#i woke up with a searing hot pain in my chest because i was reminded of how much i love this comic

[bludsfinest]

you know why i just fucking love paper girls so much? it’s because you spend your entire time reading this comic and you’re constantly reminded that there’s no way to change their ending. the girls will eventually go their separate ways and never be anything more than that weird little group they formed during hell day just to ward off the creeps. “your end is your end” and all that shit

yet still, at the very end, when you know that the story is over and that they’re about to all go on with their lives without each other, you’re still hoping that maybe, just maybe, things will turn differently after all. fuck all of those times we were told otherwise, these girls have gone through hell and back together, why wouldn’t they be able to defy destiny?

and you know what? they fucking do

the whole universe be damned, those girls will be friends and they will be important to each other because they’re not just girls they’re paper fucking girls and maybe it doesn’t make sense at all but maybe that doesn’t even matter and that’s fucking beautiful

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #33: Reminder

Masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, vampire whumper (flashbacks), whumper turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker, burns, comfort, nightmares, begging, break-a-thing trope, suicidal ideation, recovery

-

It was a peaceful afternoon. They all were, now. Kane was allowed to just... exist. No more torture sessions. After two months, Jim’s presence had become a source of safety, not fear.

The dishwasher’s hum quieted, and Jim got up to unload it. “Be right back.”

“I’ve got it!” Kane offered enthusiastically. He couldn’t do much to repay Jim’s kindness, but chores were at least one small thing he could do.

Jim sat back down. “Sure, thanks.”

Kane headed into the kitchen and began putting up the bowls and plates. Eating was such a complication for humans. They needed to eat two or three times a day, cook most of their food, and use all kinds of cookware and dishware to do it. Only a few of the bowls were from him, and he’d never used a bowl for blood before being here.

He’d do anything to have problems like that, if he could be sated by anything other than his savior’s blood.

Kane began putting up the cutlery. Forks and knives and spoons, all things he’d never used, though of course he knew of them. He was the one who’d bought the items for the human quarters’ kitchen, after all, just before he abducted Jim. A familiar pang of guilt settled in him as he put the last of it away.

He was about to head back to the couch, when he noticed another fork in the sink. He decided he might as well wash that, too, grabbing it.

Burning pain seared his hand, and Kane drew his arm back with a yelp, tears already forming in his eyes as the implement clattered to the floor.

Silver.

-

Jim startled at the sound of Kane’s scream, immediately getting up and heading to the kitchen.

“Hey, is something wr-” His eyes scanned the room, lingering on the fallen fork before landing on Kane, protectively clutching his hand, tears sliding down his cheeks. “Shit. Shit. Are you okay?”

Kane stared back at him with fearful, watery eyes. “S-silver.”

“I forgot that was in the sink. Liz got me a set as a housewarming present when I moved here, for me to, um, feel safer. I don’t usually use ‘em, but I ran out of my other forks... I didn’t think you’d put that away, too. Can I see?”

Kane whimpered, reluctantly extending his shaking hand.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Kane. Easy.” Jim approached slowly, trying not to scare the poor guy. Kane didn’t move, no matter how much he looked like he wanted to.

“I’m not gonna touch the burn. I’m just looking.” he assured, gently taking Kane’s hand in his own and uncurling his fingers.

Thankfully, the damage wasn’t too bad, it looked about equivalent to having grabbed a hot pan handle for just a moment. With a vampire’s healing, it would be gone before he woke up tomorrow.

“Hey man, you’re gonna be alright,” Jim told him, letting go of his hand. “It’ll heal quick. C’mon, let’s run it under some cool water. That sound good?”

“O-okay.” Kane stammered. Jim turned the faucet on and gestured for Kane to stick his hand under. He did, breathing a little sigh of relief.

“You okay?” Jim asked when he withdrew his hand.

Kane carefully held his hand against his chest again, nodding tearfully. “Just, I just, just, don’t want to burn anymore.” His voice was so small.

“No more burning. It’s over, Kane. You’re out. That was an accident, and it’s not gonna happen again. You’re gonna be fine.” Jim's heart broke for him. If he was anyone else but Kane, he would’ve hugged him. But...

He cranes his neck to the side, Kane’s hand resting heavily on his shoulder, holding him in place. The vampire’s face draws closer to his neck, fangs bared and sharp. He gasps softly as they pierce his neck. He’s used to it by now, but it still hurts. It ALWAYS hurts.

He wants Kane away from him. He wants the fangs out of his neck. He wants to push the vampire off, but he can’t, because if he does he’ll be beaten senseless. So he stays still and obedient, Kane’s teeth in his flesh, tears in his eyes-

Jim squeezed his eyes shut tight, took a moment to breathe, and reopened them, his hand clamped tight over his neck. Seeing Kane still in front of him... definitely didn’t help, but he tried to hold it together, at least outwardly. Kane wasn’t a threat anymore. He was just scared, same as Jim was.

“I’m just gonna pick this up. Not gonna hurt you, okay?” Jim tentatively removed his grip on his own neck, reaching down for the silver fork.

Kane flinched, another whimper escaping him, his eyes locked on the utensil. “P-please...”

Jim placed the fork back in the sink to wash later and held his hands up non-threateningly. “It’s alright. It’s away. I won’t hurt you, no one’s gonna hurt you.”

Kane nodded, brows furrowed. “Thank- thank you, Jim. Are... you okay?”

Shit. He hated that Kane saw him vulnerable. He wanted to hide.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Jim lied. He reached out to take Kane’s unburnt hand and lead him back out to the living room. “Let’s get out of the kitchen, huh?”

Kane glanced down to the hand holding his, then back up to Jim. He felt Kane’s hand relax slightly in his own.

-

Despite Jim calming him down, Kane was restless that night. The burn on his hand wasn’t bad to start with, especially compared to what he was used to, and in the hours since the event it had already healed considerably, but it served as a reminder.

A reminder of what his body was capable of making him feel, all the pain it served as a catalyst for. This was just a taste. For all Jim’s kindness, Kane was capable of hurting here, too.

When he eventually succumbed to sleep, he dreamt of humans. Too many hands holding him down, even more pressing silver against his exposed skin. There might have been hundreds. Kane thrashed under their hold, desperate to get away.

“Please! Please stop, please don’t hurt me! I’ll do anything, please!”

The hands didn’t stop. Every time he managed to pull away from a piece of silver, a new one took its place. Kane writhed anyway, until-

Crack.

Kane woke with a start, gasping for breath. Nightmares were a regular occurrence for him, but this time was different. Because this time, he’d smashed his hand through the headboard of the bed Jim had gifted him, two of the wooden rods that made it up broken-off and splintered.

He was unused to having his strength back, now that Jim was feeding him. He hadn’t had nightmares like this before, when he was home in vampire territory. And he hadn’t had a wooden bedframe. Excuses, excuses, he’d destroyed something of Jim��s.

Kane began to cry as he hastily got out of bed to clean up the wood. Stupid, he was so stupid. He’d broken the bed over a dream.

Would he be punished? Jim had been so kind. He hadn’t punished Kane for attacking him. Kane had instead been fed, an incomprehensible mercy.

But he couldn’t be sure it would continue. It all felt too good to be true, another fragile thing his too-strong hands would destroy.

He couldn’t fall back asleep even after he set the wood aside and climbed back into bed, his heart hammering in his chest as his mind conjured images of what Jim could retaliate with, however much he tried to tell himself No, Jim wouldn’t do that.

Jim was kind. Jim was safe. Jim could break his bones to match the wood of the headboard if he wanted to, just like Kane had done to him years ago. But he wouldn’t. Unless he would.

Maybe this would be it. This was different from last time, because now Kane was strong. He’d seen the way Jim had frozen up yesterday, his hand clamped protectively over the spot on his neck that Kane used to bite.

Jim did that occasionally, and had been doing it more since he started feeding him. A flash of fear, a faraway look in his eyes, his hand flying to his neck. Sometimes Jim would stumble away from him as he did it. Jim always played it off, but Kane knew he was afraid.

He recalled an incident... fourteen or fifteen years ago? Jim had done something he hadn’t liked. Talked back, disrespected him somehow.

Kane smashed his fist into the wall inches from the human’s head, the plaster crumbling easily under the force of his punch.

Jim jerked his head away and slid himself down to the floor, cowering away.

“That could be your head if I want it to be.” Kane reached down to grab a fistful of Jim’s hair, yanking his head back up. “Am I clear?”

Jim choked out a “Yes,” terror filling his eyes.

“Yes, what?” Kane prompted.

The human scowled, and Kane clenched his other hand into a fist.

Jim flinched. “Y-yes, sir.”

He pointed to the bits of plaster littering the floor. “Clean that up.”

Kane hid his face in his pillow, feeling his tears wet it. Why had he been so horrible to him? So horrible that Jim was still scared, even now? Jim didn’t deserve that. No one did, but especially not him. Jim deserved to be happy and safe. Kane wished he could make Jim feel that way instead, rather than reopening old mental wounds and making him afraid all over again just by being here.

A horrible thought occurred to him. Could Jim be scared enough to send him back, once he found out how strong Kane had become again? He was reasonably sure that Jim was kind enough not to do it out of malice. But... could he do it out of fear?

No, Jim had promised. He’d said he wouldn’t send Kane back, ever. That if he screwed up enough to warrant expulsion, Jim would kill him. The thought soothed him, but only slightly. Promises could be empty. There was no guarantee.

Kane eyed the pile of discarded wood.

He wasn’t in a barren cell anymore. Jim had given him so much, including a way out. He’d realized it the second they’d started setting up the bedframe, surprised to realize he didn’t feel an urgent need to take his own life anymore, a chance he would have jumped at ravenously only a couple of months ago. Jim had given him safety, a life free of pain, something he didn’t need to escape.

But he was still at the mercy of Jim’s discretion. If he changed his mind... Kane would have to go back.

He probably wouldn’t. Jim was merciful.

Kane took a decently-sharp piece from the pile. He could have whittled any of them down with his fangs in an emergency, but this one would do as-is. He stuck it inside his pillowcase, under the soft pillow he’d been gifted.

Just in case.

Kane felt himself able to relax just a little bit with the comfort of his safety net. He’d have a way out, a way to have some control over his own life just in case Jim’s protection fell through.

He finally drifted back to sleep, no nightmares touching him this time.

-

Kane seemed more antsy than usual when Jim unlocked the basement door to bring him his blood that morning. “G’morning. You alright? If it’s about yesterday, I put the fork away, you don’t have to worry about it.”

Kane fidgeted with his hands. “I, I’m sorry. I b-broke the bed. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to break it. I had a n-nightmare, and when I woke up...” He stepped aside, gesturing to the bed.

Jim finished descending the stairs, looking where Kane indicated. Part of the headboard had been smashed out, a small pile of wood neatly collected on the bedside table.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I can fix that for you, easy. I’m pretty handy.” Jim assured him. Knowing that wasn’t what Kane was really worried about, he added, “I’m not mad or anything. You’re not in trouble. Don’t worry about it.”

Kane visibly relaxed in an instant, a welcome surprise. Usually, it took more effort than that to calm Kane down from his fearful, anxious spirals.

He’s feeling safer here. The thought warmed him, that he was starting to get through to Kane. That being captive in Jim’s house wasn’t a nightmare for him.

He handed the bowl to Kane. “Anyway, breakfast.”

Kane gave him a rare smile. “Thank you.”

-

ironically, today is actually my 7-month anniversary of dropping all plans of suicide, the longest i’ve gone without since i was 11 years old. i’m doing better than ever, even though it took a lot of time and effort to claw my way here!! 🥳

taglist:

@annablogsposts

@badluck990

@ceph-the-writing-spook

@cicatrix-energy

@crying-wings

@crystalquartzwhump

@cupcakes-and-pain

@cyberneticfire

@darlingwhump

@deluxewhump

@down-in-the-whumps

@elrysdoesstuff

@emcscared-whumps​

@extemporary-whump​

@extrabitterbrain​

@harri-00​

@iamtheshriekingguineapig

@inpainandsuffering​

@interdimensional-chaos​

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast​

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@littlespacecastle​

@little-whumpee

@lost-in-labradorite-halls​

@melancholy-in-the-morning​

@morning-star-whump​

@msjessmahler

@myhusbandsasemni​

@mylifeisonthebookshelf​

@neverthelass​

@nicolepascaline​

@nine-tailed-whump​

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@oddsconvert​

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@owencarvourenthusiast

@pumpkin-spice-whump​

@quietly-by-myself​

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@redwhump​

@scp-1296​

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@the-whumperfly-effect​

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@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump​

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@whumpshaped​

@whumpwillow​

@whumpworld​

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@whumpyzombie​

@wits-and-wrongs

@wolfeyedwitch

[goldenkirstein]

i've been on fire, dreaming of you

or alternatively, when both you and jean thought you lost each other

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

anonymous requested: hello there! I love your stuff. if requests are open, may I request a canonverse post-rumbling jean x fem reader where y/n is wounded + passed out from exhaution after the rumbling and wakes up warm and safe, with jean tending to her wounds. Y/n is shocked bc she remembers how she almost lost Jean (she didn't get turned into a titan, maybe she isn't Eldian?) and she just shoots straight up to embrace Jean without realizing the intensity of her wounds. Jean gets extra worried so he has to gently guide her back to lying down on the bed because she has a fever and her injuries aren't all better yet 🥺👉👈 maybe they cuddle afterwards until she falls asleep or smth aaaaaa 🥺 pairing: jean x fem! reader wc: 2.7k+ tags: angst to fluff, cursing, female reader, mentions of death, blood and violence, hints of blasphemy (?), mentions of injuries, aot manga spoilers.

a/n: sorry this took so long, (i was shadowbanned) i changed up the request a teensy bit but otherwise i hope you enjoy !!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Hot, burning, searing pain is the last thing you remembered before your vision went black.

That and the sight of the man you loved transforming into the one thing you feared the most.

Whether it was the heartache or the open wounds on your body that made you lose consciousness, you don’t know.

Truthfully, you were angry at Jean.

It was a whispered confession on the Azumabito airship. You and Jean sat in the corner, Captain Levi and Pieck in front of you, eyes cast away. The rest sat in silence, reeling from the situation that had played out on the ground below, quietly preparing themselves for the hell that awaited them at Fort Slava.

Jean’s hands were trembling; you would expect that after years of seeing your comrades die at the hands of humans and titans alike, you would get used to the death.

This wasn’t that, though; this was a different fear and anxiousness. Jean’s hands were clammy and his face pale; you could gauge that from one look at the man next to you, whatever worries were bubbling inside him were the accumulation of all the events from the past couple of days.

Jean was a collected man most times; as commanding officer, he didn’t have a choice but to be stoic and calm in the face of danger. But when that facade began to crumble, you would be there to ground him, remind him of why he was fighting. You knew that if you locked eyes at that moment, Jean would be able to see right through the front you were putting up, see the fear etched into your irises as you all were hurtling towards your deaths. So instead, you made the executive decision to swallow that panic and be that rock he needed, offering him your hand.

You took hold of his hand, staring ahead, and squeezed it three times, a reminder for both him and you that at least you still had each other. You could feel his eyes on you after you performed the simple gesture, but you continued to look ahead, focusing on the clouds, knowing that a couple of meters below, havoc was being wreaked by those mindless titan drones.

He said it so faintly, so lightly that you barely heard it past the sounds of the engine reverberating around the metal cabin.

“I’ll love you now and forever, even when I’m a pile of burnt bones.”

It’s like he knew. It was his way of saying goodbye to you. And you ignored him.

You clenched your jaw and pretended that you didn’t hear, pushed it to the back of your mind because this was no place for hushed confessions of love and, even more so, goodbyes. You were sure as hell were not letting Jean say goodbye to you. There would be no reason to, not if you had it your way. The both of you were bound together, and goodbyes were never to be uttered between the both of you.

Even when I’m a pile of burnt bones.

Is that what remains of him now? The muscle, sinew, and skin that pieced Jean together all reduced to ash and soot? The body that you had spent hours tracing, memorizing every detail of scattered in the wind. You would never feel the weight of his body on yours again, be able to graze your fingers over the scars littered on his torso, feel the way his heart would beat against your hands.

Jean Kirstein would only exist in your mind from now on.

He had left you alone with nothing but his memory, but even then, it was plagued by the image of a senseless titan taking the shape of Jean.

You wished to go back and tell him to shut up, never to utter those words again. Tell him to get those foolish notions out of his head, slap your hands over his mouth, silencing him, so that you could continue to live in your deluded reality that both of you would make it out alive. Tell him that he was selfish, of leaving you here to endure this torment by yourself.

Would that stop the scathing agony you were feeling?

Maybe this was hell you were in, you thought. That you were being punished for ignoring him, that you were the foolish one. Perhaps you should’ve held him tight to you, found a way to fold himself into you, so you wouldn’t have to suffer alone. Were you angry at Jean, or was that resentment directed at yourself?

The pain spread from your chest to your arms, down your legs, coursing through your veins.

You should have looked at him, told him that you were just as scared; maybe that could have changed his fate. If only you repeated those words back to him. He would still be here now.

I’ll love you now and forever.

I love him. I love him. I love him.

Bring him back to me.

The silent prayer came from the depths of your heart; whether God or who knows what would hear it, you didn’t know, but the thought of having to live with this ache was enough for you to continue repeating the mantra in your head.

--

Jean looked at your unconscious form that laid next to his seat. If it wasn’t for the gentle rising and falling of your chest, he could have sworn you were dead.

The thought sent a chill down his spine.

Jean had made peace with the fact that he would die when he transformed into a titan. Seeing you, like this, however, barely grasping onto your own life, made his body ache; he was okay with dying, but the thought of having to live without you was a fate worse than death.

He reached over to grab your hand and rubbed his thumb over the back of your palm before grasping it and squeezing it three times. He let go of it, placing it back gently over the top of your torso.

It was time to change your bandages and clean your wounds. Jean was a strong man; he had seen firsthand what a titan could do to one’s body, but his hands quivered as they unwrapped the bloodied bandages from your thigh. One singular thought overcame his mind.

Was he the reason that you were injured this badly? Did he hurt you?

Jean had spent many nights tending to your injuries, his hands careful when it came to you. However, the cuts and gashes he would tenderly patch up would always be inflicted by other humans or titans. Never did he think that his hands would be capable of hurting you. Jean was disgusted with himself as he stared straight ahead at his hands, now covered in blood.

The worst part of this, Jean thought, was that he couldn’t even remember if he was responsible for this, or maybe, that was a blessing. Recalling the situation would drive him into madness. The man winced at the thought of his arms tearing up your body.

He reached over to the tiny side table holding the medical supplies, grabbing the antiseptic solution. Dabbing it on a cloth, he attentively cleaned the wound, instinctively checking for your reaction. You would always make a fuss when he would apply it, but Jean averted his eyes once he realized that there was no reaction from your comatose form.

Usually, he would scold you when you would pull back from his hands when he tended to your wounds, but now any response would be better than having to tolerate the silence in the tiny room.

Jean got up to clean his hands in the basin, warm water turning red once he dipped his hands in. This was his punishment; he would have to suffer the consequences of his actions. The both of you were alive; Jean knew that he should be grateful, get on his hands and knees and thank the gods above. However, why should he be thankful? It was cruel. The both of you were not alive by the grace of God; this wasn’t mercifulness or benevolence.

What good is living if you have to sit and watch the one you love the most deteriorate in front of your eyes.

“You need to sleep; this isn’t healthy.” Connie was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. Although he was speaking to Jean, his eyes were transfixed on you.

Jean didn’t need to look at himself to know how terrible he looked. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, his face pale and gaunt. He spent his days and nights in your room, never wanting to miss the moment when you would wake up.

If. If you woke up, not when. Even that was not guaranteed.

“I’m not leaving her side, Connie.” Jean dried his hands on the cloth next to the basin. He turned his head to look at his friend, whose eyes were now staring back into his.

Connie understood the situation; he wanted you to wake up as well, but it pained him to see Jean suffer like this, “Spending your days sitting next to her waiting for her to wake up won’t help her, Jean.”

“You don’t think I fucking know that?” Jean slammed his hand down on the basin, hair falling in front of his face. Connie’s eyes widened at his friend’s action; to say that Jean was frustrated would be an understatement.

“You got your mom back, Annie got to see her dad, even those damn kids found each other. I got her back, but it’s my fault she’s like this.” Jean gritted his teeth, lip quivering.

Connie’s heart sank; he had seen Jean at his worst, but this was almost unbearable to witness. He made his way over to the hunched-over man and squeezed his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault Jean. This is difficult, believe me, I know, but you can’t be blaming yourself.” Connie’s eyes flickered your form, and he clenched his jaw.

Jean shifted his head, sullen eyes peering at your face through strands of hair; the man shook his head as a sob escaped his lips, “I need her to wake up Connie. I can’t live without her; I don’t know how to.”

--

You felt a gentle breeze on your face and an odd pressure around your ribs. Laying still for a moment, you waited for the pressure to subside, but instead, it made its way down to your thigh. You tried to open your eyes, but it was as if they were glued shut; there was no strength left in your body.

How many days had it been? Where were you?

Questions circled amidst your clouded mind as you lay immobile. You realized that the pressure you were feeling on your body was the weight of someone’s hands. How badly were you injured?

Memories flooded into your mind as you became aware of the situation you were in currently. Someone had rescued you at Fort Slava, and you were being treated at a medical facility by nurses. No, not nurses; the hands felt oddly familiar. They were careful and precise in their movements but carried tenderness as well.

You tried to take a deep breath in, to gather strength to move any one of your limbs, but paused immediately as the pain in your ribs was far too great. Shallow breaths would suffice for the time being. You began to focus on moving your fingers, channelling whatever energy you had left to at least get them to move.

The sheets underneath your fingers were soft as you gently moved your digits along the fabric. The hands on your thigh briefly paused before continuing their movements. You waited a minute before moving again, this time lifting your hand.

You couldn’t feel the hands on your body anymore.

Whoever had been treating your wounds whispered your name. It was a man, but you weren’t able to recognize their voice as everything was still groggy.

The man sharply inhaled, his voice shaking as he said your name once again.

You mustered the strength to open your eyes; your eyelids were heavy and hard to fight to keep open. The room was blurry and far too bright for your liking, but you continued to blink, and soon, the details surrounding you came into focus. The figure was still, waiting for your next move; you lolled your head to the side to get a better look at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He slowly came into focus; he was holding your hand between his and planting kisses on the back of your palm.

Why was he apologizing? Who was he?

Your heartbeat quickened as his voice became more apparent; this had to be some sick nightmare. You slowly sat up and reached out to him to cement the fact that this couldn’t be real. Your hand made contact with his knee; he was warm, he was alive.

Tears were running down your cheeks as your eyes scanned up his frame until landing on his face. Jean stared back at you, eyes wide, your hand still held in his.

Your face contorted as you took in the sight in front of you; you were so sure you had lost him, and yet here he was. Sitting up fully, you used your free hand to grip on to his white button-down and pull him into you with whatever remaining strength you had. Jean dropped your hand, and you swiftly wrapped both of your arms around him, eyes fluttering shut to take in his presence.

A pile of burnt bones.

It wasn’t a dream; you could feel his heartbeat against your body, feel his hair against your cheek. You sobbed into the crook of his neck, ignoring the immense pain you were feeling, scared that if you let him go, he would scatter in the wind.

“Jean, I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry, I should’ve told you-” Your voice was scratchy and hoarse, still weak from the slumber which had woken from a few minutes ago.

He brought a hand up to rest against your head, “I’m the one who’s sorry; why are you apologizing?” Jean pulled away from you, causing you to wince.

You furrowed your brows in confusion; he gently laid you back down on the bed before continuing, “I hurt you when I transformed into a titan; I’m the one who’s responsible-” Jean paused, his eyes landing on the gauze on your upper leg.

He wasn’t making any sense to you; shaking your head, you frowned at him, “What do you mean? I saw you transform before I passed out; I got injured by the rubble falling from the fort.”

“I should be apologizing, not you. When we were in the airship, you told me you loved me, and I ignored you, Jean, and then I thought you died and lost you. I’m terrible-” You looked up at him through teary eyes; Jean wiped your tears before kissing your cheeks.

“All this time, I was scared that I had almost killed you, and here you thought that I was dead.” He whispered, hands caressing your cheek.

“You’re not dead right; if I close my eyes, you’ll still be here?” You brought your hand up to hold his, letting out a shaky breath.

