body. it’s directly pinching a blood vessel. you’re gonna bleed. sometimes a lot. if you don’t care about yourself, at least mind the nurse’s time cleaning up after you. in general, people that hate hospitals and take it out on her + the med staff in general really get on her nerves, even if she’s trained to remain civil and calm.  AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE - making the clinic grow and for the neighborhood to thrive. maybe to the degree that she can take a little break... she’s been working nonstop for quite some time. that being said, only god can tell if she’ll actually take the break once she’s able to. she’s addicted to the job. feels useless when she’s not there. in 2020 she’d also like to get into the dating scene again.... but you didn’t hear that from me.

LAYER THREE : THOUGHTS

FIRST THOUGHTS UPON WAKING UP: "coffee.” WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT MOST:  the patients currently under her care. money. the weird individuals occasionally standing in the street looking at her come in and out of the clinic. books. the various administrative errands she’s got to tend to.  WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED: if she did everything she could.  WHAT YOUR BEST QUALITY IS: the determination, the kindness, the dedication. she really embodies the hippocratic oath. especially the 2019 update.

LAYER FOUR : WHAT’S BETTER ?

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES -  single.  TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED - to be loved properly. respect just so happens to be a requirement, in that case. BEAUTY OR BRAINS - she prefers values. DOGS OR CATS -  dogs.

LAYER FIVE : DO YOU…

LIE - not often. BELIEVE IN YOURSELF - on most days. BELIEVE IN LOVE -  sure. WANT SOMEONE -  in the general sense? sure.

LAYER SIX : EVER BEEN …

BEEN ON STAGE: she’s been on podiums and has had to make speeches at fundraisers. DONE DRUGS: yes, when she was younger. weed for the most part. CHANGED WHO YOU WERE TO FIT IN: not so much because she wanted to fit in, but because she wanted to be safe. following nasty responses from peers when she was a tween, she stuck to looking and acting like people wanted her to look and act up. this lasted for several years and it was around the time she was 27 that she began to present how she wanted to, which was more femininely. from that point to now it was a gradual process.

LAYER SEVEN : FAVORITES

FAVOURITE COLOR - purple FAVOURITE ANIMAL - rabbits FAVOURITE MOVIE - probably something dumb like 1993′s homeward bound. FAVOURITE GAME - words with friends.

LAYER EIGHT : AGE

DAY YOUR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE - august 28. #she’s a virgo. HOW OLD WILL YOU BE -  i’m not answering that. AGE YOU LOST YOUR VIRGINITY - 17. DOES AGE MATTER -  yes.

LAYER NINE : IN A PERSON

BEST PERSONALITY - kind, patient, resourceful, loyal. BEST EYE COLOUR - brown BEST HAIR COLOUR - brown or black. BEST THING TO DO WITH A PARTNER - just being around each other works. talking, reading in silence together, cooking, cuddling in bed, sex, etc. 

LAYER TEN : FINISH THE SENTENCE

I LOVE - “abed.” that’s a friend of hers and colleague. I FEEL - “tired.” I HIDE - “nothing.” I MISS - “my mother.” I WISH - “things will get better.”