#He takes the reigns and this is what happens (wHEEZE)

[drgnflyteabox]

the lusty cabin-dweller

pairing: ghost / Simon riley x fem reader summary: your life gets wider when you find an injured man outside of your cabin. tags/warnings: Skyrim!ghost, secrets, graphic injuries, some angst, facial injuries, nursing Simon back to health one stew at a time <3, listen to this for the vibes, vaginal + anal sex, oral (f), animal attacks, blood, processing an animal for meat and fur, violence, death (non-major), mention of Skyrim racism, softdom!Simon, some backstory, please hmu if i forgot anything, one bed trope, simon backstory adapted to skyrim lol (so past abuse, murder, theft, domstic violence) but nothing graphic w.c: 5k

Honey-nut is squealing again. Some days you think she might not be worth the milk and cheese she gives you for all the trouble she causes. A high, strange bleating cuts through the chilled night air like a knife, sharp and terrifying only for a moment.

She's been at this since Frostfall. Maybe it was the weather causing Honey-nut distress - she was getting old, after all. For a goat.

In the time it takes you to trudge out of bed, pull on a wool shift and a fur, two things happen: one, Honey-nut stops bleating, and the woods surrounding your cottage becomes deathly silent.

Two, a crunch.

Just one, but it's enough. Someone is outside.

For a brief, hysterical moment, you worry for Honey-nuts safety. Have they hurt her to be quiet? No, you'd have heard that at least. Your breath comes fast, chest squeezing. Bandits? Probably not. It's a decent hike up to your wooden cottage. But it is nearing winter, and soon it will be Sun's Dusk. It's not unheard of that they'd be looking for a place to take over for the colder months.

Your hand goes to your heart, fingertips touching your throat. Be calm, you tell yourself. You aren't helpless, look. The axe, leaning by your front door. You can see in the dark well enough, and you're more familiar with your homestead than they are.

The axe feels right in your hands. Too-familiar, weighty, deadly. You touch your ear to the door, trying to reign in your fear. Nothing. Then, a wheeze, strangled and restrained like whoever it is can't afford to be heard. But you have heard it, and you push the door open.

"Show yourself!" You shout, voice surer than you feel. Your knees quake a little, but your grip on the axe is strong.

The animal pen is a mere few steps away from your front door. Past the front garden, it's wide open aside from the little shelter you built the past Mid Year. A foot sticks out, clad in armor.

"I'm armed," you add. "You're not getting anything from me!" The world is dark, the woods quiet. Adrenaline burns in you, bright enough to guide your steps.

"You gonna kill me with that, girl?"

Gruff voice, like scraping rocks. Coming into view, you see that this man poses no threat. He's half dead, slumped and pale, clutching his side.

"Who are you? What's your business here?" The axe is a deterrent, now. Just for show. You hold it above him, but nearly drop it when you see his face. It's sliced right through the middle, from his forehead to his jaw. "Oh, gods-"

"Mind yourself with that," his eyes flit to the axe. "Or put me out of my misery now."

Your shoulders dip down, lowering your weapon. Guilt crawls into your belly and settles there when you notice that yes- his feet are armored, but the rest of him is dressed in miners attire. White, coal-dusted shirt. Workman's pants, tucked into woolen calf wraps. God, he must be freezing. Maybe that's saved his life, staunched the bloodflow. It's tacky on him, not shining wet like you expected.

"What's happened to you?" You cringe at the sound of your voice. It's gone from fierce defensiveness to cloying concern, staring only at the blood staining his skin.

He breathes hard, staring at you a moment. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, what he's feeling. Outside of obvious pain. Leaves around you shiver in the breeze, a light snow beginning to fall when he finally speaks.

"Bandits," he grunts. "An ambush." Every word is a fight, a wheeze. Empathy drives away caution and you drop your weapon in favour of kneeling beside him.

"Come on, then. Let me help you," lifting him is a monumental task, even with him helping. He's as big as horse, thick as one too. Legs like tree trucks that hold him up just barely, feet sliding weakly on the uneven ground.

Looking back, Honey-nut watches you bring him through the doorway with a judgmental twinkle in her eye. Maybe it's time for goatherd pie.

///

Your bed is too small. His feet hang off comically, and the wood creaks under his weight. It'll have to do. Your mother would have beaten you black and blue for this - for inviting a stranger in, for settling him in your bed without so much as a what’s your name? But you know how to stitch and turning away someone in as bad a shape as he is would weigh on your conscience.

You light the sconces along the wall, and then a lantern to keep by his bedside. Warm, orange light fills the cottage, flickering every so often, inspiring calm.

"I'm no healer," you warn him. "Nor an alchemist." It’s not necessarily a lie. You had done a brief stint as a volunteer for the temple of Kynareth, lending your hands and your time to help nurse wounded soldiers. There had been supervision then, though. Guidance.

"I’m shit out of luck for choices, sweetheart,” his facial wound leaks a little when he speaks, blood running down the side of his face in thin rivulets. The wound at his side, however, is what worries you the most.

“Let me,” you murmur. Your fingers find the edge of his shirt, pulling them out of his pants, and up, up, gently. Looking him in the eye, watching his pain win over his weariness.

Another gash, swaddled in cloth wrapped sloppily around his middle. Without moving him you have to cut them off, slicing off his shirt at the same time. This one bleeds sluggishly, skin shredded, like he’d been dragged over coarse rock.

He words slur, energy leaving him. Mumbles under his breath things you can’t make out, and don’t try to. You’re busy rinsing, cleaning, and patting his ribs dry. Tensing every so often, he breathes hard through his nose to offset the pain. Mumbles some more, hands making fists.

It’s bad, but he’ll live. Exhaustion might trump over all, anyhow, what with how his eyelids have begun closing. Through the slit of them his eyes are pale, like sunlight through deep blue ice. Blonde lashes, stark against the dirt and coal smearing his skin.

You work in silence, letting him sleep through this one so he’ll hopefully be unconscious for the work you have yet to do on his face.

“Who did this?” You whisper to no one. You’re a breeze in the night, alone, hunched over this man and wiping his face with a cloth.

Clear of blood and grime, you gather a sewing needle and dip it into the lantern flame. Stitching is easy, but on his face? You falter a moment, worried, until you think of how proud men often are of their scars. Boasting battles won and creatures slain.

It’s that thought that pushes you through to the end, weaving the needle through until he's sewn and clean of blood.

///

Sweat and iron. The smell of it, sharp and salty, sea foam and earth, is the first thing you're aware of.

Then, the light of morning. Pale, almost white, invading through the windows in rays. A chill. Your eyes open with a not insignificant amount of effort, back twinging in different places as you become aware of the world again.

"Awake?" You startle, jerking up. It's the man from the night before, laying as he was, a little curled against the pain and big as an ox. "W's startin' t'think you'd sleep all day."

"It's morning, is it not?" You're not used to talking this early - or at all. "How's the- how are you feeling?"

He grunts, shuffling. His wrapped side has some blood peeking through, little spots of leakage, not enough to lose your head over. His face has swelled some overnight though, and you're awake enough now to hear the muffled quality to his voice. Part of the cut pulls his upper lip tightly. You wince.

"Just wait. I have something for the," you pause, crossing your space on stiff legs to find the bookshelf. Clay pots, glass bottles, books. Ah, here it is. "For the pain." It's some elixir. Purchased the last time you'd made the trek to Markarth from Muiri, the alchemists apprentice. It brings forth a distant memory of pain, of twisting your ankle running after Honey-nut.

Your ankle hadn't quite healed right, but this was good for when winter came and stiffness made the pain worse again.

He eyes you wearily as you approach. Suspiciously. As if you haven't been helping him out of the kindness of your heart…

"This will help," a promise.

"Don't need'it." He slurs, then cringes as it pulls his lip again.

"You'll recover faster if you're in less pain."

In the end he acquiesces, if not just to take the edge of the purpling that's beginning to show on the edges of his bandage. Broken ribs, maybe?

///

Chores need to be done whether or not there's an obstinate patient in your bed. Honey-nut needs to be milked, and she fights you every step of the way. You discover her pen open from last night and sigh with relief that she's still there.

The chickens have laid eggs for you, and you collect them diligently in your apron. Then, the garden. And finally a sweep of your traps in the woods.

Just one rabbit, but it's enough. You hope the man likes stew, and that his swelling goes down enough for him to tell you his name.

///

He tells you his name is Ghost. Strange, but you've heard stranger. Maybe he's a follower of Namira, you wonder not without an inkling of apprehension. Ghost is quiet, even as he heals. After you'd made yourself a straw bed on the other side of the cabin, you'd wake to him sitting up and stretching. Testing himself. Always silent.

The exhaustion was the worst of it. One nearly empty bottle of elixir later, the swelling on his face has gone down significantly. His ribs sore but on the mend. It was sleep that he needed, and lots of it.

Days passed like this. Switching bandages, wiping and cleaning, cooking enough stew for two. Nearly a week until he was up and about insisting to help around the cottage.

"No need," you tried to gently push him back into the warmth of the open door. He was too big, and having none of it. "You'll be better in no time."

He was just so tall. Were he to stand still at your doorway, half his face would be covered by the top of it. Despite his condition, you could tell that your initial comparison to a horse was completely on the nose. Stocky as a boar, arms thick as mammoth tusks. Hairy like blonde wheat shining in the sun. You'd noticed as much, watching him rest, watching his eyelashes flutter on his cheeks as he dreamt.

///

Ghost works like you're paying him in gold. He sweats, arms swinging down over and over again above the chopping block. There's enough wood to last three winters now - maybe four. Every job he takes is finished to excess. Your roof has never looked better, re-thatched in rotting places and swept clear of mildew. The old wood fence in your garden? Replaced.

Honey-nut finds her new favourite person when he dismantles what he calls shoddy work, and rebuilds her a shelter twice as big. The chickens are still weary, but enjoy receiving the kitchen scraps he tosses.

"There's really no need for all this," you insist again, because he's come back this afternoon with an elk on his back.

"Didn't need to fix me up, either, did'ya?"

You break it down together. Ghost does the harder part, while you take cuts of meat to dry for jerky. The rest will go into a venison casserole, with juniper berries.

"Hey- Ghost?" You call. He's skinning the rest of it for furs. "I'm off to gather some berries for dinner."

A nod, and you're off.

Your basket is old, woven, carried once by your mother and now you. Silly, but special all the same. It's stained with many years of berry collecting, many years of winter nights spent tucking into fruity crostatas or summers full of juniper mead.

The hills are rife with the low, rough trees. They grow like weeds here in the Reach, mountain pocked with patches of light green and little blue berries. Once, as a child, you'd made the mistake of eating one straight off the branch. Bitter as burnt coffee, it was lesson you'd learned through tears of laughter with your mother. A happy memory.

Does Ghost have a family? You wonder again about him, about why a man like that is wasting his time mining. He could've climbed the ranks as an imperial and been a General or - divines forbid - a stormcloak. You prayed he wasn't so craven as to follow Ulfric and his band of Nord supremacists.

It's this distraction that leads you right into the waiting jaws of a sabre cat. Quick and silent, it reminds you of your patient for an absurd moment before you're tripping backwards, basket full of berries scattered and forgotten. Your hip makes contact with the ground hard, pain lancing through your joint like a spear.

Fuck, how could you be so stupid? This was a mountain, leagues away from the nearest town. Sabres, bears, wolves. You'd always, always used awareness as a first precaution. Sight, sounds, keeping your ears tuned to the slightest crack in a twig. If not, there was the bow and arrow stowed away under your bed.

Now, you were caught unawares. Muscles under it's fur rippled, a low growl in it's barrel chest, creeping toward you. Adrenaline burned through you like a fever, hot and electric all at once, freezing you in place by the weight of your heart in your stomach.

Stendarr's mercy, dying from an animal attack after living years on the craggy peaks of the mountains, avoiding ambushes and robberies. Living on goats cheese and chicken eggs, nothing yet achieved. What a waste. Miserable, hopeless tears prick at your eyes. Your breath leaves you in quick, desperate puffs. Running wasn't an option - it would only encourage the sabre. Sovngarde, here you come-

"Aaarghgh aaaaa!" A roar. Loud, ringing in your ears, as fierce as a cave bear. It's Ghost, jumping through the brush towards you with his arms above his head. "Bugger off!" He's screaming loud, voice cracking a little, the stitches at his lip tearing just enough for droplets of blood to fall.

"I'll put you down!" It's nonsense, but it's loud, and he's massive. Taller than the sabre even if it stood on two legs. When he reaches you, he steps in front of you. Shields you.

The face-off is likely less than a few minutes, but it feels like time moves as slow as honey. Ghost faces of the sabre, screaming like a madman, beating his chest and waving his arms. It creeps backward, hissing and fighting, but is cowed by his stance and size.

When it's disappeared through the maze of juniper trees, he turns to you. Extends a palm rough like bark.

"How long have you lived here, again?" His voice grates as usual, made worse by his shouting.

Your face heats in embarrassment. "A few years. I'm not usually so distracted," you dust your dress, patting yourself. Twigs and dirt fall from the wool. "I swear. I got lost picking berries."

He snorts, like you're stupid. You feel stupid.

The basket is half empty when you call it quits, tired from fear. Ghost is hunched beside you, holding his ribs again, rubbing his lip almost compulsively.

"Stop that, you'll get a thicker scar," you reach for his elbow.

"Don't care much about that, love," he shrugs your hand away.

Dinner is made in silence. It's a miracle you have the energy, but while you're physically drained your mind is running in circles. You watch with concern as he sits gingerly back on the bed. The pain in your hip pulses with sympathy, pulsing heat travelling down your leg and up your back.

"Need me to take a look at anything?" Besides his obvious discomfort, you'll have to fix his face back up. You'd prefer for him to be in a welcoming mood.

"I can handle it," Mr Stoic over here. "Did'ya take a fall?"

You drop dried frost mirriam into chopped, boiled potatoes. Then a pad of butter.

"Yes, but I'm alright," the cream sauce comes together, ladled over the venison. You're out of eidar cheese, but Honey-nuts goat cheese crumbled over everything is perfectly fine. Ghost eats like a furnace taking coal, anyhow.

"Let me see," he's up close. Again, you've been taken unawares. A sharp inhale like a gasp, heart beat picking up, breathing in the smell of him. It's gone from bloody to pine, to earth, to fresh wood. His hands find your hip and you hiss, trying to jerk away. In doing so you press your side into his chest, curled close, warm not just from the fire. "It's alright, sweet girl." He murmurs into the top of your head.

This tenderness is new. His fingers are as gentle as you've seen them in the last few weeks, pulling up the thick skirts of your dress and assessing the tender skin. It's a little hot to the touch, painful. The rough pad of his thumb brushes against you softly, making you whine.

His lips brush your hair, not quite kissing you, but affectionate nonetheless. You're close enough to see his throat bob when he swallows.

"Just a bump, huh, sweet girl?" He takes over, mashing the potatoes, setting out plates at your little wooden table, guiding you by your lower back.

You eat in relative silence, thighs brushing, a tension bubbling to the surface like stew on the fire. He spares you a few glances between bites, still wincing whenever he has to bend down.

"I'll take a look at that again before bed," you speak through a mouthful of creamy venison.

Sure enough, he's reopened some of his stitches. Not worst case scenario, but you spend a few minutes hunched over and bandaging him up again. He stares at you intently, eyes so clear and focused you wish he wouldn't. It makes your hand shake.

Moving to get up and back to your straw bed, his arm shoots out as quick as an arrow and takes your wrist in his hand. His stare is the same, squinting at you like he's waiting for you to confess something. Like he's waiting for you to give in.

"You're not sleeping on the floor," he says, sure, chest puffed. "Not with your hip. Come on now, come lay down." Gently, he tugs you down. Protests make it to the tip of your tongue and nowhere else, not with the promise of a mattress on your sore muscles and screaming hip.

It's too small though, much too small. Already he was hanging off, shoulders taking up the entire width. You curl forward, on your good side, facing away from him and into the dark. The cabin is still warm from cooking dinner.

His breath puffs on the back of your neck, hand finding your arm and stroking up and down. Soothing you. He curls around you, following the natural bend of your body.

"Simon," he whispers.

Your brow almost touches your hairline. "That's not my name."

"No," his reply is half spoken, half physical. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, bicep under you, cradling you, his big bear paw hugging your shoulder. A stray pinky ventures dangerously close to your nipple, fingers spread. "It's mine."

The world widens. "Yours?" You breathe in, out. It's trust, is what it is. He's giving you a piece of himself, this stranger, for you to hold. "Simon," you taste it in your mouth. "Simon."

He laughs against your hair. "Was watching you," he confesses. "After we got- after the ambush. Walked for days, till I found you."

"How long did you watch?" You're curious, if not a little suspicious. "You weren't casing it, were you?"

"No, nothing like that. Couldn't keep walking," he sighs loud like a dog. "Hadn't eaten, hadn't drank. Needed to know if you were somewhere I could stay."

"That's why Honey-nut was losing her mind," the realization is half funny, half scary. By the eight, you really hadn't noticed someone living so close-by for so long?

"Honey-nut?"

"You've met her, Simon. She's the goat."

"Ah," he snorts. "I've been calling her Molag-Bal, for how she's got us in the palm of her hand."

"Simon!" You shriek with laughter, shaking until he squeezes you from behind. So close his heartbeat taps against your back.