“No, my love, I’m not dead, and I’m not going anywhere.” Jean pressed a light kiss to your forehead. You cautiously sat up before moving over slightly to make room for him on the small bed.

“Can you lie here with me? Don’t wanna let go of you yet.” He nodded his head before getting up from his seat to lie next to you.

You placed your head on his chest, eyes fluttering shut. Your hand traced the buttons on his shirt, slowly getting lulled to sleep by the sound of his steady heartbeat.

Jean’s fingers skimmed your side; overwhelming happiness filled his chest; he was relieved that you were alright and that he hadn’t been the one at fault for your current state. He felt you press a kiss where his heart was, and his lips curled into a smile.

“You know why I said what I said on the airship?”

“Hmm, why?” Your ears piqued in interest.

“Because I knew that even if I died, I’d find you again, somehow somewhere.”

You let out a sigh, silently thanking whoever it was that answered your prayers.

I love him and you brought him back to me.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this !! any feedback is appreciated !! i tried something a little different than how i usually write, so please don't be shy to tell me if you liked it or not and what could be improved !!

also i apologize for not being active these past couple of days, my tumblr went haywire and i was shadowbanned, its all fixed now but again super sorry !!

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[chewiedon]

REGRET | TSUGIKUNI M.

the rq didn't go exactly how it was written, but I had no idea what they were supposed to talk about, taxes?

REQUEST: Y/N has been married to Michikatsu Tsugikuni for 5 years and has lived a happy life with her 2 children and husband. One day, her husband decides to leave all 3 of them behind to join the Demon Slayers, he deeply loved Y/N however his jealousy was far stronger, and thus 2 years pass. On a cold night Y/N sits at the top a cliff near her home, with her oldest child dead due to a monster that attacked their old home at night. She wonders how her husband is doing and amidst her thinking a demon approaches ready to attack. Michikatsu kills it and reveals that he had gone back just 2 months after to discover the house reeking of blood and both his wife and offspring missing, and that he had been searching for them. He offers Y/N his haori/kimono (??) in fear that she will grow cold and they just talk.

You and your family didn’t have much money, but you were happy nonetheless. Your husband was a hard worker that took care of his and yours child, everything was perfect. Another child was due in a few short months, and both you and your eldest were ecstatic. In your point of view, but there was a growing concern in your stomach that continued to plague you the growing days. Your husband, Michikatsu’s brows seemed more furrowed lately, and his training has been frighteningly more intense. At first you didn’t mind, you were glad he was improving on the things he was passionate about! Things only seemed to go downhill from there, to the point where he’d pass out for hours on end from exhausting himself too much.

The afternoon was surprisingly quiet, your toddler sat behind you while you folded clothes. You couldn’t help but eye your husband that laid on a futon that was in the other room. He ended up passing out again after training under the hot summer sun. Before you realized it, you were staring at his unconscious state. A gaze with increasing concern.

“Okaa-chan!” A squeaky voice interrupted your focus, “I’m hungry! Let’s have lunch soon!” The child that sat behind you tugged on the fabric of the kimono.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Yuki. I’ll get some lunch going for us then, what would you like to eat?” You smiled sweetly to the child, before quickly setting the sheet that was in your hands down onto the ground.

“Rice balls! Rice balls! Rice balls!” Yuki cheered behind you, dancing as she did so.

“Shhh, you don’t want to wake Otou-san do you? Let’s let him rest,” You reminded her with a sweet tone, your smile only grew as she put her hands over her mouth.

Soon, the afternoon had come to an end and the day had gotten darker that was accompanied by an evening chill. Yuki was munching on some leftover rice crackers that she had found, enjoying the evening before it got too cold on the engawa. Heavy but quiet footsteps were heard, turning around you were met with the intense eyes of your husband.

“Michikatsu, I’m glad you’re up now. I’ll get started on dinner soon,” You said, looking up to him with a gentle smile present on your face.

He gave you a small hum of agreement before watching you scurry off into the home, leaving him alone with Yuki. Unbeknownst to you, he had a massive burden on his shoulders that was eating at him. With a soft sigh, he took a look at his daughter who stared back at him with wide eyes.

“Yuki-chan, it’s time to come inside,” Michikatsu requested, his voice monotone and dull.

The girl let out a small hum before standing and dusting off her purple kimono, then heading inside, her father following behind the girl. You could be seen starting a fire on the clay furnace that was in the kitchen. The kitchen was hardly that though, it was a small room filled with wood and sticks and a furnace. You were spaced out while looking at the straw and wood that was burning, waiting for the water set above it to start boiling.

“(Y/N)?” A rough voice took your heads out of the clouds, turning your head to look over your shoulder meeting your husbands’ intense eyes once more. “Can I talk to you?” He added.

You let out a small hum, he squatted down to your height where you were crouched close to the floor. He grabbed your face, his fingers around your jawline which forced you to look at his face. You let out a small yelp of surprise when he yanked your face closer to his, the tips of your noses mere millimeters from touching.

“I have to talk to you, it’s important.” Michikatsu said, his voice strict and filled with reason. You couldn’t do anything but clench your jaw in anticipation.

Putting your hand around his wrist to support your weight, “What is it, is something wrong?”

“No, I’m going to leave soon. Final selection is going to start the day after tomorrow. I need to surpass my brother and join the Demon Slayer Corps.” His voice wasn’t as monotone, but took a more serious approach.

You let out a small hum, your brows furrowed in frustration. “So… You’re going to leave?” It was more of a rhetorical question, because you already knew the answer.

“Yes,” His voice and expression were unwavering as he stared deep into your eyes.

“Tomorrow?” You whispered with caution, you couldn’t deny the frustration that was bubbling inside your stomach.

He nodded, and you hummed back. His grip on your jaw loosened allowing you to move and continue with what you were doing before, your husband was leaving. You didn’t want to try and stop him, you respected his wishes to leave and the last thing you wanted to do was hold him back. But… What about you? You had Yuki to take care of and you lived about an hours’ walk away from the closest village. Not to mention you were 3 months expecting another one of Michikatsu’s children. The extra workload seemed stressful, but you should be able to adjust smoothly. Demon slayers make good money if you can do it right, but money shouldn’t come at the risk of your husband's life. Not that he was doing this for money, he was doing it so he could surpass his brother, you decided to respect his wishes. You kept quiet and served him and Yuki dinner, and Michikatsu told the petite girl while she chewed on her wooden spoon.

“Eh? Go away? Where? How long?” Her eyebrow creased, tears swelling in her eyes. Yuki then started to sniffle and rubbed her eyes before her father could answer her, “I don’t want you to leave! It’s no fair!” She claimed.

“I don’t know how long it will be, but I promise to visit when I can. This is really important to me, Yuki.” He paused and waited until Yuki looked at him, “I need you to take care of your mom for me? Can I count on you?”

“Yeah… Yeah,” She was still a sobbing mess, all you could do was smile at the two.

But, why now? Why not a week prior so he could help prepare for you and your daughter instead of just leaving you high and dry. You knew as his wife it was your duty to support him, but you couldn’t help but feel a little negative.

And you had every right to.

How long ago was that? One, maybe two years ago?

You depended on Michikatsu to protect you if something like this were to happen, even though he had no way of doing so. How would he know this would happen? It’s not his fault… So why when your life flashed before your eyes you held on to your vision of Michikatsu.

There was blood, so much blood. You woke up to the blood curdling scream of your eldest daughter, a demon had sunk its teeth into her neck. You shook, and you ran. You grabbed your youngest who cried in fear from the fresh blood of his sister that was on your face.

“Hah? You think you’re going somewhere?!” It sneered at you, dropping Yuki’s lifeless body on the floor as if she was some kind of dog toy. You had your son tucked into your chest and ran as fast as your legs could manage, this unknown adrenaline kicking into your body. It only lasted so long, tripping over a larger rock and falling on your side. You felt a searing tear of the flesh in your leg, the burning sensation of the skin being ripped open. You screamed, hoping some Godsend creature would come and rescue you. Another rush of adrenaline had kicked in as you kicked the monster away with all your might, and the chase had begun once again. You forced your legs to move, you subsided all pain and resisted the urge to limp. Tears made way to your face as you had begun to cry out of fear that this demon would end up taking you and your sons’ life away. Running through the woods, no shoes or socks, you prayed. You prayed for your husband to come back before you died, you’d do anything to see his intense eyes again.

Michikatsu, why did he have to leave? No, it’s not his fault because he didn’t want to live his life in a small shack that stunk of breastmilk. He wanted to live his life. You can respect that, but not now. Your lungs began to become sore, and every part of your body felt like it was on fire. How long have you been running? Is the demon still behind you? You knew if you slowed down or stopped running you probably wouldn’t be able to start running again, you were finally out of the woods and into a big clearing. Long grass that was up to your hips bathed your figure. Your legs went from a sprint to a walk, then crashing onto the floor. Your child’s cries rang in your ears as you tried to soothe it between heavy breaths, you laid on the ground with him in your arms trying to muffle his cries with your chest. You couldn’t hear anything but the now muffled and softer cries of the child, and your own heavy breaths. Your lungs were still on fire, and your body fell completely limp. Your eyelids were beyond heavy, the stinging in your leg pulsing with more pain by the second. Your entire being was numbed from the exhaustion.

Everything was hopeless at this point, you were going to die here from blood loss or that demon is going to come and kill you both. You couldn’t go and get help, and your son was way too young to do anything like that safely.

“(Y/N)?! (Y/N)!” At this point you refused to believe your ears, you lifted your head above the grass to see a tall figure yelling out your name.

Hope swelled in your chest, as you began to recognize that tone more and more. He came. He came back. Michikatsu came back!

“Michi-” You weren’t able to speak or move as a pulse of pain spread throughout your entire body.

“(Y/N), (Y/N)! Where are you?” You raised your hand, it shook in the air as your husband ran to your limp body.

The first thing he did was hold your face to his, touching his cheeks to yours making sure you were real. He held you tightly, but not enough to hurt you.

“Is he okay? Where’s Yuki?” He lifted his head as if to look around you for the small girl.

Grief swelled in your chest, “Gone, the demon got her… I’m so sorry.” Was all you could manage to say, warm tears made their way freely down your cheeks. You whispered bitter apologies over and over to him.

He hummed, stroking the side of your face, “It’s okay, you’re alright and that’s all we need,”

He wrapped his haori around your shoulders once he noticed your shaking. Burying the remains of your eldest daughter was hard, but the hardest part was cleaning out her room where her blood stained the wooden floors. Michikatsu stayed and soothed you the entire time you were crying as you scrubbed her liquids out of the wood. He didn’t know what to do except pat your back and tell you it was going to be okay.

And that’s all you really needed.

[terramous]

granite eyes reflect the flames, ‘til the embers start to tire

a 2x10 speculation fic based on the promo <3 title: anson seabra - kerosene word count: 5k bthb - choking AO3

When Carlos woke up, he wasn’t sure why. He’d barely made it up the stairs after his shift ran long, all but collapsing into the bed. He wasn’t expecting to wake up until TK slotted himself in beside Carlos the next morning. But the room was still dark and there were no arms wrapped around Carlos’ waist or the familiar rhythm of warm breath on the back of his neck. Stretching one arm across the mattress in front of him confirmed that he was still alone in the bed.

And then he heard it. The incessant high-pitched beeping of the smoke alarm at the entrance to the bedroom.

Carlos pulled the other pillow over his head, trying to muffle the noise and hopefully fall back asleep. After all, the beeping was probably just because he needed to change the batteries, and he didn’t feel like getting out of bed for that.

But that didn’t make sense.

TK had changed them the other week. He was always so strict when it came to checking the smoke alarms in the condo. And the air smelt like TK’s hair used to after shift. The smoke would cling to his skin and hair while TK was still a firefighter, and Carlos loved it. He loved the way that the smoke and traces of soot mixed with TK’s sweat and he could taste it as he trailed his lips and tongue up his boyfriend’s throat, TK’s fingers knotted in his hair.

But he was alone and TK didn’t come home smelling like smoke anymore.

That caused Carlos to shoot up, instantly more awake. Something was burning, if not on fire.

He could see the dark tendrils of smoke creeping along the upstairs corridor. He always left the bedroom door open when he was expecting TK to come home while he slept. Although TK always told him that it was safer to sleep with it shut if there was a fire. He just hated being woken up by the sound of the door creaking when TK snuck into the bedroom.

He needed to get out.

There wasn’t even a moment to think before Carlos was bolting for the door. His blankets tumbled to the ground behind him. He didn’t care, he needed to figure out what was burning.

He could have just left something on the stove from his half-asleep attempt to throw something together to eat before he went to bed. But that was the best-case scenario and Carlos wasn’t going to put too much faith in that possibility.

Unfortunately, Carlos didn’t even get the chance to go downstairs and check. He hit the top of the stairs and immediately recoiled from the heat. Flames crawled up the staircase, consuming each step as the fire licked up at Carlos. It seemed almost alive and hungry as it had clearly devoured most of his home.

This was bad.

The only other possible exit that didn’t involve windows that didn’t open fully enough to let him out, was the balcony. He could probably stand on it until help came, and at the worst, he could probably jump into the bushes below it.

That was of course until he turned back towards the bedroom and stepped inside, just to see the flames had begun eating their way through the floor, a wall of fire blocking his view of the balcony. As Carlos stumbled backwards to get away from the heat, he felt a searing pain across his ankle. The fire was at the top of the stairs now, starting to travel along the upstairs floor.

He’d been burned.

His head was swimming as he tried to figure out where to go, but it seemed that everywhere he turned was being engulfed in flames.

TK had said many times that fire spreads faster than you think. Carlos had never really realised how true that statement was until this very moment. He also didn’t realise how hot it got inside. He of course assumed it would be hot but he wasn’t expecting the sweat to pour off of him by the bucket.

Looking around for any possible place to go, Carlos breathed a small sigh of relief when he spotted the closet. If he was in there with the door closed he could keep the smoke at bay for long enough to call for help.

So he sprinted for the nightstand and grabbed his phone before darting for the closet and he almost collapsed amongst the clothes as he pulled the double doors shut behind him.

He allowed himself to take a few breaths to calm himself before he dug around for his phone, having dropped it a short distance from where he was sitting on the ground. There was fabric all around him, pairs of pants providing comforting weight on either shoulder as he dialled the familiar three numbers and pressed the phone to his ear.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

Carlos had to suppress a sob at the familiar sound of Grace’s voice. He didn’t know that she was back at work already but he was so glad to hear her on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” She said when Carlos didn’t reply.

“Grace-” Carlos couldn’t help the way his voice cracked as he began to cough. The smoke was less apparent in the closet, but he knew he’d already inhaled plenty. TK was always lecturing him on the dangers of smoke inhalation, how it would be the most likely thing he would die of if he was stuck in a burning building.

And now he was stuck in a burning building and every breath felt weirder than the last.

“Who is this?” Grace asked, still keeping her voice professional and even.

“Grace,” Carlos breathed, unable to figure out what he was meant to say next. He’d never had to call 911 before, preferring to not have emergencies in his own life. He really didn’t know what to say first, who he was, where he was or how close he thought the fire was to the closet door?

He heard a soft sigh on Grace’s end of the phone call. “Sir, you have to tell me who you are so I can help you.”

“Grace, it’s Carlos.”

“Carlos?” Grace’s voice was stiffer now, still professional but if Carlos concentrated on it he could almost detect a hint of fear. “Carlos, what’s wrong?”

“It’s on fire, Grace.”

“What’s on fire?”

“My house.” He had no idea why he was whispering, it’s not like the fire could hear him, but he still couldn’t find it in him to raise his voice.

“Is there anyone else in the house with you?”

“No. No, it’s just me. I’m alone.”

“Isn’t TK there?”

Carlos wasn’t sure whether he wished TK was there with him so that he wasn’t alone, or if he was more glad that TK wasn’t at home and was consequently safe. “He’s working.”

“Then be prepared for him to fret over you. Units have been dispatched to the scene and the 126 is en route.”

Carlos groaned. He didn’t need TK’s coworkers to see him like this.

“Can you get to the door and get outside?”

“No. The fire is downstairs and I’m upstairs. The stairs were on fire by the time the smoke alarm woke me up.”

“Where are you exactly?”

“In the closet.” Carlos chuckled dryly before dissolving into another fit of coughs. The smoke was getting worse, his chest growing tighter with every breath.

“Is there a window you could try to get to when help arrives?”

“There’s the balcony. I’m not sure if I can get there though.”

“That’s okay. Someone will take the ladder up to the balcony and they’ll have a fire extinguisher. We’ll get you out of there, don’t worry.”

“It’s hard-” Carlos was interrupted by another cough. “It’s hard not to worry. It’s getting very hot in here.”

He could feel the way that the thick sheen of sweat clung to his skin, it was making it difficult to hold his phone without it slipping from his grip. His curls were glued to his skin and he wanted nothing more than a shower. Except maybe to no longer be trapped in a burning building, but he wasn’t going to be fussy.

“Just hang tight for me, okay?”

There were a few more coughs this time, the spasms of his muscles making his chest ache. He was crying now, tears running down his cheeks, from the pain or the smoke, he wasn’t sure. Not that he really cared at that point. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask of you.”

Carlos rested his free hand on his chest, his open palm resting atop where his heart was thundering under his skin. He was terrified, although he would never admit it, his heart rate would give him away. That was, of course, if anyone arrived in time.

The air was getting thicker and he was begging to see light through the edges of the closet door as the flames drew closer.

He was going to die here. Cramped in a closet and wearing nothing but his boxers. Not the way he thought he’d go but there was probably some cruel humour to find in it. If he made it out of here, in the future he and TK could laugh about it, but right now it was getting too hard to breathe and he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Carlos.”

“I’m trying not to,” Carlos mumbled as he set his phone down next to him. He barely remembered to put it on speaker. He was losing all of his strength, he really couldn’t even fathom how he would get up and get to the balcony. Maybe Grace could tell the firefighters to just come in and get him.

“Just keep talking to me until I tell you to go to the balcony.”

“Where’s the crew?”

“They’ve pulled up outside. You only have to hold on a little longer, until they can get the ladder up to the balcony. You’re going to be okay, Carlos.”

Carlos laughed as he forced his eyes open. “Aren’t you like, not supposed to tell me that?”

“I make exceptions for my friends.”

“Grace?” Carlos asked, smothering his coughs with his forearm. Every time a cough rocked his body he felt his energy drain. Who knew that the most exhausting part of being trapped in a burning building was the coughing?

“Yeah, Carlos?”

“Am I going to die?”

“No. You’re going to run for the balcony in a sec and they’re going to get you safe and to the hospital.” Grace explained, but Carlos could hear the weird edge to her voice.

“TK’s always talking about smoke inhalation and how bad it is. So even if they get me out of here I could still die, couldn’t I?”

“Technically, but you shouldn’t think like that.”

“Can you tell TK I love him?”

“You can tell him yourself in a matter of minutes.”

“No- Grace, if I die I want you to remind TK that it’s not his fault. He’s going to blame himself, I know he will. I need you to tell him that I don’t blame him, that I never will. You need to tell him that I love him and I’ll never stop loving him.”

“Carlos-”

“Grace,” Carlos said firmly.

“I promise.”

Carlos finally felt like he could breathe. “Thank you.”

“Now use that love for TK to run to the balcony and get back to your boy.”

Carlos gathered up all the strength he could muster, and threw the door to his closet open. This was the moment that defined his future more than any shift or life decision ever could. If he didn’t make it to the balcony now, he was going to die here.

He was going to die. In his boxers and not having the chance to tell everyone how much they mean to him. He wanted to take TK out for dinner tomorrow night, he was meeting up with his parents at Tia Lucy’s in three days. He couldn’t give up now.

He would run for the balcony like he’d never run before. Even if he died now, TK would know that he fought until the end. He would always fight to get back to TK.

The bright orange flames clung to everything Carlos had spent building since he moved into this apartment. It made his chest ache to see his home in the throes of destruction. He’d never be able to come back here, to come back to the memories that he had made here.

The memories with TK would always be his favourite. TK’s side of the bed that TK never seemed to actually sleep on, choosing instead to spend the nights completely entangled with Carlos, was covered in fire.

Stumbling to his feet, his fist curled tightly around his phone, Carlos locked his eyes on the door to the balcony where he could see a firefighter standing with a fire extinguisher in hand, and he ran for it.

Flames licked at his exposed skin as he desperately staggered for his destination. He was so close to getting out of here and to fresh air. He just needed to believe that he could do it.

That, of course, was until the ground let out a deafening creak and Carlos locked fearful eyes with the firefighter. The firefighter gestured for him to keep coming closer but Carlos couldn’t get his limbs to cooperate.

He was going to die.

The floor gave way.

When Carlos finally stopped falling he couldn’t see anything and there was a crushing pressure all around him. He couldn’t take a deep breath even if he wanted to, there was something heavy on his chest.

Everything hurt.

“Grace?” He called out. “Grace, are you there?”

He was met with nothing but silence. It was clear that his phone was long gone. He could almost see Grace’s scared face as she probably called out for him with more desperation than he was crying out for her. He missed her voice. At least when she was on the other end of the phone he didn’t feel so completely alone.

He was going to die alone.

And TK’s team was going to recover his body. He knew they weren’t going to give up on him even if he was dead. They’d pull apart the wreckage until they found his body.

That would destroy TK.

He never wanted to hurt TK but he feared that he may not get a choice in that matter.

After an immeasurable length of time trapped, Carlos could almost swear that he heard his name being called. He wanted to shout back, to tell them that he was here, that he was trapped but he was alive.

He couldn’t take a deep enough breath to do any more than cough pathetically.

There was the light sensation of something falling on his face, maybe some ash or debris. There was the distance scraping and knocking of things being moved. There were people nearby, if only Carlos could stay awake long enough for them to retrieve him, he would be fine.

But his body had other plans. His eyes grew harder and harder to keep open, until eventually he couldn’t anymore.

As his senses dulled, Carlos’ hold on his consciousness slipped.

-

TK was already suiting up as soon as he tumbled out of the ambulance. The second his boots hit the ground he was retrieving the turnout coat from the ladder truck.

Carlos was trapped in his house that was almost entirely covered in flames. The entire downstairs was burning. He could see the bright orange of fire through all of the windows.

“TK, you should stay with EMS, they might need you,” Owen said as he walked up to his son.

TK shook his head as he finished shoving his boot through the turnout pants. “Tommy said it was fine. She understands.”

“I’m not sure I want you in there. You’re too close to this.”

“He’s been in there too long. You need a medic in there and I have more experience with fires than Tommy and Nancy, if not half of your firefighters.”

He was being harsh. He knew this. But Carlos was in danger and he knew he was the best one for the job. He needed to go in there because everyone else would prioritise their own safety but TK didn’t care about anything other than getting his soulmate out of that house alive.

“Alright. Just wait. Paul’s up on the balcony to get him out. You probably won’t have anything to do other than comfort Carlos on the way to the hospital.”

“If it’s all the same to you. I’m going to wait until Carlos is out of danger before I stop preparing to run in there after him. I know the layout better than anyone, I’m not leaving him there,” TK said as he slung an oxygen tank over his shoulder, his medic kit draped over the other.

“I know, TK.”

“Then let me do my job.”

Owen nodded carefully before turning away from TK. He took a few steps to the side but he knew that TK was still within range to hear the responses over the radio.

As a hand came to rest on TK’s shoulder, he stiffened.

“Just me, kid,” Judd’s familiar voice said from behind him. “You gotta believe that your boy is gonna come back to you, and if anything goes wrong I’ll follow you in there.”

“I’m trying, but he’s all alone in there,” TK said. He couldn’t imagine how scared Carlos was right now and he just wished that he could have been home with Carlos. At least then, Carlos wouldn’t be alone and maybe they could have figured out together how to get out safely.

He couldn’t handle just standing outside and doing nothing while the love of his life could die in an inferno. Carlos was supposed to be sleeping peacefully after a long shift, not fighting for his life.

“He’s in there on the phone with Gracie, if anyone can get him out of there, it’s her.”

Judd stiffened when there was a huge crash from the burning structure and Owen’s radio crackled to life.

“Cap, the bedroom floor gave in,” Paul’s voice said over the radio.

“Can you still get to Carlos?”

The radio crackled again but Paul took a few seconds too long to speak. “Reyes went with the floor, Cap.”

TK didn’t need to hear anything else. He pulled the oxygen mask over his face as he bolted towards the building. There was another set of footsteps pounding on the ground behind him. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that it was Judd.

