#where the entirety of my office was in vacation

[ash-and-starlight]

and with these two last entries my @zukkathirst weekend draws to an end, thank you so so much for the enthusiasm and partecipation on this event <33 you can find the full pics 💦👅👉 HERE also the second pic is inspired by @ranilla-bean's showstopping fic "In Flammam Flammas", i highly recommend giving it a read if you havent already (... or a re-read if u have!)

and here's my bingo filled out dkfjg

i think those two columns could win me at LEAST a new moka

[thedisablednaturalist]

My theory on why people have mid life crisises:

I think in the first part of our lives, when we are young, we spend a lot of time waiting. Waiting for the weekend, waiting for our birthday, waiting for our favorite holiday, waiting for vacation, waiting for finals to be over etc. Time seems to go by faster because we have taught ourselves to wait to enjoy things. We want the hard stuff to be over quickly so we can get to the good stuff. The good stuff being rare for the working class as we spend most of our time, well, working! And in our young adult years working is especially awful bc we have to prove our worth, don't usually have great benefits like vacation time, have to take more hours, and any free time we get we have to spend on adult responsibilities. So instead of being present, we turn our brains off and try to live in the future. And once we get to that future it goes by super fast because we've been living in it for a long time already. And especially for people who are working (and not still in college), life starts moving really fast. So in your middle twenties through your forties you're on that grind, years pass as you go to different jobs, move up the ladder, etc. And once you finally reach a point where you are stable and can afford more expensive things, go on vacation more often, take long weekends and actually enjoy your free time cause you can afford paying people to take some of the responsibilities off your shoulders, you start living in the present again. And then you realize oh shit! Look how much time has gone by. And I spent it all suffering compared to now! I'm already halfway through I gotta make the most of every moment! I can't believe I didn't do all these things I wanted to do! And then they get an expensive car, try out different clothes, because they are afraid to live in the present. Now they want to live in an idealized past. They don't want to live in the future because that's closer to The End.

Its probably different for people who aren't middle class American office workers. And I've noticed that most of the time, the ones who get mid life crisises are middle age, upper middle-class, American men! Correct me if I'm wrong but you don't hear much about it in different cultures, at least not in the same way. People may be sad they aren't young anymore but they aren't having a Midlife Crisis (TM). But even that stems from the same core issue of being afraid of running out of time.

If humans were able to make the most of every day, to not always be waiting for the weekend or for vacation or important events, I think time would go by slower, or at least we'd feel more satisfied with the time we've spent. But our society has to change to one where people can be doing what makes them happy, and they don't have to worry about survival. People can quit jobs they aren't happy with, people don't have to work if they don't want to or can't, people can access medicine and transportation easily.

These are just some thoughts I've had while driving, please take it with a grain of salt I'm not an expert. This is also from my point of view and does not encapsulate the entirety of the human experience.

[romaritimeharbor]

🚨🚨🚨🚨 WEE WOO WEE WOO WEE WOO NEW HONKAI OC ALERT NEW HONKAI OC ALERT‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

the mysterious and elusive foxian woman who frequents in aurum alley, specifically delicacy pavilion. though she is a regular in the pavilion, not a single soul is aware of her name aside from short auntie— but even then, ‘blossom’ was never her real name. blossom’s ears never stop moving as she is always listening, hyper-aware of all that is happening around her.

blossom has caught the eyes of numerous denizens within the luofu, yet each attempt to learn more about this secretive foxian is met with disastrous results or outright failure. cycranes immediately go haywire at the mere sight of this foxian, and she avoids social interaction with the xianzhou natives like a plague, hence why most come up empty-handed when trying to uncover blossom’s identity.

moreover, her footsteps are quick, agile and light, making little to no sound. it often allows her to slip away from most situations where social interaction is superfluous or unnecessary. once you take your eyes off blossom, she leaves with but a phantom of her presence—almost enough to make one question if she was even there to begin with. (observant civilians have noticed that blossom has been spotted in more than one place in the xianzhou, but merely chalked it up to blossom’s naturally light and quick feet.)

though it is rumored that blossom is a judge of the ten-lords commission, this was proven to be false. unbeknownst to the locals, blossom is the head of the entirety of the ten-lords commission; having established the ten unpardonable sins, ensuring that the cycranes do not capture the images of the judges, and responsible for all the decisions and affairs within the ten-lords commission. she later reveals that the ‘blossoms’ that are scattered across the luofu are what one would describe as phantoms; mere apparitions in her image that are tasked with watching over the luofu and report all that they have seen and heard on a daily basis, whereas the real blossom is holed up in her office, as busy and occupied as ever.

the real blossom is a person with little to no free time. and as such, she is constantly swarmed with work and watching over the luofu through her trusty phantoms. due to her position leaving no room for social interaction outside of work purposes, blossom does not understand most social cues and takes things — such as sarcasm, jokes and idioms — far too literally than she’s supposed to, thereby stirring up a lot of internal confusion for the foxian. and because of that, despite her reserved and calm expression, as well as her general ability to handle various situations with stride and class, blossom does worry about her communication skills as she is not well-versed in the emotions and feelings of others.

when faced with sarcasm in a casual setting (which is not very often), she immediately resorts to sincere apologies, feeling deeply ashamed as though she has offended the person that she’s speaking to as it was never her intention to do so. blossom has proven herself to be rather awkward outside of work, but ever since the astral express crew arrived on the xianzhou luofu, she’s been making slow but meaningful efforts to understand present-day society. with the help of a certain cloud knight general, of course.

ah my socially awkward baby. i love her sm shes a sweetheart 🫶🫶🫶

HELL YEAHHHHH NEW HSR OC 🗣🗣🗣❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️ i love her!!!!! she is so real btw social cues are so hard. real asf for that 😔🙏 she is so silly. i think she needs a vacation. or a break idk. either one would work!

[autumnalwalker]

Empty Names Masterpost

I'll be updating this post with links as I post chapters. The intent is that everything I write for this project will be posted here to read in its entirety.

Also mirrored on Scribble Hub: (Main Story, Side Stories)

Cast list is below the "Keep reading" line.

Pitch:

A trans woman accidentally summons a demon while trying to DIY her transition with magic and computers...

A young wizard returns to Earth after his adventure in a magical otherworld only to realize you can never truly go home again once you've changed too much...

A teenage girl gets stood up for prom, kills a lake monster, and spends the next decade hunting down things that go bump in the night...

An assassin marries an immortal sorceress and allows the rumors that he murdered her to flourish once she disappears...

A world-hopping adventurer sees the potential in all of them and asks if they're interested in helping make the world a better place.

"Empty Names" is an episodic urban fantasy series about a group of misfits fighting monsters and grappling with existential questions regarding the interplay of reality, perception, and identity.

Genre: Urban Fantasy

Summary: Road, an adventurer with a penchant for jumping between different worlds tries to set up the sort of adventurers' guild so common in sword & sorcery setting in a modern day urban fantasy world where "adventurer" isn't considered a legitimate profession and magic and the supernatural are kept behind the scenes and out of public knowledge. The story is told from the points of view of the people that get roped into being the initial test run adventuring party but never Road's.

Update Schedule: Once or twice a month, depending on chapter length. New chapters get posted on Saturdays, when they're ready.

Overall Content Warnings: Genre-typical violence, gender dysphoria, anxiety, occasional mild body horror, death. I'll update this list as more is written and if anyone points something out to me that I should have included a warning for and missed. In general though, I aim to try to keep this approximately PG-13-ish, but we'll see where this all goes over time. Individual chapters have more specific content warnings at the top of the post with anything likely to be distressing below the "Keep reading" line.

Current Status: Rough Draft (just throwing things up as I write them with minimal review or editing)

I'm primarily viewing this project as practice for moving out of my comfort zone and doing more traditional prose with proper dialogue and action scenes and such rather than the journal format that I've been doing with @thearchivistsjournal. The original plan was to write a few sort of prologue/character introduction chapters and then mostly do a series of one-shots with the same setting and cast based on whatever random idea or writing prompt strikes my fancy that week, but as time goes on it's starting to verge more toward "continuous narrative". Time will tell how it eventually winds up I suppose.

Chapter List:

Hello World

Back From The Looking Glass

Dance Partners

Prince In Gold

Rite of First Refusal

Background Checks

Compilation

En Route

Test Run

Cleanup

Afterparty

Houseguests

Open Office

Down Low

Matters of Technique

Mall Rats

Embedded Media

Mom Energy

Shire

Changeling Child

Old Flame

Leads

Compression

Nostalgia

Euphoria (coming sometime in May 2024)

Love

Attention

Concern

Side Stories:

Scenes that don't fit well into the main story. They might come before it, focus on side characters, or just be conversations between the main cast during downtime.

There Are No Dogs At The Dog Park: Every full moon Eris does some volunteer work. Set a couple years before the main plot, shortly after Eris and Lacuna met and started hanging out.

Once Upon A Time...: A bedtime story by Sullivan Bridgewood.

Pop Quiz: A younger Ashan not-yet-Glassheart gets a refresher on terminology.

The Sphinx And The Spider: Two first-time interdimensional tourists run into trouble on vacation. (Coming when I get the motivation back to return to this one)

A Shining Shallow Sea: They say the Sorceress Bridgewood never gave a gift which she didn’t benefit from the giving. (More of a loose idea at the moment than an in-progress story)

Non-Canon AU:

I suppose at this point you could call it writing shipping fan fiction of my own work.

2023 Pride Month Drabble Challenge: A series of dialogue snippets from an alternate universe/timeline where Eris and Lacuna avoided ever learning about the existence of the supernatural, wound up meeting anyway, and became a couple instead of (or perhaps in addition to) best friends.

Core Cast:

Road:

The experienced adventurer and idealist who started this whole venture.

Very much the iconic "hero" archetype. Brave, strong, kind, strict "no killing" policy, etc.

The kind of person that you quickly feel like you're best friends with and can count on and share anything with, but then several months or even years down the line it occurs to you that you don't actually know anything about their personal life.

Humor/Color Scheme: Balanced

Sullivan Bridgewood:

Road's best friend since childhood and the only one who knows that under their heroic persona they're about one really bad day from an emotional breakdown at any given time.

Married for power and money and is using that money to bankroll this adventurers' guild startup operation. May or may not have killed his wife.

Kind of an asshole, but reins it in when Road's around for their sake.

Humor/Color Scheme: Choleric

Lacuna:

A trans woman whose introduction to the existence of the supernatural was a failed attempt to magically get a new body that resulted in a demon trying to eat her, and then being rescued by Road.

Now works with an unholy combination of applying AI-generated art algorithms and principles to create custom magic glyphs.

A walking embodiment of imposter syndrome, who vacillates between "I am a mad genius!" and "I have no idea what I'm doing and really am not qualified for any of this."

Humor/Color Scheme: Melancholic

Eris:

The team's physical powerhouse and heavy hitter. A veritable brick wall of supernaturally-reinforced muscle.

Survived a scenario out of a C-list monster movie as a teenager, enjoyed the experience more than she reasonably should have, and has spent the past decade since then as a semi-professional monster hunter.

Has sort of taken Lacuna under her wing as the younger sister she never had but always wanted. In spite of Lacuna being the older of the two.

Humor/Color Scheme: Sanguine

Ashan Glassheart:

Already went through the whole "little kid from Earth goes on an adventure in a magic otherworld and becomes a wizard" hero's journey/bildungsroman routine before this story even started. Except he was gone long enough that once he finally returned home there wasn't anything to come back to. Does a convincing job of pretending it doesn't bother him.

Mostly focuses on barriers, wards, bindings, and other such defensive techniques with his magic.

Actually doesn't mind all that much when strangers mistake him for a woman. Minds a little bit though when people call his wizard robes a dress. Minds a lot when people mistake his outfit for cosplay.

Humor/Color Scheme: Phlegmatic

[viiridiangreen]

Grumbling bc Normie Girlypop from work mentioned me on a Completely Unnecessary Congratulatory Email to all participants in a recent CorpoEvent she helped organise. She thanked / congratulated me on delivering a good result on the animated slideshow that they INEXPLICABLY had me do IN MS OFFICE POWER POINDT (???!?!??!?!?!). I don't think she has like Beef or meant anything by it tbh. Butttt the way she went abt it is like Nails On Chalkboard Cringe Lvl to me lol.

She fully went "congratulations on figuring it out even though YOU HAD NO IDEA!!" and i'm like.................

GIRL i had PLENTY OF IDEA!!! I KNOW how to make a basic ass slideshow animation lmao. It only ended up taking my whole week PLUS the entirety of my Saturday bc I was swamped beyond belief bc the one other designer at this thousand employee company was taking his first weeklong vacation in an aeon, and it coincided with the absolute busiest we've been the whole year, and that only happened bc aReA lEaDeRs could only be arsed to mention they wanted an animation two weeks before the hard deadline for it, even though the event had been in planning for MONTHS.

I could only use one of those weeks to put it together it bc the other one was completely taken up by ANOTHER heavy ass presentation that also **HAD TO** be done in powerpoint & not dedicated design software from the full adobe suite they pay out the ass for every year... (bc the engineers get upset if their sales materials are static pdfs instead of editable files :( bc they want to be able to mess with the designs directly sooooo bad, if they can't deform & misplace & generally fuck shit up to their heart's content before showing it to clients they get Big Mad)

IN ADDITION to those two presentations, I was constantly interrupted by nonsensical requests, like ppl saying they "only wanted me to send over the logo of a company we're collaborating with in vector format" so they could DO MY DESIGN WORK FOR ME, "just" substitute it somewhere..... ofc it turned out that they thought they could sub out the logo on a banner that was embedded as a flat jpg within a word document. Like I didn't even know where to begin to explain why they were wrong & it wasn't just a matter of sending over a couple vector file attachments lmao. And all this only happened bc the materials for THAT project that the senior designer left perfectly arranged and pristine were useless bc they gave him the wrong logo to work with due to miscommunication.

After dealing w/ that I had to try and refocus my attention onto the larger task at hand. But inevitable another Teams chat / email / Whatsapp message would drop 10mins later. I don't struggle so much with focusing as with Re-Focusing, interrupting a task then getting back right to where I left off is a fucking Obscure Arcane Art that I struggle with sosososomuch

...

like overall none of it was difficult bc I didn't know my shit. there were some things i hadn't done before but the technical aspects of it were easily googleable. it was difficult and frustrating and ate into time meant for me to rest bc the higher ups can't fuckin talk to each other lmao. AND she implied i didn't know my shit in an email addressed to those higher ups too. like... way to lowkey insult me as a professional and let irresponsible management off the hook in the same move lol.

i just. i'm really trying not to be petty or bitchy or whatever abt this but. i guess i just don't appreciate her praising the effort i put in as if it was me overcoming my own """ignorance""" or lack of experience or whatever... instead of me coming thru & taking on extra hours that i won't be directly compensated for, despite the absolute lack of effective communication at the company LMAO

[sawyerquinnbrown]

Writing sample -- Space Team Go!

Here's a sample of one of my comedic published plays, Space Team Go! The description: Space Leader Grizelda Braithwaite, Space First Officer Keem, and Space Officer Expendable are sent on a dangerous mission to recover a space diplomat – or is he a space prince? – from his kidnapping by the Big Dipper Syndicate. Along the way they encounter any number of obstacles, hula hoops, and also bananas. Many, many bananas. This outer-space comedy is loosely based on a certain beloved 50+-year-old sci-fi franchise.

And here's the sample, I hope you enjoy!

EXPENDABLE. I gotta carry on the Expendable name.

KEEM. Family legacy?

EXPENDABLE. Yeah, the Expendables go way back in SOC. The latest was Aunt Rita Expendable. Well, when I say “latest” I mean “late.” As in, she died. Last month.