///

A week goes by, and each night is the same. You wake together, sleep together, eat together. Simon regains his strength and his wounds turn into scars. His face is deeply marked, but you've never known him another way. Truthfully, it adds to his handsomeness. There's a ruggedness there that one can only develop living in the rough.

The air gets colder, frigid in the mornings and nights. Light snows have begun falling, and Honey-nut begins her bleating until you put up the winter wall of her shelter, boxing her in. The chickens slowly cease laying eggs, bundling together, clucking at Simon when he checks for the seasons last bounty.

The time to make a trek to Markarth is creeping. You need dried goods, grain, seeds for spring, dried meats, elixirs - everything. It'll be your last trip before you're stuck in the freezing mountains with nobody but Honey-nut to talk to.

Books are your salvation during the cold months.

"I have to get supplies soon," you break the news to Simon early in the morning, when the light just barely creeps over the craggy peaks of the mountains. "In Markarth."

There. It's over with - telling him. You know you're being a coward by not asking directly, but you need to know. What is he going to do now that he's healed? Spend a few more months with you? You're still mostly strangers, practicing domesticity together, but strangers nonetheless.

"Can't go to Markarth," he says.

"Why's that?"

Simon looks at you then, eyes hard and tender at the same time. He grimaces a little, scar twisting wit his expression.

"Used to work there," A pause. "Used to… mine there."

"What?" Cidhna mine is for prisoners. You take a small step back, shaking your head. "What?" You repeat. Cidhna mine? Is that how- oh. His injuries, his waiting to see who you were before approaching. By the gods, you've been tricked!

"You tricked me-" you start, upset. Was he a killer, a robber? Images dredged from the recesses of your mind float to the surface. Men, fire, your mother cut down before you.

"No, no," he interrupts. He's shaking his head, not quite stepping forward but leaning toward you. Eyebrows drawn up, palms facing you in supplication. "Sweet girl, I," he looks around then, as if the words will appear written in smoke from the hearthfire. "Listen to me please," he pleads.

"Tell me what you did!" It's a near-shout, but you're upset. He's been cozying up to you while running from the law. Not that you're a total stickler for rules, but the men at Cidhna mine aren't there without reason.

The most secure prison in Skyrim.

"I will, I'll tell you. Just sit down please, sit with me." He pats a chair, sitting in the one beside it. Beseeching you. "Cm'ere, sweet girl. M'sorry."

///

You sit quietly while he tells you, choking a little on the rising tide of emotions. The biggest question is should you believe him? This story of his past, his father, a childhood spent learning to steal and bully to survive. Elixirs for a brother hooked on skooma, food for a mother grown sickly from her husbands abuse. Eventually getting rid of his father altogether, and wining up in Cidhna.

"If what you say is true," your voice wavers, throat tight with emotion. "Why not tell me?"

He shrugs his shoulders, looking up for a moment as if asking the divines for guidance.

"You never asked."

For a moment, you want to be indignant. You laid with him, cooked for him, wiped blood and sweat off his brow.

But he's right. You never asked, never thought to - just wondered, minded your business, content to help someone in need of it. The feeling of betrayal loosens in your chest, releasing it's vice grip on your heart, a calmer acceptance taking place.

The position it leaves you in is awkward, even if you're content to believe him. You've been too yielding since you met him. Accepted him into your home, accepted his story. Ambushed by bandits? A silly lie, now that you think of it. Vague, believable. Easier than explaining that guards had slashed him as he escaped imprisonment. That he couldn't go back because he was so recognizable.

You don't speak as you get ready. It's not an angry silence, but one brought by embarrassment. How stupid he must think you are, cozying up up to him like that.

The question of where he'll go burns still in your mind, in your gut. You're nervous, fingers shaking a little as you wrap long strips of warm wool on your calves, forearms, and between your fingers. Your dress is double-layered, boots sturdy.

It's a trip and half, lugging everything. You're on foot until you reach the nearest inn, and from there you rent a horse and cargo carriage. Easier from there, with Jazbay the white mare to pull you along.

"I know someone in Cidhna," Simon interrupts your thoughts. He's always tall, imposing, a little intimidating. Now he looks as sheepish as a man like him can look. "Could you…" He extends his hand, a letter clasped in it.

You grimace, but nod curtly.

"Thank you, honey," he breathes a sigh of relief. Honey. That ones new. It fills you with warmth.

"You're welcome to stay with me," you blurt. Impulsive, stupid. Brought on by the familiarity of his affection. "For the winter, I mean."

He's across the cabin in two steps. He presses his front to yours, hands cupping your cheeks, thumbs gently rubbing your cheekbones.

He kisses you, then, and everything slides into place. Your stomach tightens, hands coming up to grasp his shoulders, gasping into his mouth. It's wet, lips smacking noisily, the only sound in the near-frozen forest. Acceptance, sweet and buttery. This is a man whose never had a home.

"I can't stall any longer-" you try. He interrupts you with his mouth again, long kisses like it's reviving him, revitalizing him. "I gotta-"

"Shh, sweetheart," he hums lowly. Gods, you've never been this wet. It soaks into your cotton underwear, clit pulsing in time with your heart. "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

///

He's so solid, firm muscle and hard cock. It leaks between his legs, bobbing with his abdomen where he's kneeled on the floor, face in your cunt.

"Simon!" You're shouting, unabashed. Years have passed since anyone's touched you last, and you're sensitive as a maid, gripping his too-long hair almost meanly. Simon licks you like a starving man, slurping, letting you drip and then sucking it off your skin. His fingers find the entrance of your pussy, fitting himself in two at a time.

Once you've begun, you can't stop. He fucks you on the bed, letting it creak dangerously. Bends you over the table, cock dragging in and out of you deliciously. You shake and shiver in his arms, wrung out and insatiable all at once.

"Can I have you here, sweet girl?" He thumbs at your other hole, dipping in, kissing your inner thighs.

"Yes, gods yes, Simon," you drag his name out. Si-i-mon. It sounds good that way, breathy, not spoken but moaned and screamed. It's late evening, dark, colder now that you haven't lit the fire.

No need, when his cock is as hot as coals and slides between your arsecheeks like a divining rod. Your pussy is aching and hot, too-sensitive. You're belly down on the bed again, hands gripped in the sheets.

When you deliberately relax your muscles, he fits his fingers in your ass using come as lubricant. Spits down onto you, watches you start to rub yourself into the bedding desperately.

"None of that," he pants, pulling you up by your hips. A whine builds in your throat, which he shushes by pushing his other two fingers in your cunt. You yelp, moving toward him and away from him. He keeps you still, firmly holding your hips.

You come, tears beginning to leak into your sheets, when he presses his cock against the notch of your hole and pushes in.

A long, deep groan from the pit of his stomach starts and doesn't stop until he's sheathed. You're frozen, stuck in a gasp that doesn't end, filled to the brim.

Simon begins to rock, shallowly, stealing your breath and breathing it back into you with every thrust. It's then that you begin to make sound, crying out and fisting the sheets, rocking your hips with him. He reaches around, leaning down to kiss your shoulders and play with your clit at the same time.

"Not gonna last," he says into your skin. "Gonna come inside you again."

You're easy - so sensitive that if he breathed on you long enough you're sure you'd peak. His fingers twisting and pinching your clit is pure madness, and you tighten like a vice around him as you yowl your last orgasm of the night.

His hips snap into yours roughly, abandoning your clit for the flesh of your hips, pounding, dragging, grunting into you as he finds his own release.

Half-asleep, you fell him roll over onto his side and turn your head to face him. He's smiling lazily, stroking your skin, still sweating from exertion.

"I'll come with you tomorrow," he whispers.

"I thought you couldn't come to Markarth?" Confusion prickles at you, brows coming together. He finds the furrow with his thumb and smooths it away.

"I can't, honey. But I can come down and wait for you."

"You will?" Hope rises in you, in tandem with affection.

"Always," his voice is a soft murmur.

"Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow. Goodnight, sweet girl."

<3

[billietherock]

There was no Weirdmageddon (pt6)

By Billietherock

(Gore Warning)

Chapter 2 (pt3)- Deal

Bill was so mad he could barely speak. Did Stanford Pines, some shut in who can barely speak to another person just shut Bill Cipher down? Why yes he did. Stanford shifts his weight from one foot to another, a little nervous for what would happen next.

“My thought was, well you could prove it first? Like how serious you are about this whole thing since… I’m putting my mind and body on the line and you have nothing to lose from this… deal…” he notices how red Bill was becoming.

“Serious?” Bill mutters,” You think I’m not serious?!”

Ford shakes his hands in front of him as Bill grows to immense size,” no no, I never said you weren’t serious. I just want you to prove that me giving you free reign of my body isn’t a massive mistake!”

Bill grabs Ford and glares at him,” I HAVE BEEN NOTHING BUT HELPFUL AND ENCOURAGING TO YOU. WHAT MORE PROOF DO YOU NEED?!”

Ford couldn’t speak, Bill was choking the life out of him. Bill’s anger turns to annoyance as he shrinks back down, giving Ford room to breathe. Ford takes a few wheezy breaths as he collapses onto his knees.

“Haha I get it. Except, I don’t.” He folds his arms,” what’s your plan here Fordsy. Are you going to make me cut off my arm or something?”

Ford shakes his head,” it should be easy for you. All I want you to do,” he wheezes,” is show up on my doorstep. Simple, then in return I’ll take you to do human activities.”

He takes a few more breaths before he returns to his feet,” I just want you to prove you’re just as serious as me, and you’re willing to listen. And uh maybe, if you're feeling adventurous… help out in the lab… like physically?”

Bill was still angry, he was angry that some human would call him out like this… put him in a tough spot.

“ I can just find another scientist, Stanford Pines. I don’t have to be your muse anymore.” But they both knew there wasn’t really anyone else, not with Ford so close to the portal’s completion.

There is a long pause, both the scientist and the demon lost in their own thoughts. The scientist hoping that lessons he learned from Stanley as a teen would pay off. The demon because he was insulted and humiliated in the span of five minutes, but more intrigued then he ever had been before.

“ I just have to show up at your doorstep, Sixer?”

Ford nods,” yes. Then I’ll take you for a night in the city, you can even pick where we get to eat. After that I would be more open to letting you use my body more often.” He smiles at the end, as if that would make Bill feel any better.

If looks could kill, Stanford knew he’d be dead where he stood. The look that Bill was giving him showed nothing but malice and contempt, Stanford figured this would happen at some point, Bill is a demon after all, but he still wasn’t prepared for when it actually did. When Bill went feral.

Bill looks at his own hand and then at Stanford, then back at his own hand and then at Stanford. He snaps his fingers.

Stanford wakes up, his neck felt sore like he has whiplash or something. He noticed fresh blood under his fingernails. He scrambles to look in a mirror or some other reflective surface, but all he found was that machine in the corner. It however worked for his purposes.

He sees that his neck is covered in scratch marks, and already bruising horribly. He notices a stinging in his knees and sees blood starting to leak through his jeans. His hands hurt from what he assumed to be how hard he was choking himself. He looked like he was just possessed and in all honesty he probably was, and he should have expected it.

He sighs, and left to go clean himself up, but just then he steps on… a pen. He kneels down painfully to pick up the pen, and then notices a piece of paper with a bloody hand print. He looks at his right hand and notices how bloody it seemed to be… it may have explained the scratches on his neck. He turns the paper over and gasps almost immediately, reeling from the pain.

Quickly drawn in the corner was Bill. Stanford smiles a little, this was something he had to document, a possession with other evidence besides mutilation, this was fantastic news. What was better was the few sentences next to the drawing of Bill.

It read,

“Dear Sixer

You have your deal

Don’t ever do that again

Next time you do you won’t be called Sixer

See you soon

Bill Cipher”

[diagnosedpsychosis]

Heyo!!! 😁 I’m not sure if your still taking requests but I've had this idea for a little while.

Could you do Aaron × BAU f!reader where they are having an argument and something had happened in the field and when they got back home (originally his place) they got into a heated argument and Aaron says something to reader like "why did you even coming here with me if we're just going to fight" which the reader responds by saying "would you rather me to go out into the field and not come back to you?" And when Aaron doesn't answer (out of shock or surprise) reader takes it the wrong way and as his answer and leaves which he then regrets what he said. The next day in the office reader won't even look or talk to him and in the field reader is more careless and takes huge risks because of what Aaron had said.

It could possibly end with reader getting an injury and is in the hospital and in fluff or hurt/comfort. However you see fit is perfect!!! 😊

Im in a big mood for some angsty shizz and I have asked a couple different writers about this just to see what different perspectives and ideas they can create with it. So if you are able and willing i would love to see what you put together for this. If not that's perfectly fine too! Thanks luv 🫶🫶🫶

Hiiiii, I'm always open to requests and up for a challenge so thank you so much for this!!! I'll see what I can do for you <3 I hope it's okay.

Word Count: 5k

__________________________________________________

You knew going after an unsub much bigger than you on foot, and alone was a bad idea, well.... you knew it now. But at that moment, the only thought that had crossed your mind was that if you let this man get away, men and women would never stop suffering at the hands of him. You had found him by fluke, so it was now or never.

You weren't expecting to be tackled from behind, I mean, you had been chasing him, right? He was in front of you. But somewhere you'd lost track of the man and just kept jogging in the direction you knew he'd gone in, so when he tackled you from behind it was a complete surprise and you hadn't had enough time to put you hands out in front of you to support your fall.

You hit your head hard, your vision going blurry for a moment as you struggled to breathe under the weight straddling you. He was big and could easily overpower you, you both knew it. His hands flew to your neck as he squeezed, trying to crush your throat under his hands. You gasped, and wheezed, kicked and clawed at him, but he just sat over you with a large grin, knowing your life was in his hands and he was going to take it.

So when the gunshot cracked and he stilled on top of you, for that brief moment where his brain still ticked and his heart still beat, he wondered how he hadn't realised you had been distracting him with your kicks and your gasps, all so you could reach for your gun. The bullet came from your gun. The bullet that put an end to his reign of terror. A single bullet, that saved countless lives.

You hadn't even been able to take a heavy drag of air, or relax for a single second knowing you were no longer in danger before police sirens blared and uniformed officers trudged through the forest, torches on high as they searched for you and the unsub.

"Y/n?" The first voice you recognised was Derek's. You noticed a hint of panic in his tone as he searched for you, unsure if you were close or not.

"Over here" You called, barely able to get the words as the literal dead weight on you rested over your chest, robbing you of air. You heard heavy shoes against the ground and twigs and leaves crunch under weight before Derek broke through a bush, his torch landing on you.

"I got them" He yelled loud enough that his voice echoed and even Aaron who'd been so many hundred metres, panic searching for you heard him and ran in the direction of his voice. Derek jogged over to you, letting out a relieved sigh at the sight before him. You were alive, and the unsub wasn't.

"You owe me a drink for how worried sick you made me" Derek frowned down at you, wiping the sweat from his forehead and placing his hands on his hips to catch his breath.

"Yeah, sure. Now are you going to help me, or leave me here under this rock all night?" You wheezed, relieved to see Derek crack an amused smile, an airy laugh bubbling out of his throat as he bent down to help you.

"You push, I'll pull" He ordered you, eyes jumping back to yours as you scoffed.

"No, you push and I'll pull" You joked, not needing Derek to tell you to push, as if that wasn't what you wanted. Derek rolled his eyes, a smirk on his mouth as he counted down from 3. The second 1 left his mouth, despite being sore and having no energy you pushed with all your might, and with Derek's help were able to roll the unsub off of you.

The second his weight left your chest you doubled over, coughing uncontrollably as air suddenly flooded your lungs. Derek was quick to help pull you up, slinging your arm over his shoulder, his hand rubbing circles on your back as he helped move you away from the unsub and officers flooding the area. He pulled you off to the side before sitting you an a dead tree stump.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked, crouching down to your height and pushing your hair back out of your face. You nodded your head, before immediately stopping as zaps of pain made you groan.

"Yeah, I just hit my head a little hard" Derek frowned before moving his hand to the back of your head, eyes jumping back to yours as he met a wet spot.

"I think you're bleeding."

"What?" You gaped, letting Derek pull you up and sling your arm back over his shoulder as he helped guide you back through the forest.

"Medics are already here, we'll get you checked out" You thanked Derek for finding you and helping you so much. You even shared a couple jokes and laughs with him, but the moment you broke through the forest your face was wiped of its smile.

Standing beside the ambulance, was a very grumpy looking Aaron in a black polo and FBI vest. To anyone else he looked like he did all day, every day- frowning, and bored. But you could tell that his eyebrows being a tiny fraction more furrowed meant he was mad. Being able to read your boyfriend was both a blessing and a curse. Derek helped you over to him, before quickly dipping and leaving you alone with your fuming boyfriend.

"Aaron-" You started to say, but he was quick to cut you off, arms flexing as he folded them over his chest.

"Save it. We'll talk later" He snapped, causing you to rear back at his tone. You knew he would be angry about you taking on an unsub alone, but you didn't know he'd be this angry.

"Are you really that angry-"

"I said save it. Now hurry up and get checked so we can leave" You watched, lips slightly parted at Aaron clicked at a paramedic to give you attention, before he turned around and stormed back over to one of the SUV's. What had been confusion over Aaron's tone quickly turned to anger on your part as well. Of all the people to judge you for running after an unsub alone, Aaron had no right, not when 7 out of 10 decisions he made in the field were stupid.

"You've got a concussion and some bleeding at the back of your head. I'd suggest going to the hospital to get it properly patched up. There's only so much I can do here" The paramedic who had been checking you informed you. You offered the man a tight lipped smile as you stood up and off the side of the ambulance.

