#yes! dress medicate pretty cure

[the-californicationist]

Hiii

First of all I wanted to thank you for your amazing fics 🤩. They have become a part of my life and I can’t live without them anymore 🥹💖

Secondly, I wanted to ask about a fic if you would consider. 🫶

Price is injured in his thigh and we are a medic. When attending to the wound the tension rises and a little bit of teasing from our part? 😌

Also, Price can’t take us like he wants because of the wound but we can do 69?

Or maybe something more thrilling! I know you are the greatest in ideas and writing! ❤️‍🔥

Thank you a loooot. (*＾3＾）/～♡

Do No Harm

After being shot in the leg, Captain Price is put on strict bed rest by his medic: you. When he threatens to break your orders, you decide to use your rank against him.

AO3 Link

TW: female reader, face fucking, hurt/comfort, come play

When the captain got shot, all hell broke loose. Ghost and Gaz retaliated swiftly, and the bomb that Soap rigged to blow the enemy encampment was more than a little overkill. The four of them had shown up back at your makeshift base, sweaty, bloody, and exhausted. 

“What happened?” You asked the tall lieutenant, searching his face as he removed the skull mask, looking for signs as to how serious it was. 

“He took a hit to the thigh. Dead bloody center,” the tall Brit rolled his captain over, the latter of whom let out a torrid string of curses and shouts, nasty enough to make you blush. 

You inspected the wound, but his clothing was in your way. Ripping your scissors out of your chest armor, you set to cutting him out of his trousers, and you tried not to let the panic get the best of you. 

The truth was that you were keeping a secret. You were sleeping with their captain. You and John had broken a series of rules (and furniture) over the past four months, enjoying each other in the most primal, carnal way. Every night that he was on base, he sneaked into your medbay, aching with something other than pain and searching for his cure. 

You knew it was wrong. It was so far beyond protocol that you wouldn’t be surprised if they court martialed you when they found out, but you didn’t care. You were addicted to him. When he was away for too long, you crawled through the hallways and out into the common rooms with a slick problem between your legs. Something only his fat cock and filthy mouth could solve. 

He was terrible with you. Nothing was off-limits. He used you like a toy, and his fervid want was enough to burn you alive. In the darkness, his grasping hands and hot breath scorched your skin, searing across your belly, pinching your nipples, playing in your lips, all for the express purpose of making you come. It was his favorite thing. By the sixth, the seventh, when you were begging him to squeeze his pulsing rod inside of you, pleading in whispered cries for him to fuck you, he would chuckle with a dark joy. Teasing you, calling you his pretty little plaything, reminding you that you were fully at his mercy. 

It was hard to see him like this, but you were good at your job, and luckily, the bullet had gone right into the muscle. No broken femur, no arterial damage. Your predator would live to hunt you another day. 

“I need everybody out. Come back in an hour,” you commanded. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Gaz replied, leading the others out of the clinic to debrief and regroup after a hard night. 

You sliced through his canvas pants, slipping the shears through the fabric to reveal his bare skin. He never wore any underwear, which you were always quick to rib him for. Then, you inspected the wound. They had packed it in the field, and as you removed the dressings, more and more blood pooled out of the hole, obscuring your view. You worked as fast as you could, administering as much anesthetic as you had on hand, knowing that it wasn’t enough. He was doing everything he could not to writhe in pain as you threw stitch after stitch. 

“Jus’ wanted to get me alone, didn’t ya?” He teased you through gritted teeth. His voice was weak, but he was feisty, which was a good sign. 

You smiled down at him, joking around,

“You know it. But, you’re lookin’ a little worse for wear today, Captain. Might have to get my fix somewhere else.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, grabbing the side of the table hard enough to make the metal frame whine when you hit a nerve with your needle, “Another man lays a fuckin’ hand on you, and he’ll wish he hadn’t.” 

“Can’t have you reopening this wound, John. I worked hard on these stitches.”

“How’m I gonna sneak in to see you tonight?” He looked up at you with softer eyes, a youthful gaze on his face. 

You pitied him, winking cheekily, 

“Might just have to keep you here for observation.”

His whole body relaxed then, relieved in a way you hadn’t expected. You had just been kidding around, but his reaction made you change your mind. If he felt better with you in your clinic, you’d add it to the orders. The last thing you needed was your headstrong man limping through the base just for a chance at some action. 

You finished up, cleaning the wound and surrounding skin, wiping down the rest of him as best you could. He was filthy, and the water in your bucket was full of sand by the time you were done. But, he still smelled like the sun and his sweat, and it was enough to make the animal part of your mind practically salver at the idea of how his skin must taste. The saltiness, full of his pheromones… you chastised yourself for even thinking about it. 

He was finally asleep, full of morphine and exhausted from his ordeal. Gaz popped back in, and you told him you’d be keeping their commander overnight. You thought you’d gotten away with your little game, but there was a knowing glint in the sergeant’s eye that told you he knew more than you thought. 

You tried not to stress about it. His men were loyal to him, and you knew they wouldn’t rat you out. But, still. You made a mental note to be more careful in the future. 

Your bedtime routine was short and easy. You slipped into some shorts and one of John’s abandoned tee shirts. Luckily, it looked like everyone else’s tee shirt, so no one was the wiser. You could always say you stole a larger one from the supply room. But, it smelled like him, and you slept like a rock when you wore it. 

You climbed into bed, and before you could even think about going to sleep, the ache between your legs reared its horny head, coaxing you to touch yourself, disguising itself as a tingle, an itch that needed to be scratched. As soon as your fingers pried apart your soft petals, you discovered the truth. You were soaking wet, and your core was hot like molten lead, giving your digits no resistance as you played with yourself, slipping them in and out of your slick folds. 

You heard a noise escape from your throat against your will, and you tried to hold it back, rolling your eyes from the slam of pleasure that rushed to your head. You were dizzy with want, and even though you tried to quiet the sound, you could hear your own wet flesh popping and sluicing with more and more of your precome, preparing you for an encounter you knew you couldn’t have. 

You came quickly, and without much warning, clenching down on nothing, biting your hand to keep from screaming for him. You peeked over your shoulder, and luckily, he hadn’t woken up. You thought about how nice it would feel to have his big body curled against you as you crashed into a deep slumber, the scent of your wet hand and his old shirt mixing together and lulling you to sleep. 

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, but when you woke, it was still dark. Your eyes darted over to the clinic table, and John was… missing?

You sat up with a start only to find him fully naked at the end of your bed, getting ready to crawl in beside you. 

“John!” You hissed, “What are you doing? You can’t be walking around.”

“Gotta have you, love. I’m so hard, it hurts.”

“You were shot in your fucking leg, Jonathan Price. Let me see the dressing.”

“Quit fussin’ over me, girl. C’mere,” he covered you with his body and grabbed your wrists, forcing you to lay beneath him, flat and vulnerable. He set to pulling away your clothes, making quick work of it, sighing raggedly when he felt your naked body beneath his own. 

But, he was in pain. You could see him adjusting and readjusting, trying to figure out how he could fuck you like he wanted to, unable to find a solution. 

“John,” you whispered, feeling his mouth on your neck, “We can’t. You’re going to hurt yourself. Don’t make me order you to stop.”

“I’m your commander,” he breathed, threatening you with his teeth, leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin. 

“Don’t…” you gasped as his fingers found your gooey center, “Don’t confuse your rank for my authority, Captain Price. You’re under my care.”

He glared at you, coming to a pause, leaving his fingers in you to play in your hole, gently pulsing in and out, teasing you just enough to keep you on the edge, 

“You want me to stop? Hm?”

The more he teased you, the more hot slick collected on his hands, sticky and clear, covering his fingers and making him harden with every moment. 

Then, he took a sharp breath in through his nose, and paused, hiding his grimace in the crook of his arm. You canted your hips, removing his hand from you, fed up with his defiance, 

“John, that’s enough. If you make me restitch that wound, I will have to do it without drugs. We’re out of anesthetic.”

“Please, love,” he held you close to him, letting you feel his hard length as it rolled against your tummy, making a trail of precome across your skin, “I need you. I’ve missed you so bad. Lemme fuck you. Put my cock in you.”

“Hold on,” you shifted your body so that he would turn on his side. Then, you lay opposite him, your head laying at the foot of the bed, bringing you face to face with his swollen, hungry cock. 

In this position, you could suck him off, and he wouldn’t need to use his thigh. 

You licked your lips, trailing them across his cockhead, collecting his salty pearls of pleasure and wearing them like gloss, suckling from his tip as softly as you could just to taunt him further. 

“Ahhh, fuck…” His sigh was delicious. All of that pain and all of the stress that had made him so tense rushed out of him, making his skin pebble with bliss. 

Without hesitation, John bent his head, pulling your hips to his open mouth, and wrapping your leg under his arm, eating your pussy and groaning with a lurid, feral pleasure. 

The feeling of his soft lips and scruffy beard against your sensitive skin flung you into a spiral of pleasure. You could feel his warm tongue prodding and exploring through you, greedily splitting you to get to your hot, honeyed center. 

You wanted more of his taste, so you went to work, stretching your jaw to accommodate his girth, taking him deeper into your throat, using your tongue to trace a wet circle around his head when you needed to catch your breath, teasing him just beneath his foreskin. When you did, his cock throbbed for you, egging you on, eager to drip its load into your mouth. 

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Gonna make me come,” he threatened. 

Suddenly, you felt his fingers dip back inside of you. He was aggressive with his fondling, shoving two of his thick digits deep inside of you, curling them cruelly to press upon your most pliant, responsive spot. 

As he fucked you with his hand, he let his tongue lap against your clit, making you whine around his dick, muffled by his shaft. You felt his hips begin to thrust forward and back, desperately fucking your throat, getting closer and closer to releasing his orgasm inside of you. 

You couldn’t wait to taste him. You wanted him to use you. You didn’t want to hurt him, but the truth was — as hungry as he was for your body — you needed him just as badly. 

You felt your body begin to tense, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he would have you coming on his hands. He kept his pace, knowing your favorite rhythm, humming to himself as he devoured you, sucking up every drop of your wetness as if he’d never drink from your tight font again. 

Your toes curled, your legs tried to close in on themselves, stopped by his body trapped between them, and something snapped inside of your core, letting loose spiraling sparks of pleasure, breaking you apart over and over, only for each gentle lick from his tongue to put you back together. 

“Mmhm,” he praised you, “Good girl. Just like that. Rub your come on my mouth.”

You did as you were told, no longer in the driver’s seat when it came to your body, fully trained to submit to his will. You shamelessly smeared your pussy across his bearded jaw, humping lewdly against him, all for him to whisper gratefully between licks, 

“Yes, more. More. Give it to me. Fuck my mouth, love. Fuck, I love it. Fuck…”

All the while, he was thrusting into your mouth, deeper and deeper, choking you on his hardness. But, you let him. You allowed him to use you, holding onto his hips for dear life, breathing in every gap that he left, gasping for air, feeling yourself getting dizzy. 

“Are you ready for me?” He groaned, peering down at you between your bodies.

You moaned something you hoped sounded like a yes, and he turned his full attention towards you. You felt his fingers leave your pussy, only to wrap themselves through your hair, sticky and messy, making a strong, merciless grip at the base of your skull. 

He fucked you in earnest, then. It was gratifying to hear his satisfied grunts, and as you felt his cock swell even more, you knew he was about to come. Your mind wanted air, but your body wanted his load. You wanted to feel it slip into your  throat, hot and milky, pouring down your neck like a salacious prize. 

Finally, he went stock-still, and the only thing that moved was his cock. It throbbed inside of you, shooting rope after rope of heavy come down your tongue, painting your mouth white. 

He removed himself from you as quick as he could, pulling your head back up to your pillow, bringing you face to face with him, whispering in an animalistic tone, 

“Lemme see it, pretty girl. Open up. Let me… ahh, yes. That’s it.”

He dipped his finger into your mouth, gathering up his own orgasm onto the tip, smearing it around your lips like he was putting on your makeup. 

You were panting, gasping in the air you so desperately needed, and you tried not to swallow, gathering up as much of his foaming fluid on your tongue as you could, sticking it out for him, showing him what a good girl you could be. 

He took more of it onto his hand and dipped down between your legs, painting your swollen folds with his spend, mixing your come together like some ritual. 

You couldn’t help but whimper. You were overstimulated and raw, and he shushed you, bringing his hand back up to play with your soft nipples, 

“Shh, it’s okay, love. It’s okay. Kiss me.”

You felt his mouth crash into yours, and your own heady taste invaded your senses, folding in with his, making your body roll itself against him, begging him for more. 

“Leg already feels better. C’mon, love. Give us the go ahead, hm?”

“I will tie you to this bed, John Price. Don’t test me,” you looked up at him before laying your head on his furry chest, breathing when he breathed, watching his hairy belly rise and fall. 

“Promise?” He chuckled, pulling you closer and holding you there all night, unwilling to compromise, claiming you in every way he knew how. You dozed against him, sated and happy, wondering how long you could keep a secret this good. 

Sorry for the wait! Work is hellish right now, but as soon as this semester is over with, I'll be posting more. Thanks for letting me know your thoughts.

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Zayne x Lemurian! Fem! Reader: Ebb Day ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝔻𝕠𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕣 ℤ𝕒𝕪𝕟𝕖˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 040 ✦ ┆・

[ Reader is Related to Rafayel because I said so<3]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ My Ocean Belongs To You ] ¡! ❞

"Zayne, do you like art galleries?" "Yes. How come you're asking?" "My big brother is hosting an art gallery<33. Wanna come with me:0?" "When is it?" "Saturday in the afternoon!" "Sure."

And that was how Zayne found himself in this situation, while you sported a pretty little frilly long dress— He was simply wearing his typical black dress shirt and trousers. Of course, he was secretly staring at you the whole time, he's always been interested in you but never had once vocalized it nor has he ever openly made it obvious or even drop hints.

Besides, he had been a little stressed from work as of late. He had to deal with a lot of troublesome patients during the weekdays and there were too many close calls on his surgeries as of late so he badly needed to take his mind off of the hospital even just for a bit.

And you are his favourite kind of cure.

Zayne followed behind you as you pranced in your steps, guiding him to the location of the art gallery. it didn't take the both of you too long to arrive to the place.

Fine and extremely detailed canvases were attached to the walls, each one unique on their own.

Zayne wasn't much of a painter, he could only sketch since he had to draw a lot of anatomical diagrams back when he was still in medical school.

"Your brother is very skilled" Zayne says as his gaze landed on the different pieces.

"Right?" You beam, hopping in your steps even more happily as you admire your cousin's works. "He's always working hard on his paintings."

He follows behind you, admiring the image of you more than he does admiring the pretty paintings around the both of you.

"Ah, there he is!" You spring into happy little skips as you made your way towards a man with deep purple hair boredly leaning on the wall and fiddling with a pen in his fingers. "Oppa!"

"Geez, pipe down, I can hear you just fine" He says in a sarcastic but gentle voice as his bluish-pink eyes similar to yours land on you. "I thought you were joking when you said you'll visit"

"Oppa will be disappointed if I didn't" You grin, making him roll his eyes.

"Who is this?" His gaze falls on Zayne, pushing himself off of the wall.

"I'm Zayne" He introduces himself.

"Zayne..." The name rolls off of the painter's tongue, pondering as he tries to remember where he has heard it before. "Ah yes, you're my sister's doctor, right? She wont stop yapping about you I almost went deaf from it. I'm Rafayel"

"Oppa!" You protest, smacking his arm.

"Hey, ow!" Rafayel fake winces, a dramatic expression on his face as he gasped. "Guppy, that is not how you treat your older brother! Isn't family supposed to love eachother?"

"As if!" You stick your tongue out at Rafayel and Zayne stood awkwardly in between this little banter.

"Pfft," He scoffs, rubbing the spot you had hit. "Still as feisty as ever like a sea urchin."

"You're as round and ridiculous as a puffer fish" You bite back.

"...." Zayne felt like he really shouldn't be here at this moment.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go off there and greet Thomas" You say in a childish, high pitched voice as you point at a direction and storm off.

Zayne shook his head, wanting to follow you but found it rude if he left your brother all alone without a proper conversation. Besides, he could see you in his peripheral vision.

"I meant it though." Rafayel starts, humming as continued playing with the pen absentmindedly. "She speaks very highly of you like a little baby dolphin learning how to jump off of water for the first time."

"...I'm glad she thinks so, but I'm only doing my job as her doctor" Zayne answers, pushing his eyeglasses back.

"Isn't that what every doctor says?" Rafayel scoffs, crossing his arms as both men overlooked you who is happily chatting with Thomas and asking about some paintings. "My little sister is a handful, isn't she?"

"Well," Zayne hums, deciding to play along with Rafayel. "She often doesn't listen to her doctor's orders and is somehow scared of staying in the hospital at night believing ghosts might swallow her."

"...Did she actually say that?" Rafayel cocks up an eyebrow.

"She did." Zayne simply confirms while watching you prance back to them and tug at Rafayel's arm.

"Oppa, oppa, I want the pretty puzzle piece music box, get it for me!" You say childishly, pulling at Rafayel's hand.

"Hey, I'm not a wallet" Rafayel groans but allows himself to be dragged over to the gift store area.

Zayne followed you both, watching as the two of you bantered on and on. He could tell that Rafayel spoiled you a lot, watching as he keep saying sarcastic remarks and marine related insults while letting you pull him around.

"You're a grown woman now and a hunter, why exactly do you need a music box puzzle?" Rafayel rolls his eyes.

"Because it helps!" You reason out, shooting a hopeful look at Zayne. "Right doctor Zayne? Right?"

"Puzzle making and achieving to finish it can certainly boost dopamine production," Zayne replies, sighing as he realizes what you are using him for. "As for sleep, well, music boxes can certainly help lull you to sleep."

"Ugh, using your doctor card on me, really?" Rafayel groans, but pays for the puzzle piece anyway. "Now shoo, there's an ice cream store at the front. Your brother is buisy doing grown-up stuff so children should behave."

"I'm not a 2 year old!" You say as you hold the now packaged puzzle piece before storming off.

"...." Zayne was about to follow behind you until he heard Rafayel's voice again.

"Do you know about Lemuria? There's a secret rumour amongst their merpeople" he says, "Every year there's a day when the tide is low, and it flows in the opposite direction. It's on that day that Lemurians are at their weakest hence why they keep it a secret. Even the weakest humans can end them if they so please."

"Then how come you know of this?" Zayne inquires.

"Well, it's a fairy tale" Rafayel dismisses his question. "She's waiting for you"

Zayne nods his head politely before going towards your direction.

Throughout the whole time on the ice cream shop, he keeps thinking of what Rafayel said. And for some reason, he can;t take it off his mind.

Despite that, he chooses to just focus on the you who is busily munching on the ice cream he had bought for you earlier.

"Slow down, it's not going anywhere" He says, picking up a napkin and wiping the cream off of your cheek.

"But it's just so yummy!" You protest.

"I know," Zayne nods his head, "But still, eat a little more slowly.

"...Okay" You pout.

Zayne shakes his head, smiling faintly as he found the whole situation a little ridiculous. He could tell Rafayel thought that he spoils you too. After all, he's putting up with your childish antiques and scolds you as if you were a small child.

Overall, this litle... Outing turned out well since he met your older brother.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

For the past two weeks, Rafayel's words bothered Zayne over and over. It kept repeating in his mind and it even echoes in his ears whenever he woke up. It's a miracle he didn't have any surgeries these days and managed to keep a proffesional act despite it high bothering him.

To add to that, you havent texted or called him a single time.

Sure, you're not required to talk to him all the time but today seemed particularly different as it nagged him.

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing in frustration as he finished up the last of his reports.

He then reached for his phone and instantly dialed your number.

Thankfully enough, you picked up.

"Hello?" You voice was horrible, making Zayne immediately alarmed.

"Are you alright? your voice is a little rough" He inquires, taking his doctor's coat off. and grabbing his keys.

"No... Fever"

"A fever?" He sighs, storming out the hallways and into the parking lot. "You're home, aren't you? Have you taken your temperature and drank medicine?"

"Cant..." You breathe heavily. "Too weak."

"Stay in bed." Zayne said as he hopped into his car and brought life to the engine. "I'll come."

He then dropped the phone call as he drived out of the hospital and towards your apartment.

Zayne knew deep inside it was probably just as a normal fever, but there's a surge of panic in him as he hurried over. The moment Zayne parked, he hurriedly went upstairs. He was irrational with the way his mind is overthinking things.