KEEM. I’m so sorry.

EXPENDABLE. Don’t be. She died a hero. A cave collapsed on her.

KEEM. Did she get everyone else out, at least?

EXPENDABLE. What? Oh, no, she was in there alone.

EXPENDABLE. (Continued.) She had a sonic cannon; I think she was playing with it. Say, you’re from the planet [gibberish noise], aren’t you?

KEEM. Yes.

EXPENDABLE. I went there once with my parents on vacation. I almost got killed by a space moth. It was awesome.

(Space Leader enters, looking pissed off. The crew snaps to attention when they see her, and she visibly steels herself and puts on a smile.)

SPACE LEADER. Ahh, my old stomping grounds, Telly Port Port 17 ¼! I hope you’re feeling perky, Space Team Quinceañera!

KEEM. Yes, ma’am!

SPACE LEADER. Excellent! Well, let’s calibrate our space multi-tools and then I’ll brief you on the mission.

(All take out their bananas.)

KEEM. Communicator.

(All shift their multi-tool bananas to hold them in the same direction. They press a ‘button’ and make noises to indicate that their communicators are connected.)

KEEM. (Continued.) Scanner.

(Keem and Space Leader hold their bananas the same way, but Expendable is holding his wrong.)

SPACE LEADER. Whoa! Careful, Space Officer.

(Keem adjusts Expendable’s grip.)

SPACE LEADER. (Continued.) That could’ve resulted in a nasty accident. Don’t want to think you’re holding your scanner but you’re really holding your space gun.

EXPENDABLE. Thanks, Space Leader. That would’ve spelled disaster, for sure. Now I’ll know to hold it the right way.

KEEM. Right. Scanner. (They all wave their bananas around as if scanning and make scanning noises with their mouths.) Space gun. (All adjust and Keem forces Expendable’s hand down.) Pointed down for safety.

EXPENDABLE. Got it. Yup. Safety. My middle name. After my great-grandfather, Safety Expendable.

KEEM. Did he live up to his name?

EXPENDABLE. No, he was killed on an alien planet by something that looked like black tar, after flagrantly violating safety regulations. But I promise, Space Leader, I don’t take after him!

SPACE LEADER. Thank you for your candidness. Now before we leave, Space Officer Expendable, I notice you’re not wearing your Expedition shirt.

EXPENDABLE. Oh, uh, they said the new uniforms were supposed to be green, so I—

SPACE LEADER. We’re going on a potentially dangerous mission. We need you in your Expedition shirt, Space Officer. Now.

EXPENDABLE. Yes, ma’am!

(Expendable runs offstage and comes back on tugging a red shirt on over his green uniform top.)

SPACE LEADER. Much better, thank you.

---

If you enjoyed, I would love for you to check out the complete play on Next Stage Press, where you can read the entirety of the first act, and if you love it, purchase your very own copy for your bookshelf!

If you'd like to help me keep writing, you can buy me a Ko-fi, or subscribe to my blog on Wordpress. Thanks for reading!

[foreversecrets]

Uncompromising

Chapter 3 Determination

Steve Rogers x OC (Emma Dotson)

Summary: His brother's had lost everything in his life he ever cared about, so Steve being the kind soul he is decides to take an extended vacation from the Avengers to help Andy get back on his feet. He didn't intend on finding his true mate in the process.

"Babydoll, there is no reason to be nervous,” Steve pulls Emma’s apart from where she’d been twisting and pulling at them in her lap. Bruce and Helen had taken samples early this morning from both of them and been running tests all day to give their thoughts on the possibility of them conceiving. 

She hadn’t been able to sit still since Bruce called and asked them both to return. Doesn’t help that she’s been nervous about meeting the rest of his brothers tomorrow night for dinner. The pressure is on not only for the future of potential offspring but the future of themselves. When Steve explained why the rule was put in place requiring the brothers approval before he could give her his mating mark she was understanding but now she was beyond nervous. If he’s being honest, he is nervous too. The idea that his brothers could refuse him the opportunity to claim his mate nearly sends him into a fury but he keeps calm knowing he needs to focus on Emma right now. It's her emotions that are barely under control at the moment. 

“Bruce said he’d met us here, what if-”

“Don’t do that,” he kisses her to silence her. In the past six months they have been dating he has learned the greatest enemy to their relationship is her getting in her own head and overthinking things. “Everything is going to be alright.”

“I just,” Emma sighs heavily before meeting his eyes. “I have wanted kids all my life and finding out how dangerous it would be, its something I never fully accepted and then you came along and-”

“Nothing is going to change between us, there are other ways we can have kids. But regardless you aren’t alone this time and you never will be again.”

“What if you brothers refused our bonding?”

“It won’t end our relationship, if anything I will go out of my way to advertise it until I whittle them down into giving their blessing.”

“You plan on annoying them into conceding?” she laughed. The sound was a nice balm for the anxiety he too was feeling. Both of them had the same dream but Steve couldn’t let his emotions dictate their day, it didn't matter if they received good or bad news he was going to make today one to be remembered for the happiness of it. Whether it be in celebration or as a distraction.

The door to Bruce’s office swung open and both him and Helen exited with fully masked emotions on their faces. Emma expected herself to be the impatient one jumping the doctors for an answer but her super soldier boyfriend was faster than herself. He stood approaching them quickly leaving Emma to trail a few steps behind. 

“So?” Steve urged. 

“We are 97% certain the DNA passed on from Steve will pass to the fetus.” Bruce started.

“And the other 3%?” Emma’s voice had been so quiet, almost fearful. 

“The 3% chance his enhanced abilities are not passed on, you can still carry to term.” Helen gave her a comforting smile. 

“But my OB said I couldn’t.” Emma remarked.

“Your OB doesn’t have state of the art technology to assist you during pregnancy. Now I’m not saying it would be easy, you would spend the entirety of the pregnancy under observation with strict restrictions to your diet and activity but I am equipped to help you bring a child into this world.”

Emma launched herself at the doctor hugging her tightly but Steve wasn’t convinced just yet. He looked to Bruce who tried to provide reassurance.

“Some things aren’t easy but that just makes them all the more precious when we obtain them.”

“Nothing is worth the life of my mate,” Steve growled, not meaning to be threatening but the idea of losing Emma was unbearable. 

“We found no danger to Emma for either process and were able to calculate the best time to conceive would be in two weeks during your next heat.” Helen explained to Emma, completely ignoring Steve as if his opinion in this matter was irrelevant.

“Oh um,” Emma rubbed the back of her neck looking at Steve.

“We were going to use that time to exchange bond marks.” Steve’s checks flush pink as he explains. 

“Two birds one stone,” Bruce tried to joke but when no one laughed he cleared his throat. “We can run more tests when you're ready to determine when it would be best.”

“Thank you for all your help, you have no idea what this means to me,” Emma sighed, moving over to Steve to take his hand. “what this means to us.”

The wide smile Steve gave Emma as they met each other's gaze left no doubt in Bruce or Helen’s mind that these two were true mates. Bruce as a Beta had never grasped the concept but now seeing it, he could only hope all his friends could find theirs. Helen looked on, hoping she’d find her Alpha one day and that he was at least half the man of the moral man before. 

“We are extremely grateful and will be in touch as things develop.” Steve promised before the two were on their way. 

🩹🩹🩹

Steve did not want to host dinner, he knew Emma’s nerves were going to be haywire all day but cooking seemed to ease the tension in her shoulders. Even more so when Steve put on some music and joined her in preparing the meal. They worked well together, maneuvering throughout his kitchen as if they’d been cooking together their whole lives. Though she kept pausing in her task to ask about dietary needs and allergies of his brothers; even though it was far too late to worry about that. He’d distract her by wrapping his arms around her waist, dragging her back to his chest and nuzzling on her gland in a playful way he knew tickled her. Not stopping until she was pleading nearly out of breath for him to stop. The doorbell rang just as she was pulling the pasta out of the oven, she almost dropped it as the noise and anxiety reminded her how important tonight was to their future. 

“I’ll get it,” he placed a kiss to the top of her head and disappeared into the other room.

Emma placed the pasta on the dining room table in the open place setting and took a deep breath, gripping one of the chairs. “Everything is going to be alright,” she told herself. “Bucky adores you and Andy was the one who really pressed the relationship in the first place.” But Bucky wasn’t going to be here tonight, as close as him and Steve were, Bucky wasn’t part of the brothers therefore his blessing only mattered emotionally for her and Steve. “It's going to be okay.” 

“It really will be, promise.” Andy surprised her, entering to give her a gentle hug. It only distracted her from the voices in the living room for a moment. “Everyone can already see the change in Steve. I gave the two of you my approval before this was even official, Ari will adore you as well. Ransom couldn’t care less, he’ll agree just to get us off his back. It's Lloyd you’ll have to worry about but I’ve had your cooking before and Lloyd’s a big foodie. The moment he takes a bite of dinner he’ll be asking you to go home with him instead.” 

“Doubtful,” a man similar looking to the rest of the brothers but with an amusing mustache entered the room. “So you’re the sugar plum that’s got Stevie Boy so tame?” Lloyd reached over and grabbed a greenbean from the table, taking a bite as he studied her, taking in her scent and appearance before looking over to Andy. “Alright you might be onto something.”

Emma let out an exhausted but amused sigh, shaking her head playfully as Lloyd sat to the left of the head chair. Normally when it was just her and Steve that would be her chair but proper edidcate dedicated she would be across the table from him instead. Andy moved to the right of the head chair smiling widely at her before shoting Lloyd an amused glance. Emma watched as Lloyd reached for a breadroll but she reacted before thinking, slapping his hand gently to stop him. 

“Wait for everyone else,” she scolded. The approval on Andy’s face and the amusement on Lloyd’s reassured her she hadn’t overstepped. Steve had told her this was her home as well, that it was important she acted like the women of the house especially in front of his pack. It would ease them into accepting her easier but part of her still felt guilty for having slapped Lloyd instead of using her voice.

“I see Lloyd’s already gotten in trouble.” another of the brothers entered, this one with shoulder length soft looking hair. Emma was entranced by a strong desire to run her fingers through it emerging. He moved to her and wrapped her in a hug before taking a step back and introducing himself. “I’m Ari.”

“Nice to meet you Ari.” she smiled, blushing a little and the attention. 

“Don’t,” a growl from Steve at the doorway with the last brother she assumed to be Ransom. The scowl on his face was unlike any she’d previously seen. “She is mine , Ari.”

“Steven,” she snapped, all eyes turning to her. “I am not an object and I will not let you start a pissing contest during what you promised me would be a nice evening.”

“Well she’s got my approval,” Ransom smirked, entering to take a seat beside Lloyd at the table. Both men nodded, their amusement rising when Steve approached her like a kicked puppy and looked at her with sad eyes.

“Babydoll-”

“Don’t Steve.”

His pout deepened until she placed a quick kiss to his chin. His arms moved as if he was going to pull her in for more but she was quicker and sat in her seat without his assistance, further dropping his pout. She gave him a reassuring smile as he rounded the table to sit in his seat, Ari sitting besides Andy on Emma’s right. Emma looked over to Ransom with a nervous smile, Andy had told her she should be worried about Lloyd but all the stories Steve had told her, had her  more worried about Ransom. It had been Ransom who had protested Andy and Laurie’s mating the most, though Steve confided that it was done in private between the two of them. The others didn’t know because Steve kept it a secret, worried that Ransom’s pride would be hurt if such care was revealed. Apparently Ransom was still learning to genuinely care about other people after the shit show that was his true biological family. With that care came distrust towards strangers and a bar too high for Emma to reach; at least that’s how she felt. 

“I’m Emma,” she held her hand out to Ransom, the table falling silent as all eyes fell on Ransom who only stared at her hand.

“I already gave me a blessing princess, you don’t have to try so hard,” Ransom growled, reaching for the wine to fill his glass. 

“Ransom!” Steve snapped.

“No Steve, it's alright. I can be a little much and I’ll be honest, I’ve been more bubbly and overbearing lately. I apologize for Ransom.”

Ransom only rolled his eyes but the table began loading up their plates.

“Steve’s been the same way lately.” Ari noted.

“We received some good news recently and it had a giddy effect on us,” Steve smiled like a little kid having just been giving everything he’d ever asked for. His brothers simply stared him down waiting for him to elaborate. 

“Honey, don’t leave them hanging,” Emma laughed as she began digging into her plate. 

“Emma and I are compatible for conceiving pups.”

Smiles and cheers erupted from the brothers, Emma knew they were aware of her failures and had worries that would be a source of contention for them. So learning that Steve and her could, she felt a little relieved that their problems wouldn’t be with her brokenness, which meant most any reason for them to reject her was something she would most likely work on to improve herself. 

“Then you have my blessing as well.” Ari spoke up, the finally brother to give his blessing. While Emma’s worries and fears all melted away at that news, Steve’s temper flared.

“Were you really going to deny me my true mate if we couldn’t have a kid?” Steve growled, he shot Emma a look when he sensed her about to protest. She bowed her head in submission, her sadness seeping into her scent, he’d make it up to her later, for now he had to deal with Ari.

“Yes.”

“Seriously Ari?” Andy looked at his brother in bewilderment. 

“All Steve has ever wanted was kids of his own, it's the one thing he wants most in this world. If she is unable to give that to him, I couldn’t participate in denying him his desires.” Ari explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Please don’t be upset with Ari,” the sad omega voice had all the alphas in the room turning to look at her, their base instincts telling them to comfort her. “His reasons are the same reason why I tried to reject our connection in the first place, Steve. I would never want to be the reason you couldn’t achieve the things you wanted.”

“Alright, we get it, you're perfect for each other! Can we please eat now?” Lloyd shouted, making Emma laugh, her amusement inflating his head slightly as the other alphas relaxed to resume their meals.

The rest of the evening passed ‘normally’ as Steve put it. Ari and Ransom get in a drinking competition spurred on by Lloyd’s pestering of both men, while Steve and Andy try to cut them off. But Emma was having a great time seeing the drunk versions of both men, Ransom was a cuddler who wouldn’t stop touching her much to Steve’s annoyance, while Ari was a cocky drunk coming up with dangerous tasks for himself to achieve that the sober men refused to let him accomplish. By the time everyone was ready to turn in for the night, Ransom was passed out in Emma’s lap and Ari was practically beind carried out to Andy’s car by Andy and Lloyd. 

“Alright, get the hell out of my house Ransom,” Steve ordered, kicking Ransom gently. 

“Why don’t you carry him up to the guest room?” Emma suggested.

“No, he is going to be an asshole in the morning,” Steve picked Ransom up off of her and passed him to Andy and Lloyd who’d reentered the house. “Besides, we have their blessings now, I plan on claiming you tonight that way,” he bent and began pressing kisses to her lips between words. “We. can. Use. you’re. Heat. to. Conceive.” 

“Steven,” she giggled, wiggling out from under him and heading to the stairs. “Tell you what, you catch me before I get to our bathroom you can do that but if I get to the bathroom, no sex until my heat.” she laughed running up the stairs before he could protest. 

She made the deal knowing he’d catch her, he was literally enhanced to be faster than her but she knew he loved the playful game of chase they played. He caught her just as she reached the top step, wrapped his arms under her legs and carried her the rest of the way to their bedroom bridal style. Not letting her get too far away when he plopped her down on their bed.

“You’re getting cocky omega, ordering me around, denying me my spoils.” his voice had dropped in a low seductive tone. 

“I have to keep my alpha in line,” she giggled when her words earned her smack to her rear. Both their faces turned serious and she knew what he was going to ask even before he opened his mouth. “Yes Steve, I want you too.”

“Lay back omega, let me get you ready.” he smirked as his head moved lower. “I promise you the rest of my life.”