"Thank you" You told him before walking off to meet the rest of your team who'd been waiting in a circle at the front of the SUV's.

"Hey" Derek smiled as you stopped beside him. He raised his hand to your head and ruffled your hair like a dog.

"How's your head, Fred?" He asked, and your eyes flew to Aaron who was watching you with a frown, waiting to hear all the injuries you'd gotten. The longer you stared at him, the less you felt like telling the truth, knowing he'd use it against you in an argument. You glanced back at Derek and smiled.

"All good."

"Great. Let's get out of here. I want to go home" Emily smiled, patting your arm before everyone split up between the cars and headed back to the bureau. You were grateful for a local case so you wouldn't have to endure hours of tension on the jet, but at the same time maybe that's exactly what you needed between you and Aaron- time for him to calm down, and time for you to sooth the concussion.

Despite Aaron being your boyfriend, Derek had been the most supportive on of your team. He'd found you, helped you, worried for you, and hesitantly left you at the ambulance, so it wasn't surprising you stuck to him like glue for the drive back to Quantico, not that he minded. It gave him more time to check that you were 100% okay.

When you got back everyone was quick to grab their things before leaving and heading home for the night, excited to sleep in their own beds after a tiring case you'd all worried would go unsolved, but it hadn't, thanks to you. You tried to leave quickly before Aaron could intercept you, but of course, you can't always get what you want.

"My place" Aaron huffed from behind you, before quickening and lengthening his strides until he passed you, refusing to glance back as he stormed to his car. You got in your own car, watching him drive away before you even started the ignition. You wondered how he'd react if you just didn't go to his. He wasn't your boss outside of work, he couldn't order you around, but there was no doubt in your mind that if you weren't at his soon after him he'd call and text every last person in his phone that you had connections with, just to hunt you down and find you.

So you followed him, and soon reluctantly pulled up out the front of his apartment building. You got out, walked inside and took the elevator to his floor before slowly walking down the hall and stopping in front of his apartment door. You didn't even need to knock, because in seconds the door opened and there stood a much too unhappy Aaron.

"I hope the wind doesn't change" You tried to ease the tension, offering a half smile, it wavering as Aaron rolled his eyes and turned around, leaving the door open for you to come inside.

"That's your coping strategy? Making jokes?" He scoffed as you clicked your tongue against your teeth, closing and locking his apartment door behind yourself. You followed him further into his apartment, stopping and watching as he filled a glass with water.

"It's much more fun than what you're doing. Aaron, you're being overdramatic" He let out a laugh before turning to look at you. You took a small step back, not liking the look on his face or the tone of his voice. You wished you'd never driven to his, because you knew just by looking at him he was going to be the mean Aaron you hated tonight.

"Oh, am I?" Your own joking smile fell from your face, quickly mirroring the frown on his face as you nodded your head, subtly grabbing the stool beside you when you felt yourself become slightly dizzy. You were sure you didn't actually have a concussion. A headache, sure, but not a concussion. All you needed was some ibuprofen and you'd be fine.

"Yeah, you are. You're being overdramatic and you're being totally unfair. You know if it was the other way around I'd never give you as much grief as you're giving me right now" You raise your voice, pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

"Maybe cause if it were the other way around you know I would've made smarter decisions than you did tonight" You scoff in disbelief at the utter bullshit coming from your boyfriends mouth.

"You know for a fact you're just as hot headed as me, Aaron. You make just as many stupid mistakes and you get just as injured, so don't try to lecture me about 'smarter decisions' cause you know that's a load of crock" You hated how he spoke and treated you during arguments, like you weren't his equal. Like every decision he made was perfect, and every on you made was a mistake.

Aaron brings his hands up, dragging them down his face as a loud, irritated groan echoes around the apartment. "Far out, I shouldn't have told you to come over after a once in a blue moon field day for you. Why did you actually even come? You don't follow 95% of my orders, but what? You do now?"

"What would you rather Aaron, me going out into the field and still coming back to you, even if it is to fight? Or me going into the field and not coming back to you?" Your question stuns Aaron into silence and out of the ever consuming rage he'd felt. All that pent up anger dissipates at the picture you've painted in his head. One with a reality where you don't come home to him. It didn't matter if after every case you fought, all that mattered was that you came home with him every night, safe and healthy.

The silence you had stunned Aaron into rebounds right back at you. Your shoulders sag and your eyes burn as you stare at the man you loved, not saying a single word in response to the hypothetical you threw at him. Not a single word. Not a single word to let you know he of course wanted you to come home to him, instead his deafening silence twisting your brain to think the opposite.

Was he tired of you? Is that why he was so quiet? Because he couldn't figure out a way to tell you he didn't want you to come back to him, so he was going to let you answer that question for yourself?

You didn't know what the hell his silence meant, but all you did know was you were tired, angry, hurt, and a little heart broken. You didn't know what else to say, so instead opted to say nothing. Quickly, you stormed past Aaron, shoulder knocking his hard as you ripped open his front door and slammed it behind you as you left.

If he didn't want you coming home to him, then there was no point staying. It took Aaron all of 30 seconds for his heart to start racing, the pit of his stomach churning in a sickly rhythm as guilt consumed his every being. Of course he wanted you to come home to him, you were all he wanted and all he'd ever need, it was the image you'd put in his brain that he didn't want following him. One where you and him weren't together. One where he went to bed and woke up alone. One where all the love he could possibly feel for another- for you, went to waste.

Aaron felt like an asshole for not having answered you. He knows now that you would've overthought his silence, and knew you'd be thinking Aaron was at home, wishing you two weren't together anymore. In your mind, you'd probably already broken up with him, and that was quite literally the last thing he wanted.

Aaron grabbed his car keys with every intention to hop in his car and drive by your house, and if you weren't in, he'd spend all night driving around the city until he found you. But when his phone dings with a notification of a new, urgent case, he hops in his car, knowing despite how you may be feeling, nothing could keep you away from an urgent case.

Aaron was first at the office, soon followed by Spencer, then Emily, then JJ, and then Dave and Derek who'd been out together being each others wingman.

"These serial killers couldn't even give us one night?" Emily groans, rubbing her eyes tiredly after having been awoken by a phone call with a deeply apologetic Penelope on the other end of the line.

"I had laid down literally 3 minutes before Pen called" JJ huffs, pushing her hair out of her face and behind her ears.

"Somebody better be getting tortured" Dave mumbled under his breath, Derek snorting behind him as everyone started making their way into the conference room. All seats but one where quickly occupied, and Derek was the first, after Aaron to notice your absence.

"Where's Y/n? She get your call?" Derek asked Penelope as she stood in front of the case TV.

"Yeah, I already started briefing her over the phone and sent her the files. She said she was going to stop off and get coffee for every one so to meet at the jet" It was the little things about you that everyone loved. How thoughtful and giving you were, even if it was just coffee. But the fact you knew this would be hard on everyone and personally stopped off to grab coffee to help them all out, made them love you just that little bit more.

The team was quickly briefed before immediately heading out to the jet. You and the team were desperately needed in Florida for a case where first born daughters in large families were being kidnapped in the middle of the night. No bodies, but a lot of evidence of a scuffle at all the crime scenes. So far 5 girls were missing and the last two happened within a night of each other.

When the team got to the jet you were already inside, a paper travel coffee cup with each persons name at their respected seats they tended to stick to. You had placed Aaron's cup at the seat against the back wall window, and despite the fact you usually sat next to him, you were sitting on the couch to be as far away from him as you could. Reid's cup was in your place and Aaron instantly noticed the moment he stepped onto the jet.

You were thanked as everyone took sips from their hot coffees and sat down, Aaron reluctantly sitting down despite the fact his eyes were trained on you not looking at him. He wanted you beside him, but he knew it'd take a lot more than an apology. Besides, the last place he wanted to beg for your forgiveness was in front of the team.

He'd do it... but he didn't want to. So instead he decided to give you space, saving a chat for the first chance you two get to be alone. Quickly everyone started talking about the case, ideas bouncing off each other one after another for the whole duration of the couple hour flight.

When you all landed you got off with Derek, refusing to spare Aaron even a glance. You were ignoring him and that was the way it stayed the whole time the team were in Florida.

There were numerous times Aaron tried to pull you aside to talk but you'd quickly come up with an excuse, or you'd brush him off, pretend you couldn't hear him and go and talk to someone else. It was clear to everyone there was trouble in paradise, but they wanted not input in it so they let you two do your thing all the while working the case.

You even refused to share a motel room with him. When you'd gotten to the motel on the first day Aaron had gone to grab your bag to take it up to the room he assumed you'd be sharing, but before he could you snatched it off the ground, grabbing Emily and JJ's hands before dragging them up to the room you'd stolen a key from Derek to.

Aaron didn't know what to do and spent all night on his back thinking about you. The few hours he did get of sleep were restless and filled of nightmares of realities where you didn't come home to him. Nightmares, not dreams.

You had all made some serious ground breaking damage on the case over the last few days and knew who the unsub was. You'd all put vests on before hopping in the SUV's and driving to the unsubs house.

You knew you shouldn't have been there, getting ready to step out into the field. Since you'd hit your head hard on the last case you have been having intense, painful headaches that sometimes made it hard to see, hear or breathe. Your head has sat heavy on your shoulders and the only relief you get from the almost constant pain is the few hours of sleep you've been getting, other then that it is 24/7 and only getting worse.

Every time you almost regretted not taking this case off and just going to the hospital like the paramedic had told you, you think about the young girls taken from their homes and how much input and time you'd spent trying to find them. Sure, your team was more than capable of working this without you, but you liked to think your presence genuinely made a difference.

So when Derek pulled the SUV up beside the unsub's house, you pushed the thought of your headache aside and jumped out with everyone else, even if too much movement made you feel like you were about to collapse.

Derek pointed you and Aaron around the house, telling you both to go out back and clear the space. Despite still wanting to be nowhere near Aaron, you did what Derek told you to, for the sake of the case and the lives of the girls.

You two snuck around out back before you placed your hand on the back door knob, about to open the door when Aaron stopped you with a hand on your waist, pulling your attention to him.

"Y/n maybe I-" You cut him off, not knowing what he was about to say and not caring. Now was not the time.

"Save it, Aaron" You threw his words back in his face from when you'd taken the unsub down all by yourself. His shoulders sagged as he slowly nodded his head, looking back to the door waiting for you to open it and take charge. You heard the front door slam open and followed in suit, you and Aaron storming into the house and splitting apart.

"FBI-" You'd barely managed to yell before your body was slammed against the tiled wall of the bathroom you'd walked into. Your head met the tiles, vision going blurry as you crashed down to your knees right in front of the unsub. It had felt like your brain exploded inside your head, sending a shock wave of goose bumps and shivers over your body as you struggled to get back to your feet.

You didn't need to worry about protecting yourself though, because right before the unsub could come for you again three gun shots rang through the air. The unsub froze before collapsing in front of you, revealing Aaron lowering his weapon in the bathroom doorway.

"Y/n?" Left Aaron's mouth airily, panic washing over his face as he stepped inside the room and around the dead unsub before kneeling down in front of you. Your eyes were shut tightly, chest heaving as you tried to gulp up as much air as possible. Aaron brought his hands up to your jaw, lifting your head so he could see your face- your pained face. Aaron lightly moved his hands to cover your ears for a moment.

"I need a medic" Aaron yelled, but with his face turned away from you so it didn't echo right into your ears and put you in more pain than you were already in. Aaron looked back at you, tucking your hair behind your ears before lightly massaging your neck with his hands, trying to put your focus on something else.

"Where does it hurt, honey?" He asked quietly as you turned your face, dropping it into the palm of his hand. A pained whimper left your mouth as you leant into him, unable to support yourself.

"Everywhere. God, everything hurts" You groaned, head falling forward and against Aaron's chest as you fought for air. Your head was pounding from your second concussion of the week, and you struggled to talk and breathe, having been winded by the unsub body slamming you against the bathroom walls.

"Please step away, Agent" A paramedic calmly asked Aaron who let go of you reluctantly, pushing himself back up to his feet. He stood frowning, hands clenching and unclenching as he watched the medic talk to and guide you through a few exercises.

You were hurt and Aaron felt like it was all his fault. He felt sick looking at your face scrunched up in pain. He grimaced at the whines and sharp intakes when the medic touched somewhere too sensitive. He took a step back when the medic asked if you'd gotten a concussion recently.

"Yes" You huffed, Aaron's lips parting as his eyes darted between your face and your shaking hands. Aaron felt like he was going to vomit.

He absolutely hated himself for the way he acted just less than a week ago, and the argument you'd had. He should've been proud that you, his tough girl, took down an unsub all on your own, but now all he was thinking about was how hypocritical he'd been and the fact his anger had blinded him from seeing you weren't okay, and that you'd really been hurt.

You had been hurt and he didn't take care of you. He didn't deserve you, was the conclusion he'd come to and he didn't know what to do about it- fight for you and prove he can be someone who deserves you, or let you go and find someone a thousand times better than him.

"She's got to go to the hospital. She's got a concussion and a possible broken rib" The medic had turned back to Aaron who released a heavy deep breath despite the fact his heart was hammering so fast it threatened to burst out of his chest. Aaron wanted to step forward and reach out for you. He didn't care who was around, he was ready to drop to his knees for you, but a few medics walked into the room and helped you out of the unsubs house and into an ambulance.

The team barely talked to Aaron as they got into the SUV's and followed the ambulance to the hospital, not because they thought it was his fault that you'd been hurt, but because they could see he was blaming himself. So they decided to give him some space in hopes he'd come to his senses and realise it wasn't his fault.

The whole team sat in the waiting room of the hospital, everyone except for Aaron dozing off after the first couple hours without an update of your condition. The second a doctor emerged and looked in the teams direction Aaron was on his feet and walking over. He remained extra quiet not wanting to wake the team after an exhausting case but mainly because if you were alright for visitors he wanted to see you- alone.

"How is she?" Was the first thing Aaron asked making the doctor smile as she nodded back at the room you were in.

"She's alright. You're Aaron I presume?" He nodded, frowning slightly as he wondered how the doctor knew his name. She read the look of confusion on his face and offered him a smile as she stepped away from the door.

"She's been asking for you for about an hour" Aaron's heart swelled, chest heavy as he thanked the doctor and walked over to the door of your hospital room. He opened the door, stepping inside before shutting it quietly behind himself. He turned around and the second his eyes met yours he was at your side.

No words were spoken as he leant down, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, hand holding your head against his chest as he deeply breathed you in. You raised your hand, gripping onto his arm and closing your eyes, basking in the warmth and comfort of his chest.

"How is it that you're the one who's hurt yet all you can do is ask about me?" Aaron mumbled into your hair, finally able to relieve the weight in his chest and breathe now that he has seen you're alright with his own eyes. You chuckled into his chest before wincing, hand dropping from his arm and immediately pressing against your broken rib.

Aaron leant back at the sound of your wince, taking your face in his hands and pushing your hair back out of your eyes. You smiled up at him the whole time, your argument not even in the back of your mind as you thought about how happy you were to see him.

"Doctor ratted me out, huh?" You asked quietly, Aaron's lips twitching up in a tiny smile as he glanced over your face, making sure you were okay.

"Yeah, she did" He replied before sighing and letting his head fall against your shoulder. You both enjoyed each others company in a moment of silence, though you could hear Aaron's brain ticking.

"I'm okay" You whispered, raising your hand to his head and running it through his thick hair.

"I know, you're my tough girl. I just worry" Aaron responded, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before pulling back, his dark eyes meeting yours.

"I'm so sorry, honey. For everything. I had no right to get mad at you the other day, and I know that. It's just...you and Jack are all I've got and the thought alone of losing either one of you-"

"It's okay, Aaron" You cut him off, cupping his face in your hands as his eyes bounced back and forth between yours.

"No, it's not though. I was an asshole, the way I treated you, the way I spoke to you. You deserve so much better than that and I promise I'll do everything in my power to be the person that deserves you" You hated seeing Aaron beat himself up over your argument. You felt petty and childish for having turned your back on him all week. All you wanted was to put it past you.

"You don't need to do anything else. You're already there. I know it's scary, me being in the field, but it's also scary for me every time you're out too. No matter what, I trust you'll come back to me. Now it's your turn to trust I'll come home to you...if you want me to" Aaron couldn't fight the laugh of disbelief that bubbled out of his throat as he stared at you like you had two heads. Wasting no time, he took your face in his hands and brought his mouth down against yours hard.

"I would scour every inch of the globe for you, if one night you didn't come home to me. I love you so much, Y/n" Aaron always knew exactly what to say to make you putty in his hands. You kissed him back just as hard, and just as desperately, ignoring the pain from your broken rib.

"I love you too, Aaron."

[revivif-y]

Also posted on ao3.

---

Fabian doesn’t know when it started to hurt.

It’s the little things, you know? The stupid things that feel like nothing to everyone else but feels like iron weights to him. Things like Sklonda mussing up Riz’s hair with a grin, the proud look in Sandra Lynn’s eyes when she looks at Fig, the way Gilear worries and worries and worries and the way Jawbone hugs Adaine.

It feels scalding to look at, sometimes. Boiling hot water poured down his throat that he’s forced to swallow down. There’s a deep, roiling shame that reverberates through him in these moments– a feeling that cooks him alive and leaves him thrashing for escape. He can’t stomach it, can’t swallow back the acid and the jealousy and the jagged bitterness that threatens to cut through.