Surely it's just a fever.

A fever.

Zayne opened the door to your apartment and quietly locked it behind him then going to your bedroom where he found you curled up in your bed.

"I'm here" Zayne says with a gentle voice, his tone a little lower than usual as he gently pries off the blanket off of your face and placed a palm on your forehead.

"Ngh... Zayne" You whine a little.

"Ssh," He said, removing his palm and reaching for the bedside drawer and pulled out the thermometer.

Zayne took your temperature and cocked up an eyebrow at the results.

You're burning up and yet you have a normal temperature. He aimed it at himself and gave back a good result too, meaning it's not broken or playing tricks.

"???" Zayne looks at you, wanting an explanation.

"Water... Please." You whisper.

He rescinds in demanding an explanation, your voice isn't fake and neither is that glazed over look on your face.

"Stay here, don't pull the blanket over your head" Zayne said, getting up from his seat.

He was running a number of possible explanations on why you're feeling the way you do. Maybe it's stress induced, or something. Perhaps a better option now is not to ponder but take you to the hospital because it might be a dangerous situation.

He walks back into the bedroom and sat paused,

"...." Zayne places the glass down, crouching down towards you and observes the glittering blue things on your face.

'That wasn't there earlier' He thought, his forehead knitting as he reached to brush a finger on your cheek where the crystal like things glimmered.

The touch caused you to whimper a little and he pulled his hand back immediately.

"Every year there's a day when the tide is low, and it flows in the opposite direction. It's on that day that Lemurians are at their weakest hence why they keep it a secret. Even the weakest humans can end them if they so please."

Rafayel's words repeat in his mind.

"Zayne..." You mumble, curling over to him before trying to get up.

"Your face,..." He inquires, helping you sit up while another hand reached to place pillows against the headboard and laying you against it. "Lemuria?"

He hesitated at the question, watching your expression droop.

"...Sorry." You apologize.

"There's nothing to be sorry for" He said, reaching up to fix the blanket on your lap. "Are you feeling like this because of ebb day? The tides being low and the water flowing backwards?"

"..." You look up at him, alarmed. "How? Who? Y-you're not supposed to know those."

'Ah..' Zayne mentally curses at himself for being too brash on his approach.

"Your brother, Rafayel, he told me" He said, and felt relieved as you calm down.

"...That's funny" You mumbles. "He told me to never tell anyone and yet he told you. Big brother trusted you with a secret depsite just meeting."

Zayne didn't answer, wondering too why the painter would do that but froze as he felt you nuzzle his shoulder.

"..."

"You're not mad... Or weirded out?" You ask.

Zayne shakes his head, reaching up and gently stroked your head. "Why would I? Just because you're not... Human?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not" He shakes his head, gently pulling you over to his lap so he can hold you more properly and you can rest more comfortably on his shoulder. "There's no reason to. It just makes me a little concerned that maybe my treatment plans on you dont work or worst, it could be detrimental to you."

"We're the same as humans" you explains. "Just... Different in a lot of waya. I get hungry and get sick like humans. So it's fine."

"I see." He hums, stroking your head.

He almost wanted to nuzzle his nose on your head but stopped himself.

"You won't hurt me, right?" You ask, fidgeting. "Brother said that humans would abuse a creature's weakness once they find out."

"Never" He said, pausing in his ministrations on your strands. "I would never hurt the person I like. If anything, I wish to protect you"

He brings your hand up to his lips, and kisses the inside of your palm.

"I would never, ever hurt you." He shakes his head, those intense amber-green eyes. "Not now, not in the future, never in my lifetime nor in the next ones. No matter who or what you are, I will never hurt you"

꒰ A/N: I'm just so weak against Zayne pls sniffsniff. I love him sm I just want to hold this silly man. I wanna cuddle this precious man qwq!!! My precious Zayne TT. This man is fr one of my biggest comfort character. I can't wait for his birthday event in september. Also I'm srry if u cringe at the feesh insults its my kind of humor xDD!! ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[blood-injections]

you should tell me about the band au i'm so fascinated by the band au

YES I SHOULDD I FINALLY HAVE WIFI BACK(hopefully it doesnt disconnect Again .its been a frustrating week) AND I CAN FINALLY BRAINROTPOST ABOUT IT OKAY SO

Where to start lets seee. This au is at the like. "Google docs loredump but ive been obsessed with it enough that ive been drawing and ive written a couple little silly but not quite significant bits" stage still lol. Theres funkobra and jetpoison but the funkobra is like SLOW slow burn theyre just weird gay besties that fuck around and make out sometimes but arent actually Together in any way so theres this horrible tension and theres bits of like. See kobras a little slut so hes being gay with sandman and show pony and even an oc that has his own band and so the funkobra is. They dont know why the tension is like that until like. The literal last chapter when they're . Ohhhh shit. We GAY gay. That makes sense. At least thats the plan. The jetpoison is a lot less slow lol they meet and are like ooh you pretty and yeah.

So the first like half of this au is set in the city and actually its less of a fab four band au and more just Kobra's rebellious punk phase au because its focused around him and the Band isnt all four of them together until like. Way on in the story. Poison is even a sort of antagonistic foil character until then too. Because hehe venom sibling angst and theres a few moments where its poison thats the catalyst of Kobra's like. Character growth via spite. Also this au is kobra kid 🤝 jet star being some badass motherfuckers like damn.

So they're in the city, Kobra's like seventeen, not Kobra yet, knows hes trans but not a word for it and isnt out to Poison but Poison Knows enough that hes like. 'Hey i know you dont like this' whe they have to dress to a code or something, and they cae up with a name he likes when he was like way younger bc he hated his deadname so hes already Koda. But hes never been like hey I'm a boy. Poisons a couple years older and works a lot because its just them so he has some office job he hates and the city is on his ass for crow training or something which. He really doesn't want. Because hes in no way loyal to bli hes risking a lot just by keeping himself and kobra off the pills and keeping bli from realizing that. He isnt thinking of being a rebel yet or getting kobra out like in most fics or headcanons no its kobra that ends up dragging poison out. Poisons super overprotective to the point of being a asshole about it because its just them and hes seen too much and knows that you cant get away with getting into trouble forever, and kobras always getting into trouble, and better living has a eye on him because hes autistic and also poisons like labelled as Kobra's caretaker by the city since its just them, and bli is also on poisons ass with that because they want kobra for some kind of test because hes aging out and wont be like a minor and they want to 'fix/cure' him. So poison worrys, poison babys him, because his only goal is to keep kobra safe however he can because hes fucking terrified that his little brother is going to be taken away and hes seen what people come back as when bli takes them to be 'fixed.'

And kobra gets this, he does, and he loves his brother, but he hates him, he hates it, he feels trapped and coddled and between poisons sternness and what the city wants with him and even the city regulations on how he as a female has to look, he feels he has no freedom or privacy and hes cooped up as all hell. So he gets into trouble. He sneaks out no matter how poison tries to keep him from it or ground him, he sneaks out and hides his hair and steals poisons clothes and goes and bes a boy where he can because to the city his days are numbered and hed rather risk it all to have a little fun every night and just be himself than live some boring lie like hes medicated and obedient like everyone else. He doesn't want to rot like that. Poison wants to keep him safe, wants to keep him alive, but Kobra wants to live. Because his mindset is a very reasonable one of 'whats the point of being alive if you're miserable,' but not in an 'i want to die because i am miserable' way but in an, 'out of pure fucking spite, i will change my circumstances, i will be what i want and i wont be miserable and maybe i will die trying but i will have died being happy' way. Because this kid is running on pure spite and rage and envy, of his brother, of friends, of killjoys, of martyrs. Hes angry about it all, Poison is just scared. UGH. me when the venom siblings. hghhdfjdjs.

So he sneaks out, stirs up trouble with street kids and droids and Show Pony, who legit sneaks into the city every so often just to cause chaos and stir up rebellion in the streets. This fic can pretty much be explained as: show pony is pete wentz and the battery city rebellion is the 2000s emo scene. They know everyone and they've got their claws in every little crevice. The suitehearts probably exist because of them, its their actions that domino to what ghouls doing when kobra meets him, and its how they meet that causes them to become friends and start a band, and it all traces back to Pony, its hilarious.

So he meets Ghoul and Sandman, because they're street gremlins together, and they jam a lot and basically play protest songs on the street with people watching out for crows in case they need to scatter and its just Sandmans bad singing and playing a diy guitar while Ghoul drums on some buckets, and sometimes Crab is there with an actual bass but he isn't that good lol. But its punk its to be expected. So he becomes friends with them and when they realize he can sing theyre like omg you should jam with us. And hes like ehhh but eventually does and realizes he loves it. And as time passes they all get more skilled and protest songs in the street turn into actual shows at underground clubs and like, these speakeasys that hide just under blis noses. And being a band is hand in hand with being a juvie halls because if bli was to catch them they'd be so fucked, so if you play music you might as well participate in all the other rebel stuff, and they do, kobra does, he becomes known and the makeshift band of fab four/suitehearts members before theyre the conventional weapons becomes known, he comes up with the name Kobra as a rebel name and hes surrounded by people that treat him like the boy he is.

Meanwhile his relationship with poison is getting more and more strained. Poison is getting desperate and starts trying to follow kobra when he sneaks out but kobras really good at losing him. When kobra is home hes hardly talking to poison anymore. Then some Shit comes. Poison finally manages to follow Kobra to his destination, and its on a night that the bands show is a big fucking dangerous distraction that they purposely gave bli a tip about. So bli storms the concert and the juvie rebellion uses the distraction to break recently caotured killjoy prisoners out of prison. Jet Star is among them.

So poison finds this concert, his quiet little sister up on stage, singing, with a buzzcut hes been hiding. And he storms throigh the pit to up to the front of the stage and kobra sees him and his singing falters and poisons pissed, he expects kobra to be pissed that hes here, but no, kobra looks fucking horribly terrifed at the sight of him and that makes poison falter in turn. And then better living fucking busts in, stun guns firing, and poisons in total shock and kobra grabs him and he ends up running from crows with the band until they get to the underground and its just. A mess. The killjoy prisoners arrive and this is like. Halfway or more through this story and the fab four are finally all in one place. And their band doesn't even exist yet.

Anyway poisons in on it all now and has whiplash and like, well kobras not stopping because his brother knows about the band or rellion or his being a boy, and actually poison sees the change kobra fucking made with that show and is sympathetic to the killjoys and oh that one is really pretty and so theyre terrified but actually pretty supportive of it all and so more time passes and kobra just starts. Dragging them along to practices and stuff. And they find themself learning bass and getting involved with the rebellion and then joining the band when they play and theyve just. Become party poison at some point. Jet star got back out to the desert before long but poison taked to them a bit and totally likes them. I havent planned what happens to make them finally leave the city, but poison, kobra and ghoul all leave to become killjoys, the band is just theirs now and they need a guitarist and like pony steps in sometimes and other friends but they don't have a permanent one. Poison reunites with Star and they vibe and shes hanging around a lot and just. Joins the band somehow. And they become the fab four and the conventional weapons and yeah. Thats the bones of it. Theres so much more and little things 💀 Oh and Ghoul and Jet are both spanish speakers and im rusty but its getting me learning and stuff again so im actually writing their spanish bits out and the venom sibs learning it and its honestly so fun. Star cursing out a exterminator in spanish is. Whew.

[foxstens]

gotta rant about irl stuff so. don’t read this

i recently realized i don’t like walking. well, i don’t have strong feelings about the activity itself and i do like it sometimes, when i’m with someone or when i have a purpose or when there’s stuff to look at during the walk. but i don’t like doing it just for the sake of it, just because ‘exercise is good for you’. yes i fucking know its good AND YET I HATE IT ANYWAY. IT’S BORING AND EXCRUCIATING AND FRUSTRATING AND IVE HATED IT AS LONG AS I CAN REMEMBER

there are stretches and stuff like that that do work for me but i rarely feel like doing them, usually i just forget or i just can’t find the right moment to get started or whatever, u know. technically walking would be the easiest way to get in the minimum workout for a ‘healthy lifestyle’ and the thing is. i can walk for 10 km a day. i know i can bc ive done it before, we do it basically whenever we travel somewhere for a vacation. so you’d think doing so for like 2km a day would be easy. but its not bc i hate getting dressed i hate leaving the house i hate walking for no reason and especially i hate doing anything because ‘i have to’.

why is this relevant? because i took 2 weeks off and went to do some medical check-ups. most of them went well, i learned i have psoriasis that’s like, inherited, and there’s no way to cure it but it’s also not particularly dangerous and there’s some creams and shampoos n shit for it which seem to work. i found out i have a pretty bad allergy to one type of pollen and a moderate one to like bedbugs or whatever, so that’s cool

i also went to obgyn and it was ok, turns out what i have is pcos or smth similar so its more a hormonal issue, so i got some blood tests done and brought them to the endocrinologist. and did not have a good time there

the first thing she asked as soon as i entered the room was when i started gaining weight, then proceeded to ask me other things related to my weight, then proceeded to prescribe me weight loss and exercise and recommended a nutritionist and she also pretty much refused to explain how weight loss specifically would help my condition and it was just. i had an amazing experience with all the other doctors i went to but this one just treated me like a number on a scale and IT WAS ON MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY AS WELL

this is exactly why i haven’t been to a doctor outside of a dentist in years, because i either expected to be diagnosed with something deadly and terrible or to be dismissed because of my weight, and while im glad the first one didnt happen, the second one sure felt like a punch in the gut. so i was actually open to going to the nutritionist she recommended just to see what said nutritionist would say or if she’d be open to actually explaining stuff, but she doesn’t have any open slots until january and i don’t rlly wanna wait until then. i do not want to die anyway bc i just can’t see how it would help and after having done some research it seems it doesn’t help as much as doctors think it should

like just thinking about it logically, i have a hormonal issue which means even just maintaining a certain weight is a lot more difficult than for other people, LET ALONE TRYING TO LOSE WEIGHT. and how does decreasing the number on the scale help my fucking hormones anyway. i do not understaaaaaaaaaand. she didn’t say that i need more of a specific nutrient or mineral or vitamin or anything that would help said hormones, she just said i needed to lose weight since that /might/ help my periods become more regular and it might also help with preventing some other diseases i’m more prone to due to this particular condition and also because im fat. that’s what she said at least

she did prescribe me lots of vitamin d which is good in general i guess but she didn’t say what specifically it would help me with. but i dont wanna go back to this doctor anyway. and id love to look for another doctor who’d actually look past my weight and actually explain stuff and be helpful, but i live in eastern europe so i’d pretty much need a miracle to find such a doctor. and sadly my time and money aren’t infinite so idk what the fuck to do. i can’t just leave it untreated and hope for the best. i mean i could. but that’s never a good idea and knowing my luck it’ll def bite me in the ass if the world doesn’t end first, sooooooooo.

it’s all so fucked. OH AND I SHOULD ALSO GO TO THE PSYCHOLOGIST OR PSYCHIATRIST AT SOME POINT. THAT’LL BE FUN. I CAN’T WAIT TO HAVE A TERRIBLE TIME AND ALSO TO NOT BE DIAGNOSED WITH WHAT I ACTUALLY HAVE. HAHA. ok that’s an exaggeration, it prob won’t be that bad whenever it happens and i also can’t know that i actually have it unless i get diagnosed but. yea. f u n.

[cue-transformation-music]

Your theme is- Doctors. U v U)

Please note that I have not looked into Healin’ Good Precure at all aside from character designs, so if I accidentally copied it I apologize. Also, there’s gonna be some talk about surgery, needles, and medical horror.

Far away, there’s a magical kingdom called Asclepius. There, people live long and comfortable lives due to the amount of medical care. They are guided by King Vax and his loyal advisor, the bee fairy Screen. Screen ends his sentences in -scre, and he is responsible for using divination to try and keep Asclepius safe. However, Screen is getting old, and he’s training an apprentice, the dog fairy Preven.

When the Rotovir League attacks, Preven is tasked with finding the four destined members of Yes! Dress Medicate Pretty Cure. In addition to their standard forms, they each have three power boosts they can use (but only for a short time, and only one at a time): bandage (more magical stamina), needle (emphasis on defensive magic), and scalpel (emphasis on offensive magic). All of them can use healing magic. First, however, they need to find a way to keep the Rotovir League from sinking their claws in too deeply on Earth, and also battle the warusu they keep sending. (Warusu literally translates to Aggravate, but it’s also me making a portmanteau of the Japanese translation of the phrase “bad virus”, aka warui uirusu.)

Our leader is Ayako Satō, aka Cure Pediatric. She wants to go to medical school and become a pediatrician. Everyone who knows her says that Ayako is very helpful and studious, and everyone who’s known her since she was a child will say that it’s wonderful that she’s grown into such a kind and disciplined young woman. In reality, she’s a bit of a stepford smiler, and she’s wanted to go to med school because she blames herself for her sister’s death when they were both rather young. 

Ayako is definitely going to become the dark magical girl of the season, and it’ll be up to Preven and the other cures to save her. Instead of black, she’s going to wear a really bright red because surgeons wear cool colors for relief for their eyes from flesh tones. In the mean time, she’s got some cool attacks involving stickers and lollipops.

In blue we have Mieko Okabe, aka Cure Neurologist. She’s claustrophobic and isn’t fond of sports, but she loves video games and often will use video game terms in battle. Her powers allow her to use illusions. When Ayako is taken over by the Rotovir League and becomes a warusu, Mieko ends up leading the team.

In green we have Yūki Masumoto, aka Cure Anesthetic. Her powers allow her to use a sort of venom. It takes her a while to start using her needle and scalpel forms, because she found them scary, but when she does use them she’s incredibly powerful. Even though she’s a bit of a crybaby, she’s also very happy-go-lucky; the smiles she has are real. Yūki is a bit of a daydreamer, and she wants to write comic books. She ends up collaborating with Mieko on video games, with Mieko doing the code and Yūki taking care of the story.

Finally, in purple we have Kirika Kawaguchi, aka Cure Plastic. Due to a car crash when she was little, Kirika has a wheelchair. It flies in combat as well as helps her with the fact that her powers center around building, and she will not gain the ability to walk at the end of the series unlike a certain show I won’t mention here. She wants to run a line of fashionable prosthetics and wheelchair accessories. I’ll admit, I was tempted to call her Cure Prosthetic or Cure Bioengineer, but the first feels patronizing and the latter doesn’t really fit with the theme.

Also, I ended up designing Cure Pediatrics’s standard outfit.

Yes, she has four heart shaped buns. All the girls have the mask and the same lab coat vest and skirt. However, the lab vest and skirt change slightly for the bandage, needle, and scalpel forms. In addition, the girls each have different sleeves, gloves, shoes, and symbols. Their transformation pens are kept in their left pocket. In their right pocket are three (bandage, needle, and scalpel) charms they must touch to their pens to use.

IDK IF ANYONE WOULD DO THIS BUT SEND ME A THEME AND I’LL MAKE A FANCURE TEAM BASED ON IT

[halfelfproblems]

The tattoos thing is something I can relate to. I have naturally straight hair yet Ive been getting perms like each four months a while now, and curls just feel like how I am supposed to look, they fit the type of person I am much better. But I know curls aren't my natural hair and I don't mind that. Maybe if gender euphoria could be that way? Simply feeling euphoric about being gnc while aknowledging the reality of your sex?

As someone with naturally curly hair I find that especially interesting! And yes, that's precisely the feeling I'm talking about. As body modification, albeit pretty extreme, SRS makes sense to me. I understand wanting to look a certain way, as an elective cosmetic procedure for well-informed adults I have no issue with top/bottom surgery, FFS, etc. I love the way I look with tattoos, it's a huge confidence boost that I'm sure is similar for you with your curls.

However, my problems with SRS as it exists today are twofold; primarily I find it wildly irresponsible that both the medical community and many trans people themselves are presenting it as a cure, and often a cure-all. It does not seem to me that we have sufficient proof that SRS is effective treatment, especially for children. For every study I've found supporting SRS, I've found one that shows no benefit.

Secondly, is the attitude of those who have undergone SRS and their perceived entitlement to services intended for the sex they wish to emulate. In terms of pronouns, dress, etc I have no objection to this but when material benefit is in question (sports, scholarships, shelter, etc.) I must object to their inclusion.

Anyway, thank you for reaching out! I'm always happy to chat, whether it's about gender or curly hair care :)

[genshin-impact-writings]

Hi!! May I have a tall cold brew with peppermint syrup and strawberry drizzle for Diluc please?