🩹🩹🩹

“Well the two of you wasted no time, huh?” Tony Stark smirked seeing the married Rogers pair back in Bruce’s lab. “Only been married a week or so and already back from your honeymoon with a bun in the oven.”

Steve ignored Tony as he focused on Helen and Bruce, “She wasn’t feeling well, took a test and it came back positive. We were worried about being so far away so we came back as quickly as we could.”

“You said if the baby didn’t inherit the serum abilities from Steve I would need to be monitored closely throughout the pregnancy.” Emma rubbed her unchanged stomach as she spoke.

“I’m glad you heeded my warning,” Helen smiled but her gaze was focused on the test result in front of her. “You're about a month along.”

“And I just got the results back on the bloodwork, it looks like the baby takes after dad.” Bruce sighed relieved as the parents felt. 

Steve turned and picked his new wife up, spinning her around in his excitement. “We are going to have a healthy pup!”

“You did this for us Steve,” she whispered on his lips before kissing him deeply, not caring in the slightest about their audience. 

“I wouldn’t celebrate just yet, doesn’t this mean she’s going to be miserable for the next nine months?” Tony asked.

“Given the properties of the serum, there is some concern the pup could do internal damage which is why we want to monitor the development.” Bruce explained.

“We also believe your symptoms are going to be more intense than typical pregnancies, but I suspect Steve is going to be an overprotective alpha. So I don’t imagine you’ll be suffering alone.” Helen joked but Mr and Mrs. Rogers found themseleves too overjoyed to care. They were going to have a pup. Bonded for six months, married for only a week and now they were expecting their first kid. All of their dreams are coming true in less than a year despite a stubborn, broken omega.

[literaticat]

you're the best. can i ask you why are responses to queries sooo slow? im and MG author and it seems forever to get a response...I would think that coming out of a pandemic editors would be hungry for new material.

I'm going to be as calm as I possibly can be because I know this is probably a sincerely meant question, and you may be new, and you haven't seen the year+ worth of discourse about agents and editors and what is happening in the pandemic within the book industry (and that despite lots of people "coming out of a pandemic", for us, these things are still very much ongoing!). A brief Pandemic Publishing history, from my perspective:

March 2020. We realize that the "pandemic" is officially happening. The Bologna Book Fair is cancelled, travel is cancelled, everyone has to work from home, it's confusing, schools are closed, nobody has child-care. We expect this to last a couple of weeks.

April 2020. It does NOT last "a couple of weeks." Now just for background -- publishing is already an extremely slow process with a lot of lead time - like, we are currently selling/acquiring books for 2023/24 publication. So that means that when all this hit, there were lots of projects in the pipeline already, things that were in various stages of progress and were delayed in Spring/early Summer 2020. They were delayed at that time bc of the combined factors of: the pandemic shutting down everyone's office, not to mention schools, libraries and bookstores, which meant no place to SELL books -- PLUS there are layoffs -- PLUS there are printing/shipping/supply chain issues meaning problematic to make or ship books -- NOT TO MENTION, people getting sick and dying all over NYC, which is where most of US publishing is headquartered.

Early Summer 2020. Shaken, but rallying, all editors and the entirety of publishing are now getting used to working from home. There is a huge learning curve here -- publishing is very much a "face-to-face meetings" and "paper trail" kind of industry and *nothing* about the office life was really set up for remote work. (Most publishers didn't even used to allow DocuSign for contracts, we had to send multiple hard copies all over the country before the pandemic!) -- People learned how to work zoom, and did meetings virtually. They quickly realized that electronic contracts and payments are a blessing.

Now, there are still problems -- like, editors having to work from tiny flats with their children crawling all over them, and designers having to be at the kitchen table instead of, like, a whole studio with the proper lighting and every kind of material available, and contracts people having no files at their fingertips -- but hey, everyone is muddling through.

Of course - bookstores and the like are still closed, and there are still big supply chain issues - and that's a HUGE problem for the actual publication part. But on the agent/editor side, we are all working on future books, so that work simply has to continue, or there won't be any books two years from now!

Summer/Fall 2020. Everyone is absolutely scrambling like mad to do all the work that didn't get done in Spring. There is now a backlog of projects in the pipeline, but OK. Everyone is feeling quite literally traumatized by the things that have gone on, but OK. Some people are still recovering from having gotten sick themselves, or are mourning family lost to the disease. But OK.

This time is as busy as I have ever seen it, for everyone - pretty much a non-stop whirlwind of work. (Both because of the things that didn't get done before AND the fact that nobody can travel or do anything else!) -- There is also, to be honest, a lot of crying. We all desperately need a vacation, and it shows.

Winter 2020/2021. Now mind you -- Aside from that very very rough few months at the beginning, which was just a very confusing time -- books WERE coming out, and WE WERE ALL WORKING, selling, acquiring, creating new books. All of our authors were ALSO working and creating new books. MORE, in fact, because a lot of them were at home for the first time in a long time! But remember -- there's already a backlog, right? So, ALL of these new projects have been slowed/delayed both because of the pandemic, and the backlog of already existing projects, creating a larger backlog of existing projects. At this point we are running on fumes.

Spring/Summer 2021. We are slowly coming out of pandemic pandemonium in personal lives. People are getting vaccinated. It's great. Some people might actually get to go on vacation! Amazing! But it's not actually "normal" yet in publishing-world, because again, there's still that backlog, and everyone is STILL working from home, which is ok, but honestly, still makes things slower for a number of reasons, and look, everyone is just exhausted, okay? It's been a lot.

So anyway that's, in a ginormous nutshell, why you might find that editors and agents are not quite as "hungry" as you might want us to be coming out of a pandemic. IDK. We are just people, my friend.

ETA: I realized that this explainer was JUST pertaining to burnout because of what was happening IN-OFFICE. Combine ALL of this with what was happening in the real world -- like, for example, the horrific brutality against George Floyd and others, and the subsequent intense social justice rallying in Summer 2020 and beyond -- climate disasters, like California being ON FIRE -- a lot of *spicy drama* in the book world -- and A GINORMOUS FLIPPING PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION... yeah omg. I think there could literally be a book about this, but I can't write it or read it tbh.

ETA x 2: (AND I didn't even touch on the fact that a huge problem for everyone I know was A LACK OF ABILITY TO READ during the worst of this! Which as you can imagine is a huge problem for somebody whose job involves READING BOOKS. I mean seriously there were MONTHS where I could not get through a single book, and I know for a fact I'm not alone. I'm JUST getting the ability back and I'm still scared.)

[nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice]

I imagine Zuko at first being firelord is like, "okay we need to repay for all the shit we did as a nation, and change most of the awful laws and class curriculum, BUT I don't want to get overthrown or killed right away and cultural shock, so I will try to go slow with the reforms" 2 years later Zuko has realized that that one specific group of people who hate him and want the war is never get use to the peace "anyway, I declare the sun gay in this meating, everyone is dismiss"

In his first few years as Firelord, Zuko would in all probability have no clue what to do. Sure he has a lot of supporters, but within the Fire Nation inner circle (consisting of high ranking officers and rich people profiting from the war), there’s a lot going against him. They’re be so much on his plate and while the Fire Nation would have to start paying reparations and fixing everything, the first steps would be changing the entirety of the Fire Nation government makeup. But there’d still be people who wouldn’t take him seriously because he might be capable and have proven himself, but he’s still the ex-banished prince and a teenager in a lot of their eyes. 

So he’d spend the first couple years on edge, fighting with people who value their careers and profits over anything else and he would have to deal with so much slander. Sure, he’d have backup from Iroh and Aang, but there’d be so many people he just couldn’t please. 

One day he just gets tired of it all: the slow progress being made with reparations, the criticism coming from both sides that he's not making enough progress or he’s ignoring all the towns that depended on the war for their main income/job creation, and all the bs Fire Nation gossip about him being a teenager in over his head. Iroh recommends that he takes a break from it all. After all, he spent his adolescence on a hunt for the avatar and didn’t really get a chance to enjoy himself. And yes, there’s a lot that needs to be done, but he’s not going to be able to fix the world in any short amount of time and taking a break from it all doesn’t mean he’s neglecting his country. After all, what good is it to be Firelord if you can’t dictate your own schedule?

So Zuko takes a break for a couple of days. He takes a balloon and goes to an indeterminate location by himself. Just a few days by himself without having to fight with bureaucrats. He doesn’t take anyone with him and he doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going, mostly because he hasn’t entirely decided himself. 

He’s only gone for about a week, but the criticism mounds up. Governors and other members of the Fire Nation central government complain that the Firelord can’t really be serious about all his plans if he’s taking an impulsive vacation. Who does this kid think he is? They spend the week he’s gone doing as little work on Zuko’s plans as possible until they all get letters from Zuko requiring their presence at an important meeting concerning drafting a new Fire Nation constitution. The bureaucrats don’t take this seriously and plan to walk all over this child who acts like he knows better than them. 

They all arrive at the meeting and wait for the Firelord. He’s late walking in and they would make comments about the fact that he’s not only late, but has foregone formal Firelord attire in favor of casual wear, like a hooligan. But Zuko has come in with a new accessory that immediately makes everyone shut the fuck up. 

Zuko comes in with his arms full of several scrolls worth of first drafts of the new constitution and a dog-sized, red dragon sitting on his shoulders. The advisors, governors, and admirals are speechless. 

Zuko passes copies around the table and starts the meeting out by giving a bullet point list of the itinerary for the meeting. Before opening the floor to discussion on the first amendment he makes eye contact with a couple of his biggest critics and says, “please keep in mind that I have the final word on this document, but if anyone who thinks they have more authority than me is welcome to challenge me and my friend here to an Agni Kai.” 

[dandelionflower]

I saw on one of your post that said to send you prompts sooo... can I request A childhood friend AU either Felix or Marinette moves away and then reuniting in college in France at age 14 in Felix's school with the Quantic Kids.

It was a pretty normal day, which probably meant something was going to happen. If it wasn’t a normal day, something was bound to happen as well; life in Paris hadn’t been normal in months. It being a normal day meant that Marinette was late. Super late. Way, way, so very late she might as well be early for the next thing kind of late. So late that- (oh, she’s beginning to catch onto why she’s so late.)

She knew even as she was shoving toothpaste into her bag for Tikki and brushing her teeth with frosting (wait, switch that) that she would be late, and her erratic movements were enough to convince her parents to write her an excuse. Not that anyone could blame her; she had to deal with three akumas in one night. Three akumas. Who could blame her, or anyone for that matter, for being late when there were three emotionally-stunted teens each wreaking havoc upon the city? It was a wonder that anyone else got to class on time, except for Alya, who Marinette was pretty sure didn’t sleep.

Marinette kissed both parents goodbye, thanking them again for the excuse note. They shoved a box of pastries into her hands, as was their habit whenever she didn’t leave school fast enough.

They had done it since her first day at her new school, when she was tiny and frightened of new people; having the same best friend since birth would do that. Her father had shoved a box of macaroons in her arms and her mother placed a bracing arm on her back. They told her what to do and she tried her hardest to follow their instructions, standing up straight at the front of the class, introducing herself, and offering cookies. Unfortunately, that was the same day Chloe Bourgeois was joining public school, and compared to cookies, her offer of money to ten year-olds wasn’t all that effective. And Chloe was excellent at holding a grudge.

Of course, she ended up with friends: Alya, Nino, Adrien, and everyone in art class, but it was hard to go about her first couple years of school without anyone in her corner. Becoming Ladybug really gave her the boost of confidence she needed to break out of her shell and make new friends, and now she had a whole class full.

She stopped in the classroom to put her stuff away, pausing for a second to breathe. How was she out of shape? She’s Ladybug, for heavens’ sakes! Those three akumas really took it out of her. Luckily enough, she had gym class up next. (Can you hear the sarcasm?)

“Girl! Where have you been?” Alya smiled up at her from where she was stretching her hamstrings.

“Sorry Alya, slept in too much.” She fell into place beside her, choosing one of the more advanced stretches to accomplish instead. “Three akumas yesterday; couldn’t get much sleep.”

“You need to get over yourself, Mari. Ladybug and Chat Noir always win against the akumas, this fear of yours is ridiculous.” Alya glanced at her with an incredulous look, but when she saw her intense yoga pose, the look shifted and she yelled over her shoulder. “Adrien! Get over here! Marinette’s doing her physics-defying stuff again!”

Adrien joined them, laughing at Alya’s exaggerated despair. “It’s really not that hard. You just have to-” He fell into the position easily and began matching her movements. “There.”

“How on EARTH?” Alya shrieked and threw herself to the right, toppling into Nino, who was in a shaky warrior two. They ended up in a heap on the floor, Alya staring in horror at the two still upright and Nino staring bewildered at his girlfriend. “How are you two doing that?”

“Well, I don’t know about Marinette,” Adrien moved into an upward dog, “but father insisted that I be physically active in some way and my mother used to do yoga. So I picked it up.”

Nino leaned close to Alya’s ear. “I’m not sure whether to add this to the ‘reasons Gabriel sucks’ list or be happy he has this thing with his mom.”

“Both I guess?”

“What about you Marinette?” He moved into a handstand-like position. “Why do you know all this stuff?”

My superhero moonlighting requires me to be as stretchy as a rubber band, so my partner, who is also a furry, taught me yoga. “My first best friend and I learned tai chi, and this just felt like the next step.” Not a lie, just not why she chose yoga.

“Okay, you’re fine.” Alya pointed a finger between them both. “But next time you do something weird, I’m starting a cryptid blog about you.”

“You don’t have the guts.” Marinette leaned in and Adrien flipped down to join her. It felt familiar, like deja vu; not her crush, she killed that with fire once he started dating Kagami.

“Heey!” Nino opened his arms in front of them. “Let’s change the subject, what about that new student?”

“There’s a new student?” Marinette turned to the rest of the class, who were all stretching dutifully. No new faces whatsoever. “Where are they?”

“Not here, he went to the office over a scheduling conflict. Seems like a jerk.” Alya pulled an arm behind her head, glaring with derision in the direction of the office.

“Alya, don’t.” Adrien nudged her with a foot. “First impressions don’t mean anything, right Marinette?” He shot her a playful glance.

“Don’t remind me.”

“That one was a misunderstanding. Mister Ice Cold over there doesn’t even say a word, just nods and walks into the back of the class. At least Adrien did something and he asked for forgiveness afterwards. Frosty doesn’t even look at us.” With that final comment, Alya joined the rest of the class in dodgeball.

“Is she alright?” Adrien side-eyed her.

“Yeah, she just really hates people acting superior to her. Let’s go.” Marinette shrugged it off and joined her in picking teams.

Dodgeball was a mess; it always was. The entirety of the class had been akumatized at one point, and some of the strategic prowess remained. Marinette’s team always won, which everyone attributed to her agility, but it was really that Ladybug had more practice in strategy. The only way the teams could be considered even was if Adrien was against her.

She still won; she always won. When it was all over, each team, sweating and exhausted, gravitated to the center line to shake hands and congratulate one another on a game well played. Adrien met her in the middle with a weary smirk. His hair was disheveled, but there was a spark in his eyes that made him seem more familiar than he already was.

“I almost got you that time.” He gripped her hand tight.

“All that training with Kagami is really upping your game.” She quipped, shaking his hand. “Better luck next time.”

With that promise of another match, everyone vacated the gym to the locker rooms, where Alya continued to warn Marinette against the new student.

“Even Chloe doesn’t like him and he seems like the kind of rich boy that would be right up her alley.”

“Alya, I get it. You aren’t the new guy’s biggest fan.”

“And the feeling’s mutual too.” She griped.

“So just don’t talk to him; it works with Chloe. Why not this guy too?” She wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her to their desk.

“Fine, but I don’t have to like it.”

“You don’t have to like him either.” She pulled out her notebook and began writing down the date.