He reigns it in, best as he can– averts his eyes when Ragh and Lydia share a look, focuses hard on his breathing when Gorthalax says “That’s my girl!”

He digs his nails into his palms when the Thistlesprings fuss over Gorgug, tries his damndest not to stare when they pull out bandages for his scrapes after practice. He leaves, mentally, checking out every time because the affection feels like thorns, gnarled and tearing at him if he thinks about it for too long. 

(Because he wants it. He wants it so, so bad that the absence feels like it’s eating him alive. Chunks of flesh torn away as his bones flake and crumble, a void where his chest should be.)

(It doesn’t hurt, most days.)

(But other times it’s all he can feel.)

Fabian breaks, sometimes. Only sometimes, not all the time– only when he’s fallen far enough that he thinks he can change anything.

When Fabian breaks, (chest heaving with stuttering breaths, palms clammy and his mind swimming) he calls people. A truly pathetic display he’s glad only he can witness.

Calling his Mama is one thing: Fabian lets it ring, feels the droning ringtone vibrate in the air, the sound measured as he dry heaves in his room. Calls once, then twice, then three times. Over and over until the sound lulls him to sleep or he’s worked up enough that this makes him shatter his phone against a wall.

She always apologizes for missing them, after. There’s always something– another stroke of good luck for Gilear, she was asleep, she was partying, she was sunbathing, she was drunk– always, always something, but when he checks her Crystalgram it says she posted it while he called and that. That.

It breaks him. Chips away at him further, shards shattering into splinters pulverized into dust. It shatters him, eats at him, rends him limb from limb as he screams in his empty manor and wonders why.

He thinks of calling his Papa, sometimes. At his lowest, at his darkest and most wretched. He thinks of broadcasting his misery onto all of Hell for even the slightest chance that he will answer– that Bill Seacaster will race to his voice like a beacon and tell his son that everything will be okay. That there is nothing wrong with him and that he loves him and that he is never, ever alone.

…It’ll never happen, though. Contrary to popular belief, Fabian knows how to be realistic.

(His Papa loves him. He does. Fabian knows he does.)

(Just not that much.)

He tries not to put too much stock into these one-sided calls– tells himself that no parent would drop everything for their kids, would come running if they called, kill the Devil just to return home. No parent would do that, it’s unrealistic and certainly not for someone his age.

He’s the man of the house. He’s the man of the house.

(“I told my dad about you guys,” Riz told them, once, his voice soft yet so happy. “He said he listens, you know, every time I go to his grave and talk. I only really tell him the cool shit, but…”)

(Riz grins, wide and toothy.)

(“He told me to tell him about the mundane, too.”)

It takes a few seconds for Fabian to realize that the wheezing, ragged breaths in the room are coming from him.

The thing is. The thing is.

The thing is that Fabian doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

Harsh, ragged crying spills past his lips, spikes of pain blooming from his palms. They’re reddened and his nails are bloody but he doesn’t care– Fabian rips off his eyepatch, stares at scarred skin and an empty eye socket and cries.

The noise he makes is broken, almost animalistic as silver hair covers his face, sticking to his skin. He feels like a wound, oozing and raw and searing with pain. He feels broken. He feels like something unworthy of love, the kind that stays hidden in the basement because the rot of him is too ghastly to stomach.

Questions rattle and whirl around in his head– a hurricane of sinking ships and splintering wood, blood pooling in the waters.

Questions like why and why not and why can’t I have that. Questions like is it me, is there something wrong with me, is it something I’ve done wrong. Questions become statements become I would change myself if I could. I would mold myself into what you wanted if I could. Teach me how teach me how teach me how teach me how.

I would if I could and I want to be loved. I want to be loved and I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I wish that I did because then I could fix it and I’ll be worthy I’ll be loved and I’ll be wanted.

There are sharks under the water in his mind, sharp teeth and smelling blood as Fabian bleeds, bleeds, and bleeds.

Why don’t you want me? He wants to scream. At the grey, thundering skies, at the endless, unfeeling torrent of rain. He thinks of his Father, battling devils in the fiery realm of Hell. He thinks of his Mother, lounging in the sun and giggly with wine, relaxed and happier while Fabian’s at home. He thinks of them, and he thinks of Sklonda, of Gorthalax, of Sandra Lynn and Gilear and Jawbone and Lydia and all the others that love their children like they’re gifts and not a curse. 

He thinks of the way his Mama looks at him and his chest rips wide open as the sharks rip and tear at his flesh. He thinks of how far away her love feels and how he misses his Papa and he’s drowning, drowning, drowning.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Fabian wakes up. He looks like a wreck.

He pushes himself to his feet. His palms sting, his throat dry and raspy.

It’s just another bad day, Fabian tells himself, dull-eyed as he drinks mouthfuls of water, wiping at his lip. It’s just another bad day.

Fabian wakes up, just as alone as when he passed out.

…It’s okay. It’s okay.

(That’s the only thing it can be.)

[blacklegsanjiii]

Domestic Marco and Sora on the brain, because they're so gross in love I'm going to be sick. Also they're both so cute with their son.

When Sora joins the crew, she takes to helping Marco make medicine first or sewing clothes back together because they're the White Beard fleet, they fight as much as they party. Marco is just thrilled to have someone actually want to listen and learn no matter the reason. Then when they start "dating" which is just doing what they've been doing but way more touchy and Marco will use whatever excuse he can to have Sora in his lap or hold her or whatever. When they ask Sanji for what is basically his blessing for them to be together, he's looking at them in all his like nine or ten year old glory like 'yeah, that's fine, I thought you already got married or something' which makes Marco laugh so hard he's wheezing as Sora explains that's not how relationships work necessarily and they'll talk about it more when he's older.

The first time Sanji refers to Marco as "dad" Marco puts him on his shoulders for the whole day after Sanji's embarrassment subsides and Marco assures him it's alright and he would love to be Sanji's dad if he'd let him. Sora calls White Beard 'Pops' and Sanji calls him 'Old Man' because truthfully they're in the family, have been since Marco's bird brain brought them to the fleet but they let them name them as family in their own time.

White Beard is always excited to have more people join the family. He tells Sanji stories and he's so loud and boisterous but he'll take Sanji so Sora and Marco and can just have some time together. Maybe they'll go to an island and go shopping or something. Sora is really good at keeping Marco's phoenix side in check but he will constantly play with her hair and everyone makes fun of him for it. Marco decides to become a pro at braiding so that he will have an excuse to play with her hair and have her in his lap.

The wedding happens on an island definitely not suited for the size of the bash they throw. Like it so fucking big. The ENTIRE fleet is all the subordinate captains and crews, it is a full week of drinking, eating, dancing, singing, and all the other debauchery that comes with being a pirate. It is the best excuse Marco has had to hold his wife, she's his wife now, he can't fucking believe she married him, he is on cloud nine if not fucking higher with how much luck he thinks he had to fucking land her. Sora in a similar boat of just absolutely over the moon that Marco loves her so fucking much and the fleet welcomed her and Sanji so easily that she has so many happy tears that week and obviously everyone knows the government is going to come after them, if not Germa so like they are balling that whole week, no indulgence is set to side really.

Shanks rolling up to talk about a possible alliance after that and meets Sora and Sanji who Marco has to like haul out of the galley to meet a fellow emperor. Marco is holding a twelve year old Sanji who is just struggling to get back to the galley and the Redhaired Pirates fucking lose it at the sight of Marco holding Sanji away from and introducing him like he is some sort of feral kitten and when he is set down Sanji fucking books it to the galley and yells for Thatch to get his dad. White Beard is chuckling at the show of his grandchild as he and Shanks go to talk and waves off any worry the visitors might have about him or Sora.

Marco probably still takes Sanji on his first mission when he's sixteen and Sanji gets that 100m Beri bounty and now he has take a verbal lashing from his wife and White Beard. Both of them demanding to know why he would take Sanji out. Marco says it's good learning and he needs to be prepared when he comes up because Thatch chose him as his successor, they're pirates and Sora has a sizable bounty already and has been on raids and such with them. Sanji is a pirate, he's been a brat of the fleet since he was eight, he has plans to find the All Blue and reign as a monster of the sea. Marco tells this all to Sora when they're in bed and she knows, she does, but she risked so much to save him and Marco just holds her.

Sora is a fearsome pirate in her own right, she doesn't hold a real rank in the fleet outside of Marco's wife, but her bounty does match the commanders and she's a remarkable swordsman. Her bounty is over a billion beri Marco has it in his office, next to Sanji's and the small photo of the three of them. Sora's locket has a photo of Sanji and Marco in it. They're so fucking gross in love. I adore them.

[kpop-stories-21]

Stains of Crimson | Part 1

Group: ATEEZ

Pairing: Jongho x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: 18-21+

Genres, Tropes, & AUs: Non-Idol AU, Dark Fae AU, Fantasy AU, Angst, Smut, Dark Content

Content & Trigger Warnings: Daoine Sidhe!Jongho, Pirate Captain!Reader, dark content, graphic descriptions of fighting, graphic descriptions of death, graphic descriptions of gore, blood, injuries, brief & graphic mention of torture

Summary: On the eve of a semi-successful catch, your crew mutinies, leaving you tied up on some unknown island inside a circle of mushrooms

General tags: @kpop---scenarios @stardragongalaxy @jeonrose @skittlez-area512 @mybiasisexo @biaswreckingfics @anyamaris @trashlord-007 @liliesofdreamsskz @pyeonghongrie-main @naturalogre @bxffietheblxxdy @sanjoongie ATEEZ tags: @lovelyhange @spicyseonghwas @firefox79 @alex-tinyy

If you want to be added to my taglist, click here

Network pings: @kdiarynet | @cultofdionysusnet | @sandsofire

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Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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“Ship ahoy!” Came the cry from the crow’s nest. Spyglass raised, you turned your gaze to the sea and there, just off the starboard bow, was your prize: a merchant’s ship called the Santa Avaña, which was reportedly filled to near bursting with all manner of priceless jewels and artefacts. This haul should allow you and your crew to take a lavish holiday somewhere more friendly to pirates.

“Orders, Captain?” First Mate Jeonghan asked, coming up beside you. Pocketing your spyglass, you turned to him with fire in your grey eyes.

“We’ll use that approaching fog bank to our advantage, come up near her stern and take her from behind. With luck, they’ll never even see us coming.”

“Aye, sounds like a good plan to me.” Jeonghan nodded and left to pass on the plan of attack.

A chill wind whipped the icy fog through the air, threatening to rip your hat from its perch. You stood ready at the bow of your own ship, the Poison, one hand on your cutlass and the other on your pistol. Just a bit closer…closer…now!

“Attack!” You cried out, grabbing hold of a rope and swinging aboard the other ship. Whipping your cutlass out, you immediately began to hack your way through soldier and servant alike. The pirate scourge Scarla had never left a soul alive before, and you certainly weren’t going to start now.

Blood painted the deck in a crimson display, the battle nearly over before it had really begun. Many a new conscript had complained of ears ringing from all the screams, but you had long since grown used to it. In fact, some small part of you even enjoyed those sounds of the abject terror that preluded death.

Before long silence reigned once more on the deck of the Santa Avaña, peaceful in her dying moments. None but the ship’s captain still drew breath, and he was only saved in order to unlock the cargo hold.

“You filthy fucking pirates!” He screamed, half-mad with fury and fright. “Just wait until the navy hears about this. They’ll catch you one day, and then you’ll hang for your crimes!!”

You laughed mirthlessly, fingers gripping his hair tightly as you hauled him off his knees up to eye level. “But who will tell the Navy if there are no survivors?”

The captain wheezed out a laugh, spittle mixing with the blood pooling in his mouth. “I feared such an attack, and left my son instructions to alert the Navy if I failed to arrive at my destination.”

You grinned wickedly, knowing what you were about to say would likely break this pathetic man. “Your son wouldn’t happen to have the name William, would he?”

The captain’s body sagged, some of the life leaving his eyes. “You- What did you do to him, you monster?!”

You giggled lightly, the growing flames that surrounded you making you look like the madwoman you were. “Oh, nothing too bad; just cut off a few fingers, maybe a limb or two. Whatever it took for him to send a letter to the Navy informing them that your trip would be delayed a few days. Then we left him there. He’s probably bled out by now, you know.”

An almost animalistic cry ripped from the captain’s blood-speckled lips, the willpower draining from his eyes as he slumped back onto his knees. Weakly digging through his pockets, he produced the key to the ship’s cargo hold, tossing it at your feet with a half-hearted attempt at disgust.

“Just take it and kill me. I have nothing left to fight for anymore.”

You leaned down, picking up the key and pocketing it with a chuckle. “I find that quite agreeable, don’t you boys?” The cheers of your crew filled the once silent air.

“Vernon and Seungcheol, with me. The rest of you, take care of this pitiful excuse for a human and prepare to finish burning the ship.”

The two crewmates you named split from the group and fell in behind you as you made your way into the lower decks of the ship. You found the cargo hold almost immediately, and unlocked it with the captain’s key. To your dismay, however, the hold was only half full and many of the items didn’t even look to be worth two dirt-covered gold pieces.

“Lying bastards!” You hissed, features dark with fury. Red-hot colour stained your vision and you swung your cutlass wildly, taking out your anger out on the ship itself. After several tense moments, you finally came back to yourself and looked at the two concerned men apologetically. They said nothing, merely nodding in acknowledgement, then Seungcheol went and fetched a few of the crew to help carry everything back to the ship.

As things were being transferred, you got the odd sense that some of the crew were harbouring feelings of anger or suspicion towards you, but you chalked it up to lingering nerves from your momentary breakdown and left it at that. Once back onboard the Poison, the archers among your crew lit flaming arrows and set the remains of the Santa Avaña ablaze.

You watched the hunk of burning wood sink into the unforgiving waves, then turned back to your own ship. Many of the crewmembers were huddled together, whispering amongst themselves. Something about it put you on edge, so you made a mental note to ask Seungcheol about it later. For now, it was time for everyone to rest and recover from the battle(if it could even be called that).

You were awakened in the dark of night by a hand clapped over your mouth. Instinctively you reached for your cutlass, only to find that your arms were restrained behind you. You cast your gaze around the room, trying to identify your attacker, and were shocked to find that it was none other than Seungcheol who was holding you down. He at least had the decency to look somewhat apologetic when you made eye contact.

“Sorry Captain.” He murmured as he wrapped a cloth over your lips. “Me and some of the others have been feeling like you’re holding out on us, keeping some of the booty for yourself. This seemed the only way to change things.”

So that’s what all this is about. You mused to yourself. A mutiny. Rage rose up within you and you sat, seething, while Seungcheol bound you tightly.

“A few of the boys were against the mutiny; namely Joshua, Vernon, Seungkwan, and Seokmin; but they were outnumbered by the rest of us. The place we’re sailing to has reportedly had a lot of fairy circles show up lately, so when we land we’ll leave you in a fairy circle and let the Fae deal with you.”

You rolled your eyes. Your parents had believed in such fairytales as well, hammering basic rules for encountering “the Fae” into you so often you could probably still recite them in your sleep. Fairytales were just crutches for weak-minded people, and you were disappointed in your crew for stooping to such levels when you’d thought of them as such strong-willed individuals.

It took almost four full days to reach the place Seungcheol had spoken of, time during which you were kept bound and gagged in your cabin. None of the crewmates who were sympathetic to you were allowed to see you and your meals were sparse enough that by the time the faint call of “Land ho!” reached your ears, hunger pains were beginning to set in. You had to admit, you’d taught them well how to be harsh and ruthless to their prisoners.

It was not Seungcheol who came to fetch you when the Poison docked, but Minghao and Mingyu. Mingyu untied your feet, and the two of them half-dragged you across the main deck until the feeling returned to your legs and you could walk on your own.

Seungcheol was waiting at the bottom of the gangplank, and soon the four of you began the trek into the woods to find a “fairy circle”. Half-an-hour or so passed until Seungcheol stopped, eyes on the ground in front of him. He stepped aside, and you finally saw what he’d been looking for: a large group of mushrooms growing in a perfect circle. You had to admit, it was rather unusual how perfectly the ring had grown. Mingyu re-tied your feet and they laid you on your side in the midst of the circle.

“So long Captain.” Minghao spoke for the first time.

“A shame things had to end this way.” Mingyu added, not looking very sorry about it.

The three men turned and walked away without looking back.

You lay on the damp earth for gods knew how long, alternating between bouts of sleep and wakefulness. As the sun was colouring the sky on its way down, you heard the telltale sounds of many feet headed your way. Immediately alert, your eyes darted from place to place, ever watchful as you worked to catch a glimpse of who - or what - was approaching.

Several figures came out of the growing shadows, walking straight towards you. As they got closer you could make out odd features on some of them, such as pointed ears, strangely coloured eyes, or even wings. Much as you hated to admit it, it seemed the Fae really did exist after all.

“Look, Astario, this little fly has already been tied up!” The Fae at the front of the group declared with a derisive chuckle.

The one named Astario grinned smugly. “Indeed! It seems a spider did not want this one. Perhaps we can find a use for her, Ronwyl.”

Ronwyl nodded. “The Doctor will be most pleased.”

Leaning over, Astario yanked you roughly to your feet, untied the rope around your ankles, and tied your wrists to the saddle of a horse that you presumed was his. “Do try to keep up, little fly.”

«-Previous | Next-»

[noorpersona]

Broken Telephone Pt. 5 (Finale)

You’ve finally reached the end of your rope.