Without even thinking, TK kicked the door off of it’s hinges. It was second nature as his every thought was consumed with Carlos. He needed to get to Carlos.

He blindly stumbled through the familiar floorplan, headed for the pile of debris in the middle of the room. There wasn’t as much fire on the floor anymore, which was both good and bad. It meant that Carlos was not currently burning alive, but it also meant that everything above them was about to come toppling down at the first wrong move.

But TK didn’t care about that. All he cared about was getting Carlos out of there, or he would die trying. Judd could leave whenever he wanted, but TK would never give up on Carlos.

He started digging before Judd could even catch up. He was grabbing pieces of ceiling and floor and smouldering hunks of furniture, tossing them aside in a desperate panic.

“Carlos!” he screamed. He kept screaming out Carlos’ name, over and over until his throat was raw. And even then he didn’t stop.

Judd fell in place on the other side of the mound, pulling it apart with the same ferocity as TK. He wasn’t as desperate but TK knew that he was giving it everything he had.

TK’s arms were burning with the effort when they were joined. Three other bodies in full turnout gear pulling away the rubble until Judd called out that he had found Carlos’ foot. It was burned and covered in soot but it was there and it was soon followed by another shout of “he’s got a distal pulse!”

Carlos was still alive.

They were all desperate now as they dug.

It only took them a matter of minutes to completely uncover Carlos. He was lying on his back, his eyes closed as he was clearly unconscious. Soot covered his entire- incredibly exposed- body. Blood caked his skin but most of the wound looked superficial, aside from the one on his head that was still bleeding. What was most concerning were the burns. There were large areas of his legs and arms covered in burnt flesh, as well as what looked like the mottled bruising of internal bleeding on Carlos’ chest and abdomen.

TK was already pulling off his turnout gloves and swapping them for the familiar blue latex gloves as he knelt in place near Carlos’ head.

On autopilot he ran his knuckles along Carlos’ sternum, hoping for his boyfriend to wake up and glare at him in response to the pain. But there was nothing.

Everyone else found their place in the scene. TK was vaguely aware of a backboard being laid beside Carlos, ready for TK’s order that it was safe to move him.

“Radio Tommy and get her on standby for when we get him out,” TK said in a voice that was too even and calm for the situation that it startled even him. He was honestly surprised that he was managing to keep his cool at a time like this.

He was mentally running over the steps he needed to take before they could move Carlos and million times before his body kicked into gear.

He checked Carlos’ airway and it was clear, but the amount of soot and burns lining his airway made TK’s panic kick into high-gear.

“Paul, start a line. I’m going to intubate him.”

Now this. This was terrifying.

TK had intubated heaps of patients. Most had been in the back of the ambulance. Some had been in awkward and precarious locations. He’d even intubated a handful of cases of severe smoke inhalation.

But this was going to be the ultimate test. He had to maneuver himself through the rubble to get to a position where he could do this. Carlos’ airway was compromised and he needed to intubate him before there was too much swelling from the smoke to do so.

Carefully, TK tiled Carlos’ head back as little as he could. He wasn’t going to be able to pull this off with a cervical collar on so he needed to be careful. He had his left hand anchoring Carlos’ head in place and his right free to work.

TK’s hand was shaking as he slotted the laryngoscope in Carlos’ mouth. Even with the flashlight on the end of it, he was struggling to get a clear view. It was in a moment like this that he wished Tommy was right next to him and ready to take over, but they didn’t have time for that.

With a few seconds of fiddling he could see his path down Carlos’ throat. It was at this point that it really hit him that this was Carlos and he almost froze. He couldn’t afford to panic so he just held his breath.

It took TK a precious moment or two to gather his bearings and slide the tube in place. He got it in with surprisingly little resistance.

Then it was just a matter of removing the scope, inflating the cuff, and pulling out his stethoscope. There were a few tense seconds where he listened to both sides of Carlos’ chest to determine that he’d placed the tube correctly.

TK felt like he could finally truly breathe once he confirmed that the intubation had gone off without a hitch as he attached the bag and gestured for Paul, Judd and Mateo to help him get Carlos onto the backboard.

The ease at which TK could slip the cervical collar around Carlos’ neck as if it was as simple as breathing was an appreciated change of pace.

Marjan was already radioing that they were getting Carlos ready to bring out when TK carefully scooped his hands under Carlos’ chest.

“On my count,” he instructed.

With the swift count of three they moved Carlos quickly and carefully, like a well oiled machine they got him on the backboard and quickly worked to fasten him in place. TK would never take the mundane tasks of his job for granted ever again, especially because now he could do them without having to think about them, his fear not interfering with his ability to do his job.

In a blur they got Carlos out of the building and onto the gurney that was waiting a matter of feet away from the entrance for them. TK knew he would never be able to fully express his gratitude for his team, but he knew that he would always be there to risk everything for them as they had for Carlos.

Tommy gave TK a nod before she started giving out orders and the gurney was headed towards the ambulance. Carlos was in good hands, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

TK meant to follow the gurney but his legs lost their strength as his adrenaline started to wear off, but Paul and Judd were quick to catch him and offer him a short, yet comforting embrace before dragging him towards the ambulance where he climbed in after Carlos.

-

Carlos’ senses were overwhelming the second he realised they had returned to him. Everything was loud, there was something scratchy against his skin, everything hurt and he was very cold.

The first thing he did, before even opening his eyes, was take a deep breath.

Which proved itself to be a bad idea because almost instantly, his lungs spasmed and he was launched into full consciousness as he coughed until there were tears running down his face.

But the air was clear and there was a comforting hand on his back.

As his hacking ceased, he was being eased back until he was lying down again. Looking around for the first time since waking up, Carlos saw the only thing he could have wanted to see. TK.

TK who was stroking his hair and looking at him with eyes brimming with tears.

Carlos was the one to break the silence between them. “Hey.”

“Hi,” TK whispered with a watery smile as he brought his hands up to cradle Carlos’ face, his thumbs trailing across Carlos’ skin. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you awake.”

“Did-” Carlos’ sentence was interrupted by a few pitiful coughs. “Did you forget the part where you got shot and were in a coma?”

TK shrugged. “The past is in the past.”

“As soon as I get out of this bed I am going to strangle you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” TK said with a mischievous smile curling at the corners of his lips.

The smile didn’t reach TK’s eyes, however. It was all the information that Carlos needed to be sure that this was a serious hospital visit. He didn’t faint on shift because he forgot to eat or pass out because he drank too much. He could see it in TK’s eyes, his boyfriend was terrified.

There was the added layer of the redness and the tear tracks on TK’s cheeks. He’d been crying. Of course he had.

“What happened?” Carlos asked, lifting a hand to cup TK’s cheek in his palm. TK visibly melted into the touch as he closed his eyes and a few tears slipped free.

“There was a fire at the condo, sweetheart.”

“Are you okay?” Carlos asked, now worried as he scanned TK for any sign of injuries.

TK nodded, biting his bottom lip that Carlos now noticed was raw from being anxiously chewed on for probably a few hours. “Yeah. I’m fine. I was at work.”

“Why do you look like someone ran over your cat?”

“You almost died, Carlos. You were on a ventilator for thirteen hours, they took you off of it about an hour ago but you inhaled a lot of smoke,” TK explained. Carlos ignored the way TK’s voice cracked, it had obviously been a rough time for him.

“Where is everyone?”

“You’re in the ICU, so visitors are limited. Your dad was in here with me not too long ago but he decided to give me some time alone with you. He, your mom, and everyone else are out in the waiting room. We’ve all been very worried.”

“Can we just be alone together for a little while? Just before you go out and get them?”

TK smiled softly as he pressed a kiss to Carlos’ forehead. “We can be alone for as long as you need. No one is going anywhere anytime soon.”

“So you’ll stay?”

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

TK grinned as he said that, and Carlos could see, for the first time since he’d woken up, an emotion on TK’s face that was raw and genuine and didn’t make him want to cry in sympathy.

“Are you going to tape a smoke alarm to my forehead from now on?”

TK pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. “Now, I didn’t think of that, but it’s a really good idea.”

“Do not,” Carlos said firmly, as TK pulled out his phone.

With a soft laugh TK poked his tongue out at Carlos. “I’m ordering smoke detectors.”

Carlos groaned. “You’re a menace.”

“You love me.”

“And you’re pushing your luck.”

[lilhawkeye3]

Find Your Way Back Home, Ch 5

Riyo Chuchi x Commander Wolffe, Riyo Chuchi x Commander Fox

Rating: T |||| Word Count: 2.1k |||| Set Post Order 66

AO3 Link

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Riyo’s heart was in her throat as she slipped out of Wolffe’s room that morning, hair slightly disheveled from her pillow’s thickly woven fabric. She hadn’t meant to sleep in so late, but tried to crush her lingering guilt by reminding herself that she hadn’t slept that well in months now.

She came to an abrupt stop when she spotted Rex standing in the kitchen, staring out the window at the fields of javun with a steaming cup of tea in his hands. He looked back over his shoulder at her with a soft smile.

“How is he?” Nothing could get by the captain, especially in such small quarters with two of the people he held dear to him.

Riyo offered a tired smile. “Healing. Able to hold a conversation, and be sarcastic,” she added as an afterthought, feeling pleased when Rex chuckled. “I think he’ll be alright.”

The blond’s smile turned bittersweet. “As alright as the rest of us,” he sighed.

Her shoulders drooped. “I suppose so.”

He grimaced apologetically and turned away, back to the window and the world outside. “Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“But not untrue.” Riyo made her way around the kitchen, snatching her favorite mug from the drying rack and a reusable tea bag from her cabinet before preparing a drink with the hot water pot and tea leaves Rex had left out on the counter.

He spoke up as she poured water into the ceramic mug. “I’m glad it was you.”

She nearly spilled the pot all over herself with how much she jolted in surprise. “Pardon?”

Rex was looking at her again, eyes a deep gold in the morning light. “I’m glad it was you here.” He lifted his drink to his mouth, but not in time to hide his sly smile. “I don’t think there’s anyone else that could really help him now. And I know Ahsoka’s been glad to see a friendly face.”

Riyo blinked at him vacantly for several long seconds. “And you?” She asked, choosing to side-step dealing with the confused swirl of emotions that now filled her.

Rex smirked, clearly knowing she was avoiding it. “I found it nice to see that someone held true to their oaths.”

Her mind flashed back to when she’d first met Rex and his men, the renowned 501st Battalion. Orto Plutonia had been an unhappy experience, but one that she had grown much from. Seeing the lives of so many men cut short over miscommunication and greed, learning that her people were in the wrong, treating with a proud nation despite being uncertain of her place.

“‘To die for one’s people is a great sacrifice. To live for them, a greater sacrifice. I choose to live,’” she recited, those words seared into her soul until the day she died. She met his gaze with a steady look and a raised eyebrow. “What do you choose, Rex?”

He met her stare with an equally quirked brow, as if to say I’m here, aren’t I? “I live for my brothers that haven’t been freed. I live for the ones that already breathed their last.” He paused. “I live for her.”

Ahsoka.

“She chose you,” Riyo said slowly, parsing out his hidden message. “She saved you.”

“Yes.”

“She saved you… but at the cost of your brothers.”

He sucked in a breath. “Yes.”

Riyo closed her eyes, feeling the pain that rolled off him in waves. “And you blame her for it, yet you owe her everything.” She opened her eyes, and the devastated look on Rex’s face showed she’d guessed correctly.

“Sometimes, I wish she’d let me die with them,” he whispered into his mug, watching several stray tea leaves swirl in a gentle pattern. “To see them living, but not really alive– ” He trailed off, searching for something, anything to keep him afloat. Riyo rushed forward, gently taking the mug from his hands and setting it aside before wrapping her arms around his waist. She hoped he wouldn’t take offense– they’d never been close– but he readily clung to her, breaths coming in ragged pants as everything finally overwhelmed him.

She wondered if he hadn’t allowed himself to feel until now, in this safe haven on a forgotten planet.

“It’s a fate worse than death,” he finished, fingers clutching at her knitted sweater.

Riyo stroked his back, trying to help soothe him. “It is for you and them,” she murmured. “You can grieve for what you lost. You’re safe here.” She felt him tremble against her and tried to hold him tighter. “Would… would you like to come help me in the fields today? Ahsoka can stay here; she’ll be able to monitor Wolffe and come get us if needed.”

Rex exhaled shakily, but she could feel some of the tension leave him at the temporary escape she was giving him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

It seemed that Wolffe wasn’t the only trooper under her roof that she’d be helping to heal.

————————

Riyo woke Ahsoka after she’d gone to get dressed for the day. She wasn’t about to leave the house without alerting her friend, seeing that her and Rex disappearing with no notice could trigger a traumatic response. As it was, Ahsoka opened one eye to listen to Riyo’s explanation of where they’d be before mumbling her thanks and burrowing back under her blankets.

And so Riyo and Rex went out into the juvan fields.

They talked while they worked. Rex spoke of the brothers he’d lost, Riyo of the friends among the Corries. Color returned to his face and light to his eyes as the day went on and the memories piled up. By the time the afternoon light began to fade, he was able to laugh over some of the shenanigans his Torrent squad had got up to.

Ahsoka watched them both with curious eyes when they returned, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she told them that while Wolffe had been muttering on and off in his sleep, he hadn’t yet woken up again. Riyo made sure to set aside some of their soup that evening for him, thinking that he might finally be stable enough to eat. When dinner was finished, Riyo left Ahsoka and Rex to their low conversation as they spoke over washing dishes in the kitchen to check on Wolffe. To her surprise, he seemed to just then be waking.

The savory smell of the soup in her hands caught his attention first, and by the way his stomach rumbles, food was definitely what he needed. After a quick check to his bandages, Riyo held the bowl and helped him sip directly from it, finding that to be easier than trying to use a spoon. It was a slow and steady process, but she wanted to make sure Wolffe didn’t eat too fast and consequently vomit it up because his body couldn’t handle so much after so long asleep.

He seemed to be keeping it down well, to her relief, but then Wolffe mentioned needing to use the fresher, and a whole new set of obstacles arose. The first they barely managed to overcome as Riyo helped Wolffe stand by letting him lean heavily on her, and together they shuffled out of the room and to the fresher.

The second wasn’t as difficult physically, but still proved to be problematic on its own.

Riyo glares at him, unimpressed. “Can you even get your pants off by yourself?”

Wolffe’s indignant expression makes her fight back laughter. “Of course I can–” he starts, curling downwards slightly to try and pull them down far enough, but the crunch flares up his chest wound and he hisses. “Fine.”

Riyo sighed. “Wolffe, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I had to change you into these when you got here. Besides, I often walked through the Corrie barracks on my own, and one time I made a wrong turn and ended up in the Flash squadron locker room, and–”

“Alright, alright. Your point has been made,” he groaned with a roll of his eyes, and she finally caved in and laughed.

“Come on, then.” He held still as she carefully pulled down the sweatpants and underclothes, being sure not to aggravate his thigh injury. She’d been honest about seeing him bare not bothering her; anatomy was anatomy, and it was nothing to be ashamed of or shy away from, especially when acting as an impromptu medic. “There, is that good?”

“Yeah, I can–” Wolffe shifted slightly and accidentally put weight on his bad leg, nearly falling if he hadn’t tightened his hold around Riyo’s shoulders. Her hands shot out to brace his waist and keep him from toppling over.

“You’ll be able to do this alone soon, but not yet,” she reaffirmed. Closing her eyes, she jerked her chin towards the toilet. “Get busy, soldier.”

“Hilarious,” Wolffe deadpanned, but Riyo could feel him relax under her fingertips. She’d hoped her nonchalant manner would be similar enough to any medical care he’d had before, and it looks like her bet had paid off. She was a statue, solid and silent next to Wolffe as he relieved himself for the first time since waking. He was trembling from standing for so long by the time he finished, and didn’t say a word as Riyo helped him redress, wash off, and return to the bedroom. She knew how hard it was to accept help after spending so long being someone others relied on, and to be in a situation where he had no other option than to accept her generosity was bound to be even more difficult.

The unwitting sigh of relief that slipped through his lips as she guided him to lay back down on the bed was evidence of how taxing the short trip was. It worried Riyo. If he was to try and go anywhere further than the fresher, he’d need someone much stronger than her to steady him, and she didn’t know how long Rex or Ahsoka were planning to stay. She was already surprised they’d remained for this long, but she figured Rex wanted to make sure his brother was definitely alright before leaving him again.

“Thank you.”

She looked up from maneuvering the blankets back over his legs at Wolffe’s raspy voice. He was watching her again, appearing just as defeated as he had in the low light the night before. His eyes were flat, his face shadowed and paler than it normally was, which only served to heighten his haunted form.

“You’re welcome,” she finally replied after several moments of silence. “How do you feel now?”

He closed his eyes and let his head sink back into the pillows. “Tired.”

Riyo smiled lightly. “You need to rest. Can you drink some water before you go back to sleep?”

Wolffe hummed, which she took to be affirmative. When she returned with a mug of cool water, it was to find Wolffe had already propped himself up and was looking somewhat expectantly towards her. She held the mug to his lips again so he could drink and distracted herself by watching the way his eyes fluttered shut as he emptied the mug. With that done, she set it aside on the bedside table and hovered in case Wolffe couldn’t arrange himself comfortably on his back. To her delight, he was able to do it himself, albeit with shaking arms. Some progress was better than none at all.

Dusk was truly settling in and the room was beginning to grow darker with each passing second, so Riyo murmured a polite excuse and moved to leave. She was stopped by Wolffe’s hesitant call of her name.

“Yes?” Hopefully he wasn’t in too much pain…

“Can you…” His words died off as he gestured weakly towards the floor next to his bed.

Oh. “Of course I’ll stay,” Riyo agreed. “Let me wash up and change, and then I’ll be back.”

————————

His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in a steady, slow rhythm by the time she slipped back into the room. His arm dangled awkwardly off the side of the bed so his knuckles brushed the chilled floor. This time Riyo was the one to take his hand in hers and rest them on her pillow, next to her head. He was warm and solid, something real that grounded her as she drifted off to sleep.

It was too dark for her to see the weary smile on Wolffe’s face as his thumb rubbed gentle circles against her palm before he too was out like a light.

[shyinadarkplace]

Bucky are you still there?

Summary: When their Soul bond is broken, the reader unable to bear the pain tries to end it all. The only question is will Bucky make in time to save her?  (Please be kind this is my very first time publishing a work)

Pairing: Bucky x reader. *I do not own Bucky Barnes or Sebastian Stan or any of his works*

Word count: 5k (I am sorry I might have gotten carried away)

Back ground info: This is an AU where there are Soulmates. If the connection between soul mates is somehow broken the mates have usually at max four years before everything gets unbearable. Also Tony is alive.

Prompt: Mountains/Forest and the song “Jealous” by Labyrinth. I also included another song “Dark side of me” by Coheed and Cambria. There is also an original poem by me in there.  *I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE ANY OF MY WORK AS A WHOLE OR IN PART, IN ANYWAY, ON ANY PLATFORM. *

Warnings: Proceed with caution. TRIGGER WARNING: There is mention of blood, extreme depression, suicidal thought and tendencies. That’s all I can think of, but please if you need help with any of the above mentioned things https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/  1-800-273-8255.  Please please reach out.

Title: Bucky are you still there?

Outside a winter storm raged deep in the Taiga, and while you were warm physically inside you felt just like that storm. You felt like the swirling mass of ice and snow, like the -54° C that currently raged outside your home. The added fire that sat blazing in front of you did little to assuage the pain that wracked through your chest. The ring on your hand glinted in the firelight. A familiar wave of heartbreak began crashing through you, even after all this time. When the much too familiar tears fell, another layer of ice layered around your heart. You stared into the fire and let your mind wander where it would, allowing your grief take its course.

Memory of your first meeting:

There was a pull in deepest part of your being. A tingling in the back of your mind. He was close. You could feel him brush across your consciousness like a gentle rain, and you returned the gesture. The room seemed to full of people why did Stark tower feel so crowded today? All you could do was stand frozen where you were running up a metaphorical flag screaming here I am. Your eyes quested searching desperately for someone doing the same, for the one who turned your spark into a firestorm. Suddenly there he was. Your eyes met and suddenly it was like you were falling, but gently, into warm blue eyes, into dark strands of hair and stubbly jawline. In man and muscle. Falling into him. Your feet were moving before you even realized it. Standing face to face with him, you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest “Hello, I’m (y/n). I have been waiting for you.) Your voice barely above a whisper almost afraid that if you spoke to loud it would somehow be just a dream. “Hello doll, my name is James Buchanan Barnes. I am so glad you waited.” Thus began your world wind love affair with the Winter Soldier, Bucky, White Wolf. And it was perfect. You two were perfect for each other been through so many of the same things. It was like you had discovered the theory of everything right then and there.

“6 years ago. Can you believe it Benji. Just six years ago Earth was upside down as a planet, but personally I was in heaven. I had met my soul mate.” The big wolf hound/wolf mix just laid his big black head on your lap, offering the silent comfort he always did. “We were married for three years. It was like magic.” A fresh batch of tears ran down your face. It had been 3 excruciating years. 3 years of feeling utterly alone. You had heard what it was like when someone lost their soulmate, it was like they were a zombie. They lost some of their humanity. It was like when a clinically depressed person masked, they looked and sounded fine for the most part but something was just off. Most of the time when one lost their soul mate they died too, unable to carry on without them or unwilling too. So many times you had been tempted to walk out in weather like this and let the Taiga take you. So many times you sat staring into the flames and thought about ending it all. After all there were thousands of ways to die. It had been 6 years since what the world came to call the Endgame. Since something had snapped inside Bucky during that battle and he had vanished. The end of the third long and bitter year was coming up, a person can only take so much.

Memory: You were probably 100 yards away from him when it happened. You could feel something wrong with Bucky, you had to get to him and help him. You got distracted next thing you knew a long thick metal rod had you staked to the ground. You couldn’t move it was embedded too far in the ground behind you. So you fought on like that, on the ground taking blasters and weapons from anything you fought with as the Super serum running through your veins kept you alive, easing the bleeding. You kept fighting hoping somehow you would be able to get up to get to Bucky. Hot tears streamed down your face and a scream ripped savagely from your throat as suddenly the constant connection that you had with Bucky was gone. It was like it had never existed. All you could feel was an iron wall. Utterly impenetrable. You couldn’t tell if it was just the limit of your consciousness or if it was him somehow cutting you off. Or if the worst had happened. Then the world went black.

When Steve found you, you had passed out from blood loss. You were in a coma for a week due to the severity of the wound but you remembered your dreams and they were sweet.

In your dreams it was just after you and Bucky had gotten married. A week to the day actually. You had curled up beside him and asked you could read him something you wrote. He didn’t need to say anything. All of his attention focused on you. A blush crept up your neck as you read what you had written.

“You always looked like trouble but the very best kind.

Even before I knew what you looked like.

You looked like everything I wanted at 16.18.20.26.

You looked like whiskey and smoke before I even knew the taste.

You looked like a hot rod idling at a stop light.

You looked like my addiction before it developed. Like my favorite kind of pain.

I don’t know how but I always just knew, that your eyes where blue. Blue. Such a cool tone. The kind that reminds you glaciers or ice cubes against passion heated skin. Like Blue flames, that seemed to sear clothes off with a glance, and pool fire in my belly. And when you smiled I really knew you were trouble then. But the best kind. The kind I couldn’t live without. The kind that kept me breathing. When you smiled at me the first time, I was yours.

The first time with you…oh god it was like nothing before. I had spent so many hours over the years before I met you, day dreaming about my fingers in your hair, your hands blazing trails of fire against my skin. Your lips crushed against mine…

By the time you placed your hand against my cheek and started kissing me, it was like you had kissed me a thousand times before. By the time your hands caressed my skin in expectant reverence (a shock to my system) it was as though your hands had always known my skin.

When I touched your skin, I was in awe at the newness of the sensation and yet it was so familiar. As I felt like your hands had always known my skin, I felt I had always known yours.

That first time didn’t feel like the first time. It felt like we had been together since the beginning of time. I didn’t need to question anything, because we knew each other so intimately words were not needed.

No need for words because I knew where to kiss you, as if some instinct worked within me. Knew where to touch. Knew how to kiss you wherever my lips landed. Knew when to bite and when to soothe. I knew it because you had always been mine. I was made for you.