Before Alya could make another passive aggressive comment about the mystery new boy, Miss Bustier walked in, the usual skip in her step. “Class, I know I already introduced you to our new student but since some of us weren’t here for the first period,” Marinette ducked her head with a sheepish smile, “I’ve decided there’s nothing better than a redo. So, here’s Mister Culpa, introducing himself again.”

Culpa?

A boy with pale blond hair and paler skin strode into the room. He wore what could only be called business-casual, all monochrome. His eyes were a one-in-a-million breathtaking ice blue.

Culpa?

“Hello.” His eyes scanned the room emotionlessly. “As I previously said, my name is Felix Culpa and I am from-” He stopped when he reached her. “Nette?”

“Felix.” She breathed, barely even daring to say it louder, lest he disappear.

He was a blur, climbing the steps and reaching her in the time it took her to stand. There were no words when they hugged, other than the other’s name. She was on the tips of her toes, pressing her forehead to his collarbone. Felix got tall.

“I missed you.” He whispered, squeezing just a little tighter.

“I missed you too.” She laughed, pulling back to see his face. He was crying. She was crying.

“What in Ladybug’s name is happening?” Alya’s shout broke them from whatever pocket dimension they were inhabiting together. “You two know each other?”

“Alya, this is Felix.” She turned to look at her, hand still on Felix’s shoulder. “He was my best friend from birth to ten.”

“Was?” He bumped her hip with his. “Didn’t know I’ve been replaced, Netta.”

“I couldn’t contact you after I moved! I was ten and your mom never told us what her new number was.” She punched his elbow. “What are you doing here?”

“My family moved. I didn’t know you were in this area too; imagine my surprise when I see what the current events in Paris are and find out that there are superheroes and my best friend is now a borderline celebrity.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“We have to catch up some time.” She grabbed his arm.

“Certainly, maybe not here and now, though.” He gestures to the class around them, avidly watching the exchange.

“Right.” She released his arm and rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. “Coffee and macarons later then? My place?”

“I would like nothing more.” He quirked a smile that would seem tiny to anyone else, but to Marinette was as bright as the sun. “Until then.” Felix squeezed her hand and moved to the back of the class with a little wave.

She returned it, a goofy smile definitely on her face as she sat back down.

“Well,” Miss Bustier coughed, “since Felix has been so thoroughly introduced to everyone else, I suppose I should start the lesson.” And she dove into a spiel about the first World War.

“Dang, girl. Is it just me, or do you have a date after class?” Alya whispered to her from behind her textbook.

“It’s not a date! We’re just catching up.”

“Sure.”

She spared a quick glance at Felix, who was nose-deep in his book, just like when they were kids. He had such sharp features, and upon reconsideration, his eyes looked even more beautiful than she remembered. Felix grew up just fine without her. Really fine, in fact.

It took Marinette a couple seconds to realize she was staring, and when she did, her head turned back to the front of the room so fast she swore she heard a snap.

This was... going to be complicated.

[solomonish]

My Personal Simeon Fall AU Headcanons

These are within the same realm of this fic - and it is intended as a Simeon x MC universe! These HCs will focus on his time in the Devildom rather than why he fell, but maybe that information will come eventually...

*some things regarding this war I keep mentioning may not be entirely clear - still working on that! However, I’ll try not to put out too much contradicting information, hehe!

WARNING: some angst, brief mention/implication of torture. forcibly removed memories.

First Days

He came to the devildom in a blaze, much like the brothers did, hurtling down like a shooting star. At the core, encasing him as his wings charred to soot, was a brilliant light blue, rimmed by a dazzling white and platinum gold. At his impact site, parts of the dirt and stone have crystallized in the same colors. The site is still roped off for investigation.

He fell, acting as a white flag for both sides to signal the end of a war very few people knew was raging. The impact sent the last of his holy energy into the surrounding area, and demons near the sight complained of itching and general irritation for weeks after.

The only people at the site who looked into his eyes when he struggled to get up were you, Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Solomon. A few curious Devildom citizens were scattered about, too, but Diavolo's authoritative vibe kept them too far to see anything.

Diavolo and Barbtos kept him in one room in the castle as he adjusted to the sudden demonic energy inside him and learned to contain his wrath. You were allowed to see him, but only if supervised by Barbatos or Diavolo in case Simeon tried to hurt you.

He was despondent most of the time, sitting curled up and stiff in the middle of the bed that looked untouched. He spent days without sleep, simmering with rage. You never found out if he bottled it up or if he destroyed the room but Barbatos put it back together before you appeared.

(You might not ever learn that some of the methods Diavolo and Barbatos used to bring his memories back were...extreme. They had no intentions of torture or pain, but they desperately wanted to get to them if they could. That’s where his anger was used up - as he screamed out in agony, either from the extraction method or the feeling of having lost everything yet not quite grasping what that meant.)

Satan suggested books and sent some of his personal collection that helped him gather himself when he was created. Diavolo and Barbatos tried to jog his memories, both for personal reasons and to get information on the Celestial realm, but that was exactly why they were gone. His memories had been magically extracted, but haste made him forget most everything instead of just sensitive information regarding the realm.

Eventually, he was free to roam the garden and some hallways, and when Diavolo and Barbatos concluded that regaining his memories was impossible, he was housed.

Power & Standing

He was a powerful angel, so he is a powerful demon, yet not quite as powerful as the brothers.

Simeon, for the majority of the war, was fighting on the side of the Celestial Realm, so he's generally disliked among the citizens of the Devildom. Our cast are all weary around him for multiple reasons - aside from Satan, Beel, Solomon, and MC (obviously).

He isn't an official member of any student council or governing body, nor does he really have a final say in anything, but he does frequently act as an advisor of sorts. He tends to work with Barbatos on that front, discussing in the background anything that might need discussed or worked on separate from the brothers.

Simeon is a wrath demon, though the change in his temper is hardly noticeable at first. He resembles Lucifer in how strict he is, mostly when he is in charge of something, and his anger that releases when he isn't listened to mimics Satan's.

If they are near each other and angry about the same thing, Satan and Simeon can actually feed off of the other's anger and boost their power. Satan does NOT need the boost, but you bet he brings chaos and destruction tenfold is he has it. For Simeon, though, it practically puts him on par with some of the brothers, if only for a short while.

Socially, he is generally ignored, and nobody runs away from him if he initiates conversation - but he doesn't. Simeon turns into a bit of a loner, a large chunk of his personality and memories gone and replaced with anger.

He's still learning how to deal with it.

His demon form consists of black deer-like antlers (not small but just small enough to avoid being entirely cumbersome) and long wings with bone-tipped feathers. His wings are almost always folded against his back and hanging low, the dangling feathers reminiscent of his angelic cloak with the golden charms. He does have a little black deer tail but doesn't like it being commented on.

(Don't worry about aerodynamics or which animal he represents, it's a magical universe its fine uwu)

General Information

He lives in modest home on the outskirts of the Devildom, somewhat close to the castle in case there's some type of emergency that needs to be taken care of but not so close he gets a super nice house and causes some social uproar. He has a small yard and a garden he tends to meticulously.

I imagine the house as a sort of townhouse (although not a for real townhouse because its it's own thing), two stories tall. The downstairs has a small living room, kitchen and bathroom while the entire upstairs is an open bedroom/office type deal. It gives off a gothic cottage type of vibe. No idea if this is helpful so maybe one day I'll build it in the sims.

He keeps his house tidy but has many bookshelves filled with equal parts books and knickknacks.

As stated before, he is a wrath demon, and because of his memories being almost entirely erased, he had a similar fall and adjustment period as Satan. Also, as a writer, he has an intrinsic appreciation for books. He and Satan get along the most out of all the brothers - the fact that Lucifer has mixed (mostly negative)(?) feelings about Simeon makes the deal sweeter for Satan.

Beel doesn’t dislike him, and while he doesn’t trust Simeon yet he’s willing to see if Simeon is on their side now considering none of his family got hurt. Solomon still trusts him though, but he does get a little downtrodden when he has memories that Simeon doesn’t.

When angry, Simeon smiles sweetly but his voice turns dead cold. Whereas Satan goes feral and seeks destruction like a bomb, Simeon feels more like a sniper rifle that needs careful aim and precision with just as devastating consequences. Shouting and immediate carnage are rare and only come after a severe transgression.

Otherwise, Simeon allows himself to be more playful than before. He doesn’t exactly have snide remarks, but he is an expert at stating the truth in a way that feels like a blade cutting through your confidence.

In true "flaunt what ya got without really making it seem purposeful" Simeon fashion, he wears button-down shirts that are almost entirely unbuttoned. They are always patterned and funky, and he wears them tucked into black pants. I'm thinking something like this (he also has patterns that are more "groovy" than vacation)

Will also occasionally sport a deep v like this

He still acts just as naive and confused if you bring up how exposed he is to him, so its best just to suffer in silence.

When making a pact with MC, he makes sure the mark covers a scar he left and doesn't remember from the war on your shoulder. It feels like a longer-lasting apology.

He still calls you "little lamb," but instead of smiling gently at you like a loving shepherd, his smiles look like a predator baring his fangs at his prey. In a sweet way. In a hot way.

What Does He Remember?

At first, nothing. Demonic instinct claws at him and he lashes out at everyone and everything.

He is still a nightmare with technology. Nobody knows if this is residual from how he was before, a result of his memories being taken, or just a trick.

Occasionally, he’ll remember an inside joke, but only halfway. You’ll say something you don’t realize is from before, and he’ll laugh, almost like an impulse. But then his laugh trails off and he gets contemplative, wondering what, exactly, was so funny about it.

The brightness of the Celestial Realm is hard to forget. The rainbow framing the palace and vast fields appear in dreams. He never remembers anything ‘important,’ but it’s enough to remind him that he was discarded.

The Celestial War hasn’t gone away, not in its entirety. There are certain things like battle strategies that he can’t for the life of him conjure up in his mind, but he remembers the bulk of it. It helps him realize why some of the brothers were/are so aloof towards him - nothing was ever as simple as he thought it once to be. Fighting a losing battle isn’t a choice you make when its for love - its simply the only path available.

(Apologies are so, so hard to dish out when you can’t remember most of your transgressions, though.)

He remembers Luke and will worry himself to inconsolable tears at night just thinking about him. Those thrown away don’t get the privilege of knowing what happens to their friends - and even if he did, Simeon wouldn't be so stupid as to put a target on Luke's back by proving that he was still important to him.

But he can only remember Luke's terrified, teary eyes when he realized Simeon was going to turn on the Celestial Realm in the middle of a war, and how he pleaded with Simeon not to. Luke asked what he would do all by himself, and Simeon hopes to his Father for only one thing - that he figured it out.

This is his sore spot. Nobody is allowed to be privy to these thoughts, not even you. But some days he comes to RAD looking worse for wear and you KNOW something is bothering him. He'll just never tell you what.

[kendrene]

The terminal velocity of trains

Inspired by this post

Thanks to @narraboths for being an enabler.

Jealous Lena

***

It’s the fourth round of charades, and Kara’s team lost all of them.

“I like it better when Lena’s on my side,” she grumbles, watching Kelly write down scores. Next to team Danvers, there’s still a pitiful 0. Zip. Nada.

They’re last.

“Are you saying I am bad at charades?” Alex asks, eyes dangerously narrowed. Kara winces – she though she’d used her inside voice.

“No!” Somehow, Alex pulls off a perfect Luthor eyebrow raise, and she tries to merge back into the couch. Too bad camouflage isn’t a superpower. “I mean…”

“It’s alright, darling.” Lena calls from across the coffee table. “I promise I won’t eat you into bankruptcy. Breakfast in the office for a month will be enough.”

Lena’s cheeks are dusted a delicate shade of pink, and her eyes shine bright when she grins, crinkling at the corners. She looks soft, Kara thinks, her edges sanded down by the wine and the good company.

She’s always so cool and collected, it warms Kara’s heart to see her letting go like this. Tonight Lena is smiling often, and it’s so luminous it’s blinding.

It makes Kara wish they were alone, so she could maybe – theoretically – gather up some courage and finally kiss her.

“Oh, shush you.” Grabbing the nearest pillow, Kara flings it in her general direction, but despite the bottle of Syrah she’s been splitting with Kelly, Lena’s reflexes remain sharp, and she swats it away. “Shut it.” Kara glares without heat when Lena laughs, head thrown back to show the column of her throat – that sight has her reaching for her drink to quench an entirely different kind of thirst. “I swear to Rao, if you don’t stop rubbing it in, I’ll rail you.”

At her words, the room shivers to a stop, several things happening at once.

Alex coughs mid-sip, beer squirting out her nose and down the front of her shirt. Kelly’s hand flies up to clamp over her mouth – from behind it come muffled noises that sound suspiciously close to ohmygodohmygodohmygod to Kara’s ears. She’s not a hundred percent sure though, her brain packing up for a last-minute vacation to Hawaii while she stares into Lena’s shocked expression.

Lena just stares back.

“Uhm.” Sam pokes Kara in the shoulder, and it’s so unexpected she jumps off of the couch and hovers for a few seconds, before falling back down with a soft oof. “Kara, I have a feeling you don’t know what that means.”

“Yes, I do!” Kara bursts out, kind of offended because excuse you, she’s a Pulitzer winning journalist, thank you very much. “It means to run people over with a train. Figuratively.” She adds after a beat for Lena’s benefit.

She likes Lena very much, she’d never rail her.

“Boy, oh boy.” Alex is smiling. Everyone is smiling. All of them bar Lena.

Lena’s still staring at her as if Kara comprises the entirety of her universe.

“Kara, no.” Alex lets a beer-stained napkin fall onto her lap. “Railing someone means-“ She leans in, and whispers in her ear.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I said that to Andrea the other day.” She didn’t think it possible, but the room goes into total hibernation.

“You told Andrea you want to rail her?” The absolute iciness of Lena’s tone cannot mask the light tremor in her voice. She’s not smiling anymore. She looks angry now – Kara can almost see black storm clouds gather round her head.

“Not to her directly!” She starts to backtrack, throwing a desperate look to Winn. She feels like she’s sitting on a couch stuffed full of trinitrotoluene, moments away from deflagration. Winn was there and heard what she’d said. He should lend a hand.

He doesn’t, suddenly very engrossed in the study of the carpet at his feet.

“She aggravated me and I was complaining about her. I’d totally hit her with a train.”

“So you wouldn’t rail her, rail her.” It’s clearly not a question, but Lena leans in anyway, focused and hawk-like.

“No!” Kara’d rather strangle her, and that is on the good days. “But I’d definitely rail you!” She doesn’t know where that comes from (must be the alien booze), but it’s as though some barrier has collapsed inside her chest. She’s beet red, she’s sure of it, but can’t bring herself to care.

Lena sits back like she’s been punched.

“Everybody out.” She says to the others quietly, after a pause so long a century or three must have gone by.

Alex rouses hersef from whatever stupor she’d fallen prey to.

“You can’t throw me out of my own house!” It spills from her indignant, but as she speaks the outrage wilts away. Under Lena’s unimpressed stare, Alex grows smaller too, and Kara almost laughs. Welcome to the club.

Lena doesn’t answer. Simply, she fishes her wallet out of her purse and begins to count out bills. Two hundred dollars. Three. Alex’s eyes round and Kara loses count.

“Okay.” Her sister snatches the wad of cash from Lena’s outstretched hand. “You heard the boss. Everybody out.”

Taking it as her cue, Kara rises with the rest. At least she tries to, but her rear has barely left the couch that Lena’s pinning her in place with a hard but endeared stare. “Not you, honey.” Standing, she walks over and takes Alex’s spot.

Uh, oh.

Kara’s positive several pairs of shoes are about to drop.