With seemingly everyone in the universe knowing, it was only a matter of time before Fushiguro found out too. You had doomsday approaching, but you didn’t know when.

And this was the worst kind of psychological torment.

Now that Gojo was in on it too, this added a whole new layer of terror with him being a whirlwind of unpredictability. You quite literally did not know what to do.

But you did know what you wanted to do.

You burst into one of the common areas, one that you knew where they were. They both jumped at the sound when they turned around to peer at your rage-induced state. You watched your fellow first-years go wide-eyed as they could feel your ferocity ebbing off you in waves, flames of fury practically swirling around you.

”Who. Did. It?” You asked, voice terrifyingly calm, looking is slight satisfaction as you watched your friends (tentative at the moment) squirm and sweat. Itadori stuttered, while Kugisaki only avoided the question. “What are you talking about? Did what?” You walked up to them, not breaking eye contact as you grabbed the sorcerer’s shoulders, grip so tight she couldn’t pull away, eyes boring into her soul.

“I am seconds away from collapsing in on myself like a dying star. If you don’t tell me right now what happened and why, I will do everything in my power to take you down with me.” You actually saw her gulp before Itadori stepped in. Arms up at the ready to prepare for any hellfire you might reign down upon them (though he was genuinely terrified he wouldn’t be able to stop you).

Before Itadori could say anything, Kugisaki finally spoke up, her voice trembling slightly. "Okay, okay, fine! We may have let it slip to Gojo-sensei that you… have a thing for Fushiguro." As Kugisaki and Itadori nervously awaited your response, you felt a tidal wave of emotions crashing over you. Your mind was a whirlwind of frustration, embarrassment, and sheer disbelief at the mess they had dragged you into. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure, but it was like trying to hold back a flood with your bare hands.

"Are you kidding me?!" you finally exclaimed, unable to contain your frustration any longer. "Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

Itadori winced, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I-I'm sorry, [Name], we didn't think it would—"

“Oh wow, I’m not surprised! Like you two haven’t run me through the mud five times over!” You snarled. “I said one thing! ONE! And now I’m suddenly being shipped to marriage?!” You had yelled, but just the absolute ridiculousness of the sentence, once it had run through your mind, made you burst out in only slightly insane laughter. Your classmates only looked at you in bewilderment as you wheezed, tears welling up in your eyes as you sighed with the realization.

“I’m gonna have to tell him aren’t I?” The question was mostly asked to yourself, with neither Itadori nor Kugisaki answering.

“Tell who what?” It was his voice that snapped you out of hysterics, head whipping to Fushiguro standing at the open doors, confused and concerned. The three of you made eye-contact before the brightly hair-coloured duo stumbled through their exits with shitty excuses such as ‘I think I hear Jennifer Lawrence calling me’ and ’I need to run to Home Depot’ before scurrying off like rats.

True to form.

“What was that about?” Fushiguro asks, still confused as hell. You huff out a chuckle, before shaking your head. “Who honestly knows with those two?” You ask rhetorically, before meeting the sorcerer’s eyes to find them already staring at you. “I heard yelling. What were you chastising them for this time?” You smile to yourself, mentally preparing for what you have to do. What you needed to do.

For some strange reason, you felt a wave of calm over you. You realized that really, deeply, it wasn’t that big of a deal.

It never was.

“They’ve been tormenting me over a secret I have. About you.” At his mentioning, he tilts his head, eyes unreadable. Your smile widens emptily. “I stupidly told Kugisaki I had feelings for you. You can imagine how that went.” You chuckle, devoid of humour. You refused to meet his eyes as you continued.

“Don’t worry, I don’t expect anything from you. I just figured it’d be less awkward if it came from me instead of Gojo.” You shivered at the thought. “I just knew that I had to tell you to not lose my mind.” You shrugged at the end, before sighing.

“I’m really sorry—“

“Why are you sorry?” His words made your heart stop. Face flushing with heat and surprise, you look up to him finding his face attempting to be neutral, but an extremely strong blush flooding his cheeks. “This isn’t really big news, either. I could sort of tell.” You gasp, somewhat jokingly.

“Was I really that obvious?” You rub your cheeks in embarrassment, “Well, I promise there won’t be anything else like that.” Fushiguro didn’t say anything, only walking up towards you so close you could feel his body heat and smell him. Of course, he smelled amazing. You looked up meekly, not knowing how to react.

“Our profession is one filled with loneliness and pain. It only makes sense that when you share that profession with others you’ll form any and all feelings. You want someone to stand still when you’re in constant motion.” He explains, and you’re not quite sure where you’re going with this until he looks away from you.

“I… Wouldn’t mind standing still with you.” You could tell your eyes shined at his words. Never in a million years would you have expected to hear that.

It wasn’t exactly a confession, but you sure as hell wouldn’t want anything else. His reassurance was like a balm to your frazzled nerves, soothing the turmoil within you and offering a glimmer of hope in the midst of the chaos. And when he confessed his own feelings in his own quiet, understated way, you couldn't help but feel a rush of emotion overwhelm you.

It wasn't the grand declaration of love you had always dreamed of, but it was something real, something genuine, and in that moment, it was more than enough.

As you stood there, basking in the warmth of Fushiguro's presence, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected turn of events. Despite the messiness of it all, despite the chaos and confusion, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to stand still with him, if only for a moment.

You couldn’t believe after this broken telephone, you finally got a message you saw truth in.

[ghostypetrainer]

picturing melli coming to the house while ingo is the only one there in hopes of finding something out from ingo that he can use to get cyllene to fire zisu from operation strix and hopefully get melli instilled in the position instead, only for ingo to think zisu's coworker is trying to replace him as zisu's husband by intimidating him with how much more melli knows about her... lmao

Wheezes... I can't personally see Ingo feeling too threatened by Melli because nothing about him seems like he'd be the type of person that Zisu would like... and at least he knows that much about her! But also I think what really would happen is that Ingo would unintentionally intimidate Melli, making him think that Ingo is actually a spy planted in that position in order to thwart Melli's attempts at becoming a superior spy to Zisu... which is just more reason he has to take them both down! The Great Melli will reign supreme!

[asukamood]

Unfinished wips #1

So I’ve recently dug out those wips from my Docs that I’m likely not to finish and I went: Why not publish them since I’m gonna die because of hs again?

So here we are, “enjoy” your “reading”

(Emphasis on the quotes since there is a reason why I’ve never finished them)

***

Life sucks: A documentary (This is legitimately the title I gave it)

Panic at the disco? More like panic in the office. (Dreamswap setting)

Synopsis: Blue catches Dream in the middle of a panic and helps him calm down. They were then supposed to do some couple things my single butt cannot comprehend but I said no apparently.

***

When Blue woke up this morning, he wasn’t expecting anything interesting to happen today. He thought everything would play out like usual: he would wake up, do his routine and then go bother the leader of Justice Reigns.

He wasn’t expecting to find the said leader in the middle of a panic attack.

It was simple. He had stepped in, a smile on his face, ready to nag the older one about how his attempt at upgrading his security system was a complete failure as it may have been the fifth time he changed it.

His grin quickly faltered though upon noticing something was amiss. For starters, the blonde-haired man had given no reaction to Blue’s presence.

Not a single scold or sigh, nothing. He would have thought he was ignoring him if it wasn’t for the fact the man was also shaking like a leaf in the wind.

One of his arms was raised and Dream’s eyes were fixated on his right hand, which looked strangely… straight. It wasn’t shaking as badly as his other limbs yet by the look on his face, it seemed to be the source of the complete dread in his irises.

His breaths also sounded forced and short, they came in wheezes, like how a drowning man fighting for his life would sound like.

Blue rushed toward him immediately, concern immediately taking over. Whether he was a good 10 feet away from him or merely inches away, he still looked unaware of the other’s presence, still obnubilated by his static hand.

“Dream?” His breath quickened slightly but he didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence yet. “Dream!”

He repeated this time louder which finally seems to affect him. He flinched, eyes darting in his direction and glistening with shock.

“… Blue?” His voice was barely louder than a whisper but it was enough for the teacher, at least he could still recognize him.

Blue nodded, cupping his cheeks. “Can you hear me? Nod if you understand.” Dream’s head moved up and down. “Good, at the count of three we’ll take a few deep breaths together okay?”

“One.” Dream’s eyes kept darting between Blue’s face and his hand.

“Two.” The latter tightened his grip on his face which ultimately caused Dream to keep his attention on him.

“Three.” As he had described earlier, Blue started to take a few exaggerated breaths slowly, watching the other carefully. It took a few seconds but the winged man imitated him soon after, finally gaining back some colors.

A few minutes of that exercise were needed for Dream to be breathing normally again and once that was done, a long sigh escaped him as he slouched onto his chair.

“Better?” Blue already knew the answer to that but it never hurt anybody to ask for confirmation.

A simple nod was all he got for an answer and to put on top of everything, Dream wasn’t even looking in his direction anymore. His irises moved back to look at his hand.

“Do you know why…” Should he just straight-up name what he saw? Probably not, there was no way Dream would willingly talk about it then. “This happened?”

His eyebrows furrowed at the question. He wasn’t exactly angry, just as confused as he was.

“No.” He shook his head with one hand on his forehead, eyes a little hazy. “I don’t know what happened either, I just… I was just working and…”

***

Fateful Night

Synopsis: The untold tale of the night Dream and Nightmare were snatched by the Tree of Feelings aka Nim.

===

In the dead of night, two men stood side by side in front of the Tree of Emotions. One held an axe and the other, a large bag. Their goal? Steal the golden apples of said tree. Everyone in the universe knew that this was forbidden, that if they were caught, divine punishment would await them.

The two of them had different reasons to be here but they were here together nevertheless, they tried to climb the tree but before they could do this, a green spirit emerged from the tree and sent them flying, bodies rolling on the ground.

Panic soon filled them and they stared at the spirit, terror in their eyes.

“Fools.” The phantom, also known as Nim, spat out with venom in her pristine white eyes. “You are utter fools, you have been warned, countless times.” She floated closer to them, because she didn’t possess any legs before stopping right at their level. “Yet you still chose to come here.”

She shook her head in disapproval, a sigh escaping her mouth. “Just killing you won’t be enough to make you learn their lesson.” Roots came forth from the ground. “Therefore, the price of your greed…” There was a pause. “will be your sons.”

[anxietymuffin]

DAY 10: FEAST

The minutemen were in the process of taking back the castle.

It had been overrun with Mirelurks which now made sense due to location beside the ocean. Which in bigger numbers they were difficult to handle but being backed by the minutemen Preston had managed to scrape together made it seem like an apprentice’s job.

When the last shell was overturned and stopped wiggling, he wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked around at the successful mission. His eyes landed on Preston who was walking over towards him, seemingly urgent.

“Y’know I was expecting this to be a bit more of a challenge.” Matt remarked, holstering his gun. “Yeah.. me too, but I don’t get it.. surely the minutemen would have been able to defend themselves agains a horde like this. Maybe they changed the story to one huge ferocious monster to make it sound less embarrassing.” Preston replied with a breathy chuckle as he leaned over to catch his breath.

The other minutemen assumed their positions around the area, some walking right out towards the ocean to check for any more Mirelurks.

“That is.. strange.” Matt shrugged, a bad feeling pooling in his stomach as he looked around. “Y’know I’d hate to see all this meat go to waste. Do you think that maybe we could—“

A loud roar rattled their bones and shook the ground beneath them.

All attention turned to the source as the water bubbled, the minutemen closest to the water were running for cover as a Mirelurk Queen shrieked and thrashed around. It emerged from the water and crawled towards them, snapping it’s pincers. The sight was enough for to have a man wailing all the way home, everyone running around to assume positions.

It wasn’t like anything he’s ever seen before, a horrific and almost eldritch being from the pits of a nuclear hell.

Matt fumbled for his gun as the beast crawled towards him, in a split second he watched it’s jaw open and shoved Preston aside. They dodged a spew of acidic sludge which rained in their previous direction, Matt ran for cover inside of the castle just out of reach of the Queen.

“What the fuck— WhAT the FUCK!” He wheezed, reloading his gun.

Outside he could hear more people screaming and gunshots rang out. He pat himself down searching for whatever could pose useful in his inventory.

His hands brushed past two frag mines he had pocketed on his way to the castle and a singular canister of jet. He’d have to make these last.

Taking a deep breath, Matt finally ran back out into the castle courtyard. The Queen taking hit after hit from the others distracted her long enough for him to activate the mines and throw them in her direction. The overgrown crab stumbled about after a blow to the face and stepped on the delicately placed weapons, blowing out a few legs.

It screeched, angrier than before as it rained acidic terror and whipped around.

Matt pulled out the canister of Jet and took a hit, immediately his with the effects that made the world turn slower and the clock nearly stop. He gave the beast everything he had shooting it in the head as many times as his trigger finger would allow. He drained all 40 rounds within the 10 second time frame the chem had allowed him, and the after effects hit him like a brick wall.

Stumbling back with blurred vision he went to reload his gun again.

What reigned on the monster clearly wasn’t enough cause she was still standing as well, standing and PISSED.

Matt looked up, ready to shoot once more when a large claw came down in his direction. He braced for impact but suddenly felt himself being shoved into the ground and a heavy weight following. His breath hitched and he glanced to his side to see Preston glancing back at the beast which was crawling away towards the other minutemen who shot at it with everything they had. Both men watched as the Mirelurk Queen shrieked one more time before collapsing onto the ground, disturbing the dirt and causing a cloud of dust to rise from it’s force.

It took a second to register what had happened, before Matt began chuckling.

Preston glanced down at the general with concern, but it all washed away as he watched the generally brooding man erupt in laughter, relief washing over both of them Preston began to laugh too.

“I didn’t know they grew that big!” Matt snorted between laughs. Preston chuckled too and shifted, realizing he was still on top of the other man but felt an arm around his waste pull him close into a hug. “But holy fuck was that scary, are you okay?” Matt continued, finally calming down.

“Oh— yeah man I’m okay.” Preston managed to get out without stumbling over his words. “Good.”

Eventually they both got up to oversee the damage done to the castle and people who fought. There were injuries however no fatalities which was an instant win. Matt dispatched the minutemen who still had some fight in them to scour the rest of the castle and destroy any and all eggs they come across while he got to work on the radio.

After awhile everything was finally set up they got a man on the first broadcast, announcing the success of the mission while the others worked on clean up. Matt looked down at the Mirelurk Queens body in the center of it all.

“What are you thinking about?” Preston inquired, wiping his hands off on his duster. “Well.. what a waste of meat this would all be.. and that this win is celebration worthy.” Matt replied, turning to him.

“Are you suggesting like— a feast?”

“Yeah! I mean look at this place. It’s the fastest way to get the word out, and food brings people together. We’d be feeding settlements and ensuring their trust in us. It works out perfectly for everyone, and it would be a shame to waste all this food.” Matt explained.

Preston didn’t need to think about it long, he trusted the General and this truly was the first step on the ladder to a successful union between all settlements. A trust did have to be built. The man had yet to be wrong before and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he chose the right man for the job. Finally, with a prideful smile, Preston strode over to the radio DJ and relayed the news.

“Tomorrow at dusk we’ll have a feast, all and any settlers welcome to join at the castle.”

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝐒𝟏:𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟏𝟓

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Kento Nanami's corporate empire flourished under his reign as CEO, casting a formidable shadow over the business realm. Competitors, like timid prey, sought in vain to replicate his success, their feeble attempts only causing tremors of anxiety in the business jungle. Nanami was the undisputed lion, and others dared not challenge his supremacy. He was an idol in the business world, being one of the most successful CEOs in the last decade, that was one of Nanami's many accomplishments. No one could get close to his level, let alone overtake him, no matter what strategy they used.

Therefore, when Nanami agreed to partner up with CoreTech and develop a new product together, all were shaken. This was very new and very different to what he would normally do. Time is ticking and Nanami has never been busier, slipping in and out of meetings and ordering for you to schedule new ones. His lunches are shortened or simply non-existent and his worst; is being forced to work overtime. That pissed him off to the core. This whole partnership had Nanami reconsidering whether he should dot his again. However, this momentum towards the launch of their newest product has caused you to go under too. It's starting to make you wish you kept your old job instead because this was not for the weak.

This afternoon, you're spending your lunch stuck in yet another meeting, having half the mind to just walk out. Though you'd never do such a thing. So there you are, sat with your head in your hands, disinterested staring at the oak table. Carefully inspecting and assessing every grain of the oak table, finding that far more amusing than the words coming out of the man's mouth. You aren't even writing down notes like Nanami asked you to, and he doesn't blame you. He himself wants to end the meeting and go home.

You watch as your fingers spin and twirl the pen in your hands, years of pen twirling in high school caused you to be quite good at it. The employee from CoreTech looks between the two of you nervously, feeling a sense of embarrassment for making the both of you so bored. You counted that he tripped over his sentences around 12 times before you stopped listening. That was 20 minutes ago. The employee watches as you find much more interest in a pen than him, and he notices how Nanami is staring at him blankly, pretending to engage in the conversation. Well, the unilateral conversation. All of this overthinking swirling in his mind and the next thing he knows, he's choking on his words. Quite literally. You lift up your head as you watch the timid man wheeze and cough hazardously, his face humiliatingly red. You and Nanami silently stare at him, not really opting for help, that is until you snap back into reality and realise that he's been coughing for too long.