No need for words because you knew, knew when to be gentle, when to be firm, knew everything you needed to get me high. With you it was natural as breathing. You brought me back to life the way a smith does a cold forge. With you it was the first time but it felt as though we had been there a thousand, thousand times before.

When I first saw you it all became real, I had already spent years falling in love with the idea of being with you. In the ease and comfort and debauchery of your presence. Suddenly every dream I had ever had about my soul mate blazed into existence.

You looked like my addiction when it formed, like my favorite kind of pain. You looked like someone I had loved a thousand, thousand times. “

You two had been so tangled up in each other it was hard to tell where he ended and you began, the line between him and you blurred. You were in complete bliss. At least while you were sleeping.

Steve was there when you woke up. As soon as you saw him and not Bucky your heart began to fracture. It looked like he had been crying, like he had not been to slept. Everything inside you went cold. Your mind reached out for Bucky, for the comfort of your soulmate and touched…nothing it was like he was dead. But he couldn’t be right? Even though you felt like you were dead, with the only sign that you were alive being the beeping of the monitors in the room, he couldn’t be, right? But that is what it felt like because there was just…nothing like the connection had never been. You tried again and again to push past whatever was stopping you but it was no use because there was nothing for you to grab on to. “(y/n) you have to stop pushing against that wall. It won’t help.” Steve’s voice broke and he took your hands. “It won’t help, he’s gone and…and we don’t know where he is or if he is gonna come back. So you…you have to stop pushing and focus on you right now.” He wiped the tears from your face and gave his best smile, though it did little to ease the pain “You have to be stronger than ever. I know that I am asking a lot. But you’re his best girl and you gotta be ready to kick his ass when he comes back.” All you could muster was a small twitch at the side of your mouth. “If …I was his best girl…why’d he leave me Stevie?” you whispered so softly he could barely hear but damn if it didn’t break his heart.

Then it was dark again. This time there were no comforting dreams. Steve sat there by your bed and let his chest heave as he cried quitely. He cried for a lot of reasons. After a while he stood up, and left the room for the first time in days. He knew he would have to be there for you if you were gonna make it so it was time to get cleaned up and eat something, maybe try to catch some sleep. There was a long road ahead.

It was a whole day later when you woke up again. Steve was sitting in the window of your hospital room. “Hey Stevie… see anything good out there?” He jumped at the sound of your voice and grinned at you. “Hey there sweetheart, how are you feeling?” he said softly coming to sit next you once again. He took your hand and when he squeezed gently, you squeezed back. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Honestly? I feel like my insides have been scrubbed with sandpaper. I feel raw and bloody…I feel the most incredible pain and yet completely numb. But…” You paused trying to steady the sick feeling in your gut. You looked directly in Steve’s soft blue eyes and they offered a little comfort in their familiarity. “But…” you continued “I know I need to get out of this hospital bed. I need to regain my strength and take care of myself, because I know he is out there. I have to find him Stevie. Now I need you to tell me everything.” Steve nodded a slight grin coming to his face “I knew there was a reason you were meant for that punk. I will tell you everything but how about you shower, get changed and we get you some food first huh?” You sighed, it bothered you to put off the inevitable but you knew you probably smelled like a trash truck and you were hungry. So you did what Steve asked and you two had lunch together. For a couple hours you both pretended like all was right in the world.

When Steve finally started talking it sounded more like a debriefing and less like his best friend was missing, honestly though it was almost easier that way. Thinking of it like another mission rather than losing your soulmate. “Well, to be honest I can’t tell you a whole lot. All I know is that Buck and I were maybe 10 feet apart. Everything was fine. Everything was fine until it wasn’t. I can’t say what happened, one second I looked over and he was fine. He was Bucky. The next he was Winter Soldat. Then Tony snapped and the fighting stopped, but I lost sight of him. I guess once there was no enemy he just took off. We do know that he stole a Wakandan air ship, but he must have damaged enough of the important components to make it untraceable. We don’t know where he is. I can guarantee though that he learned from last time, we won’t be able to find him if he doesn’t want to be found.”

You took a deep breath eyes closed. The urge to just give up right then and there was almost overwhelming. You knew there were ways to kill a super soldier. Hell you had come pretty close to it in the past. “Sweetheart, don’t go there. We both know it won’t it won’t work.” Steve’s voice yanked you sharply from the dark thoughts that crept into your mind. You sighed “Yeah, I guess you are right Stevie.” There was nothing either of you could do, except move on. Survive.

After that you and Steve were as close as could be. When you couldn’t sleep you it always seemed like Steve was up to. If you needed comfort he was there. You did everything together. Both of you knew it wasn’t really healthy but at the same time it helped with the healing. You went to therapy and got mental help. You stayed combat ready. You continued blowing minds working with Tony and Shuri on tech. You picked up new hobbies like gardening, and painting and drawing. You did everything you could to keep yourself somewhat distracted from the hollowness that ate at you.

You never cried in front of anyone but Steve, but everyone knew. Even if they couldn’t hear the crying they could hear the music that came from your room. No matter the tune no one knocked when the soft static of your record player was on. You were living in the past, trying to cope the best way you could dancing alone to songs that you and Bucky loved. Listening to your past and his with every pop of the speaker. Sometimes Steve would stand outside your room with his head pressed against the door and just listen. He’d sway along with the music because it brought back memories for him too. Eventually he would feel guilty because he wanted nothing more than to go in and take you in his arms. Kiss you. Comfort you. Part of him believed that Bucky really was gone. Part of him didn’t think he even had a soul mate and he was so fucking lonely. But he never did. If anyone ever noticed, they never said anything.

A year had passed since Bucky left.  A year you spent in therapy, spent pretending every god damn day that you didn’t want to just die so the pain would stop, clinging to Steve like a fucking life raft and Steve clung back. You both knew it wasn’t healthy but you needed each other in ways that other people couldn’t understand. Steve was the only other person who really knew Bucky. Who could understand the things that you had went through. Who was just as lonely as you. Steve was your best friend. The day after the one year Painaversary, something incredible happened. Steve finally met his Soulmate. It hit you like a slap in the face from Hulk. You had already lost your Soulmate but now you had to lose your best friend too.

Steve sat on the edge of your bed staring daggers in to the floor. He kept his eyes down when you came out of the bathroom. “Hey there (y/n/n). You wanna tell me why you have what’s the word ‘ghosted’ me for the past week.” His voice was cold and harsh. Not what you expected. Not that you had been expecting Steve to be sitting on your bed when you came out of the shower but the tone he used was the more shocking thing at the moment. “You know why Stevie.” You said moving quietly to get dressed, unable to bring your voice above a whisper. He didn’t look up until he heard a soft sob. You were standing fully clothed in Bucky’s sweats and a worn t-shirt, with your head against Bucky’s dresser. “You know why. Just because Soulmates can’t be unfaithful doesn’t mean this is okay, Stevie.” In his heart he knew you were right but it killed him, gently he picked you up, turned off the lights and tucked you into bed. Then like most every night before he climbed in behind you. His body heat a silent invitation more of a pull like a magnet, one that you couldn’t resist right now. So you snuggled into his arms your back against his chest. As he wrapped his arms around you, he whispered voice rough with emotion, “This doesn’t have to end (y/n/n). “You knew what he was trying to do. “Stevie. It’s okay. We’ve been holding on to each other so tightly because we both were drowning. You can’t make Janey hurt. It’s okay. We will still hang out, but no more late nights like this.” It hurt to say. If it was possible he pulled you closer and held you closer. His heat wrapped you up like another blanket. You sighed. He just nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He could feel your tears on his arm as he held you. Why did it feel like his heart was getting shredded? For a while there was silence. “Stevie?” “Yeah sweetheart.” “I miss him so much, this hurts so fucking bad. Why did he leave me? I wish I would have just died there. It would better than this.” You curled up in a ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible, hoping somehow it would help. Steve sat up, propped all the pillows behind him, picked you up like you were a child and tucked you safely against his chest. The sobs and half screams that tore from your throat brought tears to his eyes. All he could do was hold you, stroke your hair, kiss the top of your head and whisper “I know sweetheart. I know. I’m here. I got ya. We’ll find him I promise. We will make all of this right. I promise.” Eventually there were no more tears to cry and you relaxed. Your voice was hoarse when you whispered “I was to move to the Taiga.” “Alright sweetheart we will make it happen.”

            A month later you had everything you needed to move. Tony had help you engineer a sort of mini arc reactor that supplied your home with 100% clean energy, and all of the wood used to build your house and furniture (which admittedly was a lot) was sustainably farmed, all of the pipes that brought water to the house from the lake had all been lain with minimal disruption to the landscape.

Stevie was the one who came along and helped you actually build the little house. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen and living room. It was a cozy little place, all the modern amenities but an old time feel. Plus you had your 1945 Jeep and a snowmobile. You had everything you needed.

You and Steve held hands as you stood back admiring the house one last time.

“Looks good sweet heart. You sure you are gonna be okay out here?” His voice was light but the concern was evident by the gentle squeeze he gave your hand.

You heaved a deep sigh “Yeah. Yeah. I think I will be fine. I feel better here and now than I have since he left. I promise I will keep in contact. I mean how could I not according to Tony I have my own satellite.” You returned the squeeze of his hand to reassure him. Gently he pulled you into a great bear of a hug. You were pretty sure if you hadn’t been a super soldier he probably would have broken you, you just laughed and hugged him back. “I want you to know I love you (y/n/n) and hell I’m going to miss you. So please be safe and if you need anything call, okay?”

“I love you too Stevie, I will miss you too. I promise I will call okay. Hey you better get going you got places to be.” He held you for a moment longer, kissed the top of your head and said “Yeah you are probably right. But before I do I have one more thing for you.” He goes over to his jeep and pulls out a box with holes in it. As soon as he sets it down you open it, to be greeted by the most adorable ball cute you had ever seen in your life. You picked it up finding that it was a puppy. “Janey picked him out for you. He is probably going to be huge, but she thought he would be perfect to keep you company out here.”

“Tell her I said thank you. I think this is just what I needed.” You said cuddling the sleeping puppy to your chest. Steve nodded and smiled. You watched as he went and started his jeep and drove away. You felt as close to content as you could with your heart in ribbons.

Present

By the time you snapped back to the present the fire was low. Benji was asleep at your feet and the howling outside had stopped. You decided to grab some coffee, bundle up and go outside to watch the night sky. It was breath taking. The Northern Lights danced and swayed shifting colors as they went. The stars shone brilliantly uninhibited by light pollution. You sipped your coffee and mindlessly started to hum as you watched the night.

No one knew you could sing. All evidence destroyed from your operative days, no one knew except Bucky. Your heart swelled and your eyes closed. You lifted your face toward the sky and started to sing and you thought it was fitting when the words only came to you in Russian, while the one person you wanted to hear was god knows where. Still he was the one you sang for…or perhaps you sang for the memory of him.

“Я завидую дождю. (I envy the rain)

Он падает на вашу кожу (It falls on your skin)

Он ближе, чем мои руки.(It’s closer than my hands)

Я завидую дождю.(I envy the rain)

Я завидую ветру (I envy the wind)

Она течет сквозь твою одежду (it flows through your clothes)

Он ближе, чем твоя тень. (it’s closer than your shadow)

О, я завидую ветру(oh I envy the wind)

Я завидую ночам. (I envy the nights)

Которые я не провожу с тобой (which I can’t spend with you)

Интересно, с кем ты лежишь рядом? (I wonder who you lay next to)

О, я завидую ночам. (oh I envy the nights)

Я завидую этой любви (I envy this love)

Любовь, которая была здесь. (this love that was here)

Осталось поделиться с кем - то еще (left to share with someone else)

О, я завидую этой любви (oh I envy this love)

Потому что я пожелал тебе всего самого лучшего. (Because I wished you all the best)

Все, что может дать этот мир.(all this world can give)

и все же ты меня бросил. (still you left me)

но мне нечего прощать.(but there’s nothing to forgive)

Но я всегда думал, что ты вернешься и скажешь мне, что все, что ты нашел, это ...

(but I always thought you would come back and tell me all you found was…)

Горе и страдания(grief and suffering)

Мне трудно сказать, я завидую этому пути.(its hard for me to say, I envy the way)

Ты счастлива без меня (you are happy without me)”

Your voice broke as the last note sounded. Subconsciously you reached for ghost of the connection you shared with Bucky. For a moment you almost thought you felt something brush back. Tears welled up as you fell to your knees in the snow. You couldn’t take it anymore. A scream of pure anguish ripped through your body.

After a moment you collect yourself and took the knife you always carried from its sheath. You stripped off your coat and laid it on the ground. Rolling up your sleeves you smiled softly thinking that maybe once you were gone in a way you would be with Bucky again.

There was no hesitation as you drove the knife blade into the pulse point of your wrist and slashed up, not waiting to repeat the process to the other side. You lay on your back and gaze up at the sky. In the distance you hear a motor. No it couldn’t be. Felt something brush against your mind. You smiled at the thought of your brain trying to make you fight. You knew it was going to take a bit longer to bleed out since it was so cold. You didn’t mind it would be over soon anyway.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but your eyes started to feel heavy. Black started creeping into the edge of your vision. You let out a sigh finally.

“(Y/N/N)!!!!!!!! NOOOOOO (Y/N/N) PLEEAASSEEE!!!”

You could see a blurry figure coming toward you.  You knew that voice. It was like they were moving in slow motion and talking underwater. But that couldn’t be right.

Suddenly you heard that stupid motor again. Then something touched your skin. For a moment you felt fireworks. You opened your eyes. “Fuck (y/n/n) please hold on. I am so sorry doll. I’m so sorry, please don’t go. Please.” Bucky’s voice rang in your ears like a call to prayer. “Baby girl please.” His voice was hoarse and choked up. Barely able to speak through the lump in his throat at the sight of you.

You forced your eyes open and took in the sight of him for what would probably be the last time and whispered “Buck?” Then the world went dark as a scream that was like the torture of a thousand hells ripped and tore through the landscape.

In the aftermath a melody played 

"In those discouraging days

I always missed the mark When we were comfort and close I would neglect to keep

Oh, you safe and unexposed A portrait of time repeats This moment now replaced With an empty wish to give I give, I gave

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This selfish war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me

Now in your absence I wade Through the coursing, lonely, lost And in this tragic dismay I never could believe what I became

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This welcomed war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me

Oh, I couldn't give you What you needed It's all my fault Too coward to believe I lost it all

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This selfish war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me"

 "Buck are you still there? I don't want to die."

[himluv]

Day 2, "Tender Caress". @14daysdalovers

Revan’ilan woke to the dark. He blinked, eyes struggling to find something familiar, but in the faint pre-dawn light nothing looked right. This was not his quarters in Skyhold. It wasn’t even the familiar brown of his standard issue Inquisition tent. It definitely was not the cramped and crowded space of his family’s aravel. This room was large, opulent and spacious. Palatial.

Because, of course, they were in Halamshiral. The Winter Palace. 

The Exalted Council had been infiltrated, the Qunari threat had led him on a merry chase through eluvians and impossible places lost to time. They had led him to Solas, his friend. 

Or at least, he had been, once.

Now his left arm throbbed with pain, hot and furious at the memory of the Anchor being removed. Solas’ grip had been firm, but not unkind. His friend had been regret made manifest as Revan cried out in pain and then relief. One moment the pulsing fury of the Anchor thundered through him like a second heartbeat, and the next it was just… gone. 

For a brief moment the sudden peace was relief. For the first time in days he felt like he could breathe, could think. And then a new pain seared through him, pure fire climbing from elbow to shoulder. 

Solas stepped through yet another eluvian and was gone, leaving Revan kneeling in the dirt with only half an arm.

… His arm.

He fumbled with the blankets, desperate and frantic, his right hand dragging at the fabric. Until warm, tender hands found his.

“Amatus,” Dorian said. 

In the dark, half-asleep, Revan hadn’t noticed the mage sitting in the chair beside the bed. Dorian was rumpled, his hair mussed and mustache drooping, with dark circles under puffy, red-rimmed eyes. He looked worn, tired in a way Revan had never seen. He looked bereft. 

He swallowed against the lump of fear in his throat, but still his voice trembled between them. “My arm. Did he-? Is it really-?” He couldn’t bring himself to say it, even though he already knew the answer. 

Dorian’s eyes watered and he looked down at where his hands cradled Revan’s remaining one. “I know the Anchor was killing you, and yet,” he took a deep breath, “I still hate the bastard.”

That made him laugh, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps because, in that moment, he didn’t feel hate toward Solas. In that exact moment, Revan didn’t feel anything at all.

“I think I’m in shock,” he said. His voice sounded as numb as the rest of him. 

Dorian squeezed his hand, and then gently pressed a palm to his chest, pushing Revan back down onto the bed.  

“I would think so. It’s been a terribly long week.”

“A week!?” Revan tried to sit up, but Dorian’s hand on his chest kept him in place. 

“You suffered a terrible injury, Amatus. Considerable blood loss, not to mention the fever.” Dorian cleared his throat. “There were legitimate concerns about your survival.”

That should have rocked him, he should have cared more about the frailty of Dorian’s voice. But still, he felt nothing. 

“But the Council-”

“Will continue to wait.” There was steel behind the Magister’s voice. This was not s topic for negotiation, and in that moment, Revan didn’t have the energy to push the matter. He was so very tired all of a sudden. 

“Fine,” he said, ever the petulant child. In that moment the bed felt too big, like it might swallow him whole. But he didn’t know how to ask Dorian to join him. Didn’t know if he ought to. Everything felt wrong now. Hollow in some way. How could he possibly sleep like this?

But Dorian perched on the edge of the bed and brushed his hand over Revan’s forehead, soothing him over and over again. He focused on that rhythm, the way it reminded him of the ocean, until he could just ignore the burning at his left elbow. 

Until he fell back to sleep. 

[marvels-agents100]

tenant of tartarus

you were my crown, now i’m in exile, seeing you out

pairing: aaron hotchner x gender neutral ! reader

warnings: the big sad, manipulative behavior, toxic relationship

word count: 2,520

request: one shot based on ‘exile’, from taylor swift’s new album, folklore

author’s note: mr first request ! this hurt to write so prepare yourself

His hands used to feel so warm, so inviting. His skin used to be so soft and gentle. But, as time passed by in an unforgiving pace, the sunlight he shone onto you dimmed into the flicker of a candle, the winds of wasted time rolling off cold shoulders and whisking away the small amount of light emitted from the single flame. All that was left was the cold, dark wasteland of what once was.

A burdened sigh left you, your cheek resting on your fist, elbow propped on the armrest of the couch. The only light in the room was that of the television screen, its ocean hue lining your tired features. Your eyes stared nowhere in particular, looking at the screen before you but not necessarily watching it.

The click of the deadbolt did little to shock you out of your stupor, the hinges creaking as the door opened. Aaron stepped inside, his briefcase finding it home beside the door as it clicked shut. He barely spared you a glance as he shed his suit jacket.

“Hey,” you broke the silence, gaze finally flickering towards him.

His jacket was slung over his arm, the gun on his side finding it’s way into its small safe, “Hi.”

“There’s leftovers in the fridge, if you’re hungry,” you said quietly, eyes following him as he settled into the apartment. He walked behind the couch, hand coming to rest on your shoulder as his lips pressed a chaste kiss on the top of your head.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into your hair, before disappearing down the hallway leading to the bedroom.

His touch left no searing heat on your shoulder, his kiss doing little to the beating of your heart.

His love- if you could even call it that- had trouble filling a space it once occupied, and it was the most awful, terrible thing.

You could no longer decipher the complicated feelings you had towards him; all you could feel was complete and utter exhaustion.

“What happened?” Your feet carried you into the bedroom without your consent, the question that had been festering in your mind for months tumbling from your lips without reserve.

He sighed, hands coming to rest on his hips, “You know I don’t like talking about cases at home-“

“I don’t mean on the case,” you interrupted, “I mean to us. You’re distant, I’m distant, and neither of us seem to care.”

“That’s unfair,” he protested. 

“How is that unfair?” Your volume was beginning to rise, the inevitable fight creeping into the room. 

“Because you know what I do, how much time my job takes,” his voice raised with yours, “you can’t call me distant when it’s out of my control.”

“I wasn’t talking about your job, Aaron,” you were sure your yelling carried through the walls, “I was talking about how you barely acknowledge my existence when you’re home.”

“Oh,” he laughed humorlessly, holding his palms up in mock surrender, “well, I’m sorry I’m not completely fine when I come home,” he took his tie off his neck angrily, “I watch people die, and sometimes I’m the one pulling the trigger. How would you feel after that?”

“I’m not asking for you to give me the world,” tears began to burn and your eyes and you could feel your throat tighten, “but, God, I want to feel like I occupy even a fraction of your thoughts.”

He sighed, a hand running down his features. With a small, rushed glance at you, he walked into the closet, hand fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. You followed him, a tear escaping onto your cheek.

“Are you going to say anything?” You asked exasperatedly, hands out to your side, emphasizing your words.

“What do you want me to say?” His eyebrows sat low on his forehead, “I can apologize, but I have a feeling that you won’t be forgiving until I give up the thing that comes between us.”

You scoffed, “I have never asked you to quit the BAU.”

“You don’t need to ask.”

His shirt floated to the ground, landing upon the rest of his worn, wrinkled clothes, his belt buckle rattling as he removed it from his waist. You stood in the doorway of the closet, arms crossed and eyes focused on the floor, tears falling from your face onto the carpet below your feet. The silence in the air was tense, the only sound being the ruffling of fabric as Aaron untucked his shirt.

“Look,” he said, quietly, “I can try to put in more effort, but I can’t say I’m sorry for doing what I do. I won’t apologize for who I am.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Your eyes finally snapped up to meet his. 

“What?”

“I’m not asking for you to be a perfect partner, I’m not asking for you to be one hundred percent here, all the time,” your words were spilling over, bubbling from your chest in a way that was beyond your control, “I am just asking for you to care, to be here when you are here and there when you are there.”

“I’m trying!”

“It doesn’t feel like you are!”

“What more do you want me to do?” His arms were extended to his sides, “I can’t stop working, there are people who are dying everyday-“

“Don’t do that, Aaron,” you warned lowly, your finger pointed towards him, “don’t use the people you save as an excuse for your treatment of me. You’re a good man, and I won’t ever deny that, but you don’t have to be so damn shrewd.”

“Oh, so I’m shrewd for wanting to help others?” He countered.

“No,” you seethed, “you’re shrewd for using them to guilt me into forgiving you.”

He sighed, head shaking as he looked away from you. Ripping a pair of sweatpants from the shelf beside him, he pushed past you back into the bedroom. You turned with his movement, eyes following him as he circled to his side of the bed.

“I don’t know what to say,” he shrugged, finally meeting your gaze, “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Do you even want to?” You choked out, arms falling limply to your sides. Every bit of you felt defeated, and the dread that had been sitting in your stomach fully consumed you. It was the tell tale sign of the end, a fight like that.

His lack of an answer was an answer within itself.

“Do you still love me?” You voice was softer for that question. His angry expression broke into one of complete sorrow.

“I always will,” he whispered, “there will never be a day that I stop loving you.”

You breathed deeply, wiping chastely at your dampened cheeks, “When did you decide to stop showing it?”

His head bowed down in shame, the great of the beating in his chest echoing through the room. There was no arguing, he knew. Any word he shouted would be countered with your own. The end had made an appearance in his life before, and the dark, stormy feelings eating away at his mind were a painful reminder of a woman he had lost long ago.

You let yourself cry, because you knew. You knew that night would be the last time you saw him, the last time you stood in that bedroom, the last time you witnessed the way he wore the moonlight like a blanket. He was a good man, and he had been good to you, but you had to worry for your own happiness before his. It’s what everyone has to do- care for themselves before they can care for anyone else.

Happiness used to live in the laughter you shared with him, in the morning sun that leaked through the curtains and onto your shared bed. The way he held you and the way he kissed you used to be the reason you rose every morning, hands soft like the breeze over a blossoming field, kisses hot with shared breath. 

But, every sun will set, and every flower will die. And just like the way the beauty of autumn falls victim to unrelenting winter every year, the rapid beating of your heart and warm feeling in your chest ran away at the sight of his fading love.

He wanted to reach out and hold you, comfort you, but he knew it would offer no help. So, he let you cry. He let you release the emotions you were holding, and he didn’t make any attempt of stopping the outpour.

However the small, sleepy voice of Jack Hotchner did.