The others are being herded out by Alex when Lena’s hand lands on her knee, squeezing gently.

“Now,” she starts, her voice dipping lower than Kara’s ever heard it before. “I’d love it very much if we talked about trains.”

[thran-duils]

Lost in Zero Gravity (P.2)

Title: Lost in Zero Gravity (Part Two) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers.  Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 3,072 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior Author’s Note: Song inspo for this fic

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“You must have made a really good first impression,” Tatiana commented, blowing out a ring of smoke. Her charcoal lined eyes creased with her pleased smile.

You shrugged, “I was just working.”

“Don’t try to be modest now. It’s not becoming on you,” she laughed in response.

She had called you into her office to tell you that you had been specifically requested for an assignment. It seemed Tony and Steve’s mob were going to be taking a vacation and they wanted you available. You were not one to turn down a paid vacation, especially if they were going to be there. As dangerous as they were, they had been a good fuck and Tony had made sure to get you off. That was far more than probably eighty percent of the people you had been with since you started working the service.

You hated the smell of the cigarette smoke and it was always the hovering stench in her office. She was going to kill herself far too young and maybe shave a few years off your life in return for however she made you stand in here. You adored her, there was no doubt about that. But you wished she would kick the habit.

“Where are they going?” you asked, feigning that you were contemplating about refusing the assignment.

“Riviera Maya.” You narrowed your eyes and she said, “It’s in Mexico.”

An inclusive resort no doubt. It could be fun. Maybe you could ask someone to travel with you so you would not be completely alone when they were not wanting to bed you. Or maybe not… some time alone might do you well.

Tatiana added, “Wives are going to be there though.”

“So, why am I gonna be there?” you asked honestly.

Tatiana snorted, “Oh, stellina.” She took another deep inhale exhaling as she said, “There are so many things there to keep the spouses occupied. They’re rarely together except for dinner. It’s just for appearances.”

Rich people’s lives sounded exhausting.

“You just need to be out in the open, keeping yourself available for them whenever they have an opportunity to slip away and have some fun with you. Otherwise, just keep yourself occupied with the beach and nice drinks. I know you hate suntanning but there are shops to poke around in. I know you like shopping.”

“That I do.”

“Maybe they’ll give you extra.”

“I don’t want to go around trying to get greedy.”

Tatiana smirked at that. “That’s my girl. I trained you well.”

<><><>

Pushing your sunglasses up onto your head, you hopped up onto one of the barstools on the bar you had just walked by and circled back to. You had yet to see either Tony or Steve and you had been here since yesterday. The place was relaxing and the room was great. You had basically sunk into the bed, having one of the best nights of sleep you had had in a long while without any noise from Elisha in her room along your wall back home. Leaning over the counter, you asked for a strawberry lemonade.

“Strawberry lemonade? It’s a party, dollface.”

You recognized that voice and you straightened back up, turning your head to look in his direction.

Steve was standing there, leaning on the counter. He was a sight for sore eyes. He was only in swim trunks, aviator glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. That did not hide the fact you knew his eyes were running unabashedly over your body. Your stomach fluttered at the sight of him, thinking of how he handled you last time.

“I bought this specifically for this vacation,” you said, hopping down from the stool and turning around for him to let him see the whole suit. When you turned back around, he was grinning. “It looks good right?”

He nodded, “You look damn sexy.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“My wife is here,” Steve said, and you frowned instantly at this immediate change in conversation. Was he trying to kill the mood so quickly? He said, “I know. She’s got her little masseuse guy here to keep her entertained, so I should be able to have my own fun. But I’m trying to be good.”

Picking up on his hint, you sauntered towards him. Your hand came up, resting on his chest. “Why do you have to be good if she isn’t being good?”

“I had to hold it in until she ran off,” he told you.

You pulled his sunglasses down to see his eyes, keeping them on the bridge of his nose. You smiled when you were able to actually meet his gaze.

“Well, when do you get to not be good?”

“Right now,” he said and you smiled in response. “It’s why I came and found you. I saw you yesterday. Wandering around. Took everything in me to not come up to you. Looked like you found yourself a nice little boyfriend though?”

“He was trying really hard but no… no dice for that guy,” you told him.

You pushed his glasses back up and your arms wrapped around his neck. He grinned back at you, his fingers tracing along your exposed back.

“I’m assuming you’re liking what you’re seeing?”

“Very much,” he murmured, his fingers playing with the hem of your suit.

You nuzzled your nose to his. “Hmm. So we know where this is going?”

<><><>

You stood in front of the mirror, completely bare. Steve had brought you back to their villa. Tony’s wife was gone, off to a spa treatment. The room had a wide door open to the patio overlooking the ocean. There was a hot tub and pool on the patio and although you wanted to indulge, you refrained. You got undressed for them instead, waiting for them to get antsy enough to take charge. It did not take long as you predicted.

Tony came up from behind you, nude as well. His hands ran across your breasts, cupping.

“Don’t you look marvelous…” he murmured, his fingers tweaking at your erect nipples. You bucked ever so slightly, and he smirked. His nose came to nuzzle into the nape of your neck. “I knew I chose right… a perfect gem.”

“You still seem to like what you’re seeing?”

He chuckled, one hand snaking down to toy with the top of your sex.

“You’re gonna look even better underneath that mirror.”

You turned in his arms, your forehead pressing against his. “A man that likes to review his work. I don’t know if I should be worried.”

“I didn’t get to where I am by being a half ass.”

Steve was at your other side and he enveloped you to him. To both of them, you asked, “Any critiques?”

“Loaded question,” Steve chuckled. “I mean, the biggest is you haven’t sunk one of your holes on either of us. I mean, it’s been a whole five minutes. What’s the hold up?”

“Sorry, I was enjoying the company.”

He kissed the tip of your nose lightly, “And I’m sorry for being so charismatic.”

“I’m assuming you can’t multitask then? Be charismatic and fuck me at the same time?”

A low growl left his mouth now, “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at fucking all,” he told you pulling you over to the bed.

Steve was looking upwards, and you knew he was taking in the sight of you hovering over him as you sunk onto his length in the ceiling mirror. His eyes were swimming with arousal and you hoped to always be the cause for that.

<><><>

“Y/N, you got a gift,” Wendy said, pointing at the table as you walked into the brothel’s kitchen. You had come in to get a drink but smiled seeing the bouquet and gift.

“Really?” you asked, letting your backpack fall from your shoulder and along with your carry-on drop to the ground. You had just gotten back from Mexico; that was quick if it was from who you thought it was. Upon seeing the flowers, you knew your assumption had been correct. They had asked you what your favorite flowers were and even though that was extremely obvious why they were asking, you had told them all the same.

The bouquet was large and there was a nice heart balloon in the center. You smiled, leaning in and smelling the flowers deeply.

“Where’d you get those from?” Elisha asked, coming into the kitchen. You shrugged, smiling sheepishly, and she rolled her eyes, giving a little laugh, “I know exactly where those came from.”

“There’s also this,” you said picking up the gift bag from beside it, waving it at her.

“That’s dangerous,” Elisha commented, grabbing the bloody mary that Wendy had made her. They must have had a rough night.

You shrugged again, opening the bag. Your lips curled into a smile as you pulled out a bright blue teddy. “Cute,” you giggled. Elisha and Wendy shook their heads, taking a drink. You held it up against your body and asked, “Think they want me to wear it for next time?”

“I don’t think they bought it for shits and giggles,” Wendy snorted. “How was the trip?”

“It was nice.”

“Good to hear it. You should relish in this.”

“Oh, I am,” you said, putting the teddy back into the bag. You thought of the extra money that Steve had tucked into your bag, remembering that you should tuck that away. It was smarter to not spend all the money that was thrown at you. That is what fools did; you needed to think ahead.

<><><>

The dress was loose and casual, perfect for the saloon they had asked you to meet them at. They had sent a car for you and met you at the curbside. When you got out, you looked around, cocking an eyebrow at the sight of them dressed in nice, pressed jackets. You were going into a dive bar, what were they doing?

Tony took your arm, Steve trailing behind. “Hmm, a sun pattern,” Tony commented, his fingers pulling at the fabric of your dress.

You gripped his arm, smiling. “I like to be a shining beacon in people’s lives.”

Tony chuckled in response, his grip tightening on your waist. The bouncer did not ask for your IDs; they must know them. It was dimly lit, packed. There were dancers on the stage and your eyes were drawn to their movements. The woman dancing had curves to die for.

“Where we going?” you asked as they led you through the bar. Your eyes ran around the tables the further you went in. Did they have a reservation?

“For the real party, sweetheart,” Tony told you, his lips brushing your ear. You shivered at the touch.

It was dark back here and you tensed. Tony felt it, a light chuckle leaving his lips. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I got you.”

Two men were standing in front of a door and they opened it when they saw the three of you approaching. There was a table with a group of other men, looking like they were waiting for the three of you. There were a handful of other women sitting around the perimeter of the room behind the players. They made brief eye contact with you, sizing you up quickly before averting their eyes again.

“Took you fucking long enough,” one of them drawled at Tony and Steve.

“Sorry, we were waiting for our lucky dame,” Tony returned.

Tony kissed your hand as you sat, before he turned away and sat in his chair. Steve’s hand grazed you affectionately, before he sat down as well.

You sat quietly, watching them play. It was poker, that much you knew. It was intense, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. They were taking this seriously and you surmised they were gambling a bunch of money.

Steve was staring across the table at the first man who had spoken to them when they walked in, his eyes narrowed. The other man was not flinching but something must have been a tell for Steve because he pushed chips forward.

“Well, senator… I’m gonna raise you,” Steve commented.

Your heart stopped a bit, hearing him call him that. Your eyes narrowed at the man across the table. You did not pay attention to politics but the way the man’s face scrunched at Steve’s tone… you knew he had to be one. A senator. What had you let them drag you into?

The man chewed on his lip before throwing his cards down on the table without showing what they were.

Steve’s mouth broke into a wide grin and he held out his hands.

“Fuck you, Rogers,” the man snarled before getting up from the table. He buttoned his suit jacket, leaving the room without a second glance.

“Sore loser,” Steve commented, much to the amusement of the other men at the table to your surprise. You thought they would be more angry about losing the money they had but maybe the man had been a common enemy.

They gathered up the chips, tossing them into a bag. Tony’s hand snaked around your waist.

“Wanna spend this?” Tony asked, grinning broadly, holding the bag up to you as he guided you towards the door. You giggled and he kissed your cheek. “Steve’s treated us. But especially you, baby.”

<><><>

Pulling your dress back on over your head, you straightened it, making sure it was covering your ass. It was short and you did not need to be flashing anyone on the sidewalk.

“You sure you don’t want me to order you a cab…?” the man asked from behind you, taking a long drag on his joint. He was still lying in bed, watching you get dressed.

Confidently, you turned around, fluffing your hair. You shook your head, “It’s not too far. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re a tough cookie,” he said, shooting you a smile.

“I try to be,” you said winking at him, grabbing your purse.

You left his place quickly, heading back to the brothel. It was not a lie, it was not far.

The distance did not matter though when it came to what was waiting for you outside.

A hand closed around your arm, yanking you into an alley. You screamed but another hand slapped across your mouth as you were slammed up against the wall. Your heart was pounding, your eyes wide in fear staring at your assailant.

Your fear melted away to a mixture of anger and disgust. You would recognize those hazel eyes anywhere. You had stared into them far too many times as he towered over you, beating you into submission. You had run away from them far too many times, locking yourself in the bedroom until he got tired of trying to beat the door down.

Garnering strength from a place you did not know existed, you shoved him away, much to his surprise. He did not expect you to fight back, and he stumbled back.

“Have you been fucking following me?” you demanded, your chest heaving.

“Just interested to see what you’ve been doing since you ran off. Looks like you are visiting a bunch of men,” Jared sneered at you, getting back on his game and closing the space between you. Your fists clenched by your sides and he noticed, smirking. “You gonna hit me?”

“No,” you spat.

“So, what’s got you leaving someone’s apartment this time of night, baby?”

“That is none of your business.”

He shoved you back into the wall and you winced against the cement scratching at your skin. You swallowed it though, clenching your jaw, glaring at him. You were acting far braver than you felt. Jared always had the power to make you feel small and weak and it seemed just his presence had that same power. You felt just as helpless as you did a year and a half ago. He was frightening; you knew what violence he could unleash.

“What’s this?” Jared asked, yanking at your purse.

“Nothing, it’s my purse!” you said, your hands closing around it to try to yank it back from him.

“Looks pretty expensive, Y/N… Marc Jacobs? What have you been up to?”

He gave another hard yank, and the chain broke and you hissed against the pressure against your shoulder as it snapped away from you. You reached for it and he shoved you back again, harder this time and you let out a pained noise. Your eyes searched the buildings that surrounded you, hoping someone would be looking out the windows and be able to come to help you. It looked like no such luck.

He yanked out the hundreds the man you had just left had given you.

His eyes were dark, glowering at you. “Where’d you get this?”

“From work!”

His backhand was swift, knocking you off balance. But he was there to catch your falling momentum only to slam you up against the wall for the third time, his forearm pressed into your throat. You gasped, trying to breathe.

“You left me to spread your legs all over the city?”

“What are you talking about?” you exclaimed pitifully, trying to deny it. Your hands clawed at his arm and he only pressed in harder, making you gasp more desperately.

“I saw you go into that building with that man. Yes, I was following you! And you come back out with all this money? I shouldn’t be surprised. You always were a worthless slut.”

Tears pricked at your eyes and he growled, “You always did cry too soon for my liking.”

Your purse fell to the ground and his other hand reached up between your legs. You tried to fight him, and he socked you this time. Your head knocked against the wall and you saw stars.

Jared pushed away and you crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. You squeezed your eyes tightly, trying to gain back some sense of balance.

“Hey!” you heard someone shout from far off.