Hey there! Thank you so much for your request and your patience. I wasn't really sure where I wanted to go with this one and I also had to deal with writer's block while working on this, so I really hope it still came out somewhat okay. Anyways, here's your drink: a tall cold brew with peppermint syrup and some strawberry drizzle on top! <3

Prompts: angst, character A taking care of character B when they’re sick, “You’re so warm.” + “You’re shivering. Here, take my jacket.” (400 followers event: JJ's coffee shop)

Fever – Diluc x gn!reader

Dragonspine was beautiful at this time of the day. The snow glistened in the golden light of the rising sun and the sky was painted in the most gorgeous shades of orange, red and light blue as the stars and the moon slowly faded until, in a couple of hours, the approaching night would bring them out again.

You craned our neck, using your hand to shield your eyes from the sunlight. In the distance, you could see the silhouette of Mondstadt’s cathedral, its stony façade almost glowing in the sunrise. It was a breathtaking sight, and for a few moments, you just stood there and gazed at the town you had grown to love so much that you couldn’t imagine living somewhere else.

The only thing you’d probably never get used to was that damn cold on Dragonspine. Your breath was pluming in the frosty air, and your fingertips already started to feel numb, although you had picked the warmest gloves you owned when you got dressed for your mission.

It wasn’t unusual that the Knights sent someone to Dragonspine to collect their Chief Alchemist’s newest research date, so you came here quite often and knew what expected you but today was the first time that none of the other knights accompanied you. They were all busy with other commissions and while Jean had asked you to postpone your trip, you had insisted to go today. The data was important; the local alchemists needed them as soon as possible, and you really weren’t known for being unreliable. The only problem you had encountered was that no one was allowed to go to Dragonspine alone. The mountain was too dangerous and unpredictable to explore it on one’s own, so Jean had told you that she’d only allow you to go if you found someone to come with you.

With a barely noticeable smile you glanced at the man by your side, his flaming red hair even brighter against the pale, snowy background. It was rare that Diluc agreed to officially help the Knights with their matters but you knew that he could hardly deny you anything – which was probably the only reason why he was here with you now. Maybe he also didn’t want you to go to Dragonspine completely alone but in the end, you didn’t care much about his reasons. All that mattered was that you could collect Albedo’s data without further delays.

“Ready?”

Diluc gazed back at you. “Yes. Let’s get this done.”

In silence, the two of you made your way uphill. You pulled your scarf up higher to keep the lower half of your face warm but against the harsh, cold wind that steadily grew stronger, the fabric didn’t help much. A few minutes on this damn mountain and you were already starting to shiver. No wonder that most people avoided Dragonspine like the plague.

You hunched your shoulders as another gust of freezing cold wind hit you. With a deep sigh, you said, “I don’t understand why Albedo couldn’t have picked a warmer place for his research. I mean, yeah, the landscape is really pretty and I bet there are a lot of things to discover up here but it’s so freaking cold. I really don’t know how he hasn’t frozen to death yet.”

“Don’t ask me,” Diluc replied, watching you from the corner of his eye. It was obvious that you were cold, not just from the way you tried to adjust your scarf to cover more of your face. Your whole posture told him that the cold gave you a hard time today – a lot more than it did usually.

With a frown, he stopped in his tracks. “Wait a second,” he said and took off his coat in one swift movement, handing it to you without any hesitation. “You’re shivering,” he explained when you gave him a questioning look. “Here, take my jacket. I don’t want you to get sick.”

You stared at his coat. “Are you sure?”

Diluc shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” A faint smile flashed over his face as you raised your eyebrows and gave him another skeptical look. “Just take it, okay?”

“Thank you,” you mumbled while you slipped on his coat over your own jacket, indulging in his comforting scent that surrounded you immediately and the warmth of the soft fabric. You reached out for his hand, both to thank him once again and to drag him along. “We should hurry to get to Albedo’s base camp. It’s too cold to wander around without a coat – even for you.”

*

Exactly four days later, you knew that it had been a mistake to accept Diluc’s offer. His forehead was covered in cold sweat and he was shivering, despite the pile of blankets you had put over his body to keep him warm. Incoherent mumbles escaped his slightly parted, chapped lips as he tossed and turned in his sleep, suffering from yet another fever dream. It pained you to see him like this, very well aware that it was your fault that he was sick. If you hadn’t taken his jacket, he wouldn’t be in this condition right now.

Barbara had checked on him a couple of hours ago, warning you that it might get worse before he was going to feel better. “His fever is pretty high,” she had said, her hand resting on his forehead. “I can send you some herbs that will help to lower his temperature but other than that, all we can do is wait. But please don’t worry, (Y/N), he will be fine.”

You knew that she was right. After all, Barbara knew exactly what she was talking about when it came to injuries and illnesses, and the medical tea you had prepared following her instructions would surely help him, but still, you couldn’t stop worrying about him. His skin was even paler than usual and even the color of his hair seemed to be duller than normally. He looked absolutely terrible and he probably felt even worse.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled and leaned forward to brush a strand of hair out of his face. Beneath your fingertips, his skin felt burning hot and freezing cold at the same time, and you reached out for the damp cloth on the nightstand to gently dab away the sweat on his forehead. “This is all my fault.”

He mumbled something in his sleep again, a painful reminder that he’d contradict you if he were awake, insisting that the only reason for his condition was his own stupidity. And of course, you’d disagree until the conversation resulted in playful bickering.

But he wasn’t awake. And all you could think of was how much it sucked that you could do nothing to make him feel better.

*

A couple of hours later, Diluc finally woke up from his confusing dreams. He still felt like absolute trash, you could see it in his eyes, but somehow, he managed to crack a smile when he spotted you curled up in an armchair right next to the bed.

“Hey,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and raspy, but it still made a wave of relief wash over you to hear him talk. “Hey yourself,” you replied and closed the book you had been reading half-heartedly over the past few hours before leaning in to put your hand on his forehead. His temperature was still too high but at least, he was awake now. “You’re so warm… How are you feeling?”

With a quiet groan, Diluc closed his eyes again. “Horrible.”

“Do you want some tea? Or a glass of water?”

“No… I think I just want to go back to sleep.”

“Oh. Okay.” Somehow, a part of you had hoped that he would magically feel better as soon as he woke up but of course that had been nothing more than wishful thinking. A cold as severe as his couldn’t be cured by a few hours of restless sleep, so it was completely normal that his body screamed for more resting time. “Do you want me to leave?”

He shook his head.

“Okay,” you repeated. “I’ll stay.”

“Come here,” he mumbled, shifting a bit to make some room for you in the bed. “Please. I don’t want to be alone. Unless,” a coughing fit interrupted him before he could finish his sentence, and he took a deep breath before continuing, “unless you’re afraid to pick up a cold.”

With an indignant huff, you climbed into the bed, draping your arm over the blankets in an attempt to hug him before craning your neck to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Get some rest,” you told him softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider reblogging. I'd really appreciate the support. <3

Taglist: @blissmal, @aimicoos, @childe-support, @rim0na,@the-gayest-sky-kid

[tigerkirby215]

5e Sona, the Maven of the Strings build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Shilin Huang. Made for Riot Games.)

(Shit meme by yours truly.)

Revealing my Champion Mastery just to say that I play a lot of Sona. Don’t flame me for playing Seraphine and Yuumi I swear to god, and I have no idea why Teemo is in my top 10 highest mastery champs ngl.

Anyways you have no idea how happy I am as a Sona main that my girl is now top tier. I came to League of Legends from Overwatch (yes really) and I used to main Lucio in OW along with some of the more “techy” characters like Symmetra and Torbjorn. (Came to OW from TF2 where I mained Engineer and Medic.) Sona was a natural fit for me as a champion who was both easy to play and very similar to Lucio. It also helps that I joined the Rift during the single most engaging meta to ever grace this game. I was kinda too shit to play Janna but the Ardent Censer meta is also why I have such a high mastery on Lulu tbh.

undefined

But enough about my history with League: Sona! Honestly when I think of an archetypical support Sona pops into my head a lot sooner than Soraka: a champion based on empowering their teammates in as many ways as possible with heals, shields, movement speed, and CC to hold the enemy team down. I’ve always loved playing her because she feels like much more of a macro oriented character than other supports, with team-wide support as opposed to keeping one person alive like Soraka or Yuumi or focusing on CC like Morgana and Nami.

I’m going to build most if not all the champions eventually but man I am happy to tackle Sona now. She’s always been on my mind as my main but it was pretty difficult to think of how to make her. I think this build is good enough though!

Wow that was much longer of an intro than I’m used to. You can really tell which champions I’m excited for lol.

GOALS

Everything in harmony - Sona boosts everyone on her team with her songs as they fill the air.

Triple time! - Sona’s ability to boost her whole team into a good position is always beneficial.

Crescendo! - Fun fact: Sona’s ultimate is canonically extremely painful as she forces you to contort your limbs against your will. Why is Sona needlessly macabre? Well remember that Riot also wrote Volibear as an Eldritch old god.

RACE

Sona is Human but if you want to be cool you can make her a Kalashtar for resistance to Psychic damage and advantage on Wisdom saves. Regardless we’re going to be making what’s known as a dollar store Kalashtar with Variant Human. Increase your Charisma by 1 as well as your Constitution because we kinda don’t need much else. You also get proficiency in one skill of your choice which will of course be Performance, and a language which you can pick as you fancy: you won’t be speaking it anyways lmfao.

That’s because “Only you can hear me summoner; what masterpiece shall we play today?” Grab the Telepathic feat to complete this dollar store Kalashtar package. Increase your Charisma score by 1 and get a 60 foot telepathy to speak while being mute. You also learn the Detect Thoughts spell and can cast it once without using a spell slot. "Did he want... four autographs? I don't understand."

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - Charisma is tied to performance and all the other stuff a Demacian noblewoman is expected to be good at.

14; DEXTERITY - Something something medium armor; even if you wear a dress there’s no reason you can’t have some padding beneath it!

13; STRENGTH - Hey this isn’t something something medium armor!

12; CONSTITUTION - Sona may be squishy in League but I value not dying more than good skill checks honestly.

10; WISDOM - Speaking of not dying: Wisdom saves are more common, and Insight is more useful than most Intelligence skills.

8; INTELLIGENCE - We had to dump something so unfortunately Intelligence gets the short end of the stick. You may have studied under the illustrious Buvelle family but most of those lessons were music classes.

If you want a better stat array going 13 / 14 / 12 / 10 / 10 / 14 with Point Buy is perfectly viable, and if your DM is cool enough to let you multiclass without Strength then you’re more than welcome to dump it.

BACKGROUND

There’s two obvious backgrounds that fit Sona: the first is Entertainer for proficiency with Acrobatics and a skill of your choice (since we already took Performance lol.) You also get proficiency with Disguise Kits and your Etwahl! (That’s what Sona’s instrument is called btw.) Your background feature By Popular Demand allows you to play any stage once. "Some, just the once.” You can perform in exchange for a place to stay, and when you do so the local people will remember your wonderful performance!

But making an Entertainer Bard is kinda cliché, no? If you want to lean into Sona’s Demacian heritage go for the Noble background. This gives you proficiency with Persuasion and History as well as a gaming set of your choice: unfortunately Tellstones isn’t an option (unless your DM decides otherwise!) so a Dragonchess Set will do well enough. Oh and you get another language that you won’t speak: fun! Your Position of Privilege makes it easy for you to arrange meetings with other important people, and the commonfolk will be kind and cordial with you.

(Screenshot from the Tellstones: King’s Gambit trailer by Riot Games.)

I personally opted to go for Noble when making this build, but if you want to choose Entertainer go right ahead! Backgrounds don’t affect too much overall and it’s up to you (and your DM) to make your own Sona!

(Artwork from League of Legends Wild Rift. Made for Riot Games. RIOT PLEASE UPDATE MUSE SONA ON PC I’M BEGGING YOU!)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - BARD 1

I mean what else did you expect? Bards get proficiency in three musical instruments of their choice: a Lyre is the closest you’ll get to Sona’s Etwahl, though a Dulcimer is also pretty close. I’d also recommend grabbing a Lute since most magical instruments come in Lute variety.

You also get proficiency in 3 skills of your choice like Perception to watch wards, Insight to watch people, and Athletics for a bit of Tenacity to break out of grapples. (As well as potentially grab some people yourself! Although Acrobatics is also perfectly fine for escaping grapples.)

As a Bard you can boost your ADC with Bardic Inspiration, letting them add a d6 to attack rolls, ability checks, and saving throws. You have a number of these equal to your Charisma modifier and they come back after a Long Rest.

But of course the main reason to play a Bard is to do Demacian-banned Spellcasting! You learn two cantrips from the Bard list like Vicious Mockery for some diminuendo, making it harder for the enemy to hurt your allies while also cutting them down to size. (I don’t know if your DM will let you slap your Etwahl angrily and then point at them judgingly, but you may have to break your vow of silence every now and then.) You can also learn Prestidigitation for all sorts of general magic stuff that you really shouldn’t do in front of anyone important.

You of course also learn 4 Bard spells like Cure Wounds and Healing Word for the atypical healing spells, Dissonant Whispers for some Hymn of Valor damage, and Detect Magic which you’ll likely be expected to cast as the designated support. *Sigh* Always gotta buy wards.

LEVEL 2 - BARD 2

Second level Bards could be called a Jack of All Trades, as you get to add half your proficiency bonus to any skill you aren’t proficient in. This means even if your ability scores are bad the skills you don’t have proficiency in are still good enough! You also get Song of Rest, letting your allies recover an extra d6 of health during Short Rests. And if you have Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything  Magical Inspiration will let your allies add their Bardic Inspiration to the damage or healing of a spell they cast!

And finally you can learn another spell: against as the designated support you’re expected to take Identify.

LEVEL 3 - BARD 3

Third level Bards get Expertise in two skills: Performance is an obvious must and Persuasion would probably be good as well.

But more importantly you get to choose your Bardic College and if you want to both shield your allies and speed them up look no further than the College of Glamour! That’s because Mantle of Inspiration grants 5 temporary hitpoints to a number of creatures within 60 feet of you equal to your Charisma modifier (which can include yourself by the way!) Additionally those creatures can move up to their movement speed as a reaction without provoking opportunity attacks, making this a great tool to reposition an ally who’s caught in a dangerous position!

You’re also capable of creating an Enthralling Performance: if you perform for at least 1 minute, you can attempt to inspire wonder in your audience. At the end of the performance you can choose a number of humanoids within 60 feet of you who watched and listened to all of it, up to a maximum equal to your Charisma modifier. Each target must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw or be charmed by you.

While charmed in this way, the target idolizes you, and speaks glowingly of you to anyone who talks to them. They also hinder anyone who opposes you, although they avoid violence unless it was already inclined to fight for you. This effect ends on a target after 1 hour unless they take any damage, you attack it, or it witnesses you attacking or damaging any of its allies. If a target succeeds on its saving throw the target has no hint that you tried to charm it, and you can use this ability once per Short or Long Rest.

Finally you can learn second level spells like Hold Person, for a one-man version of your ultimate.

LEVEL 4 - BARD 4

Ah the first of many Ability Score Improvements. You may have noticed our deliberately uneven Charisma modifier: that’s because I’m going to be taking the Fey Touched feat for +1 to your Charisma, the Misty Step spell (for Flash, of course), and the Gift of Alacrity spell from Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount for a Song of Celerity! Accelerated movement? I concur.

You can also learn another spell as well as another cantrip! For your cantrip take Mage Hand for help warding those hard-to-reach areas, and for your spell take Lesser Restoration, because yeah it’s also your job to buy Mikael’s. *Sigh.*

LEVEL 5 - BARD 5

5th level Bards get a Font of Inspiration that lets their Bardic Inspiration come back after a Short Rest as well as a Long Rest. That’s good because your Bardic Inspiration increases to a d8, which also boosts your Mantle of Inspiration to grant 8 temporary hitpoints!

You can also learn another spell like Hypnotic Pattern: while it won’t do any damage and your allies can’t hit the dancing enemies it’ll still be the best recreation of your ultimate for now.

(Artwork by Katie “TeaTime” De Sousa. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 6 - PALADIN 1

I hope you weren’t expecting this to be a pure Bard build, because then I’d just be building Seraphine again! Grab your something something Medium Armor as well as a shield (well technically you need both hands free to play a musical instrument) it’s Paladin time, master of auras! 

Paladins get a Lay on Hands pool equal to 5 times their Paladin level for some more healing. You can touch a creature to give them any amount of health from your Lay on Hands, or use 5 hitpoints from your Lay on Hands pool to neutralize a poison or disease affecting them. You also get Divine Sense to locate any Celestial, Fiend, or Undead as long as they’re within 60 feet of you and not behind total cover. Don’t worry it gets a lot more exciting later.

LEVEL 7 - PALADIN 2

Second level Paladins can choose their Fighting Style and you’re still more of a mage than a warrior, so Blessed Warrior will give you two cantrips from the Cleric list that use your Charisma! Guidance is an obvious must for a support and Toll the Dead is a great option if you want to go full AP.

Should you have options for attacks to target enemies who have high Wisdom? Yeah probably: Sacred Flame might be a good choice.

Of course cantrips also imply more Spellcasting! You can prepare a number of spells equal to your Charisma modifier plus half your Paladin level (rounded down) which is currently a freaking lot of spells. Let’s just go down the list, shall we?

Bless is great to buff your team and make them harder, better, faster, and stronger.

Command is a mostly harmless Enchantment spell that will force your foes to do as you, well, command. I’d argue “dance” is a reasonable Command.

Protection from Evil and Good is never bad to have in your back pocket in case you’re fighting either Kayle or Fiddlesticks.

And Shield of Faith will let you boost your ADC’s survivability with Ardent Censer!

I know you can prepare more spells but there isn’t much I want from first level of Paladin. I am contractually obligated to mention that you can also turn your spell slots into a Divine Smite if you hit an enemy with a melee weapon, but you aren’t really going to be using weapons in this build. That’s right boys hop aboard the caster Paladin train!

LEVEL 8 - PALADIN 3

Third level Paladins get to choose their Sacred Oath and Oath of the Watchers may seem weird but it’s really good at defending your allies. That’s because you get two different Channel Divinity options: Abjure the Extraplanar works similarly to the Cleric’s Turn Undead feature except it affects Aberrations, Celestials, Elementals, Fey, and Fiends.

Watcher’s Will meanwhile lets you choose a number of creatures you can see within 30 feet of you, up to your Charisma modifier. For 1 minute, you and the chosen creatures have advantage on Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma saving throws. This means that in a party of 6 this ability can give your whole party advantage on all mental saves, which is huge for keeping everyone alive against nasty casters! See? Demacia can use your magic!

Speaking of magic you get Alarm and Detect Magic as Oath spells. (Might want to swap Detect Magic from your Bard list with Mass Healing Word ty Tasha’s.) You can also use Harness Divine Power to regain a spell slot equal to half your proficiency bonus a number of times per Long Rest. And you get Divine Health, because you don’t take a sick day to stop complaining about Seraphine.

LEVEL 9 - PALADIN 4

4th level Paladins get another Ability Score Improvement: cap off that Charisma for maximum AP scaling!

(Artwork by Kelly Aleshire & Esben Lash Rasmussen. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 10 - PALADIN 5

5th level Paladins can finally prepare second level spells! As a Watchers Paladin you get access to Moonbeam as well as See Invisibility, both of which are very good for dealing with incoming gankers.

You can also prepare spells like Aid to boost your allies’ HP, Prayer of Healing (ty Tasha’s) for some out-of-combat healing, and Warding Bond for a Knight’s Vow.

Oh and you get an Extra Attack, which sure would matter if you were actually using weapons.

LEVEL 11 - PALADIN 6

6th level reasons get the main reason Sona’s a Paladin: Aura of Protection! All your saving throws are increased by an amount equal to your Charisma modifier, which is a full +5 currently! But what’s special about this ability is that it also applies to your allies within 10 feet of you, letting you give out auras a plenty to keep your allies safe!

You can also prepare another spell but again: not much I really want. So we’re going to be waiting a little while longer once again.

LEVEL 12 - PALADIN 7

7th level Watchers Paladins get Aura of the Sentinel, or as I like to call it: Song of Celerity. When you or any creature of your choice within 10 feet of you roll for initiative, they gain a bonus to initiative equal to your proficiency bonus. While this may make positioning a little difficult (everyone’s going to have to huddle around you) this ability guarantees that you can speed up all your important allies to make sure they get their powerful abilities off!