“Dad?” He called quietly, perched nervously in the doorway. His eyes darted from Aaron to you, the upturn of his eyebrows making his soft eyes look so, incredibly sad.

You stopped your cries, wiping away the tears that stained your face and turning away from the little boy you had come to love dearly.

“Jack,” Aaron breathed, crossing the room quickly, “buddy, why are you up? It’s late.”

“I heard you yelling,” his voice was so small, so innocent, it almost broke you again.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron whispered, kneeling before his son and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, “we were just talking, everything’s okay. Go get some rest, you have school tomorrow.”

Jack looked at you, your back still to him. Despite his father’s plea, he walked towards you, his small hand reaching to touch the back of your arm. The contact made you turn towards him eyes red and impossibly glossed over, heartbreak written in your expression. Jack smiled sadly at you, fisting the fabric of your shirt and tugging on it slightly. 

“Can you tuck me in?” He asked, and it was that question that took your already damaged heart and crushed it completely.

“Of course, baby,” your voice was watery and your smile was shaky, but the toothy grin he gave you was holding together the rickety scaffolding that you called your composure.

You followed Jack to his room, keeping your eyes away from Aaron as you passed him. The soft light of Jack’s night light gave the room a soft yellow glow, just enough for visibility, but not too much that it prevented sleep. Jack hopped into his bed, digging himself into the covers and sitting against his pillows. You found a spot by the edge of the bed, hands pulling the blanket to cover the boy a little more.

“I’m sorry we woke you up,” you apologized, your hand running through his blonde hair.

“Are you gonna leave?” He asked quietly, completely disregarding your statement.

You paused before answering, “I don’t know, baby,” you held his hands, “love can be tricky, sometimes.”

“Okay,” the sadness in his voice made you want to hold him, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m sorry, love bug,” you struggled to keep yourself together, “just know that no matter what, I love you, okay?”

“I love you,” he answered, nodding slightly. You wrapped him in a hug, holding him to you like you would never see him again, because in all actuality, there was a chance you wouldn’t. With a small kiss to his forehead, he laid on his pillow before turning over and closing his eyes.

You turned to take one more look at him before leaving the room, trying to memorize the way his hugs always felt warm, the way his laughter could bring a smile to anyone’s face. He was such a good kid, and losing him from your life was something that was unfathomably painful.

Reaching the bedroom once more, you found Aaron sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows rested on his knees.

“I think I should go,” you said quietly, eyes focused on the carpet below your feet.

He looked up at you, sad eyes already glossy, “Do you mean-“

“Yeah,” you interrupted.

“Is there anything I can say?” He pleaded, voice heavy with tears.

“I don’t-,” you hesitated, “I’m just so tired, Aaron. I’m exhausted.”

He didn’t answer, just dropped his head once more, gaze trained on the ground.

You moved swiftly, packing the things you had moved to his apartment, since you stayed there so often with Jack. It was easy enough, and you were silently thankful that you hadn’t fully moved in. Of course, you would’ve said yes if he asked you- it was a normal step for people who had been together for over a year- but he never asked.

A duffel bag and a backpack was enough to carry your belongings, and you set them by the door with a soft thud. You walked to Aaron, still on the edge of the bed, and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. He looked up at you, cheeks wet and eyes rosy.

“If you need any help with Jack, I’m here,” your fingers carded through his hair, relishing in the way he felt for the last time, “goodbye, Aaron.”

“Please,” he choked out.

You leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, just like you had done to Jack.

“Goodbye,” you whispered onto his skin, before pulling away, gathering your bags, and walking through the door.

He stayed where he was long after he heard the front door close. There was no desire to move, no desire to chase you, no desire to profess how much he wanted you to stay. Everything he felt was numb, and the lack of any pain almost disgusted him. What did you mean to him, if he felt nothing when you were gone?

He shook his head to push that thought away, because he knew what you meant. He loved you, with everything he was, but you were right. You were right in saying that he didn’t prioritize you, he didn’t strive to show you how you were needed in his life. You leaving was simply karma balancing the mistreatment he had inflicted upon you.

He thought of Jack, of how sad he was going to be. Of how much he would miss you. Of how much he loved you. He worried that Jack felt the same feelings you did. Never in his life did he want his son to feel unloved, or unworthy, or unimportant. Did his tendency to be cold and serious carry over into his life with his son?

Everything just felt wrong, it all felt empty. The moonlight wasn’t comforting, it was a spotlight of judgment sneaking through the curtains. The stars didn’t shine, they twinkled dimly before burning out within the light pollution of the city. The sheets he used to share with you, the sheets he used to love you in, were just linens, cold and rough and uninviting. Everything was wrong, and he had no clue how he was going to fix it.

His hands scrubbed down his face, a sigh leaving him. He had seen this film before, and he didn’t like ending then, and he definitely didn’t like it now. And there was no way he would be able to change it.

“You were my crown, now I’m in exile, seeing you out.”

taglist:

@quillvine​ @winterscaptain​ @agenthotchner​ @davidrossi-ismydad​ @misskirkstark​ @good-heavens-chris-evans​ @vintagecaptainspidey​

[novannna]

You Were the Hands That Held Me

Danissa soulmate au.  everyone has a soul mate, and any marking that appears on their skin, appears on yours.  narcissa’s pov.  Kinda angsty, but also fluffy.  

tw: self harm, and mentions of abuse kinda

wc: 2363

Narcissa stared at her arm in awe.  This was the first time her soulmate had ever drawn something on her skin.  She had felt the same cuts and bruises her soulmate had received, just like everyone else, but this was the first time her soulmate had deliberately marked her own skin.

Messy butterflies with uneven wings, and twisted antennas marched down Narcissa’s forearm.  

“Oh,” she whispered.  “Cool.”  She grabbed the nearest marked, and held it poised above the other arm, ready to reply, but thought better of it.  

She shouldn’t force her soulmate to stop their art for Narcissa.  She dropped the marker, and kept watching the thick lines as they covered her entire arm.  

That night she washed it all away in scalding hot water before her grandfather noticed.  He wouldn’t approve of Narcissa communicating with her soulmate.  

He hated the idea of How there was one person in the world, waiting just for you.  

His soulmate had died years ago, leaving him heartbroken and angry, bitter to the world.   

If Narcissa wasn’t careful, he might take the anger out on her.    

Narcissa could take it, but she didn’t want to hurt her soulmate too.  Narcissa would feel awful.  

So she tried to ignore the small flowers and butterflies her soulmate drew constantly.  Narcissa tried her very best.  

---

Years later, Narcissa wrote to her soulmate for the first time.  It was in the middle of the night, when Narcissa had felt a searing pain across her arm that looked like a red slit across her pale skin.  

Her soulmate was in trouble.  She couldn’t just stand by now. Narcissa had to do something.  

Grabbing a tissue to staunch the bleeding, Narcissa scrawled across her hand in thick ink. 

STOP

I can’t , her soulmate replied. 

Please, just hear me out, Narcissa wrote, hoping she could do enough.  Hoping she could convince the person who had drawn butterflies everywhere on their body, that maybe the world really did want them. 

please, just stay out of this

I can’t. This is my body too.  And even though I’ve never met you, you're my soulmate and I care about you. 

Fine. I’ll listen. Her soulmate's handwriting was a little shaky, but very neat, with tall, loopy letters.  

I’m guessing you’ve been having a hard time with life recently, Narcissa started. 

I guess

Do you want to be here?  Narcissa asked bluntly

There was a long pause.  I don’t know, her soulmate finally responded.  I love Earth, but the people…. I can’t stand the people. All they do is bring hate and hurt to me

I get that.  But the people don’t matter. You do.  Danna wrote desperately. 

No I don’t. I’ve never done a single good thing in my life

You have!  You’ve made me smile!  You’ve made me laugh!  

Her soulmate replied, When?  This is the first time I’ve ever talked to you

When we were younger, you used to constantly doodle little flowers and butterflies all across our bodies. I loved to watch you draw them, watch the blocky little lines appear across my body.   Danna smiled as she recalled the delicate insects she wore across her body daily. 

I thought you hated those. That’s why I stopped

No, of course not!

Then why did you erase them?

Narcissa sighed. She thought for a second, then wrote, my grandfather. He hates soulmates. If he knew I was communicating with mine, I’m afraid he would hurt me.  And doing that would hurt you. 

But… that means you could get in trouble right now!

No. I won’t, I’m fine. You are more important.  Tell me, what made you want to hurt yourself today?

I guess I’m just tired of being ignored. I’m tired of being treated like a child. I want to leave my house, but I can’t. I can’t live on my own. 

Thats okay, you shouldn’t be ignored.  You should be your own person, and if your parents cant see that, they’re idiots!!

Narcissa capped the pen, and tried to wrap her blanket around her arm, the blood slowly soaked through the fabric, staining the blanket a bright red.  How would she explain that to her grandfather?  It didn’t matter right now though.  Right now, she had to make sure her soulmate was okay.  That was her one and only goal.  Nothing else mattered.  Narcissa had the opportunity to maybe save a life right now.  That’s what she had to do.  

They aren’t.  I’m the one who’s screwing up, her soulmate replied.  I cant ever get anything right.  Im just a big mistake that shouldn't even exist.  The worlds probably better without me

THATS NOT FUCKING TRUE!  Narcissa scrawled as quickly as she could.  I dont believe it.  Not for a second.  Just by being here, you’ve made the world a better place.  Everyday, I wake up and check my body for some indicator that you’re here.  I can’t help but think about the fact that there is someone out there meant for me.  And I’m meant for someone.  

I guess…

Narcissa sighed heavily.  She had to go to bed before her grandfather woke and saw her light on.  

Are you okay?  She wrote.  Are you in any danger?  If you are, im here.  For both of us

A minute passed before the reply came.  I dont think so.  I think im better.  But… if i feel bad again, can i talk to u?  This actually really helped me.  Thank you

Narcissa smiled.  Of course!!!  Just, could u write somewhere less obvious?

Sure.  I understand.

Narcissa smiled gratefully.  How ‘bout our ankles?  That’s less obvious and easy for me to hide

She felt pressure on her right foot, and slid it out from beneath her blanket.  A smile, and little butterfly doodle greeted her eyes.  

Good night, soulmate, Narcissa wrote

Good night.  Sleep tight.  And… thank you.

Narcissa smiled.  She slid out of bed, and held her arm close to her chest while creeping to the bathroom.  Once inside, she scrubbed all of the ink off her skin, and bandaged the red slit shut.  

Narcissa and her soulmate were okay.  That was all that mattered.  Everything was alright.  At least for now.  But now was the only thing Narcissa could bear to think about.  

---

After that one night, Narcissa’s soulmate never hurt themselves like that again.  But that didn’t mean they weren’t hurting.   Narcissa could tell they were hurting themselves in other ways.  

She tried to help.  She wrote reminders every few hours, telling her soulmate to eat, and drink water.  She wrote encouraging messages, and doodled across their skin.  

But still, Narcissa would feel her stomach growl with hunger, and her tongue beg for more water.  She felt her eyes grow heavy even though she had slept almost 10 hours the night before.  Her soulmate just didn’t care, and there was nothing Narcissa could do. 

They would talk to each other constantly, ranting about their day, or commenting about something they saw.  Narcissa grew much closer to the person she had never even seen the face of. Closer to them then anyone else she had ever known.  

Even her grandfather. 

Narcissa had a very strained relationship with her grandfather.  She knew deep down he loved her, but he had a hard time showing it.  He was caught in a life of crime, and there was no way out.  

He had been an arms dealer for years, selling guns and other weapons on the black market.  He made a lot of money, but not a lot of friends.  He was a bitter old man, who took all of his anger out on Narcissa.  He had never hit her, but his words were hard enough. 

Narcissa knew she was being abused, and belittled, and manipulated, but she always ended up excusing his actions. Or even worse, sometimes she would place the blame on herself.  She knew she was in a bad situation, but it was one she was stuck in. 

Narcissa talked about him lots with her soulmate.  It turned out, they had a similar situation with their parents.  

Mistreated, abused, bullied, shamed. 

The two escaped into their skin, engrossed with each other.  They held each other right through the pain and the tears.  Though at times, both of them desperately wanted to, they held strong and never hurried themselves for fear of hurting the other. 

---

One day, the straw finally snapped for Narcissa. She was 17 now, and old enough to live her own life. Old enough to understand what her grandfather gave her wasn’t love, it was trauma.  

After he yelled at her for an hour straight because she put a book in the wrong bookshelf, Narcissa decided she had taken enough. 

Can we go?  She desperately scrawled across her ankle. Can we escape these sorry excuses for lives?

Her soulmate wrote back a few minutes later. What do you mean?

We’re old enough to live on our own. Why are we forcing ourselves to live with these people who treat us so terribly. Why don’t we just run away together?

Ok. The reply shocked Narcissa. She had been expecting them to try and convince her otherwise, make her see the absurdity. Not agree.  But Narcissa was glad they agreed. They both deserved a chance to start over. To make a life for themselves, and do it right. 

You will?

With you?  Of course I will silly. I’ve been waiting years for me to ask

When?   When can we leave?

Whenever your ready

A week, Narcissa declared, I’ll meet you in a week at Gatlon City, at the train station

Ok.   I’ll be there, I promise, her soulmate wrote. 

Me too. Narcissa grinned. She was finally escaping. Finally starting fresh. Finally leaving her grandfather to be with someone who truly cared.  Narcissa couldn’t wait.

---

Narcissa creaked the door open, cringing as the hinges squealed loudly. 

“Just where do you think you’re going?”  Her grandfather slurred from the couch. 

Shitshitshitshit, Narcissa though. She was caught.  She was never going to escape her life.

“I told you earlier this week I’m going to a friends house tonight,” Narcissa said lightly, trying to mask her terror. 

“Stop lying!”  He screamed.  “I know that’s not true, you don’t have any friends.”

Narcissa cringed.  

She breathed in deeply.  She was already leaving forever, there was no point in lying anymore.  

“Fine  I’m leaving.  For good.”  She braced herself for the rage. 

Instead, he laughed.  “You?  You're leaving?”  He scoffed.  “You would never.  You’re too scared and dependent on me.”

Narcissa drew herself up.  “No.  You’re wrong.  I’m leaving, to find my soulmate.  We’re making our own life.  Together.”

He gaped at her.  “You can’t!  You can’t go to your soulmate,” he spat.  “You’ll live a terrible life.  You’ll be tied down forever.”

Narcissa shook her head.  “No.  I won’t.  I’ll live the best life I can.  Because I’ll be happy.  I won’t live in fear anymore.  I’m sorry you weren’t meant for your soulmate, but it’s different for me.  I know them.  We are meant for each other.  I wouldn’t expect you to understand.  All you know is hate.”

“So you’re really going?”  Her grandfather’s lip curled up.  

Narrcissa nodded.  “I am.  I’m making my own life, as far away from here as possible.”

“Then go!”  He snarled.  “I don’t want you in my house if you won’t see a reason.  Go.”  He picked a book sitting next to him, and hurled it at Narcissa’s head.  

She ducked, her hair ruffling by the wind.  

She turned to him, tears in her eyes.  “Goodbye grandfather.  I’m sorry.”  She threw open the door, and fled into the night.

---

Narcissa’s heart thudded in her ears.  This was it.  This was the day she was going to meet her soulmate.  She knew she should be realistic, but Narcissa couldn’t help imagining the meeting like something out of the sappy romance novels she liked to read.  

She expected the dreary clouds to disappear, and the sun to shine out on top of them.  

She expected to know exactly who was her other half

She expected to run up, into their arms, and kiss them like she had wanted to be kissed her entire life.  

But Narcissa knew how unlikely it was.  But, a girl could hope, couldn’t she?  

She inhaled deeply.  Uncapping the pen with her teeth, she scrawled on her palm, I’m here  

Me too, her soulmate wrote back.  The familiar loopy red marks eased Narcissa.  She knew this person.  This was her soulmate.  Everything was going to be okay.  It would all be okay.  

Her eyes locked onto a girl standing near a bench, her head bent over her hand, a pen tucked behind her ear.  

Somehow, Narcissa knew.  She knew this was the person she had been searching for her whole life.  She knew that the girl was her soulmate.  

Summoning every miniscule scrap of courage Narcissa could find, she approached the girl.  

She tapped her shoulder.  “Hi,” Narcissa breathed, heart pounding.  “I’m Narcissa.  I think I’m your-”

She was interrupted by the girl throwing her arms around her tightly.  

“I’ve waited so long to meet you,” Narcissa’s soulmate said roughly, her voice thick with tears.  “I’m Danna.”  

Narcissa laughed.  She realized she was crying.  “Me too.”

“I feel like I already know everything about you,” Danna laughed.  She swiped her eyes.  

Narcissa nodded.  “I know we’re soulmates, but I want you to know I understand if you don’t want me,” she said.  “I get it- not all soulmates are really soulmates.”

She was cut off by Danna pressing her lips to hers.  “I want you,” Danna breathed.  “You're the one who I’ve trusted with every secret I’ve ever held.  You’re the one who helped me when no one else could.  You’re the one who took care of me.”  Danna held their hands up, exposing the thick identical scars that spread across their wrists.  “You are the only other person in the world who understood, and actually helped me.  You were the hands that held me.”  Danna reached her hand to Narcissa’s face, wiping away her tears.  “I want you, and no one else.”

“Me too,” Narcissa whispered.  “Me too.”

Tag list: @novissa @thepurpledragon4444  @phobidawg @janisarkisian  @rvbell @lavenderbloo @redassassin  (let me know if you want to be added/taken off!!!)

[chelsfic]

Magic Words - Donald Pierce x Reader - Logan/X-Men fanfic

Part One (Loving Mourners Be)

A/N: This is a sequel to Loving Mourners Be. More self-indulgent Boyd fic. The relationship that’s portrayed here? It’s not healthy. Don’t...don’t do this, please. No one should use my fics as relationship advice, lol. 

Summary: The reader is a mutant prisoner in a relationship with her captor, Donald Pierce. 

Warnings: Unhealthy/abusive relationship, Stockholm Syndrome, Smut, Praise Kink, Angst Ahoyyy! Donnie wakes with the memory of your kiss on his lips. He’s been dreaming about the last night you spent together at his apartment. Holding you after you make love and lazily claiming your mouth with open mouthed kisses. You taste like ketchup and love and fear. Your soft little body curls up next to his; he could crush you if he wanted. Crumple you up and throw you away like the other mutants he hunts. But he’d never. In his dream he hears your voice. Your words. I love you. I love you. I love you.

In his dream he says them back.

---

He finds you in the medical wing, being escorted by a nurse out of an exam room. He stalks toward you like a predatory cat hunting its dinner. His blue eyes are dark and wild with suppressed desire. He’s been itching with the memory of the dream all day. If he doesn’t sink himself inside you soon he’s going to snap. 

He swoops in and takes you by the arm, waving the nurse away, “I’ll take her from here.”

Transigen’s Chief of Security doesn’t answer to anyone except Zander Rice. The nurse demurs, backing away without meeting Donald’s eyes. He propels you further down the hall, his long strides forcing you to skip along beside him to keep up. Finally, he reaches his destination: a supply closet. He opens the door and practically shoves you inside. 

Once the door clicks shut, Donnie is on you, his hand slipping under the thin cotton fabric of your t-shirt, beneath the drawstring waistband of your hospital pants and cupping your hot core. His fingers dip inside your panties, stroking your already wet folds as he captures your mouth in a searing kiss. 

“Been thinkin’ about you since I woke up this morning, baby,” he whispers into your kiss.

You bring your hands up to his collar, impatiently pushing the heavy jacket off his shoulders before working on the column of buttons separating your hands from his muscled chest. Your lips respond to his, frantically returning the kiss. Everything is rushed, frenzied. You never have enough time--not here. When you’re out on a mission? When Donnie is feeling generous and horny? Sure. But within these walls your time together is always fleeting. 

“I think about you all the time,” you admit, tugging at his belt. He gets the message and takes his hands from you to undo his belt and shove his pants down. You discard your own pants--nothing more than pajamas, really--and in one swift motion he’s pinning your hips to the wall and sinking inside you with a deep growl of pleasure. 

“You think about me all the time, baby? I’m flattered…,” he huffs as he starts rocking his hips, slamming into you. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head so you won’t hit it against the wall. He uses the robotic arm to support your bottom. 

“Not much--ah! Not much else to...think about in here. Nothing good, anyway,” you respond between gasps of pleasure. You bury your face into the crook of Donnie’s neck, digging your teeth into the soft flesh to muffle your cries. 

“Thatta girl, baby. You’re so good for me. So, you think I’m something good, huh?” he asks breathlessly, his voice lilting in a self deprecating tone. Before you can reply he jerks his hips at a new angle, hitting you just right until you feel like you’ll either come or burst at the seams.

You raise your head from his neck, tasting copper on your tongue as you keen into his ear, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Donnie tumbles into his own orgasm, his arms tightening around you like he’s trying to absorb you into his being. Or like he’s trying to say something with his body that he can’t with his words. 

“Donnie,” you whisper as he slowly sets you back down on your wobbly legs. “I don’t know if you’re good. But you’re very good at that.”

---

The kid’s screams are still ringing in Donald’s ears as he strides purposely down the sterile hallways toward the adult wing. Dr. Rice wanted to test the limits of the specimen’s healing abilities. The experiment went on for hours until the kid hung limp in the chair with open wounds that wouldn’t close. Rice looked on with cold eyes, taking down careful notes on his tablet. And Donald stood by, too, watching the torture session with a bored expression. 

His head aches and he feels like shit. He should go home, get some rest. But his footsteps automatically lead him in the direction of your cell. He tries not to make it a habit--visiting you between jobs. He doesn’t want to spoil you...put ideas in your head. So he holds out as long as possible. It’s been weeks since the supply closet. He knows what the long days of monotony are like for you. He checks the video feed from your room every day, sees you staring listless into space, pacing the tiny room, cringing whenever the door opens to admit an orderly. He tells himself it’s good for you to be reminded of your place, despite the special treatment he gives you. You’re still a mutant. He can’t let you forget that. He can’t let himself forget either.

Before he gets to your door he takes out his phone and remotely turns off the camera in your room. Your “relationship” is an open secret and Dr. Rice tolerates it because you’ve improved the team’s efficiency in tracking down assets. But there’s no point in being reckless.

He punches in the security code and lets himself in, finding you seated on your little twin bed, bent over a hardcover book in your lap. When you look up at his entrance your face is tense with anxiety, but it melts away when you see who it is. 

“Hey, baby,” he grunts, stomping over to collapse next to you on the bed. He really is exhausted. “What are you readin’?”

You watch him for a moment before you answer. Cautious. He looks like shit. Tired. Irritable. Something in the back of your mind warns you this is going to be a bad night. Still, you flip the book over to show him the cover of a generic looking spy thriller, “One of the nurses brought in a bunch of books this morning. Gabriela. She’s nice.”

You feel Donald stiffen beside you and he rolls his eyes as he responds, “She’s too nice for her own good. She should know better by now.”

Your heart sinks in your chest at his words. Donnie truly doesn’t seem to understand how his attitude affects you. He cares for you--you know he does even if he’s never admitted it out loud--and yet he disdains what you are. How can he separate those things in his head?

“You don’t want me to have something to read?” you ask, your voice brittle and softer than you’d like. You shove the book at him and scoot further away on the bed, “Fine. Take it.”

Donnie let’s out an annoyed sigh, “C’mon, darlin’ that’s not what I meant--”

“Why shouldn’t she be nice to us, Donald? We’re people...we’re human beings. I’m human,” your voice is thick with emotion and tears spill over your cheeks. Fuck, you’re ruining everything. Why can’t you just shut up and let him give you what he’s willing to give? It’s so much easier that way…

You can already see him shutting down, his eyes going cold and his handsome features twisting into a grimace of rage.

“You know what? No. This is not what I need right now,” he stands up to leave and you feel a flash of panic. You might be angry and hurt, but you’ve been isolated for weeks and you don’t want him to leave you behind again.

“Donnie, wait!” you cry out, following him to the door and putting your arm on his elbow to stop him. He turns to look down at you, his expression still stormy and dark. “Don’t leave me here, Donnie,” you plead.