All you could see was Jared’s shoes coming in and out of your vision. You felt a sharp pain in your stomach making you lose all your breath before his shoes were gone. You blinked again before losing consciousness as you saw a new pair of shoes come into your line of sight.

~~~

Tags: coconutqueen21

[marvelslut16]

Inseparable

Pairing: Reggie Mantle x reader

Synopsis: Reader and Reggie have been best friends since they were toddlers, nothing tearing them apart until Veronica their Junior year. This follows the rise and downfall of their friendship. Can they mend their friendship and be back to what they once were, will they be too hurt to fix their broken hearts, or will they finally admit their feelings for one another?

Word count: 2.6K+ (my hand slipped)

Warnings: Mr. Honey; he’s the worst villain to ever enter Riverdale, you can’t change my mind. Mentions of child abuse, nothing graphic past the mention of a black eye. Some angst. Spoilers for s4e4 technically, I still can’t believe what Mr. Honey did. 

A/N: I have like 11 requests I still have to get to, yikes. I swear I’ll do them soon, but inspiration hit and I ended up writing this. there isn’t enough Reggie love on Tumblr, plus I have a tiny crush on Charles Melton, so writing this was a win win. let me know what you think, and if I should write more for Riverdale. Veggie is better than Varchie (don’t come for me), but I still think Reggie deserves better than Ronnie. 

Growing up in a small town like Riverdale there weren’t too many kids to become friends with, but when you met Reggie Mantle on your first day of preschool you knew he would be your best friend for life. Archie was showing off on the playground by walking up the slide when the teacher wasn’t looking. The problem then being that Archie's foot slipped right as you were walking passed the bottom of the slide, and he slid down and ended up knocking you on the ground. You started to cry because he scraped your arm bad enough that it started to bleed. Reggie, whom you shared a table with in class, watched from the sidelines as your teacher helped you up and took you to the nurse, he got his revenge during arts and crafts later that day- ‘accidentally’ spilling red paint all over the front of Archie’s khaki pants. When Reggie made it to the table you quietly thanked him and shared your paint with him since the teacher said he couldn’t have new paint as a lesson to be more careful next time. 

As the years went on, yours and Reggie’s friendship only grew until you were inseparable; you two went on family vacations together, you went to every single one of his junior bulldog football games from the ages of eight to twelve, he went to your ballet recitals when you took classes in grade school even bringing you roses. Reggie was your rock at your grandmother’s funeral, you helped him pass his geometry class Sophomore year so he could stay on the football team, and you were the only person that he opened up to about his father’s abuse- having witnessed it with your own eyes a handful of times. 

Your mom was convinced you and Reggie would fall in love and get married one day, and your father was convinced your friendship would crumble and ultimately go down in a blazing fire. Going into your senior year you hate to admit that your father was right, his words bouncing around in your skull every time your brain shut off for longer than two seconds. Veronica Lodge moved to town Sophomore year, enticing every boy within a fifty mile radius with her upper East side charm. Reggie didn’t fall for Veronica right away, he fell for her junior year when he was helping her with La Bonne Nuit. And as cliche as it is, that’s when you realized you were in love with him, you had been for a while. The small nagging voice in the back of your head told you that it had been since that day in preschool. 

But you would grin and bear the pain, the soul crushing pain, if it meant that Reggie would still be in your life. And you did, for a while at least; until Reggie stopped calling and texting you back, until he stopped begging you to come to his games, until he stopped sneaking into your room every friday night after a game to go over the play footage where you would help him come up with new plays and tweaks to the old ones, until he started ignoring you in the halls in favor of making out with Veronica. You never hated the girl, she had been nothing but nice to you anytime you would interact, but God, you just wished she would disappear and give you your Reggie back. 

You resented Veronica, leading your interactions with the girl to be more tense and your answers clipped, and that was what led to the blazing fire your father talked about. Reggie offered you a ride home one day after school, and of course you jumped at the opportunity to spend time with him again. Instead of going to pops and talking like you thought you would, the two of you got into your biggest, and last, fight ever. 

It started with Reggie asking why you hated Veronica, where you defended yourself and swore that you didn’t. But he wouldn’t believe a word that came out of your mouth, continuing to press you as you two kept driving. The closer you got to the edge of town the worse the fighting got, your voice raising along with his. You accuse him of abandoning his friends, abandoning you, to be with Veronica all the time. He gets mad that you don’t understand why he’s with her all the time, claiming that you couldn’t understand not when you’ve never had a boyfriend. Something that he’s the reason for, since he scared all of the guys even remotely interested in you away with just one piercing glare or one lowly growled threat. 

The comment picking on your relationship status, or lack thereof, is the straw that broke the camel's back. You let loose just as you pass the sign thanking you for visiting Riverdale, the town with pep. Pep your ass, the small town is full of death and endless heartache wherever you look. You rip into Reggie, letting the hurt take over as you scream and scream at him-calling him a terrible friend. He finally screams back, claiming that you’re worse because you hate his girlfriend. He has to pull his precious car over, the car you helped him pick out when he turned sixteen, because he started swerving when you two got into a screaming match. 

The interaction ends with you getting out of the car on the side of the road leading into Greendale, slamming the car door behind you, knowing that he’ll get mad with how aggressive you’re being with his baby, his Bella. He does a sharp U-turn driving beside you, trying to coax you into getting back in the car with him. But you can’t do that, you can’t face him right now. So as you watch the taillights of the gun metal grey Chevelle disappear around the curve in the road you finally let the tears fall down your face, they stream harder and faster the closer you get to reentering the town with pep. 

Reggie had dropped your backpack off at your house when he got back into town, so it was sitting there waiting for you in your living room alongside your worried mother. You cried into her arms that night for hours, until you were all cried out, not caring that you look like a big baby. You had just lost Reggie, you had just lost your everything. You hadn’t talked to him since that day in the middle of your junior year, even after him and Veronica broke up and she went back to Archie like always. The days of your senior year seemed to fly by, October coming in what felt like mere days as opposed to months, and your last Halloween in Riverdale is today. 

You and Reggie would always wear matching costumes to trick or treat, and school just for fun as you got older, this always prompted your classmates to wonder if you two were finally dating. But that wouldn’t be happening this year, for the first time ever. You had even dressed up and sat on his porch in costume when you were six, handing out candy to the other kids so you could talk to Reggie, who was in costume too, through the window because he was sick with a 102.2 degree fever. You were dressed as Kim and Ron that year, his mom had even crocheted him a little Rufus to stick in his pocket. You couldn’t wait to get out of this town, away from Reggie, away from the places where you would see ghosts of your younger selves everywhere you went. 

Kevin calls you freaking out after he and Reggie got caught tp’ing Mr. Honey’s office. Kevin caved after Mr. Honey threatened to make sure he wouldn’t get into NYU if he didn’t. Kevin felt guilty for his actions, and even though you hadn’t talked to Reggie in close to a year you were worried about him. Worried what his dad might do to him when he hears he got in trouble at school again, and worried what the unhinged Mr. Honey might do to him himself. 

You don’t hear anything from Reggie the next day, not that you really expect to. You more-so hope he’ll call you, but you know what they say about hope- it breeds eternal misery. The day goes by at a snail's pace as you stare at your phone throughout the entirety of said day. You finally curl in on yourself and go to sleep after midnight, however sleep doesn’t stay for long. You’re awoken around two in the morning from your phone’s incessant ringing, in your dazed stupor you don’t realize it’s Reggie’s special ringtone- the bulldog cheer from Kim Possible. 

“Hello?” you ask hoarsely, making sure to stay quiet so your parents won’t hear. 

“(Y/N/N), can you talk?” your startled to hear Reggie’s voice on the other line. It sounds scratchy, like he was recently in a screaming match with someone. You open your eyes for the first time, finally accepting that you won’t be able to just roll over and slip back into your dreams. You glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table and your eyes widen at the time.

“It’s like two in the morning Reg,” you sigh, hoping he’ll wait till morning. 

“Can I come over?” Reggie’s pleading now.

“Later, we can go to Pop’s for lunch or something,” you yawn loudly into the phone in protest. 

“I’m already here,” before you can respond the line goes dead.

You can hear quiet, almost not there, footsteps outside your window as Reggie expertly navigates his way through the flowers and bushes outside your window. He taps on the window three times in quick succession, your old signal for when he would sneak over letting you know it was him at your window. You reluctantly get out of your warm cozy bed, stumbling to the window to open it for your former best friend. 

Your plans for just slipping back into bed anf hopefully nodding off while he talks go out the window as you come face to face with Reggie’s swollen face. He has a split lip and a black eye, you’re sure he has belt marks on his back too. You don't care that Reggie is climbing through the window a little too loudly, your sole focus now on fixing him up. Once he’s in the room you sneak to the kitchen and quietly grab an ice pack, stopping in the bathroom to grab rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and ibuprofen.  

You hand him the pain reliever and your bottle of water, it’s not the first time you’ve shared, as soon as you shut your bedroom door behind you. He swallows the pills down with ease, and you both settle on your bed, a sad depressing routine. You don’t say anything as you clean his split lip, he winces slightly when the alcohol drenched cotton ball makes contact with his open wound. 

“Mr. Honey caught Kevin and I last night,” Reggie admits quietly. 

“I heard, Kevin told me,” you murmur unsure of where this conversation is headed, so you continue to dab at his lip.

“Mr Honey, he said that no one takes me seriously, no one since you. He said that he heard around school that I made my ‘persona’ bigger, became more of a prankster, after I lost you. He-he knew about my dad, (Y/N),” Reggie’s voice cracks, you can’t imagine what he must be feeling right now. “Said people at school are laughing at me, worst of all, you’re laughing at me.”

“Oh sweetie, no!” you're quick to jump in and defend. “I would never laugh at you, you know that. Never. No one else is either, he was just saying that to get a rise out of you.” Your arm moves without your permission, you push a strand of black hair out of his eyes before caressing his cheek softly. 

“He tp’d my car, that I get. That was actually funny,” Reggie hisses, you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re lightly pressing the ice pack to his shiner or because of what he’s about to say next. “But he broke Bella’s windshield, shattered her passenger side window, and busted her left headlight.” 

“I’ll kill him!” you jump up from your spot on your bed, no longer caring if you wake your parents. Reggie holds the ice pack to his eye with his right hand, cautiously reaching for your hands with his left. You calm down when his fingers intertwine with yours, sinking back down next to him. 

“I avoided going home all day, but when I did and my dad saw the car,” Reggie takes in a shaky breath, and you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. “He did, well he did this.” He uses your joined hands to gesture towards his face. 

You don’t say anything, instead just pulling him in for a hug. Reggie tenses at first before melting into your warm embrace. You pull him down onto the bed with you so you're laying side by side, he rests his head on your chest as you tuck the two of you in. 

“I know we haven’t talked in a while,” you let out dissatisfied hum as you card your fingers soothingly through his hair. “But you're the only person I wanted to see, the only person I ever want to see. It’s been torture without you (Y/N).”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” you say under your breath, but he hears you clearly with his ear pressed to your chest. 

“I was an idiot, I let my ego keep me from you,” he moves his head to look up at you, his brown eyes shine with sincerity. 

“Don’t do this right now Reggie,: your eyes fill with tears, “Don’t do or say anything you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

Reggie moves his right arm from around your waist to brush away a stray tear that slipped out of your eye. He moves his thumb down your cheek to your lips, tracing them with the pad of his thumb. Reggie lightly tugs down on your lower lip causing you to uncage it from your teeth, when did you even bite it in the first place? 

“I love you (Y/N), I always have,” he looks away from your mouth so he can stare into your eyes. “And I think you have too.”

“I have, I love you so much Reggie,” he pulls your face down to meet him. The kiss is searing, and a little wet due to the tears leaking out of both of your eyes, but it’s perfect. You pull back when you get the slightly tangy taste of blood on your tongue. You immediately fuss over Reggie’s lip, said lip splitting again during the makeout. Reggie pulls you back down onto the bed and into his arms after you’ve dabbed at his lip with the cotton ball again. 

“How can I make it up to you?” his eyes shine with unshed tears as he stares lovingly at your face, almost like he’s mesmerized by you. “Not just tonight, but leaving you for Ronnie so I could try to get over you, and for every other night you’ve taken care of me.”

“Just never leave me again,” you whimper, which is cut off when he kisses you again. 

“Never,” Reggie’s never been more serious about anything in his life. 

You cuddle up to Reggie’s chest, his warmth and scent quickly lulling you into  a deep comforting sleep. You don’t care that he should sneak out the window and go home, or that your mom will find you two cuddled up in your twisted sheets when she comes to check on you at ten. All you care about is Reggie being safe, in your arms, and finally having him back in your life-but with one vast improvement to your relationship.

Permenent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny @mrs-malfoy-always​

[minaslittleone]

Fission & Fusion (Part 4)

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Summary: How did the refined and proper Wilhemina Venable end up working for two coked-up tech bros out of the back of a van?

An origin story of sorts, dedicated to the amazing @lucyintheskywithxanax  who has developed such a beautiful and nuanced depiction of Mina. This was inspired by her incredible story “And I failed to climb the mountain”.

Word count: ~3300

Wilhemina woke lazily the following morning to the warmth of sunlight on her face as it peaked through delicate lace curtains. It took her a few moments to remember where she was and to identify the source of the insistent scratching which had roused her. As she rolled onto her right side towards the bedroom door she caught sight of Miko's white dipped paw batting beneath it, scrabbling and scratching at the obstacle that dared to impede his free reign. An affectionate smile pulled at her lips as she watched his antics as she sleepily scrubbed at her eyes. His scratching stilled as she let out surprised gasp as her knuckles made contact with her bruised cheekbone, which was now undoubtedly swollen and probably a fetching mottle of red and purple. Now aware that she was awake, Miko's insistent scratching was replaced by a disgruntled meow. Wilhemina tried to ignore him, not really sure if he was allowed in the bedroom to begin with, but she was powerless to resist him once his meows were replaced by what could only be described as plaintiff cries. Who could resist that?

As she eased herself to her feet the full effects of the previous two days began to make themselves known. Her back was undoubtedly stiffer than usual but whether that was the result of two nights in unfamiliar beds or from crashing face first into concrete she couldn't be sure. Likely a combination of the two. The throbbing ache in her right wrist and hand as she supported herself on her cane was definitely a result of the concrete she rued, as she transferred the loathesome object to her uninjured left hand, her back complaining instantly. Today was looking like such a promising day.

Miko continued to make his displeasure known as she slowly made her way towards the door, his cries becoming increasingly insistent now that he could hear her moving. The moment she cracked the door the slightest distance ajar a flash of grey fur shot past her, heading directly for the patch of sunlit warmth at the centre of her recently vacated bed.

She tried valiantly to keep her features schooled as she scolded the cheeky feline who was currently in the process of kneading the covers into an acceptable state of comfort.

"Are you really meant to be up there, Miko?" The grey tabby cat shot her a questioning look as if to say "really human? You're the guest in my house and you're going to question if I'm allowed on the bed" before promptly turning his back on her and curling into a ball on his appropriately fluffed portion of the quilt.

She shook her head fondly, slowly making her way back towards the now occupied bed. Miko raised his head to study her as she gingerly lowered herself back onto the mattress, easing herself forwards to retrieve her book bag from beneath the bedside table. With practiced ease she flipped the lid on the amber pill bottle, dispensed two pills and threw them back dry. Normally she would muscle through the discomfort while the pills took effect but today, she reasoned, she had nothing to do and nowhere to be so for once she could actually listen to the pleading ache in her bones. It also helped that there was no one to witness her indulgence, other than Miko who had made his way across the bed to her and was currently standing about a foot away from her with his head cocked to the side, still not entirely sure what to make of her.