LEVEL 13 - PALADIN 8

8th level Paladins get another Ability Score Improvement or a Feat. You may have noticed your uneven Constitution score: grab good ol’ Resilient Constitution for a boost to your health and even more insurance on your Concentration checks. With your Paladin aura and proficiency you’d have a +12 total to your Constitution checks currently, meaning that if you take 24 damage or less you won’t even have to roll for Concentration!

LEVEL 14 - PALADIN 9

You are probably the only Paladin who cares about spells, so it’s nice that you get 3rd level spells now! Watchers Paladins get two very strong third level spells: Nondetection will help you deward and keep your allies safe from enemies that may try to sneak a peak at you, but Counterspell is the true best choice to stop danger from befalling your allies. What’s very good about Counterspell is that as a Bard you get to add Jack of All Trades to the skill check, meaning it’s far easier for you to deny an incomming spell than any other spellcaster! “Mages have enough problems without you.”

Of course you can prepare some more spells like Aura of Vitality for Aria of Perseverance, and Revivify for an ADC’s Guardian Angel. But having access to spells like Remove Curse, Dispel Magic, Crusader’s Mantle, and even Daylight on the Paladin spell list are all extremely useful to be able to prepare. Remember that you are doing yourself a disservice by not taking time to think about what the best spells to prepare would be for your current quest. "Every note is important."

(Artwork by Kelly Aleshire & Esben Lash Rasmussen. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 15 - BARD 6

Now that we’ve got all our auras it’s time to go back to Bard for Mantle of Majesty! As a bonus action, you cast Command without expending a spell slot as you take on an appearance of unearthly beauty for 1 minute. During that minute you can cast Command as a bonus action on each of your turns without expending a spell slot. Additionally any creature charmed by you automatically fails its saving throw against the command you cast with this feature. You do have to concentrate on this feature (like a spell), and once you use it you can’t do so again until you finish a long rest.

You can also learn another spell but there isn’t much I want from the third level of Bard, really. Oh and you get Countercharm which is awful and I hate it, but since you didn’t take a 10th level in Paladin I suppose you have to use it. Spend an action to give allies advantage on their saving throws against charms and fears, I guess.

LEVEL 16 - BARD 7

7th level Bard; 4th level spells. Freedom of Movement will let you help either yourself or an ally with Mikael’s Crucible, and Dimension Door is great to get into lane fast, or back to base fast!

LEVEL 17 - BARD 8

8th level Bards get another Ability Score Improvement, and if you don’t like the look of something something Medium Armor then the Eldritch Adept feat might be able to help. Take the Mask of Many Faces invocation to be able to cast Disguise Self at will to change your skins as you please.

Could you have taken this earlier? Absolutely. Are there better invocations? Yeah probably, but by level 17 you can make some of your own choices. Build your own Sona: this is merely a guide and you can make your own choices.

Speaking of own choices: take whichever spell you want at this level. There’s plenty of great ones for a 4th level Bard and I can’t recommend anything in particular to you. Every musician has their own style, and it’s up to you to find your own!

(Artwork by Yan Li. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 18 - BARD 9

9th level Bards get to pretend that increasing Song of Rest from a d6 to a d8 by total level 18 is helpful.

You do get access to 5th level spells like Mass Cure Wounds, which is like Mass Healing Word but better! "Harmoniously."

LEVEL 19 - BARD 10

10th level Bards get Expertise in two more skills: Perception is an obvious must to watch over your wards but beyond that? Honestly pick your poison with whatever skill you want since by level 19 you can make your own choices. (Though my personal choice would be Athletics to hopefully give some more safety against grapples.)

But of course the main boon of reaching level 10 in Bard is the Magical Secrets! ...I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you again: there honestly aren’t any spells in particular I want as Magical Secrets. Sure I could recommend spells like Haste or whatever but are they really going to be that great by total level 20? To be honest even the spells on the Bard list like Animate Objects, Greater Restoration, Hold Monster, Rary's Telepathic Bond, Scrying, and Synaptic Static are very good (although I’d sooner replace some of your old spells with them.)

Again I know this is supposed to be a “guide” but most people won’t hit level 19 anyways, so I don’t think it’s that bad for me to recommend you take your own steps to make your own Sona. Hell, build some AP if you want! I know I would!

LEVEL 20 - BARD 11

Our final level is the 11th level of Bard and I’ll be honest: it’s just to add Otto's Irresistible Dance to your spell list. It can only affect one person but it’s still your ultimate by total level 20.

Oh and you were supposed to get a cantrip last level. Uhhhhh I dunno take Mending lol.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

The rhythm connects us all - You have dozens of spells to keep your team alive and active during a fight, not to mention that all your Paladin auras and abilities really help them give 110%. It’s worth mentioning that Gift of Alacrity combined with Aura of the Sentinel is a d8 + 6 to an Initiative roll, which will almost always guarantee that whoever you want to go first will be going first!

A true masterpiece should celebrate living - Despite your somewhat weird level split you maxed out the only stat which matters for you: Charisma. And woah holy shit turns out Paladins are really good with maxed out Charisma! +5 to all saves means even your lowest save is a +4, and the saves your proficient in vary between +13 for Dexterity and Constitution (both very common!) and a whopping +16 save on Charisma!

Curtains up; I'm ready - Jack of All Trades also does quite nicely to help your middling skills. Even though I dumped most of your mental skills you’re still proficient enough that you won’t be completely helpless when caught off guard. And when you’re in the zone with Persuasion or Performance you are easily the best girl around!

CONS

Don't make me get off stage - It was my intention to recreate Sona’s positional gameplay with this build but it does present some gameplay issues when trying to maximize your effectiveness. Where do you position yourself as a character who’s still primarily a squishy caster despite your good saving throws and AC? Can you give everyone in your party support, or are they too spread out to get value out of your 10 foot range auras?

Quiet, please! - You have a damn good concentration check, but what do you concentrate on? Not only do you have a ton of spells but they all scale very good with levels and you have spell slots that go far higher than your maximum level spell. It can be hard to choose what to do with those 7th and 8th level slots.

The world is cruel... Until that changes, I'll never stop playing - One of many “meta” problems with this build was my choice to focus almost entirely on support. Sure Toll the Dead is a great damaging cantrip but your only two damaging spells are Moonbeam and Dissonant Whispers. Again: you don’t have to follow my build point-for-point and while you’ll be flamed in League for building Sona full AP I don’t think your friends will mind if you take some damaging spells.

But if you can’t tell it was really hard for me to come up with those downsides. With the exception of the positional requirements a Bardadin is a very strong build and Sona is a very strong support. Boost your teammates with your own amazing power and make sure everyone’s alive and jamming! Your power may have been forgotten over the years but no one’s ever upset to have a great support at their side. And remember: Seraphine may be in K/DA but you’re in Pentakill, and you have your own label! No one can replace DJ Sona!

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[after-avenging-hours]

Out of Time [Epilogue]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist

Summary:  After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 4614

Warnings: You might die from cuteness

When you land back in the future, your entire body is shaking. You have just enough strength to hit the button on the time watch to dissolve your quantum suit before you collapse to your knees.

“Vic!” Bucky vaults onto the platform. He kneels in front of you, taking your face into his hands. “Vic, what’s wrong?”

“Did you get the serum?” You can hear Bruce’s voice.

Your breaths come out in sputtering gasps, but you try to fight through it and nod your head. “Yes,” you choke out. “I have it.” Your hands are shaking as you reach for the internal pocket on your coat and hand it over to Bucky. “Dr. Erskine said that the components will begin to degrade the longer it’s left unused. I don’t know how much time we have left.”

Bucky takes the vial and quickly hands it off to Bruce, before returning to you. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What happened?” he coaxes gently.

Tears well up in your eyes when you look back at him. “I think I messed up.”

He gently helps you to your feet and takes you to your bedroom to get cleaned up and changed into something more comfortable as you begin to divulge in full detail what exactly happened when you traveled back in time. He sits patiently on the corner of your bed as you pace up and down the room. You talk until your voice is raw and then you keep going.

“But then he threatened to drop the vial if I didn’t tell him who I worked for! I didn’t know what else to do, so I told him the truth…”

“And he believed you,” Bucky surmises, already putting the pieces together.

“He did,” you confirm, going a little soft as you recall his reasoning for believing you. “But Bucky…” you begin to shake your head fervently. “I broke every rule! I changed everything! None of that was supposed to happen!” You gesture wildly off to the side in a vague attempt at pointing toward the past. “And now, it’s too late to fix any of it,” you say brokenly.

Bucky releases a long breath, his mind spinning after everything you’ve just revealed. “Look, I’m not the science expert here and my only experience with time travel is getting shoved into an icebox every few years,” his lame attempt at a joke makes you scoff at best. “But I’m pretty sure that if anything got changed from this, you would be the only one that knows any different. So, let’s start small.”

You tilt your head as you look back at him, not understanding where he’s going with this.

“Look around your room. Is anything different here?” he asks.

As soon as you realize what he’s getting at, you start to walk around the room. Everything is exactly as you had left it. There’s a picture frame on the nightstand on your side of the bed. You’re tucked under Steve’s arm and smiling brightly at the camera. You remember that the photo was taken during one of Tony’s parties. Steve is wearing that tight blue button-up shirt that always drives you crazy and you’re decked out in a pretty red dress. Not even ten minutes after this photo was taken, you and Steve had snuck off for a quickie in the bathroom, because you just couldn’t handle how sexy he was in that damn shirt.

You smile fondly at the picture and move around the rest of the room. The books on your bookshelf are all the same. Half of them are yours, half are Steve’s. The closet is still divided between both of your things, but it’s all the same outfits you’ve seen hundreds of times. The bathroom still has both of your toothbrushes in the cup by the sink. A few different makeup products are scattered over the counter from when you’d been trying to figure out what you were going to take with you to 1943.

You make your way back over to Bucky, shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders. “It’s all the same.”

“Okay,” Bucky nods. “And I assume that I’m not any different, right?” He asks. “Now be careful with what you say, because if you tell me I didn’t have to lose my arm, I may just pull this one off and throw it at you,” he jokes again, pointing to his metal arm.

That one manages to successfully pull a laugh out of you, even if it’s a small one. “No, you’re the same. Metal arm included.”

“Alright…” Bucky grunts quietly as he pushes off the bed to stand up. “Then let’s widen our scope. While we’re at it, let’s head to the kitchen and get some food in you.”

You’re not very hungry, but you know that Bucky is just trying to take care of you in Steve’s absence, so you don’t argue. The two of you leave the living quarters and head for the shared kitchen. It’s strange being back. Not only because of the abundance of technology, that you had seriously taken for granted, but also because that feeling of uselessness was beginning to sink back in.

You’d completed your part. You got the serum. Now all that’s left is to wait and see if it paid off. You’re of no use at this point and that is really starting to weigh on you. “Bucky… what if it doesn’t work?” you ask, your voice sounding hollow.

“Don’t say that, Vic. Don’t even think it,” he responds swiftly. “You busted your ass to get us that serum. It’s going to work.”

You have to bite your lip to keep it from trembling, your eyes are already so raw from how much you’ve been crying that it physically hurts to tear up. “How can you be so sure?”

His gaze softens when he looks back at you. “You said it perfectly yourself. I have faith.”

--

Bucky was lucky enough to get some food in you but was wholly unsuccessful in getting you to rest. So here you are, 24 hours after arriving back from the past and you’re sitting at Steve’s bedside, desperately scrolling through a tablet reading through as many historical events as you can from the last century, trying to figure out what’s changed. So far, you’ve come up empty.

Bruce showed up at about 3 in the morning to tell you they had a breakthrough with the serum and had been able to synthesize a cure. He had even reached out to Shuri in Wakanda to have her double-check their work before preparing the antidote to administer into Steve’s IV. You gave her a quick phone call to let her know how grateful you were for her help and to tell her how handy her healing gel had been during your travels. When you asked how you could ever repay her, she’d laughed and told you to take her to Disneyland, because T’Challa still refused to take her himself. That made you crack a smile and you quickly agreed to get a trip planned.

Everyone else had, for the most part, left you alone to be with Steve. You are completely exhausted, both physically and mentally, but you can’t seem to let your mind rest. You can’t help but feel in your gut that your presence in the past had to have changed something. You just can’t for the life of you figure out what.

“Vic?”

The rough voice has your head snapping up so fast, you get whiplash. “Steve!” You quickly place the tablet down and scramble to your feet.

He blinks heavily, and he looks groggy as all hell, but he’s definitely awake.

“Oh, you big idiot. You scared the shit out of me!” You’re already crying again, just from the relief of seeing him awake.

“Sorry,” he grimaces. “What happened?”

“Those Hydra scientists injected you with some type of anti-serum poison. It almost killed you.”

“Would explain why I feel like shit…” he mumbles.

You scoff out a wet laugh. Reaching up, you push his bangs off his forehead then curl your fingers down his temple and over his smooth cheek. “Jerk,” you tell him affectionately.

His lips tilt into a half-grin before immediately falling into a frown. He grips your arm to stop you from pulling it back. “Vic, what is this?” he questions, looking at the bruise around your wrist. Figures he would notice that in mere seconds of being awake. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to have anyone else look at it yet.

“Oh, it’s nothing…” you try to brush it off and take your arm back, but his grip is surprisingly firm for someone that had literally been just steps away from death. Damn Super Soldier.

“It’s not nothing,” he insists. “That’s a handprint! Vic, who did-” he cuts himself off, gaze flickering down to where his fingers are wrapped around the middle of your arm and then back up to the bruise. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his hand travels up the length of your arm until he’s circling your wrist. He’s gentle and doesn’t press on the bruise at all, just hovers over it enough to see the exact match. “I did this,” he states upon the realization. His brows then furrow in confusion. “Why don’t I remember…?” He inhales sharply, his grip going slack, causing his hand to drop into his lap. In the next moment, his head whips around you meet your startled gaze. “You went back!” he exclaims.

“What-” your jaw drops as you stare back at him, wide-eyed. Your heart begins to pound in your chest. “How…”

“Vic, honey, this is serious. Did you go back to 1943?” Steve questions insistently. He looks just about ready to jump out of the hospital bed if you don’t answer immediately.

You release a shaky breath. “How did you know that?” you question, your mind racing to come up with an explanation for whatever seems to be happening here. You jolt when the medical equipment hooked up to Steve starts beeping because of his elevated heart rate. He pulls the heart monitor clip off of his finger and tries to push himself into an upright position. “Whoa, Steve!” you place your hands on his chest to make him lie back again. “Hon, you need to take it easy. Your body is still trying to fight off the poison and you haven’t received the full dose of the antidote, yet.” You hit the button on the side of the bed to lift him up into a seated position.

“Vic, where’s my suit?” he asks urgently.

“Your suit?” you question, not understanding why he’s asking about it. “It’s right here,” you point to where it’s neatly folded on a table behind you. He’d been stripped out of it so they could work on him, but you hadn’t had the time or mental capacity to put it away, yet.

“Look under the chest plate, on the inside of the suit,” he instructs. “There’s a hidden pocket on the left.”

You give him a perplexed look before slowly turning to move toward the table. You slip your hand under the collar of his uniform and feel around under the chest plate. Sure enough, your fingers brush against the small pull tab of an invisible zipper. Pinching it between two fingers, you open the pocket and try to feel for what could be inside. Your fingers brush against some kind of paper. The beat of your heart fills your ears as you slowly pull the paper out and carefully unfold it.

“Oh my god…” all the air rushes out of your lungs at once.

It’s you. Drawn out in charcoal. Asleep on the cot in the barracks at Camp Lehigh. The drawing is unmistakable. You just saw it yesterday morning, so you can recognize it instantly. But the version you hold now is faded and smudged. The paper is soft and worn, the edges have turned yellow. The one you hold now didn’t come through the quantum realm. This one passed through the passage of time one single day at a time.

“You said I should carry you in my heart,” Steve’s words pierce straight through your scattered thoughts, making you gasp. “So, I did.”

Your hands begin to shake. You quickly set down the sketch, afraid that you might damage the delicate paper. “I…” you huff, your mind racing faster than you have the strength to comprehend. “I don’t understand.” Your breath hitches and you cup your hands over your mouth.

“Vic,” Steve calls for you gently.

When you turn to face him, he’s got his hand stretched out, beckoning you closer. You feel dizzy as you walk on unsteady legs over to him, taking his hand and letting him pull you closer until you’re sitting on the side of his bed. “Steve… I don’t- What does this mean?”

He gives you a small smile, squeezing your hand gently for comfort. “You just spent the last two weeks in 1943, right?” You swallow thickly and nod your head. “Vic… those two weeks happened 80 years ago for me.”

You choke on your next breath when his words confirm what your brain is trying to grasp at. “So, that means that I did mess up the timeline, then. Oh, God. Bruce warned me that-”

“Honey, you didn’t mess up anything,” Steve cuts you off, using a soothing tone. 

“But…”

He runs his fingers over your hand, tracing out the lines on your palm in a calming gesture. “Do you remember when you were trying to figure out my Ma’s potato soup recipe?” he asks. “You would get so sad whenever it didn’t turn out quite right.”

You release a shaky breath watching how his fingers trace over your palm again and again. “I almost gave up.”

“I know. But then I begged you to try again. Just one more time. I told you that I knew you would get it right and what happened next?” he prompts.

You huff out a laugh at the memory, “The next one was perfect.”

Steve nods in confirmation. “I knew you would get the recipe right because you’d already made it for me once…” He stops the ministration of his fingers on your hand and waits for your gaze to lift to his. “In 1943,” he finishes.

You hold his gaze and let that sink in. “So… These last two weeks… That was always supposed to happen?”

“Yes,” he confirms with a breath.

“But…” you shake your head trying to wrap your head around this new concept. “You never said anything… Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

He fixes you with a sad look, “For the same reason you were terrified to tell me the truth,” He explains. “I wanted to tell you. In fact, there were several times when I almost did. But I was scared that if I told you before it had a chance to happen, then it wouldn’t happen at all.” He’s gone back to fiddling with your hand, now that he’s the one that needs comfort from the contact. “Vic, look at me,” he implores. “Why do I make you dance with me whenever Taking a Chance on Love comes on?”

He’s never given you a reason before, which means there’s only one answer. “Because I made you dance with me to it in your apartment,” you answer.

He smiles. “Why do I always ask to make sure you’ve checked the expiration date on your emergency inhaler?”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Because I had to give it to you during your asthma attack.”

“Why do I kiss you on your stomach and on your back where you now have a set of scars underneath that t-shirt?”

Your press your free hand to the side of your stomach absentmindedly. “Because you helped me patch up the gunshot wound.”

“See?” he asks. “You didn’t change the timeline, Vic. You completed it.”

The words have no sooner left his mouth before you’re promptly bursting into tears. However, these tears aren’t coming from a place of sadness or fear, they instead stem from pure relief. You crumple forward against his chest, openly sobbing as he wraps an arm around you. “I was so scared that I had messed things up!”

“I know, Honey. But it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” He places a kiss to the top of your head and rubs soothingly at your back. He holds you close as you cry out the last of the stress and tension out of your body.

When you’re no longer racked with sob you push yourself off of him and rise off the bed. You grab a few tissues from the side table to blow your nose and dry your eyes before tossing them into the trash. You release a long sigh, feeling the last of the tension leave you. This, however, allows pure exhaustion to settle over you in its place.

“Vic, I mean this in the most loving way, but you look like crap.”

You release a dry scoff, shooting Steve with a light glare. “Gee, thanks.”

He looks back with concern. “When was the last time you slept?”

Your gaze softens up. “In 1943,” you tell him honestly.

“Come here,” he lifts his arm in invitation.

“Steve, you’re still recovering,” you protest.

“I’ll recover a whole lot faster if you don’t make me get up and come after you.”

You huff out a laugh, but relent and move back toward the bed. “Stubborn jerk,” you mumble. You kick off your shoes and raise the thin blanket covering his legs to tuck yourself in close next to him. You lay on your side, with your head on his chest and a leg thrown over his. You shift around a bit until you find the most comfortable spot. “You were easier to spoon when you were smaller.”

Steve releases a low chuckle, settling his arm over your shoulders and resting his hand at your back. “At least you never called my penis adorable when I was this size.”

“Oh my God,” you grumble. “I never said that, but I can certainly start!”

He snickers when you slap his chest. His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt and crawls back up until his fingers touch the scar on your back. He releases a low hum. “As soon as I get out of this hospital bed, we’re having crazy hot reunion sex.”