He shakes his head, the pain in his temples slowing down his thought process, “You know I can’t take you with me unless there’s a hunt--”

“That’s not…” you falter for a second, losing your nerve. Are you really asking him this? Now? “That’s not what I mean, Donald. Please. I’m dying in here. Slowly. If you get me out of here I can still--I can still help the team…”

The words dry up on your tongue as you see the look on his face. If he was angry before, he’s positively furious now. He raises his robotic hand and wraps the fingers around your throat, tightening his grip threateningly, but not enough to cut off your airway. His blue eyes blaze with fury as he leans down inches from your face and hisses, “You fuckin’ mutie. I should have known. You’ve been playing a long game, huh? You think just because I’m fuckin’ you that I’ll betray the mission? For you? A genetic fuck up? That’s not how this works. You lose.”

He lets go abruptly, dropping you on weak legs that collapse beneath you leaving you sprawled on the floor. You watch him storm out without a backward glance. You stagger back to your bed, curling up under the thin blanket and pressing your face into your pillow so you can cry without making a sound.

---

“Up and at ‘em, baby. Time to earn your keep.”

You haven’t seen Donnie since the fight but it’s clear he hasn’t forgotten. His eyes are closed off as he shakes you awake, grabbing your arm and practically dragging you from bed. Your sleepy eyes widen as he secures the heavy cuffs around your wrists. It’s not that Donnie is usually soft or sentimental during a job. But he hasn’t felt the need to cuff you since the early days after your capture. You know what this is. He’s punishing you. Reminding you of your status. Like you need reminding. 

His silence is oppressive as he leads you through Transigen’s labyrinth of hallways. You look up at him, admiring his profile despite yourself. His pouty lips, his long, elfin nose, his bold eyebrows. You love every part of him. Even the grotesque skull and crossbones tattooed to his throat. Even the cruelty that falls from his lips like his native language. The prospect of spending the rest of your days locked away here without even the relief of your lover’s touch is too much to bear.

“Donnie, I-- I won’t ask you that again, okay?”

He spares you a quick glance before returning his gaze straight ahead, “Not the time, darlin’.”

Your shoulders slump at his clipped words.

“I just want--” What do you want? Too much…but right now you’d settle for a return to the status quo.

Donnie rounds on you, pressing you up against the wall and crowding you with his much bigger frame. The fact of Donnie’s physical strength is never far from your thoughts. He’s a big, powerful man. He can make you feel safe and protected or hunted depending on his mood. 

He dips his head until you’re cheek to cheek and rumbles into your ear, “Yeah, well, baby--It don’t matter what we want, does it?”

---

“Do your thing.”

You’re pulled over on the side of an empty two-lane highway. Acres of corn field hug the road on either side. It’s just you and Donnie standing in the scraggly grass. You’re scouting ahead while the rest of the team, with their armored vehicles and heavy equipment, follow a few miles behind. Donnie unlocks the cuffs from your wrists and hands you a grainy photograph. It’s a still shot of security footage showing a young woman with dark hair crossing the street in front of a bank. You can’t make out much detail in her features, but you don’t need much. Just a signature, a feeling to lock onto. 

You place your palm on the photo and close your eyes, expecting a faint trace, a hint of a direction, but the rush of immediacy that floods your brain is shocking.

“She’s here somewhere! I feel her close, Donnie, maybe within a hundred yards…”

Donnie’s hand goes to his side arm automatically, he moves to stand in front of you, effectively shielding you from any danger that might be coming from the...rows and rows of corn that surround your vehicle. 

“Where the fuck--?”

“I don’t know! I can’t get more specific…Definitely...yeah, this side of the road, for sure.”

Donnie turns and opens up the passenger door of the SUV, “Get in. Stay here. I’ll be back.”

You pause getting into the car, “Shouldn’t you wait for back up?”

“Just wait here,” he grinds out and vanishes into the cornstalks.

You sit back in the leather seat and pop the lock on the door for good measure. The trace of the mutant’s presence still lingers in your mind and you strain your eyes staring into the impenetrable rows of corn trying to pinpoint the exact location. It’s useless, though, and you give up after a few minutes. The empty silence unnerves you and you feel yourself automatically reaching out for Donnie, as if you could track him like you can other mutants. Please be okay.

Your eyes roam over the interior of the SUV and are suddenly arrested by the sight of the key fob sitting on the center console. Your breath catches in your throat and you immediately whip your head around, expecting to be caught out by yourself with the means of your escape. But the road is deserted, Donnie is nowhere in sight...and you could leave. Right now. Drive until you find some place safe. You clasp your hands together to keep them from shaking. This is it. Your chance. 

The silence is suddenly shattered by an ear splitting howl. You watch as a trail of cornstalks snap with the fury of a hurricane force wind and Donnie flies through the air like a rag doll landing in a heap on the road in front of the SUV. His body is limp and unmoving. Without any conscious thought you leap from the vehicle and sprint toward him. Your eyes scan the field, but there’s no sign of the hostile mutant. You fall to your knees on the hard cement and lift your lover’s head into your lap.

“Donnie! Oh my god--Donnie, wake up!” 

You brush your fingers through his hair and they come away bloody. There’s a wound at the back of his head that’s pouring buckets of blood. Your vision swims as panic clenches a cold fist around your heart. He can’t die. You know...god, you should want him dead. But you love him. Fuck. 

“Please, wake up,” you whisper tearfully, gently stroking his cheeks. It feels like hours but it must be only a minute later than this eyelids flutter open and you feel relief flood through you at the sight of those beautiful blue eyes. “Donnie? Can you hear me?”

He’s already trying to sit up, but a wave of dizziness sends him crashing back into your lap. His vision swims and his head feels like it’s going through a god damn meat grinder. He looks up and you’re looking down at him with a watery smile and red-rimmed eyes. The target’s gone. Back up is miles down the road. He’s injured. And you’re...you’re still here.

“What...what are you doin’, baby? This is your chance,” he grunts against the pain, settling his head more firmly in your lap and shutting his eyes as your cool palms come to rest on his cheeks. 

“Don’t try to talk, Donnie. The reavers will be here soon and they’ll...they’ll bring you back to Transigen and get you fixed up.”

Donnie opens his eyes to squint up at you in confusion, “What are you talking about, Y/N? Why aren’t you running?”

You stare down into your lovers eyes, asking yourself the same question. You know the answer. You’re just not particularly proud of it.

“I won’t leave you, Donnie... I love you,” you admit. It’s the first time you’ve said the words to him outside the context of sex. He stares up at you wide-eyed, like you’ve just sprouted feathers. You shut your eyes to the truth, letting tears fall and land on his stupid, handsome face as the sound of screeching tires and crunching gravel alert you to the arrival of the rest of the team. 

“Hey,” Donnie’s voice is strained against the pain. You open your eyes to find him looking up at you with a look you’ve never seen before. He looks...afraid. 

“I love you, too,” he says and then falls unconscious.

Boyd Holbrook Tags:

@nothing-but-a-comedy​ @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook 

[ythankucaptainmccoy]

Commander Wolffe x Reader (War Wounds)

I have had this imagine sitting in the back of my head for a while and I wanted to write some angst and fluff. This imagine is from… you guessed it the magnificent @gabrielewolffe​: Imagine losing an eye in a fight against Ventress like Wolffe, and him being the only one to understand how you feel. I do not own Star Wars or any characters. Warning: Battle Scene, Blood, Loss of Body Part, Angst and Fluff.

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

The battle was just begging, and the sun’s rays were beating down from overhead. It was a hot climate here and you had already started to sweat. Wolffe and the wolfpack were trailing behind you as you threw droid poppers into a crowd of droids. They fell quickly as you pulled your blaster up and started to fire at the remaining ones. The next wave of droids were coming your way, and this time there were more than you could count.

Master Plo Koon looked at you and you nodded back to him. You looked back at the Wolfpack letting out a howl. The other troopers howled back as a battle cry, and charged with you and Plo into the fray. The Wolfpack were cutting into the forces and advancing. The building up ahead was where Ventress was hiding, and the Wolfpack had been tasked with arresting her. Master Plo had created an opening and you ran for the building.

“(Y/N) wait we need to go with you!”, Wolffe screamed over the battle. “We have to get this witch now before she has the chance to escape!”, you yelled back. You ran straight ahead into the building. “Hurry men she can’t take Ventress alone!”, Wolffe commanded. Boost looked to Sinker and they both knew you should have waited. As they made their way up the stairs they could hear the firefight between you both. You had been a bounty hunter and had taken down a lot of bad people, but this was different. 

Ventress was using the force to throw you around, and threw you against the wall. It was hard enough that you couldn’t see straight. Ventress made her way towards you with both sabers raised. She brought them down, but was blocked by another lightsaber. “Not today assassin”, Plo told her. They began dueling as Wolffe made his way over to you. “Are you alright?”, he questioned. “I’m fine, but we need to take her down”, you replied. Wolffe helped you up, and you picked up your blaster. 

Wolffe didn’t even have time to respond as you lunged and tackled Ventress off the balcony to the small terrace below. Wolffe looked down to see you motionless and feared the worst. Plo Koon ordered the men to get down there as fast as they could as he leapt down using the force to help him land. You had gotten up and noticed one of Ventress’s lightsabers at your feet. You picked it up, and watched as droids started making their way onto the terrace. 

“Plo look out!”, you warned and he started to deal with the droids. Ventress ran towards you trying to make her escape, but you blocked her path. “You are no Jedi”, she hissed. “And you are no Sith, witch”, you sneered. She raised her lightsaber and brought it down as you deflected the blow. She made a cut for your legs and you deflected again. She started to swipe at you with increasing fever because the Wolfpack had just made it to the party. 

“Maybe I should kill a few of your precious clones starting with the Commander”, she taunted. Rage filled you at the thought and started to swing at her with all your might. She was dodging and deflecting everything you threw at her. You were pushed back with the force, and kneeled down to center yourself. When you looked up you didn’t react fast enough to jump back and caught her lightsaber as it grazed your face. The pain was searing hot and you screamed out. Wolffe turned in time to see you stumbling backward clutching your face.

“NOOOOO!”, Wolffe howled. Ventress grabbed her lightsaber off the ground and ran as blaster fire from the Wolfpack flew towards her. Sinker got to you first as you collapsed from the pain and cradled you. “WE NEED EVAC!”, Boost yelled. Comet called in an evac while Wolffe looked at you and cursed at the seared flesh. You had a diagonal seared line across your eye, and it looked bad. Wolffe knew what it meant and he cursed himself for not getting to you quicker.

They quickly dressed the wound, and got you into the evac. Plo could sense the remorse in Wolffe for letting this happen to you. Once they reached the hangar bay a medic came to help take her to the med bay. Wolffe went to follow, but Plo had put a hand on his shoulder. “I know you are afraid for her position with this team as you were afraid when it had happened to you, but rest assured I will make sure she stays as long as she is willing to”, Master Plo told him. 

“Thank you General”, Wolffe thanked him. With that Wolffe turned on his heel, and made a beeline for the med bay. When he got there he had been told she had lost her left eye, and that there was really nothing they could do other than a cybernetic replacement. They had already cleaned the wound as best they could, and were just waiting on a surgeon. Wolffe didn’t leave your side the entire time as well as the Wolfpack.

They all had their heads lowered, and looked severely defeated. When they took you back for the surgery Wolffe constantly paced the floor. Wildfire and Comet went to go grab caff for the rest of the team. While they were gone it was deathly silent, and Boost couldn’t take it anymore. “Why did she do that?! She isn’t a Jedi and she isn’t expendable. Why would she even take that risk”, his voice cracked. “She knew that if she didn’t distract Ventress that there would be more casualties”, Sinker responded.

When Wildfire and Comet came back with caff they all settled on the floor waiting for you to get out of surgery. It was taking longer than expected, and the Wolfpack members had fallen asleep practically on top of each other. Wolffe still paced trying to figure out why he hadn’t been quicker. He knew it was going to be hard for you because he remembered how he felt when it happened to him. The fear of being sent back to Kamino for decommissioning had scared him to where he wouldn’t eat or sleep.

Master Plo had helped a lot, and it took some time to get used to not being able to see anything on one side. The surgeon came out to let Wolffe know that the surgery was a success, but she would need a lot of help for the next several months. He woke the Wolfpack and gave them the news, and the surgeon had deemed her ready for visitors. They walked into your room and stood in the doorway.

“You can come in”, the nurse called. Wolffe entered first followed by the others. You had a bandage over one eye, and your other eye was closed. “She is in and out of it because of the drugs she is on. Try not to upset her”, the nurse said as she walked out. “Cyare can you hear me?”, Wolffe asked standing on your right side. Your eyelid fluttered open , “I lost an eye not my hearing Di'kut”.  Boost laughed as the rest of the Wolfpack snickered quietly. Wolffe stayed silent as the other Wolfpack members talked to you.

Once they knew you were okay they all headed for the refreshers. Wolffe was the only one that stayed. He pulled up a chair to sit with you. “Wolffe I love you, but please brighten up I’m not dead”, you announced. “(Y/N) you could have out there today. I thought you had when you fell onto that terrace. You aren’t expendable”, he gritted his teeth. “Neither are you or the Wolfpack, and it is done and over”, you told him, bringing your hand up to cup the side of his jaw. The only problem was that you missed and touched nothing but air. 

Wolffe grabbed your hand to place it on his cheek. “I have you, and I am going to help you through this”, he promised. “Okay but I’m not quitting the… Wolfpack”, you yawned out. “Get some rest I’ll stay here tonight”, Wolffe affirmed. He watched as your breathing evened out, and started to think back on how difficult it was to learn how to deal without being able to see on one side. 

It had been a month, and you had had several nightmares. Wolffe was there each time just like you had been for him. He would soothe you and coax you back to sleep by holding you as close as possible. Everytime you would get self conscious around others he would remind you of his eye, and that you were as badass as he was now, and not to worry. It helped but on occasion you would still bump into things and your blaster aim would be off. 

While on leave at 79s one night you were sitting with the Wolfpack, 501st and 212th. Cody was talking about how his General was the worst at getting injured or putting himself into unnecessary danger. Rex would pipe in about how Skywalker must have learned it from Obi Wan because he was always getting into dangerous situations. You had gotten up to go get another drink at the bar when it happened. 

A drunk made a comment about how you should keep your eye covered, and that people didn’t want to see the scar either. You tried to act like it didn’t bother you, and made your way back towards the guys. The drunk followed you and once in earshot of  the others yelled for you to go somewhere else or cover your eye and scar. You stiffened as some other patrons attention was now on you, and the shame settled in your chest. 

You could hear the whispers as you felt a hand on your shoulder. It was Rex. He had been closest and got to you first. “Hey how about you show some respect. She is out there on the front lines while you sit at home and sit on your lazy fat shebs”, Wolffe growled. “Awww well it looks like we found the match. Shouldn’t have been so shit at fighting”, the drunk slurred. Wolffe was about to throw a punch when Cody held him back. The rest of the Wolfpack looked ready to tear the man apart. “Come on let’s just go”, you piped up.

Wolffe turned to you as a tear threatened to spill. They all got up and went back to base where Wolffe took you to his room. “Don’t let what that man said upset you”, he told you. You stayed silent even as you both got into bed. “Why do you stay with me?”, you asked. “(Y/N) why would you even have to ask. I love you”, he responded as you lay your head on his chest. “I’m broken, and no longer beautiful”, you choked. Wolffe wiped the tear that slid from your eye. “I love you and you are not broken. You are still beautiful to me. If anyone’s broken it’s me. The Wolfpack is here for you to, and if I see the men stealing peeks at you in the refreshers I’m going to kill them”, he smiled. 

You smiled in return as Wolffe placed a kiss over your eye and kissed along the scar. You melted into him ready for a night of sleep. “I love you Wolffe”, she said. “I love you to (Y/N) now get some sleep”, he soothed. She kissed him and settled back down. He watched her fall asleep as he drew circles on her hip with his thumb. He was the luckiest man in the galaxy, and it wouldn’t have mattered if she had lost both of her eyes he would stay with her. 

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

The End. Hope you all enjoyed it. I think it could have been a lot better, but it's super late, and I need sleep that always eludes me. My ask box is open so if you have an ask don’t hesitate.

[doc-pickles]

mosaic broken hearts

a fix it fic in which alex comes home and jo is reminded that sometimes we carry scars on the inside too

TW// This fic gets smutty at the end :)

literally have no idea where this fic came from but??? i love it so much, might be my favorite piece of writing i’ve put out in recent weeks. i wanted to write some angst with a happy ending and this is what came about. enjoy! 

So you were never a saint And I loved in shades of wrong We learn to live with the pain Mosaic broken hearts But this love is brave and wild

The silence in the loft was deafening. Jo missed hearing football games playing too loud on the TV, she missed Meredith complaining to Alex while Jo was trying to sleep. She even missed her husband's obnoxious snoring. She just wanted Alex to come home, she would start screaming to fill the silence he had left sooner than later. 

“Jo?”

The loft door rolled open, Jo turning in eager anticipation towards the noise. She let out a discontented sigh as she watched Link walk in, heart falling with a thud inside of her chest. She sunk back into the couch, eyes brimming with tears as Link came to sit with her.

“I thought you were him.”

“I'm sorry,” Link roped his arm around Jo’s shoulders, his voice dripping with pity. Jo hated how it sounded, but for once she felt that she deserved the pity party. Her husband was missing and all she could do was sit at home, drink wine, and cry herself to sleep. 

“He left me.”

“No, he didn't,” Link was quick to interject, always the optimist of the pair.

“I think he did. I think he woke up one day and felt the need to escape his life and me,” Jo heaved a sigh, standing and pacing in front of the couch as Link stared at her worriedly. “I called his mom. He wasn't there, she hadn’t spoken to him in months. He never went there, he’s been lying to me and I have no clue where he is.” 

Her defenses fell then, Jo’s breaths coming out in ragged gasps as she clutched her chest. She had been hiding her feelings, denying her emotions as she held on to some small piece of hope that Alex was on his way home to her. Her heart felt like it was giving out, like it was physically breaking inside of her. 

“He left me. And now I can't…”

One sob broke through then, bringing Jo to her knees as the reality of her situation weighed down on her. She was alone again. More sobs followed, Link quickly gathering Jo in his arms as she continued to let her pent up emotions rip through her like a hurricane. How had she ended up here? How did things come to this?

“I can't, I can't breathe,” Jo choked out, burying her head in Link’s chest. “I can’t breathe without him, I feel like I’m being ripped in half. I need Alex.”

Her sobs turned into desperate panting for air as Link attempted to calm Jo down. Although it took almost an hour of rubbing her back and talking her down, Jo finally fell into an exhausted slumber in his arms where Link let her rest for a few more minutes before scooping her up and placing her in bed. He turned the lights in the loft off and locked the door, staring at his best friend with a lingering pang of sadness. The last thing Jo deserved in this life was more pain and heartbreak. 

+

The next morning, the early sun filtering through the windows woke Jo, eliciting a groan from her. She felt horrible, a migraine coming on from her exhaustive crying the night before. Stumbling to the bathroom, she swallowed a few pain pills to combat her emotional hangover before climbing into the shower. The hot water felt good against her skin, burning her arms in a way that felt as if all of her worries were melting away. 

A clanging outside the bathroom made Jo pause as she shampooed her hair. She waited, the clanging still sounding, before rinsing her hair and quickly exiting the shower. Someone trying to kill her was not what she had on her agenda for the day, but neither was her husband going MIA… Throwing on her underwear and one of Alex’s old shirts, Jo crept into the living room, her heart racing when she finally figured out what was making the mysterious noise. 

“Alex.”

Hearing his name, Alex turned towards his wife, tired eyes taking her in for the first time in almost a month. He had missed her, his feet automatically moving forward and wrapping her in his arms. Jo returned the gesture, wet hair pressed against Alex’s chest as she held him as close as she could. She let out a shuddering exhale, worries and fears exiting her mind as she held onto her husband.

“I thought you left me, I thought you had an affair and left and were never coming back,” Alex could hear the desperation in Jo’s voice, causing him to pull back and look down at her. “Where have you- oh my god! Alex!”

He flinched slightly when Jo’s fingers brushed over the large purple bruise still angrily shining around his left eye. Alex closed his eyes, letting his wife trail her fingers up to his hairline where he had five stitches carefully positioned on his skin and his right eyebrow that had been cut but was scarring over already.

“Alex what the fuck? Who did this, what happened,” Jo’s hands trailed to cup Alex’s cheeks, the small action causing him to open his eyes and look at her tenderly. “You didn’t answer my calls or texts and then you come home broken and bruised. You’re not in trouble are you?”

“No I, uh,” a sigh left Alex as he recalled everything that had happened while he was back home in Iowa. “Aaron he… he had a mental break. And he visited my mom and she had a mental break… and Amber called me crying because she’s heavily pregnant and couldn’t do anything about it. I’m sorry I didn’t call, I honestly didn’t have a second to think for myself.”

The anger Jo had momentarily felt towards Alex dissipated, her hands coming down to rest on his shoulders as she fixed him with a loving gaze. Until recently, Alex had never shared his family troubles with Jo, or anyone for that matter. Meeting Helen Karev had been a huge milestone for their marriage and something that Jo treasured dearly. But hearing that Alex had tried to keep her away from this new bout of familial issues broke her heart and let her see the scared teenager who was just trying to keep his family together with reckless abandon.

“Don't apologize to me, I understand why you did what you did,” Jo leaned up and tenderly kissed Alex, her fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. When she pulled back, her hand came to cover the yellowing bruise she had spotted on his collar bone. “How about you just send me a quick text next time so I don’t think you were mauled by a bear or that you ran off with some blonde bimbo.” 

Alex leaned down and captured Jo’s lips again, his fingers sliding underneath her shirt to hold her body how he had craved to do since he left for Iowa. Jo leaned into him readily, her own hands pushing his shirt up with a haste that told Alex she felt the same built up tension he did. 

“Alex…,” the tone of Jo’s voice broke Alex out of his daze, eyes opening once again to find Jo staring at his chest in shock. The scars his brother had left on his face were easy to remember, but the bruises and scratches left by his mother across his chest were harder to put aside. “Oh babe…”

“Leave it,” his voice was hoarse and low, Alex clearly trying to fight back emotion as he lifted Jo’s chin so he could look into her eyes again. “Please Jo, just let me love you. It’s all I thought about on my flight home.”

Jo looked into Alex’s eyes, looking past the hurt and the sorrow and finding exactly what he had described. That look of love, of lust, of pure need shone back brighter than any pain Alex might be hiding underneath it. It doused the fears burning in Jo’s chest, the doubt she had succumbed to the past few weeks without her husband. As much as she had needed Alex to come home to her, he needed her right now. 

Bypassing his bruises and scars, physical and not, Jo pulled Alex into a searing kiss. Her hands began searching his face, coming to run through his hair, trailing down to unbuckle his belt as she inched him closer and closer to their bed. His knees finally hit the mattress, Alex’s back hitting the comforter as Jo rid him of his pants. She took a solitary moment to stare into his eyes, her words hitting with a force Alex hadn’t felt in years. 

“I love you,” the words, spoken so often between the couple, took on a new meaning as Jo’s fingers trailed across Alex’s broken body. “I love you so much.”

Jo pressed her lips against Alex’s again, the two falling into a rhythm that seemed familiar and foreign all at once. Rough hands slid Jo’s shirt away from her body, her moans sounding in tandem with Alex’s as they collapsed in a tangle of limbs and breathy noises. 

Making up for lost time, Jo thought to herself as Alex’s lips ghosted down her body. Not lost love, just lost time.

[the-hermitcraft-chronicles]

scar with wings and grian without wings? 🌺

Ship(?): Scar/Grian

Warnings: Mentions of torture, limb loss

Au: Au of the Night Au, Scar and Grian are both Avians

All Grian remembered was pain. It was searing and hot like he stuck his hand into a furnace. Pain, and then an explosion and yelling. He vaguely remembered seeing a face close to his, maybe kissing his cheek? He couldn’t tell. He had passed out before he could figure out who it was. The last thing he remembered from that night was a few soft words of ‘We got you buddy’.

Grian woke up and felt nothing. He wasn’t in his little hobbit hole, instead in the upstairs area of Larry the snail. He was laying on his stomach, and could feel something wrapped around his chest and back. What he couldn’t feel, was the heavy weight of his beautiful red wings. He went to reach behind him, his hand shaking before he heard someone blurt out;

“Stop waiting!” He turned to see Scar sitting in his chair, his hand extended to stop him. “I-I don’t think you should remind yourself of what happened just ye-”

“What happened?” Grian asked softly, slowly sitting up. “Why can’t I feel my wings anymore?” He asked, and Scar slowly walked over, his brown eyes wide and sorrowful. 