As she returned the pill bottle to her book bag she noticed the glass of water, which had evidently been left for her earlier that morning, and the handwritten note peaking from beneath the coaster on which it sat. She relished the way the cold glass dulled the ache in her hand as she raised it to her lips, pointedly ignoring the way her stomach churned at the tenderness behind it. Miko seemingly sensed her unease, trotting over to her and curling into a cosy ball against the side of her thigh. Her left hand rested against his tiny head, thumb stroking absentmindedly against the side of his chin, while her right hand returned the glass to the bedside table and retrieved the hand written note. She still could not place the feeling of unease it produced in her but she was emboldened to push past it by the comforting warmth of Miko pressed against her thigh, his rhythmic purring easing her nerves.

Good morning dear, I wanted to let you know I was leaving but I didn't have the heart to wake you, you looked so peaceful. I hope you slept well, I'm sure you needed it. I should be back around 6 baring any disasters but help yourself to anything in the meantime. And don't worry about Miko, he has been fed though I'm sure he will try to convince you otherwise. My office number is by the phone if you need anything. Try to take things easy today and be kind to yourself my dear. - Elizabeth

Wilhemina silently tested the shape of her adviser's given name, lips tentatively forming around the sounds. Of course she had seen the name Professor Elizabeth Thompson written for years but the explicit use of her christian name felt scandalously personal. A voice in the back of her head chided that thought - you spent last night in her guest bedroom and you're worried about using her given name? Ridiculous. Evidently in her preoccupation her left hand had stilled for Miko let out a sleepy chirup of annoyance, drawing her attention away from the complexity of her current relationship with her Professor. Elizabeth she reminded herself.

Having already disturbed Miko she took the opportunity to reposition herself to lay back down. The grey tabby was initially unimpressed to have his pillow so rudely removed but forgave her in short order, gently clambering up onto her chest as soon as she was laid flat. Miko stretched himself languidly, face contorting in a gigantic yawn that Wilhemina couldn't help but chuckle at. His little face came to rest upon her sternum, head cocked to the side, eyes watching her intently. Gently he lifted one paw, tiny pink toes pads coming to rest against Wilhemina's unmarred cheek, tenderly inquiring "more scritches, please." She happily complied, arm draping loosely across the little ball of fur who had wormed his way into her heart and her bed. As she began to scratch affectionately under his chin Miko craned his necked back in contentment and began purring again in earnest. Wilhemina smiled to herself as she allowed her eyes to close, the warm weight of the purring feline ensconced upon her chest lulling her to sleep. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to rest, just for a little while. Besides it would be cruel to disturb Miko when he looked so comfortable.

It was several hours later when she awoke again, judging by the way the sun no longer shone directly through the bedroom but instead created a bright indirect glow from further overhead. Wilhemina's stomach let out an indignant growl at the late hour, rousing Miko in the process who glared at her from beneath half lidded eyes. She scratched behind his ears in an apology which was evidently accepted as Miko began to nuzzle into her hand in response.

As she tentatively began to lever herself from the mattress Miko jumped down onto the bed and began to stretch out the kinks from his nap. Wilhemina looked on jealously as his spine extended as she slowly convinced her own vertebrae to support her weight. As she brought herself upright for the second time that day she noted gratefully that the painkillers seemed to have worked their magic, leaving her only slight tender even after the events of the past few days.

Navigating her way down the stairs proved to be somewhat challenging not merely from coordinating her balance with her cane in her left hand but also because Miko refused to leave her side, wending his way between her legs as she focussed intently on not breaking her neck. Having successfully reached the landing she made her way into the kitchen in search of breakfast, or whatever meal this now constituted. She noted gratefully that an assortment of cereals had been left on the kitchen counter, alongside a bowl and the necessities for tea and coffee, saving her from rooting through her professor's cupboards. She set the kettle to boil before preparing herself a bowl of muesli. As she set her tea to steep she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the mug Elizabeth had selected for her which proudly displayed the figure of Little Miss Stubborn, she couldn't really argue with the assessment but for once felt like such a gesture was meant as an affectionate jibe rather than an outright condemnation.

Miko stayed pressed against her ankles throughout the entirety of breakfast and whilst she cleared her dishes afterwards. He trailed behind her as she made her way back up the stairs, intending on changing out of her loungewear and into some proper attire. And he stopped beside her as she caught sight of contents of the room beside hers peaking through the door which had been left slightly ajar. The walls were painted with the most tender depictions of rabbits, squirrels, owls and deer, each peaking from amongst a lush forestscape. She found herself magnetically drawn to the scene, fingers ghosting across the hand painted figures on the plaster. Unfazed by her exploration Miko made himself at home on one of the two child-sized beds clothed in crisp white linen. An old oak bookself sat in the far corner of the room, practically bursting. Wilhemina's eyes skipped over many of the brighter, more modern spines, instead drawn to a shelf higher up full of older, more battered volumes whose titles she recognised from her own childhood. Familiar names jumped out to her like old friends - Blyton, Potter, Milne, Dahl. Far too many hours had been spent alone save for their company, whether alone and immobilised in a hospital bed or hidden beneath her bed clothes by torch light trying to block out her parents arguing, these had been her constant companions. She tenderly retrieved Matilda from the shelf, thumbing through the well worn pages, allowing the little girl she kept so securely locked away a moment to breathe, smiling fondly at the words which had given her hope in those moments of darkness.

So Matilda’s strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone.

She remembered vividly the delicious taste of revenge the first time she had partaken in Matilda's retribution against all those adults who had tried to squash the precocious young girl. More than once she had allowed herself to imagine what it would have felt like to exact similar vengeance against her mother. How sweet it would have felt to bleach her perfectly coiffured hair, to place newts in the punch at one of her horrendous soirees or terrorize her parents with ghostly reminders of their failings. How she longed to make her mother feel an ounce of the pain to which she herself had been subjected.

Still clutching the much loved volume she curled up next to Miko and allowed herself to retreat to a world of childhood comfort in which the underdog could triumph, in which I'm big, you're little could be usurped, in which Miss Honey might reach tenderly from the pages and adopt her too.

That was where Professor Thompson found her several hours later, relishing in the climax of the novel as Matilda vanquished Ms Trunchbull. She smiled fondly at the young woman she had always known to be so controlled and regimented curled lazily against the wall on her granddaughter's bed, Miko lounging against her thigh and contented smile playing across her lips behind a curtain of firey red hair. The floorboards creaked beneath the older woman's feet alerting Wilhemina to her presence. Her cheeks flushed furiously as she sheepishly met the older woman's gaze but found only genuine affection in her grey-blue eyes.

"Don't even think about apologising, my dear. I told you to make yourself at home and I meant it."

In spite of Elizabeth's assurances Wilhemina still felt the need to explain herself. "I didn't mean to end up in here" she began, "I saw the paintings and I only meant to look at them but then I saw the books and -"

"Wilhemina," the older woman cut her off kindly, "stop apologising. You've done nothing wrong, you needn't justify your every action. Not to me at least" she added knowingly. "My daughter will be flattered that you liked her paintings, though I really should show you photos of the masterpiece she created in the children's room back east. She works as a children's illustrator, though I think she would much prefer to do larger pieces like these if there was the work in it."

"I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful" Wilhemina whispered reverently. "Their little faces are just so sweet."

"I'll be sure to tell her you think so. Now, I should leave you to finish with Matilda, dinner should take me twenty minutes or so which, knowing the speed you read at, should be ample time."

"Oh no, it's fine" Wilhemina interjected, "I know how it ends, I've lost count of how many times I read it as a child. I should come and help you."

The older woman sighed, of course Matilda would be a favourite of hers. "Nonsense dear, finish your book. I'll call you when it's ready." And with that she was gone.

Wilhemina was indeed finished with the book when the older woman called her for dinner twenty minutes later, her voice floating up the stairs as if Wilhemina's presence at her dinner table was the most natural thing in the world. The simple meal of pasta Alfredo was passed in companionable silence between the two women, with Miko dividing his time equally between them. He remained under their feet as they cleared the dishes, with Wilhemina bracing her weight against the kitchen counter through her left hip to grant herself two free hands with which to dry the clean dishes as the older woman handed them off to her. Elizabeth shook her head fondly at the young woman's stubborness, once she set her mind to something there really was no stopping her.

Wilhemina was drying and putting away the last of the cutlery when the older woman disappeared momentarily, only to return with a manila folder which she placed atop the freshly cleaned kitchen table. Wilhemina eyed it warily. The older woman placed two cups of tea beside it and gestured for Wilhemina to join her. She did so cautiously.

"No need to look so nervous my dear, it's nothing bad. I just brought home the list of available casual positions from the careers centre on campus, I thought you might like to take a look to see if anything interested you."

Wilhemina froze. Of course it was too good to be true. Of course the kind older woman had grown sick of her already. Why wouldn't she, when she was nothing but a useless burden? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How could you think that anyone would actually put up with you?

Professor Thompson caught the way Wilhemina's shoulders stiffened and how her jaw tensed, as if preparing herself for an attack. She reached out and took the younger woman's hand in her own.

"There is no pressure dear. This is not about me getting rid of you. I simply thought you might be interested, I know you must be anxious about what comes next, you've never been one to be without a plan." Wilhemina suddenly felt very small and seen in a way she never had been before. It was simultaneously terrifying and yet so, so safe.

"It can wait as long as you like" the older woman continued, "but I'll leave it here for whenever you're ready."

"No, I mean, I'm ready now" Wilhemina blurted, "I just thought you meant-"

"I know my dear, I know" the older woman cut her off with a firm squeeze of her hand, earning her a shy smile from the younger woman. "Would you like me to stay or -"

"Stay" Wilhemina affirmed, "please?"

"Of course dear, now where do you want start?"

"Well, I suppose law or business makes the most sense" Wilhemina sighed, "at least I have some experience there."

"I didn't ask where you should start dear, I asked where you wanted to start - there's a difference. You said your parents chose law for you, what would you have chosen? If you could start over and choose for yourself what would you do?"

Wilhemina froze at that. She had accepted so long ago that she would simply follow the path her parents had set out for her that she had almost managed to convince herself that she wanted it too. It did no-one any good for her to pine after a future that could never be hers.

"I don't know" she stared at the older woman, eyes wide with the realisation.

"What do you miss from highschool then?" the older woman tried. "Is there a subject you enjoyed that you had to give up?"

She considered that for a moment. "Science, maybe?" she added shyly, "I liked that it was predictable, that I could know what to expect."

"Ok" the older woman prompted, fingers rifling through the folder, "any particular area?"

"Electronics or computers, maybe?" She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, as if waiting to be punished for daring to express her own desires.

"Ok, there are a couple here that could fit." The older woman traced her finger through the list of positions. "This one looks interesting. A couple of graduate students from the engineering faculty are looking for someone to help with data management and organisation for a start-up. They seem to be interested in bionic limb development" she added, sliding the paper towards Wilhemina, finger marking the appropriate notice.

Wilhemina scanned the brief description greedily, trying to temper her expectations. It sounded perfect but she daren't allow herself to even begin to hope that it might be possible.

"I think you would be perfect for it."

Wilhemina scoffed in response, "I don't know the first thing about robotics."

"But they aren't asking for that dear, they're asking for someone to help with organisation. They want someone who is meticulous and logical to help keep track of their data - that is you to a T. You would be brilliant at that. And it would allow you to see if it's an area that you like and maybe later you could transition into a more technical position, or go back and study more about it if you wanted."

"Look" the older woman reached out to tap the paper in front of Wilhemina, "it even says they have patents filed and a company formed. It seems to have all the makings of a long term prospect."

Wilhemina could feel her heart start to flutter at the possibility, that maybe, just maybe it wasn't too late for things to change. She scanned through the notice again, Elizabeth was right, it did sound perfect. And try as she might she couldn't help but look at the company name printed at the end of article with the hope that maybe it also inscribed her future.

Kineros Robotics

A/N: there is one more part to come after this, though I think I will likely dip back into this universe as one-shots from time to time to explore some of the key moments between here and apocalypse. If there are any particular things you would be interested to see feel free to hit me up

[agntofhydra]

Sawbones // SIX

(gif credit) 

summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AU

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

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

pairing: poe dameron x reader

rating: mature for later chapters

read me on ao3!

the masterlist  |  the playlist

read on till the end for notes!

CONTENT WARNING: this chapter contains drug use and more swearing than usual. 

SAWBONES // SIX

CALM DOWN, STARBOY. 

You’d surprised yourself, honestly. 

Maybe you were cut out for politics - the way you were able to stand in line with Poe and the Generals, keep your face blank and greet the new recruits without a scowl? It was nothing short of impressive. For you and Poe to stand shoulder to shoulder, his hands clasped behind him while yours were clasped in front, and not glance down at the stupid fucking string and notice that it was probably the shortest it’s ever been entitled you to an award. Maybe a nice vacation, off base? For the entirety of this training? 

That would be nice. 

You half expected Poe to jump into her arms, like people often did when their significant others returned from a flight. He didn’t. In fact, Poe’s expression did not crack from it’s diplomatic mask. Shoulders back, jaw clenched and chin out, Poe scanned the pilots as they left their ships, and you couldn’t help but watch him from the corner of your eye. Poe now diametrically opposed who he had been in your office, his stupid smile now a faint memory. 

Diplomatic, political Poe was one you hadn’t met nor seen in person. 

Diplomatic, political Poe was hot. 

Poe’s posture elongated his spine, jutted his chest out and brought forth his collar bones. Your eyes once again traced his gold chain. 

Maybe you didn’t deserve all the praise you’d previously granted yourself as you openly ogled the man next to you. But Poe was your soulmate. It granted you an ogle pass, whether or not both parties were aware. 

The pilots had lined up, helmets off and tucked under their arms. They were the perfect image, the very epitome of what people would want to see on Resistance banners. You’d purposely not remembered their names in spite. You were the Head Medic of the Resistance - they should have to introduce themselves to you.

Leia greeted them, her words sounded garbled as your eyes met the infamous Scoria Tane. She stood tall, her long white hair in a loose french braid. Her chestnut skin seemingly unmarred with such trivial marks like pores. You felt the breath leave your chest as her eyes flitted over to meet Poe’s. No matter how brief, you still caught it. You couldn’t feel any change in Poe’s demeanor, but you didn’t want to chance glancing over to see if there was a smile on his face. No need to put salt in an already festering wound. 

“This is our head medic,” Leia introduced you. Your head turned to hers before returning back to the recruits with a small nod. You were really mucking up your air of superiority. 

Besides Scoria, there was only one other human. And he was staring at you. 

“It’s an honor to be here, Generals,” the man spoke up, his eyes momentarily leaving your figure to address Holo, Ackbar and Leia. “It seems like a large base. I don’t know about my fellow pilots, but I would love a tour.” His eyes were back on you. 

“I’m sure Commander Dameron would be more than willing to accommodate you, Commander Ancin,” Holo nodded. 

Ancin smiled slightly. “Doctor, would you have the time?” 

You had been trying very hard not to meet his gaze, but his lack of subtlety forced your hand. However, Poe had beaten you to a response. 

“She’s very busy,” he cleared his throat. “Still has to conduct your physicals and stress tests. I am more than willing to give you a tour,” his tone was clipped. 

Ancin didn’t even spare Poe a glance, and you saw Poe clench his hands from behind his back out of your peripheral vision. You desperately wanted to pause time, to knock your shoulders or nudge him with your elbow. But you couldn’t, not with the audience in front of you. 

“It’s fine, Commander Dameron. I’m sure I could spare some time,” you responded, feeling like your skin was on fire. No doubt the white of your coat further contrasted the fact that your face was also on fire. 

“Great,” Ancin switched his helmet to the other arm. “Can we begin now?” He turned to Leia quickly. “My apologies, unless there was more to be discussed?” 

Leia gave him a tight smile. “The specifics can be gone over later.”

Ancin nodded before breaking formation with his fellow pilots and grabbing your arm. “Shall we, Doc?” 

If you would’ve had the time to turn your head as Ancin grabbed you, you would’ve seen the way Poe clenched his jaw impossibly tight and watched as the Coruscant’s pilot Commander dragged you away. If you would’ve perhaps taken the time to drag your eyes away from Poe’s chest and face earlier, you would’ve noticed that since the beginning of this whole situation, Poe had been slowly dragging the pointer finger of his right hand over the base of his left pinky. 