You snort in amusement. “I’m sorry, we’re having what?”

“Hey, you got some like two days ago, but I haven’t had sex in like a month,” he protests.

“Are you seriously jealous of yourself?” you ask dubiously.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he admits, continuing to run his fingers over your scar. “Usually whenever I missed you enough to make my chest ache. It happened a lot when you first left, but it would also creep up on me whenever things got slow on the war front. It always made me think about how there was a version of myself somewhere out there in another time that got to spend every night wrapped up in your arms. A version of me that got to touch you whenever he wanted. Kiss you whenever he pleased. It killed me not knowing when or if I’d ever see you again.”

You rub your cheek against his chest and listen to him talk. “When I was in the Valkyrie while it was going down and had to decide what to do… You were my first thought. If I crashed the plane and died, then I’d never get to see you again. And that thought scared me more than anything else. But then I remembered what you told me the day you left.  Don’t make your choices based on what you think will bring you back to me. Make the choice because you know it’s the right thing to do. And I knew at that moment that this was exactly what you had been talking about. So… I grabbed onto my faith and plunged into the ice.

“When I woke up in 2012… I was terrified that I had overshot the timeline and missed my opportunity to be with you. Then the battle of New York happened and suddenly I had bigger problems to deal with. When I got assigned to the DC SHIELD office, as soon as I got my credentials, you were the first thing I looked up. Imagine my surprise when I found out you’d actually been in New York with me.”

“Like two ships passing in the night,” you comment, watching your fingers draw random patterns against his chest. “I was re-assigned to the LA office after New York.”

“I know. I purchased a plane ticket to California.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. “What?”

“Yeah. I flew out there to find you. When I got to the SHIELD base, the director made a big deal about my arrival and wanted to give me a grand tour of the facility. You were training when I first saw you.” You shift up onto your elbow, so you can look down and meet his gaze, eager to hear what he’ll say next. “You were with a guy. Sparring. I could tell you both were pretty friendly with each other. The way you fought was more teasing than actual combat training and whenever he pinned you to the mat, you would laugh. From where I was standing, it looked like you were flirting.”

You rack your brain, trying to figure out who he could be talking about. “Was that my old partner?” you question. “The one that was already married?”

Steve purses his lips and scrunches his nose. “And gay… It would take me a few years before figuring that one out.”

“Ugh, Steve!” you groan and flop back down onto his chest. To think you could have been with him even earlier if he hadn’t jumped to conclusions.

“I know,” he agrees with a sigh. “I really shot myself in the foot with that one. But you’d also been younger than I remembered you, so I was pretty sure I hadn’t missed our chance. I flew back to DC and then waited for you to come to me.”

“How the hell did you manage to keep all of this a secret? You suck at lying.” You ask in disbelief.

That gets a laugh out of him. “I honestly have no idea, but I am so glad that I can talk about it with you now.”

“Well, then I guess while we’re on the subject of clearing the air, I also have a confession to make.” Steve looks at you curiously. “I kind of had a ‘klepto’ moment,” you admit.

His brows pull together, “What does that mean?”

You bite your bottom lip and grimace, “I took something that doesn’t belong to me and brought it back through the quantum realm.”

He raises a brow, unsure if he should be amused or disapproving of your actions. “What did you take?”

Pushing yourself back up, you crawl halfway over his body and stretch an arm out to the wheeling table by his bed where all of your friends have put flowers and little trinkets to express their well wishes. Steve grabs onto your hips to make sure you don’t fall out of the bed as you drag the table a little closer. Plucking an object off the table, you settle back against Steve’s side and hand it to him.

“Vic…” even with just the one syllable, you can hear him choking up.

“Our last morning at the camp, you left to take a shower and your suitcase was just sitting there. Open. I saw where you had tucked it, and I don’t really know why, but I took it. I knew that when you woke up in 2012, anything that hadn’t been with you on that plane had been lost forever. I just… I wanted you to have them back.”

He stares down at the picture frame for a long time, unblinking.

“Are you mad…?” you ask hesitantly.

He finally blinks and a single tear travels down his cheek. “I never thought I’d see this again,” he says quietly. As you reach to wipe away his tear, his gaze lifts to yours. “Thank you,” he tells you, his voice filled with so much love you can feel it.

You smile tenderly back, rubbing your thumb gently against his cheek. “They would have been so proud of you.”

He swallows thickly and you have to wipe another tear from his cheek. “My Ma would have loved you.”

You lean your head down to rest your forehead against his. He takes a moment to process through his emotions before tilting his face forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. You release a content hum and fall into the kiss. This kiss feels a little different somehow. It’s pure and clarifying. It wipes away all the pain and stress you’ve felt over the last two weeks. It mends the cracks in your heart that formed when you had to leave him in 1943. You made it back. The serum worked. He’s alive and speeding down the road to recovery.

When you pull back, you’re crying again, because your heart is just so full that there’s nowhere left for your emotions to go. “I love you,” you whisper wetly against his lips.

He looks back and gives you the sweetest smile, “I love you too, Vic.” You help him put the picture of his parents back on the side table before settling against his side once again. “Okay, reunion sex first, but then we’re getting married like immediately after,” he comments.

You grin wide and release a laugh at his words. “Do I get a say in any of this?”

His arm tightens where it’s wrapped around your waist. “Only if you plan on saying yes.”

“Normally you’re supposed to ask these kinds of things,” you tease. As if there was any other option.

“I am way past the point of asking,” he huffs. “Would have done it years ago, if someone hadn’t told me in 1943 that we weren’t married yet!”

“What was I supposed to say?!” You ask, wanting to laugh again. You can’t believe that this is your first argument after coming back.

“You were supposed to say that I married the shit out of you the second I saw you again! Maybe then, I would have tossed you over my shoulder and taken you for myself in California.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you giggle at his pouting face.

“Say you’ll marry me, or things are about to get a whole lot more ridiculous. I will toss you over my shoulder and go right now,” he threatens, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth is giving him away. 

“Yes, you stubborn idiot. I will let you marry the shit out of me.”

He shoots you a smug grin before his laughter starts to break through. “What happened to stubborn jerk?”

“You’ve been promoted for suggesting we should get married while you’re still hooked into an IV bag and I haven’t slept in 80 years.”

He looks over his shoulder up at the IV that’s still slowly administering fluids and the antidote into his system. “I can bring the IV stand with us and you can nap on the way. It’ll be great.”

You laugh at the goofy grin plastered across his mouth. “Good luck with that.”

If possible, his grin widens even further. “I don’t need luck. All I need is my Victory.”

-

The End

[cripplepunkrick]

Ria “Teensy” Sanchez

Basics

Character’s full name: Ria Madicella Sanchez 

Character’s nickname: Teensy

Reason for nickname: she's 4'9"

Birth date: January 19

Gender: Nonbinary

Pronouns: They/Them and She/Her, used interchangeably

Physical Appearance

Age: unknown: she literally doesn't remember. Best guess is early 100s

How old do they appear: 80ish

Weight: 85lbs

Height: 4'9"

Body build: all elbows and knees; very lanky and boney.

Shape of face: long and angular, with a narrow, hooked nose and thin lips

Eye color: hazel

Glasses or contacts: none

Skin tone: greyish olive

Distinguishing marks: long, deeps scars running down inside of their upper arms and thighs, top surgery scars on chest.

Predominant features: heavy mono-brow, hooked nose, freckles on face and arms

Hair color: steely grey, occasionally with other colours dyed in

Type of hair: coarse

Hairstyle: punk mullet; long in the back and spiked in the front

Voice: harsh, a little shaky, slightly nasal, and spoken in a thick south Texas accent 

Overall attractiveness: subjective. They see nothing wrong with their appearance.

Physical disabilities: lupus, ankylosing spondylitis, partial deafness (HOH)

Usual fashion of dress: classic punk; lots of denim, leather, and flannel. Spikes and patches. She rarely throws anything out, so most of her clothes show hand-done repair.

Favourite outfit: Checked flannel shirt, open denim vest coated in various pins and patches, tight black jeans with years of distress to the knees and thighs, and heavy Doc Martens. 

Jewelry or accessories: thick leather cuffs, usually with spikes or chains, worn around their wrists, chokers or chains around her neck. Often wears dog tags from time served as a medic.

Personality

Good personality traits: Happy, fun loving, genuine desire to make the world better, stays in her own lane, private

Bad personality traits: Isolates, paranoid, vicious when crossed

Mood character is most often in: Vaguely crabby but good natured

Sense of humor: Good, but often morbid/dark

Greatest joy in life: Teaching people things

Greatest fear: Being buried alive and forgotten.

Why?: Claustrophobia + fear of suffocation

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil?: Death of any of her ‘girls’ (Beth, Morticia, and/or Summer)

Most at ease when: in the kitchen or laboratory at home, with family near at hand.

Most ill at ease when: Morticia goes adventuring without her

Enraged when: anyone messes with her people.

Depressed or sad when: in the middle of a bad pain flare. 

Priorities: Family, personal comfort, everyone else

Life philosophy: Do the day, and let the day do you.

If granted one wish, it would be: to undo the damage to her ears

Why?: so she can hear her music better (and the kids, too, I guess)

Character’s soft spot: Morticia/ welfare of Mortys in general

Is this soft spot obvious to others?: probably, if anyone bothered to look

Greatest strength: Calm under pressure

Greatest vulnerability or weakness: Insecure around other Ricks

Biggest regret: Giving up on medicine as a career

Minor regret: Leaving Stan

Biggest accomplishment: Serum that stopped aging for decades at a time, if used daily, which allowed her to survive AS when it should have been fatal at her age/timeline, because she was essentially pausing her body’s age every day.

Minor accomplishment: Created a synthetic nicotine substance that can be smoked without causing cancer. Big tobacco hates her

Past failures they would be embarrassed to have people know about: Used to be obsessed with immortality and not aging; kept herself looking 25-30 for decades, long enough that they no longer are sure how old they actually are.

Why?: It’s embarrassing to them that they were that vain.

Character’s darkest secret: Tried to create a cure for AS, but though the trial worked well in animal tests, when they tested it on a volunteer humans, it killed them pretty nastily. They gave up creating a cure after that.

Does anyone else know?: Yes, but very few people. Morticia knows, but Beth and Summer do not.

Goals

Drives and motivations: Loves to learn and experience new things. 

Immediate goals: Have a good time

Long term goals: don’t die

Past

Hometown: Originally born in Arecibo, Puerto Rico, Teensy did most of her growing up in Houston, Texas

Type of childhood: Decent, middle class, but chronically under stimulated and had an incredibly intense stress put on appearance, especially regarding aging. 

Pets: Many, mostly cats in childhood

First memory: meeting her adoptive parents

Most important childhood memory: meeting her maternal, blood-relative grandmother

Why: Because it brought her closer to the people and traditions she lost when her birth parents died.

Childhood hero: Charles Lindbergh

Dream job: Doctor (or a pilot…) 

Education: Formal education, a Bachelor's Degree in Science, and several higher honorary degrees in various science and medical related fields. Learned most of their chemistry and engineering skills through trial and error with personal research.

Religion: Raised Baptist, introduced to Catholicism by grandmother at 8 years old

Finances: Middle class

Present

Current location: Farm outside of Gun Barrel City, Texas

Currently living with: Morticia, her granddaughter, and occasionally with Beth and Summer, when either of them come to visit

Pets: Peekaboo, a little moppy-looking purse dog, and several pampered  barn cats

Religion: Agnostic

Occupation: Retired

Finances: Money is not a concern (All that synthetic nicotine money, eyyyy)

Family

Mother: Mabelle Sanchez nee Holiday, deceased

Relationship with her: Generally good, but increasingly distant as Teensy grew older. 

Father: Avery Sanchez, deceased

Relationship with him: Strained, and increasingly so as Teensy grew older. 

Siblings: None

Spouse: Ex-husband, Stanley Pines

    Relationship: estranged

Harold Leist, Deceased

    Relationship: was generally very amiable, though Harold was often confused or shocked by Teensy’s scientific endeavors. Teensy married him because he was loyal, kind, and cared about Beth when Beth was still very young and recovering from Teensy and Stan’s sudden separation.

Children: Beth Sanchez

Relationship with them: Solid, but occasionally they argue, mostly about Stan. Beth often visits her father’s dimension and Teensy is not a fan.

Other important family members: Granddaughters Summer and Morticia, Grandmother Rosaria Solas Marquez(Deceased) 

Favourites

Colour: bright colours, usually neon blues, pinks, and greens

Least favorite colour: beige

Music: she has eclectic taste, but she plays everything loud. One of her favourite songs currently is Our Last Night’s cover of abcdefu.

Food: Fish, especially white fish. Cooks for flavour, so uses a lot of herbs and spices in just about everything she makes.

Literature: Loves horror novels and poetry. Their favourite poem is ‘In the Desert’ by Steven Crane, and their favourite book is ‘Koko’ by Peter Straub.

Form of entertainment:

Expressions: “Well, dip me in shit and set me t’ spin!”

Mode of transportation: trains. Teensy loves the leisure of a long train ride. 

Most prized possession: their portal gun

Habits

Hobbies: Mechanical tinkering, loves fixing old shit; bassist in a punk garage band comprised of a bunch of other elderly punks

Plays a musical instrument?: Electric bass

Plays a sport?: Played soccer up until their 40s, just recreationally. Still passionate about the international teams.

How they would spend a rainy day: Reading, working in the lab or workshop, or baking

Spending habits: tend to spend money on little trinkets and silly stuff that’ll be given away as gifts. Doesn’t bother paying attention to costs very often.

Smokes: often; weed, tobacco, and some alien hallucinogens

Drinks: nightly; loves absinthe and whiskey and various alien wines and spirits.

Other drugs: usually; she creates a lot of custom party drugs, going for things that make the user feel extremely good without doing (too much) damage to the body, as well as 

What do they do too much of?: Partying

What do they do too little of?: Genuine self-care

Extremely skilled at: Deflection, chemistry, engineering

Extremely unskilled at: conversation

Nervous tics: chews fingernails

Usual body posture: hunched shoulders and relaxed limbs

Mannerisms: Friendly, solicitous, curious, stickler for details

Peculiarities: Talks to animals like they’re people, ignores people as soon as she’s done with a conversation, literally will just get up and leave if they’re bored or annoyed.

Traits

Optimist or pessimist?:  optimist that pretends to be a pessimist

Introvert or extrovert?: Introvert

Daredevil or cautious?: Midline; more cautious than many Ricks seem to be

Logical or emotional?: Logical, but in extremely emotionally charged situations, trusts her gut

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat?: Methodical and neat

Prefers working or relaxing?: Working

Confident or unsure of himself/herself?: Confident, until set around a bunch of other Ricks.

Animal lover?: Yes, keeps many cats and a dog.

Self-Perception

How they feel about themself: comfortable, solidly proud and affectionate toward themself.

One word the character would use to describe self: Steadfast

One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: Good-natured curmudgeon ready to take on the world. Old as shit and looking for someone to hit. 

What does the character consider their best personality trait?: Being assertive

What does the character consider their worst personality trait?: being nosy

What does the character consider their best physical characteristic?: their eyes

What does the character consider their  worst physical characteristic?: the cracking, popping, noisy set of joints they have.

How does the character think others perceive them: as a redneck punk with a big mouth.

What would the character most like to change about themself: be bolder and more actively adventurous, like Ricky. 

Relationships with Others

Opinion of other people in general: Well intentioned bunch of morons.

Does the character hide their true opinions and emotions from others?: Rarely

Person character most hates: most citadel Ricks, and C-137

Best friend(s): Ricky

Love interest(s): None at the moment

Person they go to for advice: Mostly relies on their own research and intuition, but bounces ideas off Ricky and Morticia. 

Person they feel responsible for or takes care of: Morticia, Summer 

Person they feel shy or awkward around: Doesn’t show it much, but they’re shy about being around most Ricks. 

Person they openly admire: Ricky, Morticia, Summer, Beth

Person they secretly admire: Stan Pines

Most important person in their life before story starts: Beth and Beth’s children

After story starts: Beth and Beth’s children. 

[elareine]

I know I already gave you one, but I just thought of this now, if you could, or ignore it, either one is fine, can you please write Nurse or Doctor Tim with JayTim or DickTim, or both go crazy with it, if you want. And Tim being so exasperated with them because they keep giving him the lamest excuses for their injuries, because they don't know he knows or they suspect he knows but both sides are trying to see who will mention it first. So its like a big competition of who will break first.

So the competition aspect got lost a bit? I hope you still enjoy it :) 

Warning: Some dark jokes about domestic violence, mostly borne out of my experience when I actually fell down the stairs. Also I blatantly did not care about the actual medical issues in this. 

“You fell down the stairs.” 

Usually, when Tim had to repeat these words to someone, he said them gently: telegraphing his disbelief as well as his willingness to keep up appearances as long as the victim needed to. With kids, he was a bit more direct, though only after separating them from the parent. He never spoke this sarcastically; that would be uncalled for. 

(Also, contrary to popular belief, some people actually did fall down the stairs.) 

Today? Today his words were dripping with sarcasm. 

The man—‘Richard Grayson’ according to his file, ‘Dick’ according to his introduction, ‘Gotham’s most handsome bachelor’ according to the gossip mags—rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I… maybe it was more, like. The roof?” 

“Did the roof use a whip, by any chance?” Tim asked, examining the welts. “What did you do to piss off Catwoman?” 

“Not—Nothing, because I fell down the stairs.” 

“The roof.” 

“The stairs on the roof.” 

Tim sighed. “Alright. We’re gonna need an x-ray because I suspect your muscle has been cut through. Please report to room three, and the nurse will take care of it.” 

“Sure thing, doc!” 

—

When Tim had been inspired by Thomas Wayne to become a doctor, this hadn’t been what he envisioned. 

Cure the sick? Sure. Fix bones and other injuries? As an orthopedic specialist: every day. Look at every injury Dick Grayson acquired during his totally-legal activities? Nope. What the fuck. 

The explanations became increasingly stupider, too, which was hard to believe seeing how they started with a chart-topper like ‘I fell down the stairs/roof and it happened to look like a belt from a whip.’ 

Tim had resolved early on that he wouldn’t ask. His patience for Dick’s weak-ass excuses was close to zero, sure, but it was safer  to keep away. This was a professional medical praxis that cared for everyone, no matter their allegiance. Tim didn’t even know which vigilante was sitting in front of him. 

…oh, who was he kidding. This was Nightwing. None of the other vigilantes in Gotham was that chipper. 

(Also, that ass.) 

Fine. Tim could deal with that. He might’ve even privately fangirled over the fact that he got to patch up Nightwing (the first Robin!) on a regular basis. Also, Dick was ridiculously charming; Tim didn’t mind spending time with him. It was a nice break in the middle of a hectic day. 

Except then Dick started bringing his brother/boyfriend along. 

(Yeah, Tim felt as weird about that ‘/‘ as you do. But they were holding hands, so…) 

He took one look at Jason Todd and asked drily: “So, seen any good zombie movies lately?” 

Dick choked on air. Jason just grinned through the bloody mess he’d made of his mouth and asked: “Do I look that bad?” 

“Worse.” Tim sighed and started examining the mess closer, carefully pressing along the lines of the other man’s jaw. “Let me guess, you’re also into parkour?” 

“Among other things.” 

“Hmm. Yeah, nothing broken, I think, but we’ll double-check. If not, ice, painkillers, and no ‘rooftop parkour’ for a while, alright?” He paused. Honestly, judging by Jason’s stature (too wide for most vigilantes) and age (too young to be Batman)… “I’d tell you to wear a helmet, but apparently, even that’s not helping.”  

Jason turned to Dick, grinning widely. “I can see why you like him.” 

Tim had no idea what to think about that, so he didn’t. 

—

It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon. Every Wednesday, Tim would close his practice at 2 p.m. and spend the rest of the day doing paperwork. A cup of tea and the tv in the background 

Except then the news started, and Tim heard the phrases “Nightwing and Red Hood,” “magician,” and “explosion.” 

Then, the footage—obviously taking from mobile phone recordings—began playing. He watched for three minutes, panic spreading through him. Nightwing limp on the ground. Red Hood, literally thrown through a wall. He knew that these men were terrifyingly well trained, that Red Hood must’ve had some beta modifications at some point in his life with the injuries he took in stride—

But on camera, they weren’t moving. 

According to the timestamp, the footage had been taken thirty minutes ago. 