“Y...You have to promise to not do anything stupid.” Scar said softly, “When I tell you.” 

“Scar I’m always stupid you know this.” Grian said, and a soft chuckle came from the brown haired man. 

“Seriously Grian. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I promise.” Grian said. 

“Night ripped off your wings.” Scar said softly, moving to sit down beside the hermit. He watched Grian’s reaction carefully, watching how the other reached behind him and felt two little nubs where his wings would be. He purposefully tightened his wings to his back, as if trying to hide the ginormus pair of wings.  “He captured you after you got rid of Bird, and cut off your wings while you were chained up.” Scar teared up just thinking about how painful that must’ve been. 

Grian was shocked. That's all he could really think to react to this. His entire way of life had just been flipped upside down. Without his wings he… was nothing. He felt his eyes start to droop, and his hands went numb, stuck in a loose fist. His arms tensed up next, staying firmly by his side as he just looked forward, unable to move. 

“G..Grian?” Scar asked, never having seen the usually chaotic hermit so calm… it was unnerving. He noticed Grian was clenching his jaw, dead staring at the wall. “Grian can I touch you?” Scar asked softly, his eyes widening when he got no verbal response. He watched as Grian slowly, painfully slowly brought his communicator closer to him, and typed slowly with one finger. 

‘I can’t move’ 

Scar felt his entire body go cold. Was this something Night had done?! He internally panicked, shooting up to call for Doc. He noticed Grian was still typing, and paused. 

‘Stress response’ was all it said, and Scar slowly nodded. 

“Okay Grian.” Scar stood up and got in front of him, dragging his chair over so he could sit down in front of Grian. He gently grabbed Grian’s hand, moving his fingers gently to hopefully spark that connection again. His face wasn’t judgemental at all, in fact, he was calm and collected. He hummed gently, and in a soft voice encouraged Grian to move his hand himself, and smiled when Grian did so. “Good job G. Now come on, let's get the rest of you unstuck.” He giggled sadly, and reached up to gently rub his thumbs against the others jaw. 

Within a few minutes, Grian had calmed down enough to mumble a thank you, feeling exhausted yet again. Scar smiled at him. “Everyone wants to talk to you, G, Is that okay?” Scar asked, voice shaky with emotions while Grian just felt… empty. 

It felt like he wasn’t even there to be honest, his heart having taken the backseat as his brain took over, only letting him feel a sort of restless calm. The sort where he knew something was wrong, but not when those bad feelings would come out again. He felt himself nod, and Scar called a few people up. 

The hermits at first all tied to climb the ladder at once, worried for their friend. But Scar told them to cut it out, and that only a few should visit at a time. So, the first few Hermits were Mumbo, Iskall, and Stress. Grian looked over to them, not saying anything. 

He had bags under his eyes, and he looked so much older than he was, so beaten down and exhausted. The three hermits exchanged glances to one another, unsure of how to react. Mumbo walked up first, sitting down on the other side of Grian. “Hey buddy.” Mumbo smiled softly. “Are you hungry at all?” 

All he got was a shake of the head, his hands going to feel at the covered up nubs on his back. Mumbo sighed, “I have some potatoes if you want. We all know you like em.” he attempted to joke. No one laughed. 

Stress walked up next, crawling onto the bed with something in her hands. Grian looked up as he felt something being placed on his head, seeing a couple of flowers. “I made you this love, I hope you like it. I picked out the flowers especially for you.” He heard her voice say softly, and felt small hands on his shoulders. He just hunched away from the touch, bringing his knees to his chest. 

“Thank you, Stress.” He said softly, his voice void of any emotion or tone. He just seemed… dull. Iskall was the last to come up, sitting down on the arm of Scar’s chair despite Scar’s protests. Iskall smiled gently, scratching at his beard. 

“Man...I’d ask if you’re okay but I know you’re not. Is there anything we can do to help you?” He asked, leaning over and putting his hand on Grian’s knee. His eye held nothing but concern. He got a shake of the head. 

The hermits came and went in waves, leaving presents and food for the shaken up hermit. Doc and Xisuma were the last two to come and leave, and once they did Scar stood up to blow out the torches so Grian could sleep, only to get a startled yelp as the lights went out. Scar looked over to Grian, unable to see anything but a black, shaking mass. He quickly lit just one of the torches, and saw Grian was rocking back and forth while shaking. 

“P...Please don’t turn the lights off.” Grian whimpered, and Scar’s eyes softened, rushing over to Grian. 

“Okay. Okay I won’t. I promise.” Scar said, putting his hands on either side of Grian’s head, trying to steady him. “Grian? Grian can you look at me?” Scar asked gently, Grian made eye contact with him. “Good. Now, I’m right here G. I promise nothing will happen to you. Not again.” Scar said softly, looking into Grian’s freighted blue eyes. “Repeat after me okay buddy?” 

“I am safe.” Scar said, gently bringing Grian closer to him as the foreheads touched gently. 

“I… am safe.” Grian mumbled. 

“I am loved.” 

“I am loved.” 

“Vote Scar for mayor.” 

“Vote Scar for- wAit a minute-!” Grian pulled away, and Scar grinned as he heard the other laugh softly. “I’m not saying that!” He said, and Scar laughed softly with him, smiling gently. 

“Okay okay. On a serious note. Do you want a hug? You haven’t really… been here all day.” Scar said, opening his arms for the other. Grian lunged at the opportunity, wrapping his arms around his close friend and burying his face in the other. Scar smiled gently, and by instinct alone let his wings loosely wrap around the other. Making a sheild with his wings. Grian paused at feeling the soft feathers against his arms, his lip quivering at the feeling. 

At first it was a few tears, a few stragglers that disobeyed him when he said he wouldn’t cry. But like that the damn broke, and he clung onto Scar, sobbing into the other mans shoulder. He felt Scar rub his back gently, and could hear the soft tone Scar was speaking with, but none of the words stuck in his brain long enough to register what he was saying. 

Scar shushed him gently, saying sweet comforting words as he moved his hand from the small of Grian’s back to the top of his head, gently patting the messed up hair. He felt the other melt under the simple touch, and felt his shirt being tugged on by the other. Not in the ‘I want attention’ sort of way. More of so he was trying to ground himself. 

“Come on G, you haven’t eaten all day.” Scar took a few golden carrots from his inventory, and started to hand feed Grian, who at first protested because he wasn’t a child, but relaxed quickly once Scar started petting his hair again. 

“I love you man. Don’t forget that, okay?”

[starman-john-tracy]

Radiation Poisoning | Chapter Seven

by @starman-john-tracy and @asteria-star

In which John Tracy gets exposed to uranium and nearly dies, The Hood is evil, and Star generally freaks out a lot.  

Chapters: [One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Eight]

Star’s not entirely sure how she makes it through her shower without passing out entirely, but the black dots in the edges of her vision are doing their very best to swallow her whole. There are clothes of hers on Tracy island, but Star emerges with her limp hair in a wet plait down her back, in one of John’s sweatshirts and a pair of sweatpants that just about fit around the waist, but have to be rolled up half a dozen times to free her feet.

Honestly, Star almost throws up within her first step into the medical room. But Virgil’s hulking figure is beside her, and he looks like he’s feeling much the same way. Star’s not sure what he has or hasn’t told his other brothers to get them to leave her alone, but she’s not yet seen hide nor hair of any of them... until now, that is.

Because Scott Tracy is sitting backwards on a chair at his brother’s bedside. His legs either side of the backrest and his arms folded heavily over it. His mouth is pressed into a tight white line and, as he drags his eyes up to them from where they were fixed on John’s still shape, he looks less than pleased to see the pair of them. Maybe it’s just the tension. Maybe it's something more. Virgil, as if sensing Star might bolt, takes her wrist and guides her into the room, clearly hoping that she’ll be too preoccupied with John to worry overly about his oldest sibling’s presence.

“My shift.” Virgil shoos the older man from the chair, “Do us all a favour and go get a shower Scooter.” Evidently this is part of their taking turns. Scott shakes his head low and weary, but he makes his way toward the door with little other protest.

“Thanks Virg, see you in twenty, yeah?”

“Sure thing.” Virgil guides her into Scott’s vacated chair by John’s hospital bed, safe to be so close now that she’s been scrubbed raw of outside germs, watching him sleep. Sleep… isn’t the right word. He’s not peaceful enough, minute tremors and twitching muscles plaguing his form, as if his subconscious wants to writhe in discomfort. His arms are more black and blue than pale, his heart monitor is beeping an uneven tempo, the oxygen mask looks sore against his irritated skin.

“You alright?” Virgil checks, from where he’s leaned on the back of the chair behind her. He doesn’t think he’s alright, after all. A warm chin comes to rest on the top of her head. He sighs heavily, watching the silent shape of his brother just breathe. John looks thin and fragile under the white sheet, with the oppressive quantity of bleeping machinery clustered around him and all the tubes and wires and the bulky shape of the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, dwarf the lithe young man almost entirely. Virgil’s just glad he didn’t have to intubate him. His arm raises, almost brushing against Star’s cheek, as he pinches the bridge of his nose hard, trying to stave off the edges of a tension headache.

“Geez…”

After several moments of restless watching, Star shifting anxiously in her seat, she tilts her head towards Virgil, like she wants to look at him but can’t drag her eyes up to his face. “You’re going to want to ask the GDF to send someone up there to pick up the uranium,” she murmurs sullenly, “John was concerned about the leaking canisters in the vault, and then there’s a second lot in an officers lounge. I think I hid them well enough.”

“I’ll get Scott on it.” Virgil sets himself a reminder on his fancy, high-tech wristwatch, ready to prompt him when his elder brother returns from his shower. “Do you think The Hood is likely to come back for them?”

It’s at that moment that John makes a low sound in the back of his throat. Star’s hand twitches towards him, reaching for the bony wrist that’s the closest limb to her, wanting to do anything to make home feel better, even if it’s just a comforting hand, but she freezes.

“I’m not… am I going to hurt him?” She asks Virgil softly, blinking back those stupid tears she hasn’t been able to keep under wraps all day. “Can I even be in here? It’s not going to make him sick?”

“You’re alright.” Virgil pats her shoulder reassuringly, then moves away to go fiddle with some settings on a screen, topping up his brother’s painkillers, “You’re freshly showered and there’s little chance of you transmitting any germs to him, even with his wrecked immune system, but I’m glad you’re being careful. Alan wanted to jump right on him soon as we let him back in.” He laughs, but the warm sound trails back off into silence again shortly after.

Quiet, Virgil watches the fresh 20ccs of tramadol run down the new line he’d replaced the cannula at his wrist with, mixing with the supplementary immunotherapy drugs and blood regulators that are already feeding into his brother’s veins. The replacement peripherally inserted central catheter, or PICC, is a thinly-tubed line that runs from the entrance point at the crook of the John’s elbow, and finishes snugly near the heart muscle, designed to deliver the medications much more quickly and effectively. Virgil hopes that John won’t be able to feel the microscopic, wire-stiffened tube threaded through the peripheral veins in his right arm when he wakes.

John’s nose wrinkles in his sleep, eyebrows crinkling like something is disturbing him.

“Does it hurt?” Virgil whispers, more to himself than his unconscious brother, “Shhh Johnno, the meds will kick in soon.” He smooths a big, warm hand across his siblings shoulder. “We’re gonna take good care of you, ok?” 

Star almost tips herself out of the chair leaning forwards, gripping Johns free-er arm at the elbow, so their forearms are lying flush on the bed. She lets her fingers trail along the soft, bruised skin there, and instinctively forces a watery smile to her face that he’s never going to see.

“Hey Johnny,” she murmurs, tracing the delicate patterns over and over again. “You’re safe now. Got to Thunderbird Five, just like you said to. And you’ve got your brothers. Nobody’s going to hurt you here.”

She still can’t quite bring herself to say the words you’re okay, but she keeps talking, just in case he can hear her. She just keeps telling him about this and that and everything in between in a low, wavering tone that seems to almost just fall out of her. It’s not until the drugs must kick in that she stops, keeping a hold of his arm. It’s like drowning, watching John’s lax face through a haze of angry gravity.

“You know what, Virgil?” Star tells him, not moving an inch from her position up against the bed. “I really fucking hate space.”

There’s a soft, suspiciously wet sounding laugh from Virgil over her shoulder. 

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” He says, scrubbing a hand hard over his eyes, “He’d be so upset.” 

Star snorts. “Oh, he knows, don’t you worry. I tell him every time something goes wrong. Like one time, we ran out of coffee? I almost staged a mutiny.”

Virgil laughs again, louder this time: more genuine and less startled.

The pained scrunch of John’s brows has yet to smooth out, Virgil’s top up dose or otherwise. There’s a slight curling of his fingers, the muscle of his forearm under Star’s palm bunching noticeably as he does. The burned red of his face has bleached to an unhealthy grey save for the two spots of feverish crimson high on his cheeks.

“John?” Virgil’s noticed the pick-up in his brother’s heart rate, the boost of O2 to his brain on the monitors. “Hey buddy, you waking up there?”

Even with the fogginess of a head that feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool, a haze of drug-induced numbness, John knows without opening his eyes that he’s in the medical room down on Tracy Island. There's just something that just makes the space instantly recognizable, whether you’re actually in control of your full cognitive capacity or not. It could be the weight of gravity, or the sharp, clean smell of antiseptic, or the constant bleep of monitors, but it’s altogether too familiar to be anywhere else. 

There’s a headache pounding his eyes and John notes that, despite the fact he’s only just woken up, he’s incredibly exhausted. He figures it must have been the pain that woke him: his chest sears on every exhale, a tight, awful stabbing sensation burning in his midriff. There’s a sharp, localised piercing feeling in his wrist, and a headache behind his eyes, and he feels so sick, curling and hot in his stomach. 

Blue-green eyes chance a peek and John registers, squinting against the bright white lights above his head, the presence of an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, cool air replacing each hot, rough breath he struggles to take.

“V’rgl?”

Star goes very, very still, hardly even daring to breathe. She leaves her arm where it is, pressed against John’s but stops the absent tracing, as if afraid he’ll notice she’s there. Her wide eyes track Virgil’s as he rushes over to check John over. She’s waiting for the dark haired Tracy to call false alarm, tell her she’s imagining things, but he never does. 

John doesn’t look particularly happy about it, but his eyes are definitely open, and Star is willing to take that. Her heart jolts in her chest each time his fingers curl by her elbow, blue eyes squinting around the room. John tries to fidget uncomfortably, an impossible feat, and Star stumbles uncoordinatedly upright, nearly landing on her ass, to place gentle hands on each side of his hips to keep him from moving, mirroring Virgil’s hand on his shoulder. Eventually, his eyes come to land on her.

Star startles like a deer in headlights. “Hey.”

“Star.” He breathes her name out like it tastes of pure, heady relief. “I…” Golden ginger lashes flutter, his eyes roaming the room again and lingering the sight of Virgil scrubbing at his eyes with the hand not holding down his shoulder. “Wh…?” His voice is thick and hazy with sleep, and he’s genuinely surprised by what a struggle it is to keep his eyes open. His focus narrows to the dark braid over Star’s shoulder and the feeling of small hands pressing down on his hips. He shifts a little, testing the reason for the holding him in place, and he’s rewarded by a hot, fiery sensation across his stomach and through his insides for it. He breathes out hard through his nose, O2 mask fogging. “Ow…” He manages weakly. “What…?”

“Stop moving,” Star admonishes lightly, taking her hands away now that he’s got the idea himself. “You’re fine where you are, okay? Just relax.”

She slouches back in her chair like a marionette who’s strings have been cut. She didn’t realise just how much she’d been expecting him to never wake up again until he said her name.

Someone’s taken the time to clean him up, wiping fever sweat from his skin and combing out his hair so that it feels soft against the pillow, curling, still just that little bit longer than he likes to keep it, around his ears. His lungs ache on every breath. Asphyxiation. His brain fills out from him, though he’s not sure where he got that idea from. I couldn’t breathe. He feels almost cold, the heat of the fever tricking his body into shivering, and stiff fingers bunch in the sheet over him, unconsciously trying to warm them. Star leans back forward when she sees the trembling fingers, taking his hands in her own to rub some warmth into them. It's a placebo and she knows it, his skin almost physically burns to the touch. 

“Hi John.” Virgil sounds tired right through, his eyes liquid with apology. “So, uh, I’ve got good news and bad news.” The wince at the cliché phrase must show on the spaceman’s face, “Ack, sorry.” He sits heavily on the edge of his brother’s bed, settling beside Star, “You’re probably confused. How much do you remember of what happened?”

John goes to shake his head, only to pale like he regrets the motion, the world spinning round him like he’s sat on the outside of the gravity ring. He squeezes his eyes shut once more with a groan.

“Still nauseous?” Virgil guesses, wisely, “I’ll up your antiemetics. I… Do you know where you are?” 

“Med room,” John croaks, his voice raspy with exhaustion and the damage to his lungs. “Tracy Island. Th’ gravity gives it away. Crn’t tell you the date though.” He looks to Star at his side, eyes scanning her skin and the very familiar sweater she’s wearing, as if checking her for injuries. “Y-you ok?” 

Star closes her eyes, very slowly, swallowing thickly. It takes her a moment before she opens them again, and when she does it’s on the promise of I’m fine. 

“I’m fine, John,” she gives his hands a little squeeze, “nothing happened to me. I’m completely and utterly, perfectly fine.” 

She gives him a little smirk when he does a disbelieving double take. “And it’s Thursday, just in case you were wondering.” Everything about her softens. “You’ve been asleep for a little while.” 

“What day was it when I went to sleep?” He sounds concerned. “If it's Thursday now?"

“Good lord,” Star smirks, “I’m going to buy you a calendar for Christmas.” John snorts at that, the rough laugh pleasant. 

“When’s Christm…?” He goes to say more, amused, but Virgil rests a distracting palm against his forehead, gauging his temperature.

“What’s the last thing you’ve got memories of?” Virgil doesn’t seem bothered that he’s interrupting, his voice soft, still trying to gauge John’s cognitive function. 

“I…” There’s a flicker of fear in John’s eyes, as he struggles to put the blurred, patchy fragments he’s got of his memory over the last twelve hours or so back into some kind of order. It’s like trying to make a jigsaw without all the pieces. “We were responding to a situation, a parallel station in orbit. Star and me.” He pauses to take a breath. “There was… uranium on board.” His mouth shuts in a tight, white line, as if it’s dawning on him exactly why he might be lying in a hospital bed. “Things are patchy but there was a man… The Hood.” The name sounds like it causes him pain, “He took my helmet. Star got it back and… we were heading for Five…? After that I’ve got nothing.” Virgil can’t help but be relieved about that. “How’d we… get home?” He brings a hand to where his stomach is a throbbing, tender ball of ow. “What hit me?”

Star smiles slowly, sadly, aware Virgil can’t fill the gaps John wants covering, but not entirely willing to do it herself.

“I used the grapples to get back to Thunderbird Five, good job you made me take extra, then called Thunderbird Three for a lift. Figured since it was up to me, we could do without the damned space elevator.” She tries to smile like Virgil had done, or like John does on a call mid-rescue, with scared civilians on the line and nothing but him to steer them away from pure panic. It doesn’t quite have the same effect. Star considers herself a lot of things, but a Thunderbird isn’t one of them. That, and the heavy insistent tug of full gravity and near death experience at the hands of her nemesis space, have left her reeling and shaky and not entirely sure she’s all there.

“Nothing wrong with m’space elevator.” John complains lightly, trying to stifle a yawn, “Everything Brains builds is way over-engineered anyway.” His fingers squeeze hers, as if even doped up to the eyeballs he can tell something is wrong with her.

“Nothing hit you, John,” she lets go of a hand, making another move to cup his face only to fall short. She rests the hand against his shoulder instead, thumb against his collarbone. “The Hood was stealing uranium. He cornered you in the vault, and he did take your helmet off, so you had a couple of minutes out of atmosphere, but we got it back for you. Unfortunately… you were in there with some broken canisters, so you’ve had some…” Star’s brain doesn’t seem to want to supply the words, as if not saying them will steal the truth of it from right out from under their noses, “exposure to radiation. Virgil’s much better at explaining all the medical mumbo jumbo, so I’ll leave that to him, yeah?”

John is looking at her a little shell shocked, and she grimaces.

“How you doing there, sweetheart?” She gets a small groan in response.

“Feels like someone landed the Space Elevator on me.” He jokes, evidently trying to make light of the ominous you’ve got radiation poisoning that’s hanging over his head. “Glad t’hear that’s not what happened. Damage report Virg?” He sounds eerily calm in the face of it, but the heartbeat racing on the monitors spells out a different story. “What was the bad news?”

Virgil looks hesitant, and kind of miserable to follow up on his earlier offer. It’s hard to know where to begin. There are a lot of potential side effects of radiation poisoning: tumours, loss of kidney function, pancreatitis, permanent immune diseases, diabetes, and those aside John’s going to be in it for the long haul with the more immediate effects.

“When Scott and Alan got there,” Virgil begins to explain, “you were presenting with nausea, a high fever, erythema, purpura, dizziness and disorientation, cognitive impairment and haemorrhaging from your damaged blood vessels. All symptoms of accurate radiation syndrome.” He takes a breath. “We had to perform a Laparotomy to correct the internal bleeding, so, uh, you’re going to be pretty sore around the waist for a while.”

“A what?” John blinks sluggishly, trying to work out just what that means. The headache really isn’t helping his cognitive processing. He can feel the pull of the line of neat stitches across his abdomen as he shifts. It feels like there’s something heavy resting on his chest. His fingers tighten around Star’s again, just a little. She can feel the fine tremble that’s started in the digits.

Star catches his heart racing away in the monitors, feels the tremble in his hands, and hooks her free arm around his chest, as though she would give him a hug if she weren’t so scared of breaking him.

“We sealed your leaky blood vessels.” Virgil confirms, worried about how much of this John is actually taking in, “Surgery went well, and we’re hoping you’ll be free of any secondary infections. Tests indicate that there’s been a severe decrease in your number of blood cells though, as is common with radiation exposure, including leukocytes.” The notices the lack of recognition in John’s eyes. “Uh, they’re the white blood cells, they’re the body’s primary defence against infection, so we’ve got to be really careful to keep you from getting any germs or small cuts for a while.” Virgil looks kind of sheepish about it, like he knows it’s going to be a rough road for a little while. “Your lack of red blood cells is gonna make you anaemic and your lack of platelets could make even a little bleed severe.” He cards a shaky hand backwards through his dark hair, glad he’s telling John these things to forewarn him, but feeling horrible that he has to. “We’ve got you on a PICC line to boost your cell count and correct the dehydration, iron levels and electrolyte imbalance. Brains is in his lab working on what the ideal balance of meds is gonna be.”

“That… sounds good?” Anything Brains is working on always comes round for the best sooner or later. John’s aware he’s never seen the man with a medical qualification though. He’s got a strong suspicion he’s soon going to become a human guinea pig. 

“It’s gonna be a pretty slow recovery I’m afraid. You’re going to be tired a lot more than normal and you’re on a course of immunotherapy and blood clotting medications. We’re expecting you to be nauseous a lot and have very little appetite, but you’re gonna have to suck it up a bit and eat what you can or else there’s gonna be a whole lot more IV fluids in your future, and really, we’ve got you on enough already.”

“If things don’t improve on IV alone, we might need to find a suitable match for an allogeneic stem-cell transplant, and possibly,” He hesitates, “a marrow transplant, from a donor, depending on the overall state of your red and white blood cell counts." Virgil pauses to let that sink in. “I’m going to test the boys and Grandma to see if any of us are a match, but I want to place you on the list at the Royal Melbourne in order to have the greatest chance of getting you a donor, should the need arise."

“And the good news?” John chuckles weakly, struggling to absorb all that.

“You’re alive.” Virgil offers him, fairly miserably. “And we’re gonna do our best to keep you that way, alright? I hadn’t finished the bad though,” He winces, apologetic, “I’m gonna have to take a sample of bone marrow, so we can check if the radiation has reached it. Scans have been inconclusive and you… well, you might need a transplant. Sorry John.”

“Does the sample have to be taken today? Like, now?” Star asks Virgil over her shoulder. Star can see John struggling, his brain going a mile a minute and still not entirely believing all the ways Virgil had just listed that could kill him. His brow is still pinched with pain, and he’s frowning slightly at his brother, lost in whatever the hell had stuck out of all that.