If you did, maybe you wouldn’t have agreed to showing someone around a base you barely knew yourself. 

“I’m going to apologize in advance,” you began, subtly removing your arm from his grip. “I don’t really know the base that well either. I know hangars, cafeteria and meeting room. But only in relation to the medbay.” 

“That’s okay,” he smiled down at you. “We can figure it out together.”

You hadn’t forced yourself to memorize the names of the pilots, but hearing Ancin jogged your memory from when you had skimmed their files. You were pretty sure his first name was Cane, and if the galaxy could pick one person to represent them, it would probably be him. 

Cane Ancin was objectively gorgeous. He was tall, several inches taller than you and most likely Poe, too. His cheekbones and jawline were sharp, and you remembered bitterly that he must be ridiculously fit, because he had one of the lowest resting heart rates you’d ever seen. He was broad, and his curls rivaled Poe’s. You outwardly winced at the comparison. 

“Something wrong?” he asked, putting a hand on your shoulder. You tried not to shrug it off. 

“Nothing. Just uh, remembering all the stuff I have to do back in the medbay.” 

Cane wasn’t bothered. “Let’s start moving then, yeah?”

The two of you had continued walking for a couple of paces, Cane watching you out of the corner of his eye, not even bothering to take account of where the two of you were. 

Fleetingly, you wondered if the base would be able to accommodate both Cane and Poe’s ego. 

“Why did you want me to give you a tour?” you asked, his silent watching pushing you to the brink. 

Cane shrugged. “Is it a crime to ask a beautiful woman to show me around?” 

You blinked at him. 

“Tell me,” his voice viscous like honey. He increased his stride so he could stand in front of you, abruptly stopping your movement. Throwing civility to the wind, you openly scowled. 

“Can you see your thread?” 

You wanted to roll your eyes. Could you have a conversation about literally anything else or was the soulmate tether your whole life now? You couldn’t work, sleep, or even eat without thinking about it. You’d never piloted one before, but you were sure that you could figure out how to steer an x-wing into oblivion. Sure, you had two of the best pilots in the galaxy on base that would catch your ass in no time, but it was nice to pretend that they couldn’t. 

Cane looked you up and down slowly. You weren’t exactly sure  what  he was looking at. Your boots, black leggings and white coat buttoned up to your throat didn’t really emanate sexy, but this guy was weird. It probably did seem sexy to him. Your scowl deepened. 

“I can see mine,” he drawled. Now would’ve been a great moment for one of your infamous ‘i’m gonna be sick’  moments. “And let me tell you, I like where it leads.” 

You snorted. “Calm down, starboy. I can see mine, too.”

Cane deflated. 

“Does that actually work? Do you get people with that?” you questioned, tapping on your chin. “Even on a few shots of fire-water I still don’t think I would’ve fell for it.”

Cane didn’t stay off-guard for long - after you were done speaking, he let out a laugh and held his hands up as if to say, ‘well, I tried.’

“It does sometimes,” he said. “The addition of fire-water does seem to increase the chances, though I figured I would try it with you regardless.” 

“You pilots are always so risky,” the two of you fell into step again. The tension seemed to have dissipated instantly. “Always shoot first, ask questions later.” 

“You speak from experience,” Cane raised an eyebrow. 

“Do you know how many pilots end up in my medbay because of that mentality?” You shook your head. “Craziest beings in the galaxy, I swear.” 

“Dameron is the worst of us,” he responded, and you didn’t miss the way his expression steeled. You stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. 

“Commander of the Resistance? You really trust that guy?” 

You narrowed your eyes, the words your brain wanted to speak in defense of Poe stilled at the tip of your tongue. You didn’t expect someone to join the ‘I hate Poe Dameron’ club, but as soon as it crossed your mind, you realized you weren’t even part of that club. You were in the ‘I hate loving Poe Dameron’ club. President of the ‘My soulmate is a douche but it’s totally my fault’ club. 

You could go on. 

“What’s your issue with Poe?” you asked. 

“Typical he hasn’t mentioned me,” Cane scratched his bare jaw. It made you realize you preferred stubble. “He’s just...not the guy you all think he is.” 

“Don’t be vague,” you said, annoyed. 

“The guy just...he’s not this straight-laced, hero of the Resistance. Hell, I haven’t even been here a day and I can tell the whole base fucking worships him, and for what?” 

“For being a good pilot?” you answered what was most likely a rhetorical question. “For risking his life every time he gets in that ship, getting us First Order intel and directly playing a role in saving the galaxy?” You were getting angrier by the second. Whatever past he had with Poe, you didn’t care about it. 

“Might I remind you it’s the same galaxy that you and I both live in? We all have shit we’ve done in the past. How we move on from it defines us.” You stopped yourself before saying something you would regret, revealing too much to a man you didn’t know. And honestly? You didn’t care to. 

You continued when Cane stayed silent. 

“You don’t have skeletons in the closet? If you know Poe’s, I’m sure he knows yours.” 

You turned to him, conveniently stopped outside of the double doors to your medbay. The harsh fluorescents illuminated Cane’s face, exposing the conflict and discord written all over his features. Whatever thoughts were floating in his head made you feel uneasy, as though you were teetering on a tightrope. Cane didn’t meet your gaze, instead he chose to finally notice his surroundings. 

He inhaled deeply and exhaled for longer. You waited patiently. 

“I’ll see you around for my tests, Doc.” Cane continued to walk down the hallway, and you fought the urge to point out that it was the opposite direction he needed to go. ...right?

You couldn’t dwell on your mediocre sense of direction before you heard the whoosh of air form the double doors opening and FX-7’s bulky metal frame towering over you.  Droid or not, you could feel the disapproval from the lit, annular holes in its head as they bored into your back.

“You have plenty to do,” was all the droid said before it retreated back into the medbay.

✗ ✗ ✗

  Yes, you had plenty to do. So much so that it took you up until early morning to finish. It was so early, (or late?) that you had recoiled when you’d checked the time.

But, as you were heading back to your quarters to catch up on sleep because you were in no rush to start taking vitals on the new recruits, your arm was caught on fire. 

Not literally, but it felt literal. Like every nerve ending was ripped from your skin, abraded and exposed. And it all originated from one point on your hand. You fought the buckle of your knees, desperately applying pressure to your pinky finger after loudly yelling a string of expletives. As you took another step in the direction of your quarters, the pain impossibly intensified. Somehow, your brain was able to act logically as you quickly retraced your last few steps. 

As you moved backwards, the pain slowly dissipated into a deep throb, coming from both your hand and somehow your chest? You inspected your arm, turning over at least seven times. Your medical training had never taught you, or even touched on anything related to...whatever just happened. As you retreated back to the medbay, the pain intensified again. 

“What the fuck,” you gritted through your teeth. Stepping back from the double doors, you continued forward. And for the next few minutes, you continued like that. Walking and retracing your steps, following the path that didn’t beset your body in so much agony your vision went white.  

In your course around the base, you were at a junction you’d never been to previously. To your left, the hallway led out to the runway and to your right, a dead end. However, a few experimental steps in either direction revealed that your phantom arm pain was directing you straight forward. 

Honestly, fuck the galaxy, you sized up the door in front of you. Whatever forces were at work right now, pulling your sensory nerves like strings on a marionette could fuck off. Sending you to weird parts of the base that you’d never been to (it could’ve been a common area actually, you never really explored) and sending you to a blank, durasteel door? Another healthy dose of fire shot up your spinal cord. 

“The thread is sentient,” you tried to catch your breath. “All of the past soulmates in the galaxy have joined together to kill me.” 

Rationally, there was no way you were correct but you were running on empty and had been updating the files on the pilots until you thought your retinas would burn out. Maybe this was a dream? You could definitely be dreaming. 

Shaking out your right arm, you bounced back and forth on either foot. You were going to go through this mystery door. Enter the mystery door that didn’t make your arm feel like the thread was pulling tight between your arm and torso as if to amputate it. Yes.

Before your mind could bitch out, your muscles pushed your legs forward by reflex - acting before the brain could process. Your hand pulling down on the handle, a component most doors on the base didn’t have. 

Blue. 

Your entire field of vision was met with a murky swirl of blue. The room was of decent size, maybe slightly smaller than your office. From what you could see, it looked like a storage room. The walls were lined with shelves that contained extra orange jumpsuits, helmets, blankets and clothes of all sorts. In your pursuit of orienting yourself, you disregarded the figure sitting on the ground against the wall opposite you.

 With one leg forward and the other bent at the knee, the source of the smoke dangled loosely between the fingers of Poe Dameron. 

But you didn’t realize that yet, because it was dark and hazy and you were confused and what was that smell?  The acrid fumes were coupled with an odor that was almost...sweet? No. Tart felt like the better word. Sharp and sour and sitting on your tastebuds. 

As Poe dragged on the stick in his hand, the embers that burned at the end burned brighter and attracted your eyes. Then, you noticed him. 

“Dameron?” you squinted through the smoke, trying to swat it out of your vision. “Are you seriously smoking spice right now?”

In your confusion and disbelief, you didn’t notice how the throbbing from the remnants of pain in your arm had become an amalgamation of both the lingering pain and a new, warmer sensation. Pleasure.

“I’m surprised you know what this is,” he blew out a long stream. 

You tried not to scoff. “I was a teenager once, too.” 

He was silent for a moment before lazily motioning with the hand that held the joint to the spot next to him. With a concerning lack of reluctance you’d think on later, you sat down next to him. 

“My entire left arm has been killing me all day,” he took another hit. You frowned as he blew the smoke out at you. 

“So weird that there isn’t someone on base that could do something about that,” you replied casually, but your mind was spinning. His arm was hurting too? What the hell was going on?

He shook his head, ignoring your response and offered you the joint instead. Surprising both him and yourself, you took it, rotating it in your hand. 

“Take a hit,” Poe urged. “You can turn off your doctor-mode for one seco -  are you really inspecting it right now?”

You looked at him, confused. “Um, yes? Why are you inhaling this when you don’t even know what it’s made of?” 

Poe blinked at you, albeit much slower than usual. “To get high.”

You tapped the ashes into the palm of your hand, then handed the spice back to him. His hand slowly, meticulously took it from your grip and brought it back to his lips. Rubbing the ashes with your pointer finger in your palm, you brought the fine, cerulean powder to your eyes, studying it before lightly placing your finger on your tongue. Poe’s eyes tracked every movement. 

“It’s similar to Ryll,” you noted. “An ore from Ryloth. It’s usually used medicinally, but it can be refined into some good fucking spice.”

“You’ve smoked spice?” 

You took the object in question from his grip, putting it between your lips and taking a deep inhale. Holding it, you smirked at him. You laughed while exhaling, your lungs somewhat relishing in the sweet burn you hadn’t felt in years. 

“Medical school was hard.”

“That’s…” Poe’s eyebrows twisted as he tried to find the words, “so...normal? Of you?” 

“Thanks?”

Poe leaned his head back against the wall. “You’re always the head medic, the doctor of the Resistance. You make it really hard to get to know you outside of that. Is there someone beneath the white coat?” 

You took another hit to avoid answering and Poe had no issue in continuing. 

“I had to ask that engineer you always hang out with,” he paused, thinking hard to remember Jasti’s name before giving up and continuing, “what your actual name was. The people I asked before didn’t know.” 

“Everyone calls me Doc. I don’t mind it.” 

“I do,” Poe snapped, uncharacteristically hostile. “Stars, I’ve made such an effort for you.” 

“An effort?” you echoed.

“To get to know you, to spend time with you. Maker, I even thought for a second - “ Nope. Poe wasn’t high enough to let that statement loose. 

But you were just high enough not to notice. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, the usual weight on your chest now heavier. “I don’t know how to act when people want to get to know me. I haven’t for a long time.” 

Poe placed the joint on the ground, letting it burn out. The two of you sat in silence, slowly inhaling and exhaling the chemicals that swirled in the air. You could feel yourself becoming heavier and weightless at the same time. Your physical sense felt light, but the burden of everything else came down heavy. 

“I hate having him here,” Poe began. “Ancin.” 

“Did you know him previously?” 

Poe swallowed thickly, and you watched his adam’s apple bob up and down. The thought crossed your mind again - the sensitivity of his carotid. It would be so easy for you to find out right now, to just lean over and place a finger, or even your lips on it. That part of your brain that kept you rational and reasonable must've been short circuited by the spice because it wasn’t telling you not to find out, not reminding you of any and all consequences. For once, your brain felt quiet. 

Leaning his head back up towards you, he caught your staring but you couldn’t be bothered to look away. Maybe he was sensitive elsewhere, too. You had dated a guy from Corellia who went absolutely feral when your lips met his sternum. You wanted to find out if Poe was the same way. You wanted to place your lips on every inch of his body, test each section of skin for a quick intake of breath, a twitch, goosebumps. To feel his fingers, calloused from years of flight maneuvers and switches, testing you for sensitivity. 

In your reverie, Poe had begun to inch closer at imperceptible increments. His left hand resting flat on the ground - next to your right. His left pinky laid over your right as he leaned in, tucking some hair behind your ear to justify his proximity. His head turned, his lips now ghosting over the strip of space between the bottom of your earlobe to the joint of your jaw. 

“Is this okay?” He whispered, and you closed your eyes at the feeling of his lips brushing against you. 

“This better not be a dream again,” you said under your breath. 

Chuckling, Poe pressed his lips to your temporomandibular joint as you tilted your head, giving him full access. “Again?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Your filter was gone - your brain now occupied with the double assault of the spice and having Poe Dameron press kisses onto your skin. 

“We don’t have to talk,” he said, unbuttoning the top two buttons of your white coat to give him more access to your neck. He sucked lightly at your own pulse point, and you sucked in a breath. 

“Sensitive?”  Stars. The irony. 

“Are you?” you bit back as you brought your hand to rest on his bicep. 

“Want to find out?” he pulled back to meet your eyes. In spite of your slow movements and cloudy train of thought, you had never felt so clear, so confident in an answer. 

You licked your lips, moistening them as your hand slid up from its place on his bicep to the side of Poe’s face, stroking your thumb lightly. Poe sighed, leaning into your ministration and tangling his pinky finger with yours. You could feel the blood buzzing underneath your skin, your sympathetic nervous system sending adrenaline and epinephrine by the gallon to account for how fast your heart was racing. 

You copied his earlier movements, pressing your lips to various points along his jaw, his neck. Testing what he liked the most. When you got to your target, you boldly licked the spot up to his jaw. Poe’s hand tangled in your hair, breath shuddering. 

“That’s a yes for you, too,” you whispered with the last remnants of air in your lungs. 

Finally, your brain rejoiced through the fog. 

You continued kissing, nipping at spots here and there. At the notch between his collarbones, Poe groaned. 

“Scoria.”

You stopped. 

Pulling away, you mustered the courage to meet his eyes. The smoke of the room now felt suffocating, not intoxicating. You felt like you were being smothered, and you were now noticing the lack of fresh air in your lungs. 

Poe’s eyes met yours, too before widening. 

Your hand left his face, your pinky leaving his. The dull ache in your arm had returned. You swallowed thickly, nodding. 

“Fuck. I’m - “ Poe couldn’t straighten out his thoughts, let alone form a sentence. Very clearly in his mind, he had known it was you kissing, sucking on his neck. Her name had just..slipped out. 

“No,” you cut him off before he could formulate some half-assed excuse you didn’t want to hear. “I’m sorry. I should’ve have - I forgot about - “ You couldn’t find the words either. 

Standing, you looked down at him briefly, noting how the red thread of fucking fate bisected his torso, standing out starkly against the blue of the smoke and his button up. 

“Thanks for the spice,” you forced, before leaving the room. 

Walking down the hallway, continuing your initial course of returning to your quarters, you felt extremely sober. What else could sober you up faster than the guy whose neck you're kissing moaning out the name of another woman? 

Looking down, you quickly redid the buttons Poe had undone. 

I’m sorry? Your mind replayed the moment.  Sorry for what? Poe is yours. 

You stopped in your tracks. 

Poe was yours. Why the fuck were you embarrassed that you were indirectly kissing your soulmate? Apologizing because he was currently in the middle of wasting his time with another woman? Sure, it was girl code not to do what you had previously been doing, but soulmates were excluded from girl code. Whether or not it was indirectly (...or directly) your fault that he was with her wasn’t important. 

So, yeah. Fuck being sorry, fuck being embarrassed. You were done tiptoeing around the subject. Operation ‘Poe is my soulmate and I’m finally going to do something about it’ was a go. You couldn’t waste any more time. 

The realization that you would explode if you had to spend any more days of your life without Poe’s lips on you was completely unrelated. 

 -----

are you guys screaming? i'm screaming.

also, poe looks high af in the gif above so...i felt that it fit well. 

but what a wild rollercoaster this has been & will continue to be. I hope y'all are excited for the ride, because I am. Can't thank you guys enough for the love & support. don't be scared, share the angst with your friends!! xoxox

also!!! official sawbones playlist because i am a slut for playlists. i’ll be adding and removing, so lmk how you feel about it :) 

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