"Water. Do you want water?" You ask him alarmed, as expected he doesn't answer instead he just wheezes some more. "I'll get you some water." Upon your return, you see Nanami, sitting a little further back in his chair, his nose slightly scrunched in disgust at the unhygienic man, watching as the employee uses his handkerchief. You slide the plastic cup towards the man, to which he sheepishly nods in gratefulness.

"You know what, how about we end the meeting here?" Nanami suggests. You can see how much the man wants that to happen, as his eyes gleam. He finishes his sips of water, before apologising profusely. He goes to shake Nanami's hand, to which Nanami, retracts and steps back " How about we just stick to verbal salutations instead?". The two of you shoo the man out and now it's just the two of you.

You don't take much notice of it when you take out your phone and start texting Naaila who seems to have been trying to reach you your whole lunch break. You also don't take much notice of Nanami simply just staring at you, watching you return to your seat. " I see you haven't made any notes on the meeting," he says, causing your blood to run cold. You had just managed to get him to tolerate you again, you can not have another slip-up. " It's fine, he wasn't saying anything of much use anyways."

There it is. Something you don't see often on this beautiful man's face. A smile followed his sentence. It immediately alleviates all tension " I felt bad for him when he started coughing." You say, looking away from him.

"Yeah, well don't feel too bad, he just coughed everywhere. The guy didn't even try to cover up." Suddenly, the blond stands, emphasising his height and walks towards a cabinet don't the side, pulling out a surface cleaner and a cloth. You immediately stand to go and clean it yourself to which he dismisses it. 

"No sit." It was almost as if you'd been hypnotised by the way you slowly started to lower yourself back into your chair, eyes glued to him. " You're tired enough as it is." He begins to neatly roll up his sleeves, to avoid any crinkling. His bare arms contract as he wipes the table, moving his arm round and round. His other arm gripping onto a nearby chair for stability, veins making a teasing appearance. It doesn't help when the sun shines on him through his big fat window wall. It doesn't help when you realise that your mouth is hanging open slightly and you look like some deprived woman.

You compose yourself, trying your hardest to recall your morals and explain to yourself why it's inappropriate to be attracted to your boss. With a gruff grunt escaping his lips, the man stands upright and puts the cleaning products back, leaving the table with a sheen layer of shine. One thing that has been on your mind throughout work this past week is the day that the new product will be launched. The event was 3 weeks away and you've never been more confused on how to feel. You were eager to see what it would be like as this one was your first ever, but you were also nervous. You've never been to these things you didn't know what you would do, what you'd have to wear. All you do know is that you are in charge of making the event the best one yet.

It has put a lot of pressure on your mind. You don't want to be known as the new girl who messed everything up. You were quite sour towards Nanami for that, giving you such a great job to do when you were still so new to the company. You hadn't noticed him staring at you deep in thought, that was until he said "What's on your mind?" His voice startles you a bit, causing you to jump slightly.

"Oh nothing." you're lying through your teeth as you actively avoid his gaze by looking at your feet instead, attempting to navigate the delicate balance between professionalism and personal disclosure. He pulls out a chair and moves it next to you, a subtle gesture that feels unexpectedly comforting.

"You can tell me L/N." His gentle approach and the slight softness in his voice seemed to have melted you a little bit. His demeanour is a surprising change to the sternness you've come to associate with him in the workplace.

"I'm just wondering about the launch event. " You look up at him and he seems to look attentive look on his face asking for you to carry on. " I've never been to one, so I don't really know what they're like."

"Well, once the event rolls around you won't have to much. The only major thing that happens is my speech and the product giveaway. All you have to do is solve any minor issues, though I don't think any are gonna happen." he responds. You sigh in relief, not knowing how much more stress you could take.

You smile up at him gratefully, to which he returns. The silence that follows takes an unexpected turn as your gaze lingers on Nanami. Your eyes trace the contours of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes, the precise arrangement of his hair, and the colour of his lips. It's a moment of silent appreciation, an unintentional study of the man in front of you. The air between you becomes charged, the unspoken tension almost visible. 

The quiet is interrupted by your stomach growling. The rush of heat to your face is undeniable, and you move swiftly to recover, excusing yourself with a hint of embarrassment. "I'm just gonna leave, I'll be back in fifteen minutes," you stammer, gathering your purse in a hasty motion. Now you're gone leaving Nanami in the office by himself chuckling.

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫…

[jeoseungsaja]

You could have it the easy way, simply skip over the festivities, recognise it for what companies are trying to gain from it, lock the door, stay inside, and hope that it will be a regular day, or at least one devoid of any strange surprises. OR you could have a dopey smiling dokkaebi standing at your front door, carrying a bouquet of royal azaleas and roses that is larger than his torso, multiple shopping bags filled to the brim with art supplies, chocolate, and other far too expensive gifts (from perfumes chosen according to Yeo's taste and with the sensitivity of his nose in mind, to expensive watches and handcrafted glass trinkets depicting objects, colours, anything he likes) hanging from his other arm, dressed to the nines and saying: "Happy Valentine's Day~"

@mythvoiced ♚ 💕 yeo's lovemeter when it comes to this absolutely heckin' precious dokkaebi is off the charts, it already broke because it exceeded the limits; what are limits, even, this fox's love toward shin is boundless--- 💕

♔ ———–

"Aish,"

he takes a step back to fully look at himself in the mirror; sighing as he adjusts the collar of his black-colored dress shirt. Gumiho stretches his arms and looks at the color of his blazer --- it's vibrant red, bought specifically for this occasion and he doesn't know if it's too much. Perhaps he should've purchased a different one? Perhaps he...should've just dressed as he usually does? Heavens, when was the last time he was this worried about looking good for someone? Centuries ago, most likely.

And when was the last time he celebrated a holiday like this? Mischievous fox used to take advantage of this day to purchase special sweets only released during Valentine's Day as to eat them by himself, not really minding the rest of meanings date could have. He'd spend the day going into different stores, dismissing every 'wow, your partner must be so lucky if you're buying something like this for them' with a nonchalant smile; taking all dulcet items home as to watch My Neighbor Totoro for nth time whilst eating away.

Who would've thought that life eventually had different plans for him. Forget all the candy for himself; brush away every lollipop and special flavor of ice cream with heart-shaped sprinkles. All the gifts he took the time to pick out during the past week were not chosen for him but for someone who occupies his mind all day, every day; for someone who makes his heart beat like the loudest drum just by a single look shared.

A hand rearranges bits and pieces of his lustrous hair, still having his doubts. Palms fall on his hips, wondering if he just should go ahead and choose something different from his closet. Maybe he should forget about this blazer, select another one, give this one to Rang, doesn’t he use hues like these? Would it fit him? Would he even want it? He can already imagine his face of distaste; the possible words spewed as to force denial out of lips --- maybe a present isn’t a good idea...for now. 

Suddenly, bell rings and notions swirl away; being short in time makes the decision for him, keeping clothes as they are. He gets out of his room and walks toward living room’s table, making sure all rectangular boxes are correctly arranged. Three boxes, all of them elegantly wrapped in shades of silver, gold and red. The biggest box has a long, coffee-colored coat inside; the medium-sized one contains a fluffy, soft pink sweater (the color reminded him of cherry blossoms, he had to buy it). The smallest holds a framed drawing made by Yeo, one with the image of hands holding each other; the sight of beach’s waves (different tones of blue) in the background and branches of olives spreading out of the sleeve of one of the painted hands, as if touch alone could make them grow. 

And yes, this might be a little cheesy, it might be a little sappy; so what? An enamored fox bleeds love all over the place and it cannot be helped. Besides, Kim Shin deserves all these things and much more; he’d give him the universe if he could trap it in a snow globe, if Shin asked him to. 

The bell rings again.

“I’m going, I---” 

If Shin’s the one behind the door (it is Shin, he can smell him from here, along with the mixture of other scents; he swears he’s also picking up the fragrance of roses from somewhere, and royal azaleas? What’s that other smell, it’s sweet---), then why is he ringing the bell? He could easily come inside, teleport himself right through...ah, always the respectful gentleman; he rather wait than break any boundaries.

Yeo opens the door.  So that’s why it also smells like roses and royal azaleas.

He chuckles, chuckles in a way where he can’t believe this is happening; chuckles in the shape of content giddiness; where lips keep a bright smile even when sound has temporarily faded from mouth. Though Yeo expected his visit, he didn’t expect all of this. The beautiful and gigantic bouquet; the numerous bags hanging from fingers and wrist --- goodness, does he even deserve any of this? Does he even deserve that gorgeous smile; the way Shin stands there, dressed so nicely, with bright eyes that look at him as if he’s worth much more than what others used to whisper in the past?

Maybe he doesn’t. But he wants to earn this. Doesn’t matter how many fights he has to fight for it, he’ll take them all if it means he’ll get to live more moments like these by Dokkaebi’s side. 

  “What’s all this? Shin, you--where did you get a bouquet this big? Royal azaleas are not easy to find during this season, where---”

 But it shouldn’t surprise him, should it? The great and outstanding Goblin is capable of finding royal azaleas in the middle of the desert if needed. To think Shin chose this combination instead of choosing whatever set of flowers was available; to think he remembers his favorite ones...well, the fox’s heart is in a flurry. 

  Yeo’s hands stretch to help him carry the bags; fingers latching to strings and noticing that the sweet scent he identified earlier is coming from there. 

“Is...there chocolate in here? Smells a bit of alcohol and scented oils in there, too...perfumes? Why are the bags so heavy? Now the gifts that are waiting for you in the living room will look bad next to these, such an overachiever---” 

A huff, but he smirks, as if to say that he’s only teasing; tone fond and far from holding any kind of negativity.  Yeo places some of the bags atop a coffee table near the corridor and the others on the floor due to lack of immediate space. He then turns about and leans in to smell the bouquet; pleasantly inhaling the rich fragrance. 

“So pretty. But you know who’s prettier?” 

Leaning back, he carefully takes the bouquet in his arms and with a roguish glint in his eye, he looks up to see Shin...and swiftly manages to sneak a peck on the other’s lips. 

“You. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

A playful smile dances on mouth before nonchalantly moving about; safely placing the flowers atop another table. He’ll definitely place them in a vase later, but first--- 

“I have to properly thank you for all of this.” 

He returns to where Shin is; closing entrance’s door and looking at him with utter fondness. Yeo tilts his head to a side, stretching his hand toward the holder of his heart, inviting him to take it if he wishes to. 

 “How about...one kiss for each gift? Each flower counts as one gift, so that alone gives you about...hmm...thirty, forty kisses? Maybe more? What do you say? If yes, you might want to sit down for this...it’s going to take a while. My lap’s available as a seat, just a suggestion---” 

———– ♔

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hi <3 I'm not sure if you're comfortable writing this but I'll try :) Smth where Buckys girlfriend suffers from a lung illness and normally he supports her whenever she feels bad, but one time he's on a long mission where he cant be there when he struggles breathing. Then the other Avengers at the compound take her to the hospital and call Buck who immediately rushes home to be by your side and it's all cute and fluffy in the end? :) Thank you very much <3

Trapped Air

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | whilst on a mission, you suffer with your breathing problems, leaving all to panic as you have air trapped in your lungs.

Warnings | breathing problems, angst, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of torture

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

There had been no call back from Bucky; he was on a mission far away, and deep undercover, and the fact that you had no response did not surprise you, however, it was impossible not to feel overcome with worry.

From what you knew, he was somewhere in Austria with Steve, and most likely irritated by the company of Sam. The thought of them together, waiting for further intel made you smile, and so you sat up on the sofa; the place where you had fallen into a rural slumber late the previous evening. That thought also made you lightly snicker to yourself, and had you grasping your chest in agony at the action.

You adjusted your seat on the sofa, kicking the blanket under your legs as you tried to relax your entire body. To subdue the worry for your love that you had and were experiencing, you and Nat had watched a movie, your head running with thoughts of the danger that your boyfriend was possibly under.

It was no doubt that James Buchanan Barnes, the White Wolf and former Winter Soldier was a fine fighter; he had endured and survived wars, achieving victory in the vast majority of his battles. But still, he was nothing more than a man, with a veil of serum coursing through his veins, and whilst it made him much stronger, he was still sustainable to injury, and worse.

Countless times had you seen him braised in bruises, and kissed along the seam of his scars, and though he had lived through decades, and still appeared unscathed considering the circumstances, he was a mortal man, able to die and it was far too clear for your scared eyes that he wouldn’t be able to survive every fall.

An emptiness peeled away inside of you as you placed the phone down, resting your head upon the arm of the sofa of where you had done so priorly. Taking a deep breath, you wheezed, feeling nothing more than internal pain, and it was not just for your longing to see Bucky again. It was indeed something else, a condition that you had grown used to over the years.

It had taken everything from you; the job that you had so well partook in was diminished to being unsuitable for your health. Being an avenger had once been your only purpose, but it had been the one thing that had broken you. From all the rubble and other pesticides that you had breathed in, it had tampered with your lungs, and made you to be nothing more than a victim, a fallen hero.

The worse thing about being fallen in such a way was that you had not died on the job, instead, you were being tormented every time you watched your friends leave the compound, carrying a duffel bag that had all the necessities that they could possibly need for the gruelling months ahead on the missions that they had been sent on.

Knowing that if you weren’t so inwardly broken and that if that were the case, you could have easily accompanied Bucky and the others on their uncover op made you feel worthless, and disposable. As your chest raked the air that surpassed its roots, it waded a feeling through every limb that was attached to you.

Large gulps from the air machine that was beside you usually helped, but as your brought the medically introverted oxygen mask to surround the lower half of your face, the torturous sensation failed to fade. It remained, stuck in the collapse of your airways, refusing to allow air into your defined bloodstream.

The factor alone had you panicking, and as you went to stand, there was a pounding fire coursing through your head. Your eyes got dreary, fluttering as you reached out to grasp for the side of the seating area to stabilise your steps. But it wasn’t enough, all of your weight leant to one side, and a loud and colossal smash echoed through the room.

You helplessly laid there, having no ability to get up, as the shards of the glass table that had tried to break your fall, and had ended up breaking instead, stabbed mercilessly into the canvas of your back. It made you feel like a dartboard, free to the attempts of anything that put a bet on to try. This was your final fall from greatness, and if you weren’t to survive this, that would be o-

“Y/n.” A voice rushed out, as footsteps scrambled to come to your side. The silouhette of a blurry man knelt beside you, sickened with their own scheme of panic. “Nat!” He called out towards the kitchen, you hearing the pitter patter of her assumed footsteps that were toed in competent heels.

“Clint, what happened?” She asked, but giving him a break to compose his answer as she called warily out for FRIDAY, relieved when the AI answered her order. “Get one of Stark’s cars ready to go to the hospital, inform who needs to know. Y/n’s just had a nasty fall, and I assume more.”

“She was like this when I got in here.” Was the archer’s delirious response. His hands raised your head out of the cracked pieces, gently picking the sharp crystals out of your hair. He was sick with worry, he knew that you were touring a difficult road, one that no one else on the team could fathom to understand, but despite all that, he was still there for you, as were the numerous others.

Wearing his priceless suit, Tony rushed into the room, his brown eyes blown wide as he scoped the scene. “She’s losing consciousness.” Nat informed the pair, focusing on how your eyes barely had the strength to stay open. Your breathing was laboured, and the choke emitting from it was audible, making all witnesses wince from the threatening sound.

“My car is ready, on our way to the ER, give Barnes a call.” He held the keys to his vehicle, swinging them around his finger, as he watched Clint and Natasha hoist you up, and support you through the journey to the front of the compound. Nat stroked your hair as she bit back her own tears, combing tenderly through the slightly bloody tresses to soothe her own present anxiety.

The mission was turning out to be a bust, they were tracking Zemo after his great escape; hence why their departure was classified. It was unknown why the once Baron of Sokovia had fled to the country, but all prior intel had supported the idea that he was searching for a partner to help finish his work, if he were to ever get caught by the American government again.

Bucky hated being away from the place that had slowly become his home. It made him feel lost, but if he wanted to remain within said area to continue his life, he had to follow Fury’s orders, or else the panel that had granted him freedom for all his past actions, may happen to change his mind.

The gig of being an avenger was more of Steve’s expertise, he was loved by the country, and had never tried to break its order down piece by piece. Before he was cleared to join the team, and the debate that lead to Steve and Tony siding against one another, he was nothing more than a tense ghost story.

All knew he was real, but most were too scared to admit that the Winter Solider was an assassinating figure in existence. To everyone’s dismay now, following rule number two, he was no longer HYDRA’s pet weapon. He, for the first time in his life, had some kind of clarity on who he was.

His identity, was James Bucky Barnes, the White Wolf, the protector of the world and a renounced ally of Wakanda. And he was happy to be known as such, in a way, the new him cleared his red ledger, and that faded away with that damned red book.

No one had the power to control his mind again, all of his actions were now completely up to him. At first, with the reign over himself, he had been unsure on how to start with this new and invented soldier that he had become. He was no longer taking refuge behind the facade of T’Challa’s country anymore, for he was no a wanted man of the state.

But Sam enjoyed prodding at his ‘cyborg brain’, driving him to certain frustration. Though, it did not matter as much, for he found the peace he had been searching for after that little bit of calm that he had experienced on his hideaway.

You. A retired avenger, that had kicked his ass, and continued to brag about it to this day, when he was under Pierce’s demeaning orders. Though, it saddened him, to have the knowledge that you no longer had the ability to pin him down on a training mat, or throw his best friend’s shield in his silent face.