“Clean-up has begun,” the reporter on the screen said. “There is no sign of the two vigilantes who have defended our community center to the last—“ 

Tim grabbed his things and ran. 

Tam, his assistant, looked up in alarm as he entered the waiting area. “Tim?” 

“I need to go,” Tim told her, not stopping. “It’s an emergency.” 

And because Tam was the best, she simply called after him: “Call me if you need help! I’ll take care of the practice.” 

Tim knew Dick’s home address, had memorized it just in case—just in case. That’s where Tim drove now. If they weren’t there, he would try Wayne Manor next, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

But when he pressed the doorbell at the apartment labeled ‘Grayson,’ he was immediately buzzed in. 

Jason was the one who let him in and led him to the living room, where Dick half-sat, half laid on a couch. 

Tim asked: “Okay. What hurts the most?” 

“His head,” Jason replied, and Dick glared: “I’m told you I’m fine, Jay—“ 

Tim walked over. Swelling, definitely, and something about that shoulder… 

“I popped that back in,” Jason explained. “But I think there’s something wrong with his neck.” 

Yeah, there really was. Tim recognized the beginning of some deep bruising—strangulation, his mind supplied, that magician had tried to choke Dick out—and the back of Dick’s head felt tender and hot. 

“I don’t suppose I can interest you in an x-ray?” he asked. 

Disagreement all around. Fine. Tim would write them prescriptions for braces, if they didn’t have them lying around in a corner, anyway. Unless something felt like it was broken or shifted out of place or actually torn. You didn’t mess around with that. 

Jason had sat down next to Dick, and Tim moved on seamlessly to checking him. Jason’s ribs were definitely not okay, but probably hadn’t punctured his lung or anything, or he wouldn’t be sitting here. Apart from that, he was one massive bruise and a fucked-up hit. No running for Red Hood for at least a week. (Six weeks for normal humans. Tim was used to the calculation by now.) Oh, and something had crushed his foot—“the building falling on me,” Jason very helpfully informed him—and they had both suffered fourth- and third-degree burns. 

Tim began dressing the wounds in silence. His hands were shaking. Why were they shaking, dammit. He was a fucking doctor. His hands were the steadiest thing about him. 

It felt like hours passed before he was done. 

“You need to stay awake.” His tone was too sharp; he could do nothing to soften it. “With a blast like that, concussions are a given. Is there anyone we could call to stay up with you?” 

Dick nodded, then winced. Yeah, he should avoid that movement for a while. “Yes, we could—“ 

“No.” Jason shook his head. 

“No?” Dick looked at him. Something must’ve been telegraphed in Jason’s eyes because Dick continued: “Oh, I mean, no. I’m afraid there isn’t.” 

“We’re all alone.” 

“Totally.” 

Tim sighed. “Don’t you have, like, fifteen siblings and a butler? I should just call Wayne Manor; I’m sure that number is on Google or something—“

“Tim,” Dick said very gently. His hand went up to grasp Tim’s. “Stay with us?” 

Tim blinked. “That’s. Really unprofessional.” He didn’t pull his hands away, though. 

“You’re in our living room.” Jason shifted—it looked painful—and continued: “Pretty sure nothing about this is professional, so…” 

“Please?” Dick asked. 

Tim inhaled deeply and shook his head. “You two are so—stupid.” They flinched. “Like, what’re you doing, getting injured like that every week? You’re going to get yourself killed, and then I will have to come up with an explanation and it’s gonna be better than any you ever came up with. You’re gonna be so bad for my blood pressure.” 

Dick looked crestfallen, but Jason was starting to grin: “So, you’re staying, then?” 

“Duh.” 

(I’m taking prompts until the end of the year.) 

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Killing Cure (Part 12)

It’s been a hot minute but I’m back from my vacation. I mentioned on my other fic that I just got a new job so updates will still probably be slow as I now have a job on top of art fight, a zine, two other fics, and an original story. So a big thanks to everyone who sticks with this one and for all of the patience. 

Out of all of the beings that roam this godforsaken Earth, humans, monsters, mutants...it is Winters. Winters who has been on her mind since she kissed him. She wishes that she could call it an impulse but is it really an impulse if she had been thinking--however loosely--about it for several days before?

She wishes that he would do something to make her irreparably mad. But he doesn’t, he only ever seems to make her feel a sense of comfort. Even now when she is cringing at the sight of herself in a pair of pants, the man stands behind her with a collection of compliments. “You look great.” He promises. “It’s going to take some getting used to, you being dressed down, but it’s nice.”

Nice. He thinks that she looks nice. It is such a simple word, so plain, ordinary. But it means everything to her. Everything when she has felt anything but nice or attractive… “I’ve looked better.” She waves the compliment off. But, by God, it has taken at least some of the edge off of her mild sense of self loathing.

Ethan shrugs. “You just have to get used to streetwear.”

She chances another look in the mirror; she supposes that it isn’t quite so horrible. The shirt is loose and breathable though the linen fabric isn’t as kind on her skin as many of her gowns are. The pants are less comfy, more restrictive than her dresses but are easier to maneuver in without tripping. And she supposes that they don’t look too unflattering on her.

She jerks when Ethan suddenly thumps her hat onto her head. He laughs at her little jolt. “Do not test me, Winters! We have a long journey ahead of us.”

“Just trying to help.” He replies. “I didn’t want you to forget your favorite hat.”

He favorite hate is actually several sizes too big for her and sits draped over a chair. But with an exact replica of it, she decides that the technicalities aren’t worth mentioning. “Are my girls ready?”

“They’re your daughters, you check on them.”

.oOo.

He watches Alcina make her way out of the room. Words and hissed out promises aside, the woman has become increasingly less hostile since she’d kissed him. He smiles to himself, at least he isn’t the most awkward of the two of them anymore. At least, he isn’t alone in his conflicted, affectionate feelings.  

She comes back with her daughters in tow; Bela has a grip on her left hand and Cassandra holds the left. Daniela, untethered, zips about, occasionally cutting in front of the other three before falling behind once more. The three of them are bundled up heavily, almost absurdly so. Alcina comes to a stop at the center of the room and Daniela takes the opportunity to lift her off of the ground.

“Daniela…” she grumbles through clenched teeth, “we talked about this…”

The woman cackles and puts her mother back down before bursting into a cloud of flies and rebuilding herself several feet away. Ethan has never seen anyone look less amused than Alcina in that moment. “We’re ready, Ethan.”

A jolt of adrenaline pulses through him, it is once again real. His mission is once again in sight and the dangers are once again going to be pressing. He wonders if Alcina is nervous now that illness has taken the place of a powerful mutation. She is just an ordinary woman with very basic gun skills. She gives no indication of nervousness, regardless of how she feels within.

Having grown used to the warmth of Castle Dimitrescu the cold stikes Ethan’s face as tough tendrils of the aurora borealis have reached down and coiled around his face. His is overcome by shivers, he can only imagine how the fly beasts are handling it. He doesn’t have to imagine it, one look behind him and he knows that they are recoiling. He thinks that he can hear faint crackles.

His speculation becomes knowledge when he sees the panic on Alcina’s face. Without a word of warning, she grabs all three of her daughters and, with more strength than he realized small Alcina has, ushers them back into the warmth of the castle.

Ethan follows her back inside. Her face is twisted in distress and concern, her breathing hastened. “Oh, my poor dears.” She mumbles more to herself than any of the three. “My poor little darlings…” She sandwiches Daniela’s hands between hers. “Winters, you get them some blankets,  now.”

Stress pinches her tone and he elects to ignore the snappiness of her request. She holds Daniela to her chest, letting the woman drink in her body heat.

.oOo.

Were she herself she would be more efficient. She would mostly envelop Daniela until the frost retracts from her skin. Having skipped the test steps and thrown herself headfirst into the frosty outside world, the woman had taken the worst of its merciless frigidness--she is too bold for her own safety.

Alcina holds her so close--feeling the woman’s shivers and shakes--and brushes her hand over her hair.  For once she finds herself thankful for her softness, it gives her an added warmth which she extends to Daniela. She has the urge to squeeze the woman but she must handle her with care, she is so terribly fragile right now.

Ethan comes back with three blankets which he wraps around Bela and Cassandra and then over Daniela’s. “Thank you, Ethan.” She murmurs as she continues to stroke Daniela’s hair. “We will have to see if the Duke will be a gentleman enough to look after my daughters while I’m gone.”

Ethan nods.

“Mother, it’s so cold.” Bela whimpers.

“It hurts.” Cassandra adds.

“I know dears, it’s going to be alright.”

“I think that I’m dying, mother.”

Alcina shakes her head, “no, Daniela. You’re going to be just fine, dear. We’ll get you nice and warm again.” She kisses the top of her head.

“I saw a deer pretty close by, I can get them some warm deer blood.” Ethan offers.

“Yes, Ethan, that would be ideal.”

With only a nod, he makes his way outside again. There is a new fluttering in her belly alongside the anxious tickles. She isn’t sure what to make of these flutters. But she knows where they come from. She watches Ethan through the window, watches him chase the deer down, likely cussing and shouting. She observes and she can’t help but let her mind wander. She barely knows him beyond the very basics. She has mostly tormented the man, mocked him. And yet he is good to her. He is kind to her girls. They aren’t even his own and yet he is fetching meals and warmth for them.

.oOo.

Ethan is completely drained by the time he gets back from his deer hunt. Physically and mentally--he can’t hold it against them, it isn’t the fault of the daughters that they can’t endure the cold. But it is still a setback. Still one more day away from finding Rose. One more day that leads her closer to a heinous sort of death.

He leaves the deer on the table, decidedly the girls can eat it raw and he can fix himself and Alcina a meal. Or perhaps she’d be willing to do the cooking this time. He opens his mouth to call for the daughters but the flies are already gathering. Three identical swarms that take shape.

“Where’s your mother?” He asks at the shaping of Cassandra.

The girl shrugs, “either the kitchen, having a bath, or the bedroom.”

“I’ll check the kitchen.” He knows that she is there before he reaches it. He isn’t exactly sure what she is cooking but she has added what smells like an overabundance of spice.

“What are we cooking?”

“I am cooking soup.” Alcina sets a bowl on the table. “Just a little recipe that Donna showed me.”

“She really loves her spices.”

Alcina shakes her head, “I like spices. Donna cooks her food quite bland. Donna favors simplicity.”

“Your daughters seem like they are recovering well.”

She sighs, “they should be in bed resting.” She clicks her tongue. “I can never get them to rest well. Daniela wakes up and then all three of them are awake.”

Ethan laughs, “sounds about right, kids are just like that no matter how old they get.” He pauses, “do you need rest?”

Alcina thinks for a moment, “I will be fine for now. The medications are working quite sufficiently.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“You sound unhappy.”

“I was hoping to be well on our way to find Rose.” He sees the vexation flash across her face but before she can rave at him he adds, “it’s...fine, it isn’t their fault. Just frustrating circumstances.” This answer seems to placate the woman. She silently continues eating her soup. He has to admit that it isn’t bad at all. Perhaps a little strong for his tastes but he is just thankful that he didn’t have to cook this time. “You don’t seem all too happy either.” He comments after pushing his bowl aside.

Alcina stares into her empty soup bowl. “I’m afraid of losing my girls. Today was a reminder of just how easily it can happen. They’ve been in more danger lately than they have been in, in years…” She stands and beckons for him to follow. Once upon a time, perhaps only a week or so ago, he would have hesitated. This time he trails closely behind her.

“I have a feeling that everyone will be too preoccupied trying to kill us to go after them.” He shrugs. He supposes that that isn’t all too reassuring. He is surprised to see her smile slightly and nod in agreement. There is something comforting about her willingness to die in place of her daughters, to put herself in danger to keep it far away from them. Humanity, he realizes. And he realizes too, that she would have done the same prior to his arrival. Humanity in a woman who, at that point, hadn’t been human in so long.

He watches her climb onto her bed. She gives a rather dramatic sigh and mutters, “I should make sure that my girls are…”

“I can get them into bed.” He doesn’t allow for protest. Rather, he slips out of the room and herds the three of them into their room.

“Do we get another bedtime story, Winters?” Bela asks.

“I wasn’t planning--”

“We need a story to sleep.” Daniela insists. “Mother always reads to us.”

And thus he finds himself suckered into reading them to sleep a second time. Alcina, he finds, has nodded off in his absence and jolts awake at his sudden reappearance. She grumbles something, that he can’t quite catch, about knocking first. “Sorry.” He mouths. Truth  be told, he isn’t sure why he has come back to her room instead of going to the guest bedroom. “They’re all tucked in and read to.”

The smile she gives him this time is much softer than usual, sleepier too. It is pleasant, inviting. He finds himself wondering, again, who she had been before the mutation. What she had been like prior to Mother Miranda. She pats a spot on the bed next to her.

“Thank you for caring for my girls. They can be...difficult to manage when it is just me.”

“You’re…” he feels her weight shift onto him. “You’re welcome.” He chances holding her with his right arm. When she doesn’t jerk away or protest, he strokes her hair, trying to ease her stress away.  He thinks that it is working.

It must be... She said it wouldn’t happen again, he knew that she was lying, he just didn’t expect her to stray from her promise so soon; she kisses his neck. And when she closes her eyes and rests her head against him, her curls tickle his neck. He holds his hand against her cheek--he supposes that he will be spending another night in her company. A night with her in his arms.

[gerec]

Gerec’s Favorite Fics - 2020

A little early, but here’s a list of my favorite fics from this past year in no particular order. Hope you enjoy them as much I did! :D :D :D

Time the Preserver by MaxRobespierre

“Erik,” says the old man, looking directly at him, and, ah. Yes. That was why Erik stopped on his way back to the motel. His name, and the look in the old man’s eyes. He’s seen that look before, that depth of mourning. It’s not a look he likes to think about.

an empty hearth by Ireliss 

The nighttime city, shrouded in fog.

(Logan works for Shaw, guarding his pretty young boyfriend. They grow closer than they should.)

Self-acceptance as an act of survival by winter_hiems

Charles and Erik get temporarily swapped into each other’s bodies.

Charles seems to be handling it.

He isn’t.

Four Funerals & A Wedding by midrashic

Four people who mourned Erik Lehnsherr, and one who didn't.

The Last Love Song & Testament of Charles F. Xavier by midrashic

When Erik is accused of domestic terrorism, Charles has no choice but to marry him to keep him out of jail.

The Marriage Bargain by kianspo

Erik Lehnsherr had made a fortune manufacturing steel in Europe. When he wished to expand to the New World, he discovered that no one would do business with him unless he was affiliated with one of the First Families, the creme de la creme of the NW aristocracy. When Lord Marko holds an auction to give away his 14-year-old stepson's hand in marriage, Erik sees his chance and takes it. He has no interest in Charles himself, but now that he has him, can they make it work?

Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo

While working as a model for Raven and Emma's clothing line, Erik experiences a strong attraction to his shoot partner. These things happen, except Erik has a boyfriend, who does not take this at all well.

linger like a tattoo kiss by ikeracity 

Six months apart gives Erik a lot of time to think about what he really wants.

(Erik's POV from Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo)

Suddenly There'll Be a Blizzard (Let It Snow Remix) by kianspo

Charles was never at his best while jetlagged, but locking himself out in a snowstorm while barely dressed might be a new low. The last thing he expected was to be rescued by his high school nemesis, the man he hadn't seen in over ten years, who might have broken his heart for good once upon a time.

Once Upon a Time in the West by lachatblanche

Logan meets young, bright-eyed Francis in the run-down town of Charity while on the hunt for the notorious bank-robbers, the Xavier siblings, never for a moment dreaming that Charles Xavier is much nearer than he thinks ...

follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly by specficslut (homosociality)

Dr. Sebastian Shaw loves his job testing runaway omegas for fertility. Today, a boy named Erik is in the back of his medical van.

deeper than swords (the sun and stars remix) by specficslut (homosociality)

Erik has been traded to a foreign king for a chest of gold and a hundred bushels of grain. In Westchester, he must learn to start a new life... and navigate the roles that have been thrust upon him, whether concubine or courtesan, consort or slave.

The Shared Dream by TurtleTotem

Charles's cryo-pod malfunctions and wakes him up a century before everyone else. Will he spend the rest of his life alone on a ship full of sleepers? (A Passengers AU.)

Mr & Mr. Xavier-Lehnsherr by JackyJango

If you ask his late sister, she'd probably say that Charles had always had the hots for the bad boys.

Maybe it's true. Maybe that's how Charles had ended up willingly in their marriage bed. Maybe it's the ease with which Erik fights that had drawn Charles to him-- the confidence with which he uses his body to ensure maximum destruction, the fluidity with which he flares phasers as though they were an extension of his arm. Maybe Charles had been attracted to the grace with which Erik wielded his physical form in a way Charles would never be able to in his field of work. Maybe it's the aura that swirls around Erik for being the best mercenary on the planet. Or, maybe it’s just the roguishly handsome figure Erik cuts in a leather jacket and aviators with a cigarette caught loosely between his thin lips. The thing is, Charles doesn't know. And that's a tad antithetical coming from a man who had made knowing everything his job.

OR

A Mr & Mrs Smith AU in Space!

We'll Show Them All by kaydeefalls

Pacific Rim AU. Ten years later, the monsters are back, and newly-instated Marshall Charles Xavier needs to pull a team together to prepare for the coming war. That means finding his talented sister a Drift-compatible copilot -- even if that turns out to be his old flame Erik.

Just One More Question by BelgianReader2, g33kyclassic

Erik meets Charles at Pub Quiz League and it is hate at first sight. But, his team does need a new member and Moira is insistent that Charles is just what they need.

Erik is not happy about Charles, despite his trivia skill. Can time change his opinion? What about an unexpected revelation or two?

To the tune of our souls by hllfire

Erik, the drummer and one of the lead singers of the band known as The Brotherhood, writes a song after being inspired by the words of a university professor called Charles Xavier — another big name in the mutant community, much like Erik himself — and he wants Charles' speech to be in his song.

The only problem is that Charles Xavier doesn't seem to agree with Erik's idea.

A Tale of Two Captains by ClarkeStetler, Goosenik

Charles Xavier had wanted to be on the ocean as far back as he could remember. He could remember toddling toward the shipyards as an infant, being snatched away by scolding parents just before he could touch the gleaming vessels. As he grew older, his attention never wavered from the prospect of living life on the seas. At twenty-one years of age, Charles and his ship had its first run-in with pirates, and he saw fit to protect his title and vessel as fiercely as he knew how.

Aka: a one-shot of Erik the pirate trying to ransom Charles the captain, but finding that Charles is a little hard not to get attached to.

I'm a bullet by Isolee (WIP) Since mother - since the house - since Cain - He's adapted. He can do anything. Now he wants something, and he suspects he might even deserve it. Or - Charles is sort-of a sex addict, and Erik is his married-with-family supervisor at Uni.

I'll Take You Down (The Only Road I've Ever Been Down) by kianspo 

Tony and Emma are trying to help Charles get over a bad relationship. Many bad relationships, in fact, as Charles has the worst taste in men. They dare him to get 'cured' by sleeping with someone 'normal', having no idea that that normal guy just happens to be someone Charles has been crushing on for a while...

All We Are We Are by kianspo 

Charles's boyfriend breaks up with him days before the holidays. Not willing to ruin anyone else's festive mood, Charles hides this fact from his sister and his friends, and retreats into the family mansion, letting the world move on without him. He's flirting with depression when a one-time ex and a long-term friend surprises him. Long-kept secrets are revealed, and it turns out, Charles hasn't been paying attention to the right things.

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Spotlight: A Life Of A Troubled Celebrity Heartthrob Ch 8

Word Count: 3,940

"Y/N, I need you in your dressing room now," Michelle grabbed mt arm as soon as we stepped out of the limo, "we don't have much time." She hurried them along, security surrounding them at every turn.

"I'll see you in a bit sweets," Colson called out and blew her a kiss as they separated.

Y/N blew one back and he caught it, causing her to blush furiously.

"I see your husband has beefed up your shadows," Michelle said wryly.

"Yeah, yeah he has. I don't have a say in the matter unfortunately," Y/N shrugged.

"Can't blame him though. You and Colson have been the entertainment headline news ever since he announced your wedding on social media," Michelle opened the door of the dressing room and Y/N followed behind.

"Please remove your clothes and wear this gown," Michelle handed her a short black silk gown

"Really? We've been on the news?" Y/N furrowed her brows, wanting to continue the previous conversation.

"Sweetheart, which planet have you been living on? Anything to do with Colson Baker is news. Sit," Michelle commanded as she pulled out a chair.