“Ideally.” At least Virgil has the grace to sound sorry about it. “The sooner we have the sample of your stem cells the sooner we can analyse it for abnormalities and, if needed, start our search for a match. And, honestly John, it’s probably gonna be better to get it over with. You can go back to sleep after, ok?” If he can.

“Is it gonna hurt?” John asks, his voice smaller than either of them have ever heard it. Virgil doesn’t offer him an answer.

“Hey,” she leans on the bed with her elbows, drawing one of his hands up in both of hers, pressing her mouth along the back of his knuckles. “Look at me.”

She waits patiently as he does, holding the captured hand up against her cheek. Hazy eyes do finally meet hers, she nods slowly, as if to say it’s alright without having to voice the traitorous lie. Speaking of traitorous, her eyes are getting hot and wet again, and she fights the tears back.

“Don’t think too hard about it, it’s not all important right this second. Just tell me what you need right now.”

“I… I don’t know.” John’s mouth shapes the admission, but his voice doesn’t sound at all like his. It’s smaller than Star has ever heard it. He sounds so overwhelmed, maybe even scared. “Sorry,” He mumbles, “I… I’m so tired and it’s a lot and…” He turns his head into his pillow, pressing his cheek down hard and hiding his face from them. The motion reveals a pockmarked trail of red purpura marks all up the side of his throat. They watch him take a long, ragged breath, then another. It’s a second or two before he pulls himself together.

“Don’t apologise,” Star murmurs into his hand, letting him have his minute to hide in the pillow. “You’re doing great.”

“Right.” John swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing, “Let’s get this over with then shall we?” He looks up at them with liquid eyes and Virgil nods, the motion tight and controlled.

“Think we can get you onto your side?” It’s not really a question, but the illusion of choice seems to maintain some of John’s dignity in the situation. Too weak to help himself roll over, John, blearily, feels Virgil manipulating one of his arms to tuck it up by his cheek, and moving the other one straight out to the side, toward Star.

“It’s ok to cry Star.” He tells her softly, finding a weak smile for her beneath the oxygen mask even as Virgil folds back the covers and bends one of his knees for him and rolls him onto his side. The other leg gets bent to match, leaving him curled on his side with his knees tucked up to his chest. “It’s been a hard day, right?” A monitor bobs red somewhere above him, a drop in respiration. Virgil makes a displeased sound through his teeth.

“Yeah, I know,” she knows exactly what he’s talking about, there’s no way to even pretend not to, but she’s not about to give in that easily. No amount of showering and electrolyte complexes could scrub away the residue of having completely and utterly lost it, but John doesn’t need that right now. Star captures the hand that comes looking for her, bracing the other on his thigh to keep him from rolling over, or flinching away from Virgil. “No ones going to be upset or you do. It’s been a rough one.”

“Keep him talking to you.” He requests of her, trying to keep his brother’s anxiety down. “It’s alright John.” Virgil’s rolling up the thin blue cotton of his brother’s t-shirt, exposing the big adhesive pad stuck to his middle, hiding his perfect stitches. The medic rubs a quick hand soothingly over his brothers bare, red-pocked waist. “Hang tight, I’m just getting set up.” There are twin snaps as he pulls on IR blue latex gloves. John has to admit to himself, vaguely, that he’s very lucky his brother is brilliant.

It’s also lucky that John is turned away from him, being placed on his side having left him facing Star, and that doesn’t see the massive size of the weird, capped needle that Virgil’s setting up.

In a moment of stupidity, Star's eyes track Virgil’s movement and come to land on the needle. She hopes they don’t widen too obviously and snaps her gaze away, hunkering down close to John. Her heart is racing pounding painfully in her chest because that is going to hurt, and it’s going to hurt John.

“Ah,” she fumbles on a topic of conversation, everything seeming woefully insignificant for this. In the end, she plucks the first thing that comes to her mind that doesn’t start with an apology or include radiation poisoning. “So I have some complaints about the spacesuit, because that has got to be at least the third time I’ve had to wear it and ended up running around in my underwear when I’ve taken it off.”

She knows she’s not supposed to even be wearing her giant shirts when she’s got it on, she’s been told about the electrodes needing to sit flush against her skin more than once, but that isn’t the point. “We need to get some underclothes for them. Like the black in Star Trek. Imagine how slick we’d look? Speaking of, I’m renaming Thunderbird Five the Enterprise. I’ll change the label for your birthday.”

John snorted at her again, a touch of amusement joining the strain on his face.

“I thought I was getting a calendar?” There’s a weak smile, though it flickers as he feels Virgil’s cool hand land on his hip.

“No, no, calendar is for Christmas. I’m spray painting your Thunderbird for your birthday.” 

John looks like he might laugh again, or make a mock-offended complaint, only Virgil gets started.

"Okay, John…” He carefully cleans a small area of his brother’s lower back with a cold, sterile wipe, then rubs in a topical anaesthesia, his gloved fingers massaging the muscle of John’s back, trying to get him to lose the tension. “This is it… just relax as much as you can for me. You might feel a bit of pressure… A slight burn…"

Everything about him stiffens, grunting in pain, and Star just gives him something to hold onto, and holds onto him. Despite it, John can’t seem to help the whimper that escapes him at the feeling of the oversized syringe as it slides home. Punching through skin and muscle to pierce the back of his pelvis beneath, sliding unsettlingly easily into hard bone. A hot, bright flash of nausea almost makes his legs spasm, the need to curl further into his stomach strong, but Virgil’s got a steady hand, the one not holding the needle, on his brother’s hip and it luckily keeps him still while the thick needle sucks out his marrow. Being held still doesn’t mean he’s not very nearly sick then and there though, because it’s a close thing. John’s face screws up, his breathing short and sharp. He’s embarrassed to realise he’s shaking.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” She murmurs somewhat desperately, clinging on. “You’re doing great, baby. It won’t be long, we’ve got you, Virgil’s almost done.”

John’s teeth clench, and he screws his eyes even tighter shut at the sensation of the needle now retracing its route as Virgil carefully removes it. His muscles tense automatically, making Virgil’s job harder and leaving the spaceman gasping in sharp, clinical air like his abused lungs can’t quite cope with the shock. His stomach muscles are quivering.

"All done, John." Virgil’s gentle voice. “You did great.” A sticky pad gets pressed firmly into place, Virgil’s hand remaining there to apply pressure, while the other leaves his hip to hide away the needle device and it’s precious, extracted cargo - sealing it in a small, labelled bag to be sent to Brains lab for testing.

"Geez Virgil." John just about manages, breathlessly. "That hurt …"

"Sorry.” Virgil sounds just as deeply sincere for his tenth apology as he had for his first, “Just sit tight and rest, John, and then after about fifteen minutes, we can pop you on your back and you can sleep some more." Blue gloves are peeled away and discarded, the man doing so clearly more than slightly distraught. Trying to calm himself, Virgil settles on the side of the bed at his brother’s back, pulling down John’s rucked up T-shirt and tucking the covers up around his waist.

John hasn’t stopped trembling yet. The monitors are squealing his body’s displeasure, even if John can’t bring himself to vocalise it further. Star’s still there, in his space, smiling softly whenever his dazed eyes swing past her. Her own hands are sweating, throat tight against the tears that are threatening. She can feel the hysteria buzzing beneath her clammy skin, but she’s going to keep a lid on it in front of John if it’s the last thing she does. And Virgil… She's worried about Virgil too. The lot of them don’t need her mess as well.

“Close your eyes.” Virgil advises, “For a start.” He smooths his fingers through the curling strands of his brother’s hair, trying to be calming and fiercely hating, right now, with all his heart that his brother is going through this. The world can be just so damn unfair sometimes. Downright cruel. John doesn’t deserve any of this at all. Not for the first time today, Virgil kind of wants to break down in tears but John, sleepy, soft, in-pain John, still needs him. Scott isn’t due to be back for his shift for another five minutes and even then Virgil’s not actually sure he can leave him.

John does do as he’s asked though (a model patient compared to the fuss the rest of the Tracy brothers like to put up) and closes his eyes, hoping to doze until Virgil says it's time to move. There’s a hot, low throb going on in his lower back, spreading as an awful ache right through his back muscles. Hell if he’s not glad for the drugs Virgil’s pumped him full of. If he didn't have those right now, he’s pretty sure he'd be howling in agony… Rest sounds really, really good.

[lizzylunawizardessfanfics]

Warmth of Spring

Pairing: Hades!Lizzy X Persephone!Elias

Summary: God AU: In a world where the gods have died years ago but mortals have been randomly selected to replace the ones they’ve lost. Many of them have fully embraced the title names of the gods/goddess they have been chosen to fill in, as there are those who have kept their using their mortal name to keep what little is left of their mortal memory. What will fate have in store of a twist of the classic retelling of Hades and Persephone.

It was just another day in the Underworld, souls of the damned groaning in agony, new souls falling into the fiery pits adding more to the population of the damned. Resting on my lounge chair I boredly ate pieces of pomegranate from the glass bowl staring out to the fiery scenery that was outside my balcony. For a place that was told to be hot beyond all imagine, all I felt was actually cold; though maybe that was just because I’ve grown used to my home’s extreme heat. “Here’s to another boring day of solitude,” I said, picking up my glass and starting to take a sip.

Hearing the double doors of my room slam open and a loud voice shouting, ‘Milady! Milady!” I spit out my wine having been slightly startled before snapping to glare at the demon that came barging into my quarters. “What is it,” I shouted angrily now moving to sit up properly wondering what called for such a rude entry. Scrambling to his knees and bowing down the demon talked in a frantic manner. “M-Milady please forgive my intrusion, but-but a being o-of the living has stumbled into the-the underworld,” the demon explained as my eyes widened for a moment before going back to a neutral state. Uncrossing my leg I stood up from my lounge chair and fixed my dress smoothing the material of the skirt down. 

“I see then I guess I shall go welcome this… Surprise guest,” I said walking to leave my quarters, never have I had any guests; well except for the Hermes that comes to deliver messages, what was his name again… Oh yes Randy! Making my way to the lobby of my kingdom I could hear startled screams and a males voice shouting for help. Finally standing at the top of the stairway of the lobby I looked down to witness Rufus, my three headed hell hound barking and growling at a young man as I found myself feeling shocked. Beautiful golden locks as it seemed to have a couple of small flowers in his hair and dressed in white. “RUFUS SIT,” I shouted loudly as both my companion and the young man looked up to me. Holding the front of my dress I started to slowly descend the stairs while Rufus backed away from the person a bit before sitting down. “I apologize for his behavior, he’s simply doing his job. But on another note welcome to the underworld,” I said loud enough for him to hear me. Seeing his eyes of amethyst carefully watch me, his face showed that he seemed shocked. “W-Wait a minute! You- You can’t be Hades can you,” he asked in sounding he was in disbelief which I could only chuckle. “Indeed I am Hades, I am the queen of the Underworld,” I said now walking over to my guest.

“I see. Forgive my r-rudeness,” he was quick to apologize and politely bow, I couldn’t help but giggle at his cuteness from how nervous he appeared. “My name is Perseph- ack no a-ah I mean.. My name is Elias,” he said trying to introduce himself while his face started to turn a bright red. “I see, well it’s lovely to meet you Elias, my name is Lizzy,” I said now standing just a couple feet away from him as we took each other's hand and shook. Though before letting his hand go I brought his hand closer to my face before placing a kiss against his knuckles, just seeing his face grow darker was all the more cuter to watch. “Come, let us take a walk while we talk,” I said, giving a light smile as I started to walk to lead the way which Elias rushed to keep up with me as Rufus also tagged along as well. 

Walking the two of us strolled through the gardens though there wasn’t much life in the flowers. Rufus was in the distance playing around with the hellflutters while I listened to Elias explain who he ended up down here. Softly frowning I nodded my head before saying, “I see, that is rather unfortunate for you. Accidentally stumbling upon one of the portals a beast had created and fallen into it.” “Yes as I was hoping maybe you had a way of sending me back,” he slowly inquired as I could only shake my head in a no manner. “I'm sorry to say but that isn’t easy, I can’t control when portals appear in the world of the living. But I can reassure you that when the next portal is to open you’re more than welcome to go home, but in the meantime do make yourself at home,” I replied glancing over to him as he seemed to frown when hearing the news. “I see, as thank you for your hospitality,” he said with a ghost of a smile. 

Some time has passed as Elias and myself have gotten to know each other better though there have been times that I had to tend to my duties as the queen. Currently we were in the library not doing anything in particular though Elias was looking through one of the books, though I couldn’t imagine how he found it interesting; the lot of them were dark or fairly sad stories of those who’ve been damned and the stories of those who’ve come before myself. I closed the book I was writing in after having ensured the ink dried. “Hey Lizzy,” I heard Elias’ voice call my name as I looked over to where he was sitting close by on the sill of a window. “Yes Elias, is something wrong,” I asked curiously standing up to go over and sit on the opposite side of him.

“Do you have any memories of your life as a mortal… Ya know, before you became Hades,” Elias slowly asked as I looked at him with wide eyes. Trying to think about it now nothing was really coming to me; frowning I turned my head towards the window to look out as the scenery of fire and souls floating around was in view. “I don’t… Though all I can only remember was that feeling,” I started to say as it was the only memory I had before the world stole me away. “While sleeping there was this… Burning sensation in my chest, a searing pain as it didn’t even hurt all that bad but I could still feel it… Then when I woke up, I was in this castle,” I finished talking as I felt him looking at me. I glanced over to see he held a sad look in his eyes as I was confused as to why Elias was moving closer to me.

I softly gasped when feeling his arms suddenly wrap around me and pulling me to him, he was… hugging me. “You’ve been all alone, all this time down here,” he said in a whisper as I could feel the warmth radiate from him and I suddenly felt something wet rolling down my face… Was I crying; when was the last time I ever cried, did I even cry, I couldn’t even remember that. Slowly returning the hug I felt relaxed and happy from his warmth, it was comforting. “If it makes you feel any better… I don’t really remember anything from my life as a mortal either… I think I may have had siblings, but it’s all really fuzzy; I guess that’s what the world makes us give up. Can’t have lost anything if you can’t remember what you had,” Elias said when he pulled away from the hug as I looked at him as he had a sad expression of his own on his face and it made me have this sinking feeling in my chest. “Though there are the beasts and demons, as I have Rufus too… You being here has definitely made things more lively,” I said giving a gentle smile to him in hopes of lightening the mood. But after saying that I remembered, it was only a matter of time until a portal opened and he’d leave to go home… And I’d be all by myself again, and that realization started to make me feel sad all over again. 

~~~ Time Skip ~~~ 

It was another day as I found myself slightly pacing around the dining room; with every passing day or however long it has been, dreading when it the time came that Elias would be leaving. In all honesty I didn’t want him to go; our time together was a lot of fun and I found myself falling in love with him… But I knew I couldn’t keep him here, as I knew how much he’s been looking forward to going back to the world of the living. “Hello Lizzy. Are-Are you alright,” hearing his voice snapped me out of my trance as I looked over to see there he was. Pushing back all the thoughts that were racing through my head I smiled and started to walk over to him. “Hello to you as well Elias! But of course! I’m perfectly fine, how was your sleep,” I said, not wanting to worry him.

“I slept well thank you,” He said with his charming smile that gave me the familiar fluttering feeling in my chest. I saw as he was reaching for a fruit as my eyes widened in horror as it was a fruit from the Underworld. Running the rest of the way over to him to stop him I shouted, “Elias stop! Don’t eat that, that isn’t the right basket!” Managing to swipe the darker green pear from him I held it to my chest lightly panting out of breath. “If you had eaten that you wouldn’t be able to leave,” I reminded him as there was one voice in my head telling me to just let him eat the fruit if he grabbed the wrong one, but I knew it’d be wrong and selfish even if there was a part of me that wanted to listen, to just stay quiet and let him eat the fruit of my home. He blinked a couple of times before rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment before going over to the basket that had fruit that was safe for him to eat. “Right, I should be more careful,” he said in an almost hesitant manner or was I not fully awake yet, whatever the case was I nodded before taking a bite into the crisp pear.

After having eaten we went on a stroll through the gardens for a while until the two of us decided to go back inside. We ended up in my throne room and decided to walk over to the record player to play some music. Soon the room was filled with music in which I couldn’t help but look over to Elias. “Elias do you know how to dance,” I curiously asked while walking away from the record player. “M-Me dance… I don’t think I do?? I mean maybe,” he said shrugging his shoulders causing me to giggle at the cute expression that was on his face, he was really cute. Walking up to him I held out my hands and told him “It’s alright if you don’t know how. Will you dance with me anyway?” His cheeks seemed to grow a darker shade of pink at first but he smiled with a nod. “Of course I will,” he said, taking my hands into his and we slowly started to dance together. 

~~~ Elias’ POV ~~~

Dancing around the room with Lizzy was lovely as it was certainly embarrassing everytime I stumbled or almost stepped on her feet. She'd just smile and laugh as we continued to dance enjoying the moment. My heart was beating against my chest as I could only think back to when I first got here; how scared I was and how distant Lizzy felt when we first met. The coldness in her eyes, but getting to know her and spending more time with her, her baby blue eyes seemed to sparkle. Thinking about how alone she must have felt for however long she’s been here by herself, it made me sad. Over time I found myself falling in love with her, Lizzy’s just so beautiful and so sweet. I know that I’m needed back in the world of the living, but that’d mean I wouldn’t see Lizzy again, I wouldn’t see her smile or hear her laughter and how it fills the room. That was why… I tried to eat the fruit this morning, she thought I got the baskets mixed up when I knew it wasn’t the right one but she stopped me… I-I just couldn’t outright say I wanted to eat the fruit so I could stay here with her; what if she didn’t like me back.

Dancing this close to her only made me want to tell her even more how I felt, our dancing coming to a slow stop though we stood right where we were. Looking down into her eyes they reminded me of the sparkling clear waters, she was just so captivating. “Hey Lizzy can I-” I took a deep breath before working the courage to say something after having it be silent between the two of us. But I was cut off by the sound of the doors opening causing me to slightly jump and slightly pull away from her as I saw it was one of the monsters that served her. “My queen I apologize for my interruption; however you are needed,” he said in a deep voice as she seemed to nod her head. “Right,” she said before looking up to me and saying, “I apologize, but I must excuse myself though we can talk when I return.” Nodding my head in a yes manner, I watched as she walked towards the door, the sound of her heels against the stone tile floor. I admired her beauty until the doors closed leaving me by myself.

For the time Lizzy was out attending to whatever it was that needed her attention I stayed in the throne room. A while had passed as I was sitting in the chair that was provided for me to sit in; I could tell how Lizzy can so easily lose her sense of time. I was looking around the fairly large room as something caught my eye in which I looked over to see that it was a bowl of pomegranates. Slowly getting up I started to make my way over to the bowl which I proceeded to look around to make sure nothing or no one was in the room to possibly stop me. Picking up the round fruit I also picked up the knife that was next to it in order to cut it open as the snapping sound of its opening rung in my ear. There was no going back once I eat these, but then again I didn’t have a single doubt in my mind; this was what I wanted, I want to be with Lizzy. Picking a handful of the dark red pieces of the fruit I dropped them into my mouth, eating the bitter tasting fruit. “Elias,” I suddenly heard her voice shout loudly as I quickly looked over to the door as there she stood.

~~~ Lizzy’s POV ~~~

I just returned from a meeting about the maintenance of the souls and what to do with the new ones coming in. My eyes widened at the sight of Elias with a pomegranate in his hand as the other was close to his mouth, no he couldn’t have, he wouldn’t have. “Elias what are you doing,” I shouted as I started to run over to him, how much had he eaten, for once I had no idea what was going through his head. “You-You… I thought you wanted to go home,” I said as my brain couldn’t make sense of this but once I stood in front of Elias I took away the fruit from him and set it back in the bowl. “I don’t want to,” he answered as I completely froze; he ate it… On purpose. “You were right, at first I did want to go home. But being here, being here with you your world grew on me. The Underworld became beautiful to me and being with you I fell in love,” he said as I felt my heart skip a beat, I wasn’t dreaming right, this wasn’t the world being cruel and playing with my heart.

“E-Elias...You- love me,” I hesitantly asked as I needed to make sure, it made me happy to hear him say it but it felt so unreal for a moment. “I do love you Lizzy,” he repeated himself as I felt his hand cup the side of my face, the familiar warmth that radiated off of him. I felt a single tear fall as I heard him start to talk again as he said, “I don’t know what life either of us had before all of this, before taking the roles of Hades and Persephone; but I know that in this life I want to spend it here with you.” More tears fell as I couldn’t help but smile, nuzzling my face into his hand as I placed a hand over his and cried tears of joy. “I love you too Elias! But I was so scared to tell you b-because I knew how much you wanted to go home, and-and I didn’t want to act selfish and trap you here. But I’m so happy because I wanna spend this life with you,” I responded feeling his thumbs wipe the tears away. The two of us shared a kiss, the lingering bittersweet taste of the fruit was on his lips. Moments later we pulled away from the kiss and smiled at each other and I couldn’t have asked for a better blessing, I finally didn’t have to be scared about being alone.

Suddenly the distinctive sound of a portal appearing made me raise an eyebrow, but then when seeing who came out of it gave me a bad feeling. “Demeter,” I plainly said, seeing the blonde man who filled in the role as ‘goddess’ of the harvest. “Hades,” He said in return with the same cold tone of voice but his violet eyes widened when looking to the left of me. “Elias,” Demeter said my lover’s name as I was surprised at first, but carefully thinking about it and comparing how the two looked…. They looked like they could be related. Elias looked confused but it then seemed something clicked with him as I watched him. “How’d- no wait…. Kl-Klaus? What are you even doing here,” Elias seemed to talk in a more questioning manner as if he wasn’t sure himself. “We have no time for this, I’ve been searching all over for you, it’s time to go home,” Klaus snipped in a commanding way as Elias didn’t move, in fact he just proceeded to hold me close to him. 

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m staying with Lizzy. I love her,” Elias said as I could feel my face warm up. Gritting his teeth Klaus glared at the both of us though it’s probably more meant for me. “I don’t know what you’ve done to my brother but there is only one being that can sort this,” Klaus said before clearing his throat. “ZEUS,” Klaus shouted loudly as the room was silent as nothing happened. But then after a moment a lightning bolt hit the floor as a cloud of smoke appeared but to shortly disappear and reveal a tall man with short silver hair and ember eyes. Feeling a small bit of anger build up I shouted, “Albert! I told you NOT to do that in MY HOUSE!” Albert just let out a chuckle rubbing the back of his neck. “Ahahaha sorry bout that Lizzy, oh hello Kla- Demeter, haha keep forgetting you hate when others use your mortal name,” Albert said as he seemed to correct himself when Klaus gave him a dirty look.  “Alright alright, what’s the problem,” Albert said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Persephone needs to be returned to the world of the living, if he isn’t the mortals will die if they’re unable to grow their crops,” Klaus said as Albert looked between the two groups. “I can’t go back, I’ve already eaten the fruit of the underworld,” Elias said quickly as it seemed right at that moment Klaus was looking at me as if he was ready to try and kill me, ha what an idiot.

 “Everyone settle, settle,” Albert jumped between  as he let out a sigh. “As we are all well aware that anyone that eats the fruit of the underworld is unable to leave; but since you Elias are important for the mortal’s survival there is only one thing that can peacefully settle this before Hades and Demeter try to rip each other’s throats out… Again,” Albert said though the very last part he said under his breath. “But anyway, for one half of the year Elias is to stay in the world of the living. As the other half he is to stay here in the Underworld with Lizzy,” Albert said, well more like he told us what was going to happen. Though the older blonde didn’t look happy he just slightly scoffed. “Fine… Whatever,” Klaus said as he took his leave as a couple of leaves fell in his place once he was gone. “Thank you,” Elias said with a smile as I also thanked him. “Ah of course, and besides someone has to keep her company, but really I see how happy you two are… Well I’ll be seeing you two around, bye bye,” Albert said with a grin as like he appeared he disappeared into a bolt of lightning. Letting out a frustrated growl I yelled, “Albert I’m going to kill you! That jerk never listens.” I heard Elias chuckle as I felt him kiss my cheek before softly saying, “It’s alright, we’ll get it fixed and cleaned.” Having calmed down I nodded and gave a smile. Looking up at him we shared another loving kiss; things maybe complicated but we’ll work through them as the more important thing was that we were happy.