There was no longer an ignition of strength to fight left within you, you were weak from the condition that had and was holding you hostage in its devastating grasp. The debts of your god deeds had wormed their way through your body, destroying it bit by bit.

Whenever he was away, missing the presence that you had once accompanied him with, he was unable but to do anything but worry about your struggling health. He feared that one day, he would get a call claiming that you had experienced a traumatic accident, and as he sat in the small and cluttered motel room, the vibrancy and life that his phone was off putting had him nervously on edge.

“It’s Fury.” He claimed to his rugged partners, putting the man that had regained control of his empire on loud speaker, awaiting for the patch wearing associate to respond to his acceptance of the call. A moment of silence had him standing, the next, caused him to pace. Steve frowned, well aware that Fury only went silent, and did not barking affirmative orders when something had happened.

That man was an absolute whore for the dramatics, he had even faked his own death on multiple accounts. There was nothing the man could fathom not to do, and this sure as hell, in the name of Goose, was not the first instance he had informed his recruits of shocking factors. Steve remembered when the dark clothed man informed him that he was in the 21st century, and to this day, it remained to be the greatest shock that he had experienced.

The second had got to be the reveal of Bucky’s survival, that heart stopping moment had gone in slow motion, as the soldat whipped his unmasked face around to face his opponents, and he was quickly recognised. You had been there to ease the confusion and the humongous shock that wired his brain. And not to mention, to soothe the wave of emotions, you had prompted at jokes at about kicking his best friend’s fine ass.

That had only been the start to a long road ahead, it had all seemed like your quad of rebelling would go on forever. Sam Wilson was your best friend, and the first to be told of your failure to continue your raids on missions, and to say that he was holding back fountains in his eyes, was a casual understatement. The Falcon had felt angry at himself for not realising the increase in coughs that fled from your sassy mouth, or how quickly you would get tired.

He put some of that blame upon himself, claiming that he should have been the first to notice the signs. It was his idea, before your struggles were revealed to anyone else, to refuse your aid on missions, which lead to conspiracies from the team. For a couple of weeks, the members that you had fought alongside for so long had speculated that you were pregnant,and even Bucky had even began to fall for that idea.

In the end, they had all wished for that to be true, a child would be a gift, whereas instead, you were bestowed with a curse. Sam had offered for you to stay with Sarah and the kids, but upon your insistence, you remained in the compound, organising files and watching cinematic classics for the thousandth time.

But anyone could see, that every time they discussed the missions, of left to endure them, your face fell, appeased by the thought that you’d never share that experience again. They all tried to distract you, Thor had even taken you on a vacation to New Asgard so that you could relax and play video games with Korg, yelling frustratedly at Noobmaster69 as the kid tried to spite your friend and his gaming skills.

That though, had not ended well, and instead, the noise had brought you insufferable pain, and you had to be taken home. But what was home anymore? You hardly felt as though you belonged upon the army of your friends, or the guardians that they were aligned with.

And so, it was very understandable why Bucky was inclined to worry. All his dragged our life, he had watched people die, or awakened from cryo to find them gone, and the split moments that he were required on missions, was another moment that he had lost with you.

He gulped as he waited for Fury to say something, anything! And when he did, he wished that he could go back in time, and stop you from ever having been an avenger. “It’s agent Y/L/N, something has happened...”

It had been hours of no news, and Stark tapped his well dressed foot. He had requested, - no, insisted the best doctors to tend to your internal and external injury, claiming that if your condition was made any worse, he would personally make sure that they never tended to another patient again.

He was not usually one to be so aggressive, but he feared loss, it was a great flaw and attribute of his. Possibly, in some people’s judgemental eyes, he cared too much, but he never thought so. To him, the billionaire was human, no matter what the citizens over the world thought of him.

Sure, he wore an iron suit to protect the world, but beneath all the metal, he had a heart. And he’d be damned sure that he used it, and that it beat for a purpose. Natasha and Clint were either side of him, the assassins on her phone as she read the captain’s well written message.

“They’ve entered the country.” She spoke, referring to Sam, Bucky and Steve. It was a relief that they were going to be here soon, then they’d all look sane in comparison to Barnes. It was doubtful that he was holding himself together well, these hours had been torture to all of them, but he had actually been tortured in multiple gruelling occasions, but it was nothing in comparison to this.

One of the country’s best and devoted doctors opened the door to the room that you were being stabilised in, leading to all eyes waiting outside to stare hopefully at him. It was an intimidating thing, to have three avengers leaving him with one of their owns lives in his hands, he was not a hero. But to them, he was to be, they trusted him and the various recommendations that had suggested that he would be best suited to the deed.

The fact that he was the man in charge in this situation was to be great steak in his career, though, he would never be able to anyone, not even family, that he had saved the life of an avenger. Due to doctor patient confidentially, he was bribed into silence by the philanthropist himself, who was certain that he was fine for paying for the entire service himself.

Money had no importance to Tony, not as his friend was the patient that could have died. The man removed his sunglasses, sternly looking up at the kind doctor with pleading and urgent eyes, wanting to scoop every detail that he could from the eccentric medic. “How is she?”

The doctor gulped, well aware that there was a weight apparent on his shoulders, even when delivering any news. But this, was a whole new experience, he knew that you, the woman hoisted up in the hospital bed, had saved his coursing during the battle of New York. He was grateful, for everything that you had done, but simultaneously, felt the need to be careful with any tactic that he used to save your life.

“Well,” he licked his dry lips, watching as the Black Widow herself stared into his soul, “she’s stable, for now. And it would be okay if one of you went in, she’s currently in the midst of waking up. However, she is going to be unable to give much in the verse of a conversation, the oxygen mask that she’s wearing has to stay on, and it will not be a good if she tries to waste the breath she’s being given to talk.”

He was interrupted by the sound of competent running down the hall, it was as though the men dressed in their gear ignored the no running rule. But it was understandable, seeing as Bucky’s eyes were wild and wide, as he came to a stop and asked what was going on. Clint stood, bracing a hand upon his shoulder, before informing him the details they had just been given. “I think you should be the first to see her.”

Bucky didn’t argue with Clint, and instead, walked into the room, ensuring that he shut the door behind himself. He smiled painfully at the sight; there were so many tubes, and all the surrounding machines were lit up with statistics that he did not understand. Nevertheless, he looked towards the vacant seat beside your bed, and claimed it for his ass that you had once kicked.

Your eyes watched as he looked down upon you, your hands reaching to remove the mask, but he placed his hand upon your own, and replaced them to be upon your chest. “Shush darling, no talking, doctor’s orders.” He spoke, rubbing your cheek with his right hand, feeling the corner of the mask against the inside of his palm.

“Had me so worried doll, thought I was gonna lose you.” At the thought, a grimace presented itself of his woeful face, and to comfort him, you placed your fingers around his own, absentmindedly playing with them as you listened to his sincere voice. “On the way here, I spoke to Shuri, we are going to see if she can help you in anyway, as long as you’re okay with that. Does that sound good baby?”

Fluttering your eyelashes as you looked through their webbed curtain to stare lovingly at him, you nodded your head, ignoring the spiteful pains that emitted from where the glass had shallowly penetrated your scalp. “Alright, I’ll let her know. And I was thinking...” he waited for a moment to continue, being encouraged by the crease between his brow line.

“What if we stay in Wakanda, and we leave all this behind? We can still see people when they visit, and we can just, have some calm to ourselves. No missions, no aliens to fight, and no Zemo to chase. Or I was thinking, we go and live by Sarah, you love those kids, they’re basically your nephews, and we could take boat rides during the middle of the night, and help the people who live there, and...”

At his rambling, you smiled beneath the plastic system that was around your mouth, listening to him talk and talk about your future together. Yes, you missed missions, but you would give all that up for a normal and easy life, with Bucky Barnes.

[ruleofexception]

Ch 2: A thorn in the sky

Ch 1.

_____

“I can’t believe you fucking lost.” 

“I think I liked it better when you were concerned about that brat’s safety.” Obi sinks a little further into the passenger seat, arms crossed heavily over his chest.

Suzu wheezes, slapping his hand against the steering wheel like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard in all his life. Actual tears fall down his cheeks as he rasps, “You, the reigning champion of S, lost. To a literal child wearing a motorcycle helmet.”

“Are you done?” Teeth grit. Fingernails bite into his biceps.

“I just can’t believe it.” Wiping at his eyes, doing his best to gain control over the snorts and wheezes, Suzu chuckles as he hangs and shakes his head. “What the fuck happened out there?” 

That’s a great question. One Obi’s not entirely too sure how to answer.

“The kid’s got talent.” His shrug is a little too stiff and fragile. Pride, wounded and sore. “And I didn’t take him seriously enough.”

“I’ll say.” Suzu snorts again, “You get his name?”

“Nope.” Leg bouncing, shaking the whole car, he grunts, “Didn’t say a fucking word to me. Just kicked my ass, took my money and left.” He dares a grin, but with the mood he’s in, it’s entirely possible - probable, even - that it’s a grin that looks a bit like he’s ready to tear someone’s throat out with his teeth. “And all while wearing that goddamn helmet. I don’t even know what the little asshole looks like.” 

With a sniff and cough as he rams the keys into the ignition, Suzu’s caramel gaze is curious as he side-eyes Obi. “You think he’ll come back?”

Obi licks at his teeth. Leg bounces a little faster. “If he does, I want a rematch. A good and proper beef this time. Not whatever the fuck that was tonight.”

It’s not a beef he’s likely to forget anytime soon. Sure, he’s seen people fly before. Watched as they cut through the sky and leapt over the sun. Been in awe over tricks and runs, before. But this kid-

This kid was soaring. 

Flying in ways that shouldn’t be possible.

The car starts up with a groan of protest and loud bang, but Suzu’s too busy boring holes in the side of his skull that he doesn’t even bother rubbing the dashboard or cooing that this piece-of-shit has done ‘such a good job, girl’. He merely hums, entirely too smug, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re actually hoping he comes back.”

It’s Obi’s turn to look at Suzu like he’s the moron. “And why would I hope that?”

“Dunno.” Oh-so-innocent like, Suzu shrugs; shoulders reaching for his ears and lips turned up in a wicked sort of grin. “Maybe you liked having a good and proper beef. It’s been, what, four years since someone’s won against you?”

“Oh, shut up.” Grin threatening to become genuine, Obi huffs, rocks his head back against the seat and shuts his eyes. “Let’s go. I’ve got work in the morning.”

“Well, if you want to get technical, it’s already morning.” Gears grind and clunk as Suzu forces the old beast into first, and chuckles, “3:52 in the morning, to be exact. What time do you start today?”

“Same as every other day.” Obi twitches, brows and lips pulling into a grimace as his heart falls to think of all the not-sleep he’ll be getting. “5am. Sharp.”

“You’re such an idiot.” Not even bothering to hide his gleeful cackles, the car jolts to life and begins sputtering down the street as Suzu cranks the ancient stereo and starts wailing along to Catfish and the Bottlemen.

_____

Even over the noise of the station, it’s easy to pick out the sharp, stern footsteps approaching his desk. The shuffle of papers in her perfectly manicured hands. And in his mind’s eye, he can see the look on her face, too. The way thin blonde brows will be trying to knit themselves together, as cold and calculating blue eyes rake over him and his disaster of a desk.

Fuck, he can practically hear the little tsk under her breath as she gets her first good look at him this morning and-

“Jesus, Obi.” Papers shuffle and shift, and his keyboard scrapes across his desk as she parks her ass on the edge of it with a chuckle. “You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

Must be a rough morning, even for him, if she’s not immediately laying into him for trying to take a nap an hour into his shift.

“Well, I feel a bit like I have been, so-” without bothering to peel his cheek from off the case folder he’s meant to be reviewing, Obi grumbles, “unless you’re here to tell me that this shift is finally over and it’s time to go home, then I’ll ask you to kindly fuck off and-”

“Yeah, I wish I could, but-” 

A very full, very hot cup of coffee graces his desk with a heavy and promising clink that manages to coax his sleep-crusted eyes open.

Kiki smirks down at him, not a hair out of place and with her uniform neatly pressed and ironed. As usual. And, as usual, she holds her words about as well as her punches, which is not at all. “Izana wants to see you in his office.”

More awake than he’d been a second ago, he bolts upright, eyes widening as they flit across the station towards the large, glass office at the far end, where Izana is-

“Oh, yeah.” Kiki purrs, leaning in a little closer; the heat of her breath curling against the shell of his ear. “He’s been watching you drool on that case file all morning.”

Frantically turning back around, straightening his tie with one hand and fumbling in his desk drawer for his badge with the other, his heart clogs up his throat as he rasps, “Fuck me.” 

One finger dances along the rim of his mug. Smile soft and flirtatious. “Only if you ask nicely.”

Doing his best to ignore her and the way his cock seems to think now is a great time to be asking her very nicely if they can recreate that evening from a few weeks ago, he hisses, “He’s going to fire me, isn’t he?”

Kiki shrugs, “Maybe.”

“Fuck.” Trembling fingers rake through his hair. The breath gets stuck in his lungs. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Nudging the coffee mug closer with one long finger, she whispers in a tone that may actually be considered somewhat sympathetic. “Probably shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“Probably not.” Another shallow breath and he comes to a wobbly stand as his head spins nauseatingly. If he loses his job, all because he was out at S last night, he’s a dead man. So dead. A grim and strangled noise, meant to be a laugh, gets tangled up in his swollen throat. “Hey, you think the morgue takes walk-ins?”

“I doubt it.” It’s hardly audible over the roar of his own heartbeat, but he swears, Kiki giggles as she pushes herself off of his desk. Chuckles as she takes his mug and presses it into his hands. “But I could call Hisame and see if he’ll make an exception for you?”

Fingers tighten around the coffee mug like it’s his last lifeline. Like a healthy dose of caffeine will somehow magically make him not-fired. “Hah. Thanks.”

One more uncharacteristically soft smile and she turns to walk away from him with a call and a wave over her shoulder,  “Good luck, partner.”

Tearing his gaze from Kiki, he looks back up at Izana’s office. Fear pits itself in his stomach and every excuse or plea he may have tried to make, dries up on his tongue before having a chance to be spoken.

Framed in the office window, like some painted king from days of old, Izana’s hard blue stare is fixated on him. One finger curls, beckoning him to make the journey across the bustling, lively station. Summons him, with the intent of making him nail his own coffin shut. 

[knightprincess]

Those Moments (The Bad Batch x Fem Reader)

Words: Just over 3k  Summary: Moments with the Bad Batch from terrible singing to the embarrassing things. The moments they never let you forget. (May add more chapters if requested) Warning: Fluff and Humor ahead .... I think Note: Ask if you wanted to be tagged

Being paired with Clone Force 99 had been unexpected for both (Y/N) and the group to have named themselves the Bad Batch. At first (Y/N) wasn't overly sure about it, she was a Jedi after all, a Knight of the order who had no problems working alone, but working in a team wasn't something she had been thrilled about. She worked best alone but had been given orders to join the Bad Batch. Hunter had been welcoming to the idea although initially unsure, especially when he knew he would have to hand over the reigns, Tech had voiced it would be a good opportunity for all of them to learn and grow, where as Wrecker had just being excited about it. Crosshair, the man of few words on the other hand hadn't been so welcoming to the idea, often being cold and throwing snarky insults and comments (Y/N)'s way, almost surprised when she had responded back, fearless to his glare, instead stubborn and accepting his silent challenge.

Yet their had been times over the years since being paired together, they refused to let her forget. Echo had learnt all about them when he had joined, although only after he himself had caused a little incident by accident. Just like always Tech had recorded it, for safe keeping as he always reasoned. Never once did he admit to watching them during the nights when sleep eluded him. Just as Crosshair would never admit he would often chuckle to himself when remembering the times of sheer unexpected mayhem always in a playful way. Even (Y/N) would laugh when the memories come up. As it reminded her of the family like unit and how each of them had come to accept her as she had accepted them.

Wrecker Wrecker had been the first of the Bad Batch to cause one of the moments or at least experience one of them. (Y/N) had believed she was alone on the ship, having stayed behind on the Havoc Marauder due an nasty injury sustained when the Endurance had been destroyed during the prior mission. Wrecker had returned to the ship, he quickly noticed (Y/N) wasn't on the sleeping rack she'd been placed on by Crosshair. Instead the curtains were open and the rack had been folded back to its ordinary position.

He'd began to worry so searched the areas of the ship, he knew (Y/N) liked to go, the rear gun, the storage beneath the ship and above. Behind the stack of mental containers Crosshair sometimes hid, yet his concern and search had been interrupted by a loud break of wind coming from the cockpit. Within seconds Wrecker had broken out in uncontrollable laughter, alerting (Y/N) to his presence aboard the ship. The doors sliding open moments later to reveal a mortified (Y/N), her cheeks turning several shades of red with embarrassment, her eyes growing larger as the situation dawned on her, her hands finding their way to her face in her effort to disappear from the entire situation.

Wrecker on the other hand continued to laugh, seeing (Y/N) only added to it. He'd heard his brothers break wind on several occasions, none of them ever beat him for it though although Hunter had surprisingly come close to it. Yet this incident had somehow gotten Wrecker to see passed the lady persona he had painted the Jedi with, he'd always seen her as sweet and innocent until that point.

His brothers had returned moments later, only to find Wrecker on the floor outside the cockpit, holding his sides, as he laughed. Red faced with tears streaming down his cheeks as he attempted to catch his breath. (Y/N) on the other hand still looked like she wanted to disappear, holding a holopad in front of her, looking down with intent at it, as if it held the answer to her quest to turn invisible. It took a while for the boys to get to the bottom of what was going on. Wrecker not helping by wheezing and laughing whenever he attempted to explain it, where as (Y/N) had apparently developed selected deafness.