"I kinda went of the grid after..you know?"

"I know," Michelle gave her a knowing look and laughed, "I can tell by the marks he left on your body sweetie."

"Oh," Y/N covered her face, embarrassed.

"No need to be ashamed," Michelle laughed, "if I wasn't already married to Byron I would gladly stand in line to jump Colson's bones," she joked, "so does he live up to his rep or nah?" she pried.

"What?" Y/N blushed again.

"Sorry. I don't mean to pry," she pursed her lips.

"No, no. It's okay. I'd like to think we're friends?" Y/N asked.

"Of course! I should be hurt that you'd even-" she held the make-up brush mid-air.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Y/N squeezed Michelle's hand, "but he was more than I ever thought or imagined!" she gushed.

"I knew it!" They giggled like a pair of giddy school girls. They were interrupted when someone knocked at the door.

"Michelle," Colson cleared his throat as he stood at the door, "can you excuse us for a minute?"

"Make it quick and don't even think of spoiling her hair and make-up," Michelle glared at him before leaving the room.

"Well.. you heard the lady Bambi.." Colson locked the door and discarded his t-shirt at the door. He flexed his muscles like he had just entered a boxing ring.

"Colson..noo," Y/N held out her hands in a futile attempt to stop him from getting to her.

"I prefer it when you scream out yes.." he lifted her off the chair and switched places with her. She straddled him as he trailed hot kisses on her neck, causing her to lose herself in him.

"Michelle.."

"Can wait.." he claimed her mouth possessively and all resistance crumbled..

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

Good Evening Brussels!! How's everyone doing toniiight???!" Colson bounced onto the stage like he owned the world and everything in it.

The crowd went ballistic and he reveled in their screams and shouts. "Colson! Colson! Colson!"

He smiled and made a turn round the stage, psyching himself up for his performance. He ran from one end of the stage to the other touching and high-fiving as many fans as possible. Some fangirls passed out as soon as he made contact with them and guys ran around in circles. The crowd was in a frenzy and Colson hadn't even started performing yet!

"COLSON BAKER WE LOVE YOU!" the fans chanted over and over again.

"I LOVE YOU ALL! I LOVE YOU BRUSSELS!" Colson shouted over the screams and shouts as he sprinted from one end to the other one last time. More screams, crying and fainting ensued. The paramedics would be busy tonight.

"Tonight we have a very special guest on the ones and twos-please give it up for my one and only doe-eyed beauty-my wife Y/N Baker!!" Colson swept his hand towards Y/N as she stood behind the sound engineers desk. She waved shyly and slipped on her headphones. She was going to be taking Slim's place as sound engineer and DJ for the night. Michelle had dressed her up in a short Saint Laurent sequin embellished cocktail dress, epitomizing the band's statement sex appeal. She looked daring and fearless and it was a head-turning number, She completed the look with studded leather boots and her hair was a 80s messy look .

"You're looking hooot baby!" He winked at her and walked back to the edge of the stage. "I just want to give a shout out to my wife for taking care of me when I was sick. I don't know many people that would wipe puke off my face -for free-but you did it babe. I'm so grateful for you. This first song is for you sweets," he winked at her and positioned himself on a high-stool, "The song is called "Hangover Cure ," Colson strummed his guitar and his angelic voice resounded all over the stadium.

The audience was undoubtedly entranced and mesmerized by Colson. He had a commanding stage presence that sucked everyone in and all they could do was be fixated on him and him alone. Girls in the crowd were openly crying like he was singing the song to them and when he hit his signature high notes they were in a state of delirium. Banners and placards went up everywhere with words expressing how much his fans loved him. And he was truly loved by all of them.

Colson continued the next several songs on a mellow vibe and the crowd was falling more and more in love with this side of him. At one point he removed his baseball jacket and gave it to an adoring fan; who ran around the stage like a headless chicken. Of course the paramedics had to be called in to remove her from the stage after she had passed out.

"So tonight we're going to switch things up a bit," Colson carefully laid his guitar down and stood up again, "I'm going to get a few fans from the crowd to come up here and we're going to sing some of your favorite songs together. Can we do that?" The fans roared in agreement.

"I hope you all still have your ticket stubs cos' I'm just going to randomly call out a ticket number and if it belongs to you then you get to do a duet with me. That okay?" Colson grinned and the fans went wild.

"For the purpose of time and logistics, I'll call them out all at once and I hope you can make it to the front..if not then we will have to pick out someone else okay? Ready? Here goes..Drum roll please!" Colson said dramatically.

"Ticket number 2005, 5721; uhh-3688; 1012, 4562 and last one-6000? Please make your way to the front and produce your ticket to protocol otherwise..you all know the drill," Colson drank some water and a crew member rushed forward to wipe down his body. He wasn't feeling well but he pushed himself, he had to. "Music please," he called out to his band before hurrying over to Y/N.

"Sweets, I don't feel one hundred. Can we please go backstage for a few minutes?" he whispered in her ear and she nodded.

"Bathroom-" he ran to the restroom, clutching his stomach and Y/N asked security to wait outside while she checked on him.

"Are you okay babe?" she tapped on the door lightly.

"Yeah..noo-" he grunted before she heard him spilling his guts into the lavatory again.

"I'm coming in," Y/N announced, his meds and a bottle of water in her hand. She found him seated on the floor, with his back against the wall. His face was pale and his forehead had beads of sweat. Y/N handed the pills and water to him; then started to wipe him down with his face towel.

"Sorry," Colson held her against him.

"It's okay," Y/N gave him a weak smile, "I need to rinse out your towel, I'll be right back okay?"

"Hey! Are you guys okay?" Jax called out from outside, "Can I come in?"

"Come inside Jax," Y/N swung the door open and walked back to Colson, Jax close on her heels.

"Hey, are you okay kid?" Jax crouched next to Colson's slouched frame.

"Yeah, please get Byron to get a supporting act to cover for me for a while. I'll go and lie down in my dressing room for a bit. Help me up?" Jax pulled him off the floor effortlessly.

"I've already told Byron to take care of it. You sure you want to continue?" Jax asked skeptically.

"I will have to manage somehow..can't let the fans down. Beside I just have fan-dues and then I'll be done," Colson said as he put his arm around Y/N for support.

"If you're sure.." Y/N looked at him with concern.

"I'll be okay sweets; stop stressing," Colson leaned forward and kissed her temple.

"Fine," Y/N muttered.

"Okay, I'll leave you two to rest then. Will half-an-hour be enough?" Jax asked as they stopped in front of the dressing room?

"Yeah," Colson nodded.

"Okay, I'll be here to escort you back on stage," Jax replied.

Y/N opened the door for him and helped him lie down on the soft couch.

"Stay with me?" He pleaded. Y/N lay down next to him and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Your body is so hot," Y/N said in alarm.

"Ooh, tell me more baby.." he drawled and buried his nose in her neck.

"Colson, I'm serious..you're burning up," she turned to face him.

"Shh..stop worrying," he kissed her forehead, "I've taken my medication so I'll be fine in a minute. Go to sleep baby."

"You go to sleep Baker," she replied, "I'll be right here," she said softly.

"Thank you baby," he said before he drifted off to sleep.

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

"Are we really going to the after party?" Y/N frowned at her husband.

"Yes WE are!" Colson laced his hands with hers. They were standing in the foyer at the hotel where the after party was already in full swing.

"But you're not well?" she raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, courtesy of Michelle.

"We won't stay for long. Promise," he kissed her chastely, "I have to make an appearance you know that right? Plus I really need to get you home so I can finish off what we started in the dressing room.." he nuzzled her neck

"Hmm..and no drinking tonight? Agreed," she looked at him with her pretty E/C eyes.

"Sweets, come on!" he whined, "can we just go and have fun please? I could really use it," he massaged his temple with one hand.

"Why are you avoiding my question?? I'm watching you Baker," she eyed him suspiciously.

"I don't mind baby," he hugged her and gave her a long kiss.

"That's blackmail," she said, breathless.

"Is it working?" His breath danced on her lips.

"Let's go," she pushed him away playfully, "I really need to get this over and done with so I can go home and rest. I'm overdue on sleep."

"Sorry, that's my fault, I know," he said sheepishly.

"Just remember that when partying the night away and I have to drag you home," she muttered under her breath.

"I heard that Mrs Baker," he laughed softly as he hugged her waist.

"Good," she replied.

"What's he doing here?" Colson froze and Y/N followed his gaze. It landed on Slim. Jax and Byron were arguing with him in a corner.

"Let Jax handle it okay?" Y/N put her hands against his chest and pushed him back gently, "Let it go. Please?"

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth and walked away.

"Hey Colson! Hi Colson! Great show Colson!" was all Y/N heard as Colson held her hand all night.

"I need the bathroom," Y/N whispered in Colson's ear.

"Let me come with you," he stood up with her.

"No. Stay with your friends," she said with a wave of her hand, "I just spotted Ash so I'll go with her," Y/N pointed over to where Ashleigh was standing.

"You're sure? Slim is lurking about so I'm a bit uneasy," he confessed.

"I'll be fine okay"" she kissed the side of his mouth and he smiled.

"If you're going to kiss me then you should make it count Bambi," he crushed his lips against hers and kissed her breathless.

"Hurry back before I start missing you," he said as a parting shot.

"Hey there stranger!" Ashleigh practically jumped on her.

"Hey! Careful," Y/N giggled.

"How have you been? How are you handling having your face and relationship splashed all over the tabloids?" Ashleigh asked.

"Colson prefers it if I don't see that," Y/N replied, "probably doesn't want me to get worked up I guess,"

"So you've already become the little submissive wife have you? You consummated the marriage yet?" she smiled and nudged Y/N with her elbow.

"Something like that.." She laughed.

"I want all the deets but let's go and get something to drink first," Ashleigh pulled her over to the bar.

"I really didn't want to drink today Ash.." Y/N said hesitantly.

"Just have one with me?? We haven't hung out for a while..please?" Ashleigh coaxed.

"Okay fine," Y/N sighed in defeat, "just one," she held up her index finger for emphasis. They went to the bar and Ashleigh ordered two cosmos.

"Can we go to the bathroom?" Y/N shifted around in agitation, "otherwise I will pee on myself," Ashleigh laughed as she handed Y/N her drink.

"Let's just go up and use the one in my room?" Ashleigh suggested and Y/N nodded, "I-uh-need to get my phone. Need to take pics you know. It's our last week on tour," she said as the stepped into the elevator.

"Sommer!" they cried out in shock. Sommer was curled up in a ball, whimpering in the corner of the elevator. Her face was badly bruised, her nose was bleeding and she was a mess. Usually she was well dressed, without a hair out of place but tonight she looked like a junkie.

"Who did this to you?" Y/N demanded as she crouched next to Sommer.

"Just leave me alone okay!?!" Sommer snapped, "you and your perfect little life! Just leave me alone! Go away!" she yelled.

"I want to help you!" Y/N said, forlorn, "please allow me to help you?"

"Let's take her to her room, Maybe she needs to clean up a bit and sleep it off," Ashleigh looked around, nervous.

"If you're sure..?" Y/N said hesitantly.

"Look, why don't you go use the bathroom in my room and I will take care of Sommer? I'm sure Slim must already be looking for her of something," Ashleigh babbled.

"No! No Slim!" Sommer backed away in fear, "don't call him. Please?" she grabbed my arm.

"Okay, I won't," Y/N assured her. Something strange was going on here but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Come on Sommer let's get you cleaned up. You'll need a change of clothes as well," Y/N steered her in towards her hotel room.

"Let me do it!" Ashleigh said too quickly, "well..since you needed the bathroom so badly-I can help Sommer. You go ahead-I got this," she said with a tight smile.

"Okay.." Ashleigh was acting very strange today, maybe she was high on something, Y/N thought. Y/N looked walked into Ashleigh's hotel room and got a sense of foreboding but she just shrugged it off. She went into the bathroom and relieved herself and as he was washing her hands she heard hotel room door open.

She thought it was Ashleigh so she hurried out of the bathroom to find Slim standing at the doorway with a smug expression on his face.

"Hello Bambi..so glad you could make it," he slammed the door shut and locked it.

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

Y/N stared at Slim as he stood at the door, lazily leaning against it. He looked at her the was a lion on Animal Planet would eye it's prey before it moved in for the kill.. This was like déjà vu to Y/N but this time she wasn't going down without a fight. She had to think quickly before he had his way with her and by the way he was undressing her with his eyes, he was going to pounce on her any minute from now. Her short cocktail dress would make it so much easy for him.

"I've waited for this day for a very long time and I'm going to savor every inch of that delectable body.." he licked his lips and continued to trail his eyes down her body.

She was saved by a loud pounding on the door that startled both her and Slim.

"Slim!" Sommer called out from behind the door, "I know what you and Ashleigh planned-don't do it! Please! I'm begging you!" she said her voice breaking.

Y/N took this opportunity and dashed back into the bathroom and locked the door. If Sommer kept up the racket long enough then help would arrive soon. Slim snarled and he pounded on the door; Y/N searched around frantically for an opening but found none.

"You can try and run from me but you're only prolonging the inevitable," he taunted as he tried to beat the door down, "I'm going to have you and you're going to enjoy it my precious."

Y/N was wringing her hands, trying to figure a way out when her eyes fell on her Apple Watch that Colson had got her just last week. She quickly scrolled to the phone app and dialed Colson's number and he answered on the second ring.

"Hey I've been looking all over-"

"Help me please! I'm stuck in the bathroom in Ashleigh's room and Slim is outside-he tried to-he wants to-" Y/N's voice broke-.

" I'll be on my way. Hang tight okay?" Colson rang off.

The room was silent and she couldn't hear Slim moving around so she began to panic. What was he up to? Suddenly the bathroom door swung open and Slim stood with a self-satisfied smirk.

"I know how to pick locks my precious," he held a paper clip between his fingers. He threw the pin on the floor and locked the bathroom door again from the inside. Y/N tried to back away but the room was constricted. She started to hyperventilate and pressed redial on her phone, wishing and hoping that Colson would get here quicker.

"Told you..you can run but.." he trailed his finger along her cheekbone and she spat in his face.

"You're going to regret that," Slim  gave her a dagger and pushed her against the tiled wall, "I'm sorry this is going to be quick and rough..I would have liked to take it slow but time is not on our side," he grabbed her roughly, lifted her up and placed her on top of the sink. Y/N began to scratch at his face and to kick and scream, but he grabbed her hands and tied them with his bandana.

"You're making this so hard for yourself precious..if you would just give in then we would enjoy the ride together but-I guess you like it rough," he tried to yank her dress further up her thighs but it was too tight and it was proving to be difficult. He pulled her off the sink and pushed her against the wall, "turn around," he said roughly. She faced the wall and started to cry.

"Save your tears for Colson. They're not going to work on me," he unbuckled his belt and she heard his pants fall to the floor.

"I'm not going to run like Scott. I'll just plead insanity due to drug addiction and they will let me go. I'm going to stick around so I can keep coming back for seconds," he pushed her face against the wall and whispered into her ear, "that's if you're good enough..hope I won't be disappointed Precious," he stuck his tongue in her ear and she cried out.

"Please don't!" she whimpered, her tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Suddenly, someone came crashing through the door and hurtled towards them. Slim had no time to register what was happening but a pair of hands grabbed his neck, threw him on the floor and started to strangle him. Y/N sank onto the floor and broke down. Sommer ran over to her and hugged her.

"I'm so sorry Y/N-I didn't know-" Sommer cried along with Y/N, "he and Ashleigh had planned it. I had nothing to do with it-I swear! Please believe me!"

"Colson!" Jax shouted, "You're going to kill him-let go!"

"Death is too good for this scum!" Colson screamed as Jax and the other body guards dragged him off Slim. His eyes fell on Y/N and he dashed over to her. She had passed out probably due to shock or relief or maybe both.

Slim took advantage of the distraction and made his escape, spluttering and fighting for breath. Jax eyed him warily and decided to let him go. He knew he would be back.

"It's okay sweets. I'm here now. You're safe. I got you baby." he lifted her limp form in his arms and carried her out of the room.

"Do you want me to go after him?" Jax walked beside them.

"No. I'll get him. One way or another, I'll get him," Colson narrowed his eyes, "I want you to get that spawn of Judas-Ashleigh. I want her to look me in the eye and explain why she did what she did to my wife," the elevator doors slid open and Jax held them back to allow Colson to step inside.

"She's already in a car and is on her way to the house," Jax reported, "I have a few things to say to her as well. I hope we're pressing charges? We can't let them walk-Y/N deserves justice," he said vehemently as he opened the car door.

"Oh we're going to make them pay..then we're going to hand them over to the police," Colson laid Y/N inside and jumped in beside her.

Colson clenched and unclenched his fist as he looked out the window. Ashleigh had messed with the wrong person. He was going to deal with her personally. Her career was officially over before it even began.

"Jax, can we make a quick stop at a hospital? I need to make sure she's okay," Colson caressed Y/N's face as she lay on his lap, "plus we need to gather evidence."

"Sure thing Boss," Jax nodded.

Colson hoped and prayed that he had got there on time but Slim's pants were down and Y/N's dress was-he shook his head and blinked his eyes rapidly. He couldn't-didn't want to even think about it. His heart bled a thousand times when he thought about what he saw when they crashed through the door. He shouldn't have allowed her to go with that snake-he should have listened to his gut; trusted his instinct.

Now Y/N was a wreck and it would take a while to piece her back together again.

[whumper-boi]

Was this based off of this Lab Rats fanfiction that I can’t stop reading? Yes.

That’s it. That’s the only disclaimer you get. Read that fic it’s so fucking good.

—————

Whumpee sat curled up in the little isolated room.

A mission had gone wrong, leaving whumpee being exposed to a highly dangerous, airborne virus that left them quarantine in a tiny containment room.

The team’s medic had taken several swabs, blood tests, and samples from Whumpee (dressed in a large hazmat that honestly scared Whumpee when they suddenly showed up on the other side of the glass.).

“Don’t worry Whumpee,” leader said through the glass, giving them a hopeful smile, “[Medic] will figure it out. You’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Whumpee smiled back, but they were pretty sure it looked more like a grimace.

“Don’t look so sad Whumpee.” Caretaker grinned through the glass. “You have me to keep you company. We can play I-Spy. I-Spy something white.”

Whumpee looked around the fully white cell room they were stuck in, then back at Caretaker’a annoyingly pretty face. “Fuck off.”

Caretaker gave a dramatic gasp, sulking sadly. “Rude.”

Leader rolled their eyes, with very little heat behind it. “We’ll leave you alone Whumpee. You should try and relax. Come on Caretaker, let’s go see how [Medic] is doing.”

“Oh...” Caretaker frowned, looking at Whumpee before turning to leader and the other two members of their team. “Okay, uh, I guess we’ll see you later then.”

“Right...” they held eye-contact with Caretaker for a moment longer, before they both looked away.

Whumpee looked at the small metal cot hanging off the wall, and sighed.

————

A glance at the clock indicated that only three hours had passed. They were about to lose their fucking mind.

It’s not like they could’ve brought anything in. The team wasn’t sure how the virus worked with contact, and none of them wanted to risk it. Still Whumpee wished they had like a ball or something.

Back to pacing it was.

———

They found it harder to keep pacing. Or even stand, for that matter. The ground continued to sway with every step they took, and it only got worse the longer they were up.

Back on to the cot then.

———

It was hour seven, and Whumpee was *this* close to bashing their head into the wall. And throwing up. And passing out. Honestly, all of it sounded good.

Leader had been down twice to check on them, along with Caretaker, who basically had been dragged back upstairs (despite how much Whumpee wanted them to stay, they didn’t want to bug them, in both senses of the word.)

They found themself lowering and laying on the cool marble ground. When had it gotten so hot in the cell?

They weren’t sure how long they were down there before they heard the tell sign of footsteps getting louder and louder.

Whumpee let out a groan, sweaty skin feeling like it was stuck to the ground, before they mustered up the energy to look up at the person in the room.

Caretaker.

“You look like shit.” Whumpee loved the supporting words coming from their absolutely wonderful friend.

“Yeah, I’ve got a virus. What’s your excuse?” They slurred out, pushing themself to a sitting position. “Where’s [leader]?”

Caretaker gave a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of their neck. “See, I’m not really supposed to be down here, you know? Something about me being reckless and a bit immature, I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening.”

Whumpee sighed and rolled their eyes. This action was a mistake, as they briefly felt the world shift, and disorientation took over for a few seconds.

“Woah, you good?” Caretaker asked, voice laced with concern. 

Whumpee made a mental note to have Leader change the room lighting, because the stark white was not helping in the slightest.

They squeezed their eyes shut, trying to quell the rising nausea, when they heard the door creak open.

In came Caretaker, shuffling towards Whumpee in both a playful, and a guilty little dance-walk.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Whumpee growled, as Caretaker closed the door being themself.

“Keeping you company.”

“It’s a lethal virus.” Even talking made them feel sick.

Caretaker only got closer.

“I swear to god I’ll call [Leader].” By this point, Caretaker was hovering right above them, already crouching down.

“What’re they gonna do? I’m already in here.” Whumpee didn’t have the energy to argue with that, or with the fact that Caretaker was already pulling them into their lap, leaning against the wall to let Whumpee lean on their chest.

“I hate you. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I’m not the person who looks like they’ve got one foot in a pine box, you know.”

Whumpee shifted their head to look at the bottom of Caretaker’s. “I’m serious. You shouldn’t have done that. What if it can’t be reversed?”

“Then what kind of friend would I be if I let you die alone? Especially a miserable death like this.” Caretaker craned their neck slightly to look into Whumpee’s eyes. “Besides, [Medic] is pretty damn close to getting the cure, it’ll be fine.”

Whumpee raised a clammy hand to cup Caretaker’s face. It was warm, but different then the aggravating heat that their body couldn’t stop producing. “It was still stupid.”

“I’ll live.” They grimaced at the choice of words. “We’ll both live.”

“And if I wasn’t?”

Caretaker frowned. “You are.”

“Pretend, for a moment, that I wasn’t going to survive this. What would you do?” Whumpee noted as they looked away, clearly not wanting to think about it.

They pressed their lips together in a thin line. “I... I don’t know. It’s not a reality I can imagine being in? A world without you is not a world I want to live in.

Whumpee chapped lips upturned slightly, but before they could respond, Caretaker went on.

“Though, if this was like, your last hour alive, I would probably kiss you senseless right now.”

...

Oh.

Oh.

Caretaker scratched their neck, face turning alarmingly flushed. “Sorry that was random, I know, I just- like, if I was being honest that’s probably what I’d-“

They stopped at Whumpee’s hand traveling to their neck, pulling them to look at them again. “Shut up and kiss me then.”

It was clear that whatever reaction Caretaker was expecting, it definetly wasn’t that. “What?”

“If that’s what you’d do, then kiss me.”

“You aren’t dying-“

“We’re still falling under the pretense that I am.”

“Are you sure this isn’t the virus talking.?”

“I’m pretty fucking sure.”

“Wait okay, do you like, like me?”

“There would be no other reason I would ever initiate any sort of mouth-to-mouth contact with you Caretaker.”

“Are you sure, cause-“ Whumpee used their last litte bit of stored strength to pull them into a kiss, letting Caretaker hold them up.

They pulled apart after a brief moment, Caretaker grinning slightly. If they didn’t have the virus then, they sure did now.

Whumpee felt like throwing up. Partially for the virus, but also with the mental backflips they were doing because, well.

They kissed Caretaker.

And they did it again.

“We leave you alone for 15 minutes Caretaker,” they both jumped apart (well, Caretaker did, Whumpee just tensed up, as they weren’t strong enough to do much else.) at the sound of Leader’s voice through the glass.

“Hey [Leader],” Caretaker grinned, “how are you? Uh... get the cure?”

“Dumbass,” Whumpee whispered, loud enough for only Caretaker to hear.

“So, wanna explain what you’re doing in there Caretaker?” Leader asked, voice dripping with what could be absolute amusement, or the complete opposite.

Caretaker shrugged. “I was uh... keeping Whumpee company. You know, making sure they didn’t like, get too bored and all.”

“Oh you’re definetly keeping sicky company alright,” Teammate one snarked.

“Watch it [Teammate], I could still kick your ass,” Whumpee slurred, laying their head against Caretaker’s chest.

“I think we need to review over quarantine expectations once again Caretaker,” Leader sighed.

Caretaker groaned. “Not the PowerPoint.”

“Yep, your favourite.”

Just then, Medic came down, holding a small capsule and needle in hand. “Alright Whumpee, ready to-“ They stopped, looking at two of them curled up together in the small room. Medic threw down their arms exasperatedly. “I guess I’ll go get another syringe.”

“Sorry [Medic],” Caretaker called, pulling Whumpee closer.

Whumpee nuzzled closer. “Thank you for being here with me.”

“Of course.”

[writinginthedarkwood]

Alien! Kirishima x Reader: Better With You

Warning: NSFW, ovipositor kink, implications of past abuse (not done by our shark toothed boy)

I recommend checking out some of the other parts to this AU! MY MASTERLIST 

You can enjoy this without it, but reading the other parts might answer some questions you have. :) 

The tornado siren wailed. It’s a sound I’ve heard my entire life, but it’s taken on a completely new meaning. 

Before, we’d run to the middle of the park and take shelter with our neighbors. I remember being little, and hiding under the ground from the violent winds that would tear through our community. 

The piercing sound stirred all the sleeping bodies around, the light flicked on in my neighbors trailer. I watched her shadow hurry and throw things into a bag through her window. She pushed her small son out of the door as they ran to take shelter. 

Everyone in the park jolted awake, panicking and running in fear.

Everyone but me, and my father. 

My father whistled through his nose as he slept. He turned only slightly in that worn down chair, his foot kicking the pile of aluminum cans over, but otherwise completely unconscious. The T.V. was a loud rerun of a crime show, but it suddenly switched over to the emergency broadcast. 

The male anchor spoke with a shaking voice. “Paris is falling.” He swallowed hard. “Please take shelter immediately....” He held the paper holding his cues and set it down before reading the next line. “A craft was spotted over Lexington... may God have mercy on us.” The camera cut to the sound of the emergency alarm. I rushed and shut the T.V. off, my heart pounding. My father didn’t stir, still sleeping like the dead.

This was it, it was finally my turn.

I ran to the front door and opened it slowly, closing it behind me as quietly as possible. I climbed onto our garbage can, using the gutter to stable myself before jumping onto the roof.

I used to sit out here when I was little, breathing air that wasn't heavy with cigarette smoke.

The sky looks different to me now, like the stars were actually thousands of eyes looking down at me. Or that it might actually crack open, spilling thousands of bug like aliens down to the ground like in the movies. Even though people are terrified, cities are going up in flames and families are being separated. The footage they catch of girls being taken, they always go with a smile on their face.

Whatever was coming for me, had to be better than here.

"Wow the sky looks really cool from down here." A male voice startled me, I gasped and stared at an interesting looking soldier stood behind me. He had no shirt on, but a sash going over his chest was decorated with patches and medals. His black pants almost seemed a bit big on him, and one pant leg was tucked into his boots. He had brilliant and striking red hair, sticking out of his head like a spikey rock formation with just as incredible red eyes to match.

His teeth were sharp, but his face was gentle and kind.

He smiled at me and sat down beside me. "I wish I had more time to look around..." My breath was stuck in my chest, my hands were shaking.

Is this... man the alien? He dug in a pouch on his hip and pulled out a clay figurine. "I found this. I just think it looks awesome, it's for you." I didn't reach out to take it, my body feeling frozen with shock. He gently grabbed my wrist and flipped my palm over, placing a little frog statue in my hand. It was warm from him holding it. It must have came from someone's garden in the park. "I-..." The little frogs paint was chipped, but it was cute. "Thank you. I like it." I kind of smiled at him, not entirely sure how I'm supposed to feel. "I was hoping you would! You've probably guessed who I am." He said with a hint of blush on his cheeks like he was shy. "I was surprised to find you out here in the open." He thought for a moment. "Are you alright?"

I looked at him, his face was sweet and filled with concern.

Hot tears stung my eyes and I buried my head between my knees and tried to hold back a sob.

"Hey, hey don't be upset... I promise I'm not here to hurt you." His touch surprised me. His hand pulled my head out of my hands and turned my face to look at him better.

"Your cheek is swollen. Are you injured?"

I said nothing and his eyes narrowed. "Come here, come here everything is okay now..." He stood and helped me stand to my feet. He placed his lips on my cheek and parted his mouth, his spit making a small space sticky and wet.

A pleasant sensation came over my tired body. He pulled me into his arms, lifting my feet off of the ground and holding me bridal style. I laid my head on his chest, feeling warm and comfortable. I closed my eyes and rested on him.

Is this why all that footage from fallen cities had girls with smiling faces? They suspected brain washing. I don't feel brainwashed.

I feel good.

I opened my eyes to look at him and saw that we were somewhere completely different.

We were in some type of hallway. There were a lot of people here, couples walking together. Some girls looked a bit like me, wearing normal clothes. They looked a bit shaken up, and clung onto their accompanying alien tightly. Other girls were human, but something was different. They were smiling brightly, wearing all the same dress but in different colors and patterns.

A lot of them had small pregnant bellies.

He set me down on my feet and took my arm to keep me steady. "Welcome home! The ship is designed to look like a neutral place our humans would enjoy vacationing too."

It did sort of look like a hotel.

He opened a sliding door by placing his palm on the wall and we stepped inside. "You know you're a little quiet, which surprises me. But I'm hoping you'll warm up... you still have what I gave you?"

I held out the little frog and he took it, setting it on a plain white table. "Our first decoration!" He leaned against the table and crossing his arms, making the medals on his sash jingle. "You probably have a lot of questions. I am Captain Kirishima Eijiro. You can just call me Eijiro, but if you don't like that name you can call me something else!" He nervously laughed. "Wait that's weird. Am I blowing this? I feel like I'm messing up."

"I'm Y/N... it's nice to meet you." I stood there awkwardly and looked around the room. It was pretty plain, a small bed in the corner. A kitchen without any utensils. "So you're not going to... kill me?" I asked feeling like my tears might come back.

He looked at me funny. "No not at all. Did you think that and you didn't fight me?" Eijiro's face was very concerned. "How about you take a hot shower and afterwards we get you something to eat."

The bathroom was small, and the shower wasn't too difficult to figure out how to turn on, but I couldn't get the steamy water to shut off. I wrapped myself in a soft towel and just about opened the door when I heard his voice.

"Yes I'm worried about the wellbeing of my mate. Her wellness scan says her brain is imbalanced. I think she's been emotionally injured." He was speaking to someone, I didn't hear another voice. "Yes sir. Thank you your Highness. I'll give her nutrition and treat her with the medical aide you're sending by. I'll give you a report after a few days to see if her conditions improved."

I opened the door and he smiled at me, looking up from a watch on his wrist. "I can't get the shower to turn off." I said quietly. He happily walked into the bathroom and showed me how to work everything. He turned the water off, and showed me how to open the cabinet and get toiletries. "And if you ever just want to relax you can change what oils go into the water. They're good for stress, sleep, and even waking you up in the morning."

I stood there, feeling a bit exposed in my towel. Eijiro tried to discretely look at my body. His eyes darted over me quickly, but he managed to mostly hold eye contact. "I should probably let you get dressed. I have some clothes for you."

Eijiro gave me a red dress to put on. It had pretty flower patterns sewn into it, giving the fabric just a bit of texture. It was lightweight and comfortable like a night gown. "Before we get some food in you, I'm going to offer some first aid okay?" He opened the front door and grabbed a package that was sitting outside. He unwrapped a vial and prepped a syringe.

He sat down beside me. "Things are going to better for you now. I'm going to keep you safe." He kissed my exposed arm, dragging his tongue across my skin and leaving a sticky trail. The saliva sizzled and absorbed into my skin.

My whole body felt warm. My skin erupted in tingles and chills. The needle entering my arm didn't hurt. "That didn't hurt did it?" He rubbed the injection spot tenderly. "No, what was that?"

"Your wellness scan came back showing some light damage to your lungs, as well as some sort of chemical imbalance in your brain. A few injections should clear up any damaged cells and get the hormones flowing correctly."

Could he really be curing my asthma? I've had issues my whole life with breathing. Nobody seemed to care enough to stop smoking in the house, or even roll the windows down in the car while I'm in there.

"You can make my depression go away?" I looked down at my hands. My finger nails are always picked down to the nub.

"If that's what your imbalance is called, yes."

Eijiro made a meal for me out of a tan powder and some type of hot green liquid. It reminded me of oats, but was very sweet. After eating together in the relative quiet, a sudden drowsiness came over me. He pulled the blanket over my shoulders and tucked me. I was asleep before I could even count to ten.

I rolled over, groggy and still feeling a bit tired. My arms hit something hard, and my eyes shot open. I gasped and almost fell out of the bed at the sight of sleeping Eijiro. He was breathing out of his mouth softly, a bit of drool falling onto his pillow.

I sat up on my elbow and his left arm flopped over me, pulling me back down on the bed with a loud exhale of air leaving my chest. "Hey!"

Kirishima lazily opened one eye before snuggling into my neck. "Good morning Y/N... ready to start the day?"

For some reason I feel a bit more comfortable today. After getting dressed, I had a lot of questions. He explained why I'm here, how the two of us will be living together from now on. "See I don't know how ready I am to start a family." He smiled and put a hand over mine. "I figured we could spend our time on the ship getting to know each other. Our culture is a little different than yours, we usually start a family right away once we find a mate."

I felt a bit of panic rise in my chest. A family? Is that what the rumors meant about the aliens needing DNA? "But I think you could use some time to heal and adjust. What do ya think?"

"I... I don't even know what to say. I feel like I walked into a dream world." It felt too good to be true. There must be more to this I'm not seeing, people aren't whisked away from our troubles to paradise. Maybe I died, and he's really my guardian angel?

"Does that make me your dream guy?" He gave me a wink and I smiled at him.

"So down this way we have all these resteraunts that we can stop by for lunch." Outside of the hotel like halls were more sterile looking, white halls that lead to different sections of the ship. "Before that I thought maybe we could take a look at the gardens." I held his hand while we walked through rows and rows of gorgeous, vibrant flowers. Tree's grew tall and made beautiful shade for us to sit under. We leaned against the cool bark, I rested my head on his shoulder. Kirishima told me stories about Home World and what our lives will look like when we get there.

"I feel like I'm talking a lot. Why don't you tell me about your life on Earth?"

My smile fell and I tried to think of something, anything positive about my child hood. "Well Earth wasn't that interesting. Home World sounds so beautiful and incredible. I mean, no human has any type of power like you do." He held up his hand and flexed, his skin hardening like rock. I giggled and he kissed my cheek.

We spent time like this together, building some type of routine. Wake up together, and then spend the day having fun and eating.

Every night he would give me an injection, and we'd fall asleep holding each other closely.

On my seventh night, I sat up in the dark gasping for air. My heart was pounding against my chest and I let out a terrible choking sob. Kirishima woke up immediately, hopping out of bed and searching the room for some type of threat. The light flicked on and after a few seconds of looking for an attacker he turned back to me and pulled me into his lap. "Y/N what's happening?" His voice was panicked and I tried gulping down air. "I had a nightmare." I pushed my words out with a shaking voice. He grabbed his watch he always wears off of the night stand and put it on. Holding my hand, a holographic screen appeared from the watch. "Your heart rate is rapid, and your endocrine system is pumping a lot of adrenaline." He moved me off of his lap and started digging in the kitchen. He pulled a medical kit out and starting prepping a syringe. "No! No I don't need any medicine." Tears stung my eyes and I took a deep breath. "It's just a panic attack."

He set the med kit down and looked at me strange. "A what?"

"A panic attack. Sometimes I have bad dreams, and they make me freak out." I pushed some of my hair behind my ears and started to settle myself. Usually they last a lot longer than this, but I feel like I have slightly more control than usual.

"What kind of horrible thing in your dreams made you wake up like that?" He sat down beside me and took my hands in his. His hands are callused and warm. I wanted to tell him, tell him anything and everything.

The years and years of living in hell, always being told that I'm nothing and deserve nothing.

"Your injections you've been giving me... they help a lot with-" I took another deep breath. "They help me to not feel like I'm always drowning." He started rubbing my back, just letting me talk. "Does your species have medicine that can make me forget Earth?" My voice cracked and he pulled my head to rest on his shoulder. "I just want to forget everything." I let my walls fall just a bit and cried into his shoulder. "Hey I've got an idea. How about we go for a walk?"

It was dark in the gardens. The artificial sky was lit up with a beautiful display of soft twinkling starry lights. Nobody is around but the two of us.

We laid down in a clearing and just looked up, staring at the beautiful lights like we're stargazing. He let me just enjoy the quiet, holding my hand beside me.

After a little bit he broke the silence.

"You know, I'm a pretty positive guy." He chuckled a bit. "But I'm also a soldier, I've seen a lot of messy and terrible things. Lost organisms that I was supposed to save. Kill organisms because I was ordered too." He spoke seriously, but still managed to have an air of kindness behind his tone. "I think I understand what's going on with you. You've been through war. I can't make the things you've seen and been through go away..." he rolled to his side and touched my face gently. "But I can fill the rest of your life with new memories..." I looked at his face and couldn't help but smile. "And be here for you when the old ones creep back up. You'll never have to go through anything alone again."

I grabbed both sides of his face and kissed him. His eyes were huge with shock, but he leaned into my kiss. He hovered over me, trying to keep his muscular body from pressing down on me too hard. He swirled his tongue past my lips and I shuddered, waves of heat washing over me and pulsing in my core. I gasped and pulled him down on top of me harder, a slight moan leaving the corners of my mouth. He pulled away from me slightly with a nervous laugh. "A-are you alright?"

I kissed his nose. "Your kiss made me lose my breath."

"Well that's because of my spit. It makes you... comfortable." He looked down at me with a smile. "Ready to go back home?"

The next morning I woke up and stared dreamily at Eijiro's face. He looked so much different to me today. His gorgeous face, his toned body. I ran my finger down his chest and my touch caused him to flutter his eyes open. "Good morning baby girl..." He yawned and stretched out his arm. His stretch had him flex all of his muscles and I pushed myself a little closer to him. "Good morning, I was going to hop in the shower..." I tried to lace my voice with lust so he would take the hint that I wanted him to join me. "Okay! While you're showering I'll cook us up some breakfast."

Lightly disappointed I stepped into the bathroom and undressed. I turned the water on and let it run for a moment before wrapping a towel around me. "Eijiro?" I called out and he quickly opened the door and stepped in the steamy shower. "You alright Y/N?" I dropped my towel and stepped in the water. "Oh I'm fine. Could you hand me more body wash?" Eijiro stood stunned for a moment. "Of course I can." He cleared his throat and got into the cabinet. I took the bottle from him and rubbed the soap on myself. "Would you mind washing my back?" I bat my eyelashes at him and he quickly stripped his shorts off and joined me in the water. He slammed his lips against mine and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He pressed my back against the cool tile and his hips pressed against mine. His fingers combed down my back, his nails dragging against my skin and scratching me. I moaned into his mouth. "Please Eijiro... I want you." I whined. He pressed two fingers against my folds and swirled around, feeling my wetness stretch around him. "Are you sure about this Y/N?" I looked down and noticed his member was strange. His member was large, and the tip was rounded and closed off. The veins stood out against his pale skin, because they were maroon instead of a light purple or blue. "Yes please..."

He turned me around and bent me against the wall. I pressed my hands against the glass to steady myself and he backed my hips up to meet him. His tip pushed into my walls, my body eager to meet him. I gasped as he started to move, letting my body adjust slowly at first before gaining speed. His fingers dug into my hips as he groaned while thrusting into me. The bathroom echoing the sound of his body hitting mine. He bounced me off of his pelvis over and over again, I just moaned and cried out his name over and over again. "Eijiro please I'm going to cum-"

"I wanna make you feel so good baby- hold on-" His member shifted in my body, I felt him pulse as something moved through him. He pushed himself against the very tip of my cervix. Something moved up into my body, it felt like a jelly substance for just a moment before dissolving.

I felt fire run down my spine and erupt. I cried out, my orgasm rocking my body. He wrapped an arm around my waist to keep me steady as his cock shifted again. Another dissolving sensation, and then another. I cried out, shaking. My hands fell off of the wall and Ejiro held me close to him, keeping me from slipping in the water. "You alright baby?" I nodded yes, my chest heaving.

We laid snuggled together on the bed for most of the afternoon. He traced shapes on my back, giving me kisses on my head while we talked between naps.

I could get used to this, being touched with such gentleness. "I love you Eijiro." I whispered to him. I snuggled into his chest further. "I love you too Y/N. I always will."