Although she could look back and laugh at it now, she had been embarrassed by it for months. Wrecker could never bring himself to explain what happened, although he would chuckle about it every now and again. Quickly calling it a bounding moment, when the rest did find out they soon joined in with the laughter. Tech explaining it was a natural bodily function, nothing at all to be embarrassed about, Crosshair had cracked a rare grin with Hunter attempting to hold back his laughter while complaining he missed such an event. Echo had chuckled for a while upon being told the story, especially with Wrecker's reaction to burst in to laughter whenever he heard it.

Hunter (Y/N) was known for being clumsy. If there was something to trip over, it was almost a guarantee she would be the one to do so. She could rival Rex with the talent of falling over. Many times had Kix recorded the events, commenting about it on several occasions although still saying Rex held the title of most epic fails. To say the Batch knew about the talent was an understatement. They'd heard about it before but never really took it seriously, after all (Y/N) was brilliant on the battlefield, precise, fierce and graceful all at the same time. Instead they took the stories of her clumsiness as just that, stories.

That was until Hunter experienced it first hand.

The batch had stopped at a refuel station not to far from their assigned location, it was quiet, hidden in an asteroid field so not many knew of it. What looked to be an old base of some sort was hidden in the cliff face, although nothing could be distinguished as to what the base was actually for or had been used for, not even Tech could find that answer. (Y/N) had been walking around the ship, close to where Hunter stood watching the distance, his helmet on, hiding any expression that would have otherwise been visible. Tech was in the cockpit of the Marauder, with Crosshair on the roof of the ship and Wrecker around the opposite side.

Without warning (Y/N) had tripped over something, stumbling forward before smacking into the side of the ship, falling backwards moments later in a daze and slight shock from the incident. Crosshair had turned his attention to her upon hearing the impact, as Hunter turned and went over to her, both quickly figuring what had happened. Without hesitation Hunter checked on her, pulling her to her feet moments later, checking her over moments later, chuckling slightly when (Y/N) made a comments about the impromptu meeting with the side of the ship, another comment about the side of the ship being up to standard.

He soon walked with her around to the ramp of the ship, noticing she was limping from the collision with the side of the ship. The pair just reaching it when (Y/N) tripped over something else, this time tumbling over and taking Hunter down with her, the Sargent being shocked by what happened and thankful for his helmet, especially when he would have face planted the rocky ground. Reality hitting them both when Crosshair could be heard chuckling from above, with Wrecker doing a similar thing from the top of the ramp where he'd been sat.

(Y/N) apologizing as she helped Hunter back to his feet, not even noticing the scraps on her forearms, instead putting her attention on Hunter. Ever since that day Hunter kept a tally onboard the Marauder, adding another strike whenever (Y/N) tripped or fell over something. Echo adding to it when Hunter forgets, just to make sure its up to date. Tech on the other hand, never mentioned he got clumsy moment on camera and watches it during the quiet moments, the video never failing to bring a chuckle from him or get him to smile. He also wouldn't admit he watches the video's of all (Y/N)'s fails, finding it gives her another dynamic besides just be a supposedly perfect Jedi.

Tech The incident with Tech, wasn't actually on (Y/N) but rather on Tech. It being a quiet day on the Marauder, Hunter was in his normal place, spinning the vibroblade as he would do when he was bored. Echo with Tech in the cockpit talking away about a random topic, Crosshair on the other hand sat on the seats opposite Hunter, cleaning his rifle. (Y/N) on the other hand, had taken to the refresher. The last mission being a mess one to say the least, (Y/N)'s clumsiness not doing her any favors.

On this occasion Tech had forgotten (Y/N) was in the refresher, walking along and opening the door as (Y/N) had likely forgotten to lock it again. Crosshair had spoke up in protest as Tech pressed the button on the door, although his words had been drowned out by the surprised scream to escape from the refresher. Tech's cheeks got redder by the second and his honey eyes got wider, his hands shaking as he reached for the button to close the door. The image of (Y/N) quickly covering herself with a towel, all while screaming for him to get out.

Hunter and Crosshair both chuckling to themselves as Wrecker come from the rear gun hold, seemingly confused about what was going on. Seeing two of his brothers laughing to no end, the other coming from the cockpit to investigate the screaming, Tech on the other hand sliding down the now closed refresher door, his legs suddenly weakening at the knees to the point they were unable to support of his weight, by now he had gone deathly pale, his honey eyes still wide in shock.

Tech soon fell backwards through the door when it opened, (Y/N) quickly stepping back when he tumbled through the door, almost surprised by it. Yet soon lent down to help him up and check he was okay with how pale he had become. The laughter soon alerted her to the situation, as it finally dawned on her, her reaction had likely caused the sudden shell shock. It wasn't very often she screamed bloody murder least of all at Tech. Wrecker and Crosshair were normally on the receiving end. Every time Echo found it funny.

Tech would always knock on the refresher door after that, and he'd be sure to remind others if (Y/N) wasn't anywhere to be seen. Although he still laughed about it, reminding (Y/N) about it, when the sleepless night caught them both.

Echo Oiling cybernetic limbs was a must for Echo. At least twice a day, once in the morning and again at night. More often than not he'd do it during the crazy moments when Tech was flying in some fantastical way. As he was doing this time, some tight escape from the latest mission, Wrecker in the rear gun, Crosshair opposite Echo clearing his rifle as if nothing was happening, a normal routine. Hunter in the cockpit with Tech, acting as the co-pilot. (Y/N) on the other hand sat on the chair near to Crosshair and Echo, seemingly minding her own business.

None of them aware of the oil spillage on the floor during on of Tech's spectacular maneuver. Tech soon called for (Y/N), knowing she was the only one small enough to reach something, (Y/N) jumped up at her name being called, heading to the cockpit, as she would normally do, curiosity sparkling in her eyes, as she did so. A bright smile on her lips. At the same time Crosshair had gotten up to stretch, finding his own joints had seized up from the awkward position he'd been sat in.

It had all happened so quickly, (Y/N) had stepped on the puddle of oil, her feet going every which way in a wild manner as she attempted to regain her lost balance. Crosshair having stepped onto the puddle moments later, flying backwards in a epic way, arms and legs flying everywhere. In his haste he had grabbed on to (Y/N), pulling her down with him. Echo had been confused at first, although soon realized and asked if they were okay, chuckling upon getting the confirmation they were. (Y/N) had nodded with Crosshair throwing his normal glare, almost giving up on getting back to his feet, commenting the floor was no longer stable enough.

Hunter had been the one to investigate the noise of several crashes and swearing, only to find Echo and (Y/N) laughing, the latter on the floor with Crosshair. The sniper himself grinning as if trying to hold back laughter, staring straight up at the ceiling, his arms still wrapped around (Y/N) from where he'd tried to cushion her fall with his own armored body.

A comment escaping Crosshair about the two having to stop meeting like that. Echo commenting it looked fun, with Wrecker complaining he'd missed something else, as well as missed his target from the screams and swearing. Tech throwing the comment he'd successfully recorded that as well as congratulating Echo on the happy accident, he caused. Where as Hunter shook his head, no stranger to the antics of his brothers and (Y/N), knowing Echo would likely see it as revenge considering he'd been on the receiving end of pranks from (Y/N) since he'd joined the batch.

"Consider us even" commented Echo with a grin, implying he'd done it on purpose with Crosshair being caught an added bonus.

Crosshair To say (Y/N) and Crosshair had a prank war going was the understatement. Anything that could be imagined into existence had pretty much happened. Switching armor and robes out for something else, voice changers, whoopy cushions, videos, smoke and stink bombs, the occasional air horn, you name it, it had been used. The odd occasion it had caught another unintended target, normally Wrecker whom had mindlessly walked into the war zone. His face always a picture.

The pair of (Y/N) and Crosshair always trading comments when their prank war was on hold. Crosshair always comparing the height difference, with (Y/N) always retorting with something else. The two also giving each other nicknames. With Crosshair being nicknamed the "angry toothpick" and (Y/N) gaining the nickname of "firecracker" in a mocking way. Crosshair would always call her by the name even when the prank war was on a temporary hold. All the moments were Crosshair's favorite. But if he had to choose, his favorite was when (Y/N) had somehow managed to swap out his rifle for a realistic replica, except it was a bubble blasted, although she had thankful switched them after the mission. He'd been none the wiser while cleaning, even with his keen eye. Only when he noticed the scope was off, did he realize it was a bubble blaster, something he happily used on Echo after the oil spill incident and Wrecker for the hell of it.

(Y/N) had woke the entire ship up that night with her next prank which had caught the unsuspecting Tech. (Y/N) having tapped an air horn to the refresher door, cleverly putting it where the lock button was. So when Tech had locked the door he'd set the horn off. Waking everyone including herself up. The rest of the boys had found little surprises waiting for them. Hunter's bandanna had been swapped out for something far more sparkly and floral to what he normal had, in the place of Wrecker's plastoid armor was a bunny onzie, complete with the fluffy tail. Tech's goggles had been adjusted to include a pair of cat ears, he escaped most of the havoc due to the air horn. Echo found every whoopy cushion around the Marauder, seemingly becoming a magnet to them. Where as Crosshair found the paint hidden in different areas, the same paint Hunter, Echo and Tech had avoided. To say Crosshair was several different colors by the end of it was an understatement

He'd promised revenge, something he went through with a week later. Swapping (Y/N)'s Jedi robes with a sexy little outfit he knew she would hate with a vengeance. While also swapping her favorite blanket for a fluffy pink thing. The outfit being a barely there nurses outfit. consisting on a skirt that barely covered anything, a small bikini top and a little hat with white thigh high stockings. He'd taken it upon himself to hide her normal robes, leaving her with no choice but to wear the outfit laid out for her.

(Y/N) had hidden by the metal crates most of the day, refusing to come out in the outfit despite encouragement. Crosshair had offered the pink fluffy blanket but found himself almost terrified by her response with a deadly glare. He eventually carried her from behind the crates, deeming she needed food and drink, something Tech backed up, although he did need to recruit Wrecker's help to move the crates. Crosshair had made the comment of liking her more in the outfit, receiving a punch to the arm in response. His only response was to chuckle knowing she would sulk about it until she could return to her normal robes. It was no secret she hated dressing up in little outfits, even if certain missions required her to do so.

"Its a good job none of you got injured. My bedside manners would be terrible" commented (Y/N) when placed on Crosshair's bunk, arms crossed over her chest as she scooted over to the far corner, if only so he could join her. His efforts at an apology was to watch holo-films together.

"Princess your bedside manners wouldn't matter when your dressed like" Crosshair would respond, chuckling when (Y/N) stuck her tongue out at him. The two quieting down shortly after to watch a film. Chuckling when Echo found another whoopy cushion and Wrecker burst out laughing because of it. Tech's question of whom had "reorganized" his holopad also ringing out as Hunter finally found a bucket of ice water hidden above something. His swearing ringing out moments later along with the yelled names of both Crosshair and (Y/N).

[fandom-puff]

I Will Wait- Severus Snape

Notes: this is the first of my celebratory song-fics! I hope you enjoy !!

Warnings: violence, serious injury (inc descriptions of blood and death), reference to torture, anxiety, trauma- this is set during the events of Deathly Hallows if that’s an indicator.

Gif creds to owner

Song creds to Owners

Well I came home

Like a stone

And I fell heavy into your arms

These days of dust

Which we've known

Will blow away with this new sun

Severus pushed into the private chambers attached to the headmaster’s office, gaunt, shaking, practically dead behind the eyes. You closed your book, quickly setting it aside and rushing to his side, brows knitted together with worry.

“First years,” he whispered. “They’re torturing first years,”

“Severus…” you murmured, gathering him into your arms, feeling his tears wet through your t-shirt. “It-”

“No,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare say ‘it’s okay’. It’s not. They’re children. I never, never should’ve agreed to let the Carrows teach,”

You grasped onto Severus’s arms, holding him at an arm’s length. “No. It’s not okay. I know that. But it will be. We’ll get through this. We always have, we always will,” you pushed the hair that hung limp in front of Severus’s eyes away, cupping his cheek. “There’s a student resistance group meeting as we speak. The first years whose cannot go home are protected- well, as protected as they can be in a school full of Death Eaters. Minerva and Poppy have been slipping them potions and salves hidden in their homework. Even the house elves are in on it. If you stop the Carrows now, they will know something is wrong. You need to keep… him on side, Severus. We will bring them down, but we cannot do that if they don’t think they have the upper hand,” Severus nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This will pass,” you reassured him,

But I'll kneel down

Wait for now

And I'll kneel down

Know my ground

Severus took a shaky breath and nodded, letting you guide him to the couch before his knees gave out. “Soon,” you promised him, kissing his forehead. Stroking his hair, you held him close to his chest, lulling him to a fitful sleep.

But Severus gasped, sitting bolt upright and grasping onto his wrist as it burned with the summon of the dark lord. He didn’t immediately get up. “Go,” you said. “You must go, I’m sure there is still some floo powder in the-”

“I know! I know i must go,” he snapped and you sighed, watching him go, knowing not to argue.

And I will wait, I will wait for you

And I will wait, I will wait for you…

***

So break my step

And relent

You forgave and I won't forget

Know what we've seen

And him with less

Now in some way

Shake the excess

“YN,”

The rasp of Severus’s voice woke you almost immediately. “Shhh… I’m here,” you said, rubbing your eyes as you sat up, adjusting to the darkness; the candles had burned right to the stub.

“I’m sorry,” was all Severus said, and you frowned, pulling him close, knowing that whatever had happened that night was worse than usual. While Severus’s uninjured state indicated that he hadn’t been physically hurt, you knew immediately that he had been tortured emotionally, mentally. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice dissolving into a small, weak whimper as he repeated those two words over and over again, cradled in your arms as he yanked on his own hair. You shushed him, untangling his fingers from his hair so that you could squeeze his hands. “H-he threatened to kill you if I limited the Carrows’ power… you’re in danger as long as you’re associated with me. H-he could’ve killed you and my lasts words to you would’ve been those of anger,”

“I know. I know I am in danger. But you are in greater danger, every day. Do not be sorry, Severus. And if you are, for whatever reason, I forgive you,”

***

Now I'll be bold

As well as strong

And use my head alongside my heart

So take my flesh

And fix my eyes

A tethered mind free from the lies

“Nagini… kill,”

You bit back your gasp as you heard the vicious hiss of the serpent, the groan of pain and the thud of his body on the floor of the shrieking shack. Voldemort slipped out of the shack, his beloved snake beside him, leaving Severus’s bleeding, broken body behind, a forgotten waste product of his reign of terror. Tears slid down your face as you heard Potter creep through.

“Take them,” you heard Severus wheeze, and you knew from the hitch in his voice that he meant his tears.

As harry made to leave the shack, you grasped onto his shoulder, making him gasp and draw his wand. “Get rid of the snake. Get rid of the snake and it’s over,”

Wide eyed, harry nodded quickly, not quite registering who you were (though he was sure he had seen you in Grimmauld Place more than once) and running off.

And I'll kneel down

Wait for now

I'll kneel down

Know my ground

You fell to your knees next to Severus, your tears dripping onto his face, mingling with the salty tracks of his own. Bowing your head, you openly sobbed, your hands stained by his blood as you grasped onto his clothes, feeling the heat of his body still radiating through the fabric, the weak, unsteady thud of his heart against your hands.

Your head snapped up and your eyes widened.

“Severus…”

Raise my hands

Paint my spirit gold

And bow my head

Keep my heart slow

You had never been more tired in your life, yet you refused to allow your eyelids to droop, your mind to switch off, your thoughts to still. Walking up to the Headmistress’s tower (for McGonagall was now the head of Hogwarts), you willed yourself to keep going, to keep moving as you put one foot in front of the other, up the winding staircase. You knocked on the door, just in case there was somebody in there, before opening the door.

The office was empty, most of the portraits snoring, or visiting other frames. Dumbledore’s portrait, however, was wide awake as he stared down at you with his familiar, sky blue twinkle. “Any news, dear girl?” He asked gently and you sighed, running your hand through your hair.

“Still the same,” you said, voice a little high pitched and shaking. “I’ve come to collect a new book…” you had been steadily working your way through some of Severus’s favourite reads, reading them aloud for him, sure he could hear you as he lay in his coma. “And a razor. His five o’clock shadow is rivalling even yours now, and he did- he likes being clean-shaved,”

“Make sure you take care of yourself too,” Dumbledore’s portrait advised you. “Otherwise Madame pomfrey will put you into a hospital bed too,”

***

The old potions tome lay abandoned on the bedside table with a bit of paper marking the place. You held onto Severus’s hand in both of yours, your fingers occasionally dipping down to check his pulse, to make sure he was still with you as you bowed your head over your clasped hands, your wedding bands clacking occasionally. Kissing his knuckles, you stared up at his face; he hadn’t looked as relaxed as he did in two years, and it pained you to think that after everything, it took a coma to undo the tight knit in his brow.

'Cause I will wait, I will wait for you

“I love you, Severus,” you whispered against his hand. “I love you. Please, stay with me, come back,” you bit your lip hard. “Leave me in this world alone as long as you want, but please... come back to me. You always have, Severus. And I’ll be waiting right here for you,”

And I will wait, I will wait for you

***

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