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airplanned · 2 years

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Soft Science Chapter 15

The final chapter, in which Link and Zelda almost have things figured out.

(smut)

Chapter 14

Link actually falls asleep on the sofa in the mostly empty lab. He passes out sitting upright with the princess' bare feet in his lap and his head lolled back. The last few days--months--years have been kind of stressful. He's technically on vacation, so, yeah, it's fine.

He only wakes when she leans forward to show him the sketches she's been working on. "You know how Robbie's been working on ways to recreate the ancient stonework and sculpt it for his own uses.”

His fingers wrapped around her ankle fall away when she decides he's not close enough to see and scoots closer. He has to blink at what's she's showing him a few times before it starts to make sense.

“He wants to create weapons and armor, and I want to create buildings and new guardian prototypes."

Link nods. It's an old argument with slightly more venom to it than most of the disagreements around the Sheikah lab.

So it's strange that she's showing him sketches of armor.

"What would you think if we made it the same shape as your knight armor. We could use molds so it would have the same fit."

"Would it have the same weight?"

"Yes! I mean I think so. You see, the swirling tan sections have a lower density than the black sections, so I think I can even it out so it's not too heavy."

She points to a whole mess of hasty math and some rather poor drawings with a spiral across the chest that were then scratched out. It looks as though the weight wouldn't be evenly distributed, but he keeps that to himself.

"What made you come around on Robbie's armor idea?" he asks.

"Oh. Well, you're going to need new armor." She flips to the next page and a drawing that takes his breath away. It looks like his old armor, but shaded darker, the lighter texture edging each piece. Across the chest, the swirls are adjusted into the more angular forms of constellations preferred by the Sheikah, except these form the bold shape of the bird wings that will be emblazoned on their family sigil. With her colored pencils, the tan parts look almost gold. But the most stunning part is that it looks...like him.

It fits his new station, and yet it's what he would pick if he had a dozen suits of armor from which to choose.

"You...How do you know all the different armor pieces?"

"I had to learn to make your Champion's tunic."

"What?"

"So that your armor fits over it."

"What?"

She laughs, and it's beautiful, and he can't quite make sense of it, and ends up looking back down at the sketch in his hands. He can't quite make sense of this either.

"You designed this for me?"

"I saw your disapproving looks towards the more elaborate armor sets, so I thought I would save you some embarrassment. Or--at least--I hope you won't be embarrassed in this. Never mind! This was a bad idea."

She tries to take back the sketchbook but he holds it out of her reach over the arm of the sofa and gives her an indignant look.

For a moment they stare at each other. She's leaned over him to snatch at the pad, her other hand splayed across his chest, her body sprawled across his. Her eyes are very green and very close. Then suddenly her cheeks heat and she straightens, pulling away from him, adjusting her hair as if giving her hands something to do.

He swallows as he sits up. In embarrassment, he hands her back her sketch pad. "I really like it. You're...This is a really good picture."

"It's not--"

"It is. And the math. It's really impressive that you can just do that, you know? And you were..." He clears his throat. "You were thinking about me. And what I'd like."

His face feels really hot.

The way she stares at him makes him run back through the last few things he said. Why was she looking at him like--

She stands, patting his knee in a cheery, friendly sort of way, and chirps, "It's probably about time for diner." She doesn't look at him again until they're seated at the diner table, and there she stares at him again, as if she's just noticed that he has an extra ear in the middle of his forehead and she's holding herself back from taking notes.

As he takes off his boots for the night, she's giving him that look again. Maybe she's realized something new she can do with the armor. And that makes her...not mad exactly, but...distressed? Distressed and enthusiastic both at the same time? It’s very hard to tell.

He pauses to give her a wary look. "Are...you okay?"

She nods. And suddenly her face softens, and it's almost a prolonged fall as she rushes forward, throws her arms around his neck, and kisses him. In surprise, he kisses her back, and her breath comes fast and hot against his cheek, her body responding everywhere his hands drag. She's so reactive, so emotional and expressive in everything she does, and it's weird that she's been so precise so far in everything they've done in bed. He should have noticed that before, because Zelda--his Zelda--is only composed when she's being judged, and when she's free and light and happy, she's a whirlwind of enthusiasm. And now she revels in his arms, and a jagged, broken sound writhes from her throat. He's not chasing her every stuttering breath, every twitch of her arms. Because she's letting him catch her. It's all he can do to keep up with her, all he can do not to moan into it and hold her too tight.

She pulls away, her eyes still closed, and breathes, "Say my name."

He--

It--

She opens her heavy eyes, shining with stars and hope, dark with a longing that she's never directed at him before, and he's undone.

All the fire and possessiveness, the devotion and the need that he's held back for so long rushes through him and burns into the word, "Zelda."

She gasps and tightens her fingers in his hair, pulling him into another desperate kiss.

She can't undo the buttons on his jacket because he's holding her too close for her to get her hand in. He can't undo the buttons down the back of her dress because he keeps getting distracted, first by the skin of her neck revealed when he has the top buttons undone, and then by the knowledge that he can press his hands inside the back of her dress and hold her shoulder blades when he has half the buttons undone. He gets them all by the time they've tackled each other onto the bed, and then they have trouble breaking apart to gather up all her skirts and pull the whole thing over her head. As soon as she's free of it, he's sitting up and kissing her, hands framing her face and then her shoulders. She uses the opportunity to get her hands between them and yank off his jacket and his shirt and then drag her hands over his bare chest as if she actually wants to touch him, as if she's appreciative that he's in good shape. He shudders and pants, needing to be closer to her, needing to touch her more, more, Zelda.

Her bra is a blue Sheikah band, and she pulls it over her head with practiced ease, her arms long and her hair tossed back. She's glorious and soft, and he draws her down over him so he can press wet kisses under her jaw and down her neck, breathing her name against her skin, Zelda Zelda Zelda. She braces herself over him, her breath fast and her arms trembling, and he scoots himself lower in a move that's probably not attractive at all, but her skin smells so good. That's probably weird too. He does not care.

His tongue strokes the underside of her nipple in firm, measured tastes, again and again. When they make eye contact, she lets out a little "oh," her face reddening as his tongue keeps moving, stroking, stroking. That look on her face goes straight to his groin, and maybe the look on his face does the same for her, because her eyes flutter, her nipple hardening against his tongue, until she throws back her head with a gasp, pressing her chest tighter against his mouth, her hand trembling in his hair. "Yes, that's--yes." She squirms, and he holds her tighter.

"How long have you loved me?" she gasps.

His chest squeezes, because somehow it's still embarrassing. He has to stop licking her, instead rubbing his cheek against her. "When did you realize I did?"

"When you basically told me, you dingbat."

Goddess, she's everything. "Years," he groans. "Years." And he ducks his head and licks a thick stripe under her breast.

Maybe it's from his words and maybe it's not, but she moans and then pulls away--away!?--No, she's sliding down and to kiss him, deep and warm. She's so warm.

"Zelda."

She hooks her fingers into the waist of his pants and shoves them down, and he does his best to kick them away without disturbing her. He's barely free before she's stroking him, his eyes rolling back into his head.

"No thrusting," she instructs, but her directions are breathy, and she seems dazed and distracted, which is great because he's dazed and distracted too. He captures her mouth again, and it's a while before she finishes her instructions. "Small movements are fine and expected. You may touch my hair, but let me move my head."

It takes her moving down his body for him to realize what she means.

"You don't--"

"I want to."

And the heat in her eyes as she glares up at him paired with the hungry way she wets her lower lip makes him, for the first time, believe her. She wants him. She wants him. His heart pounds so hard he thinks he might pass out.

She slides down, her skin dragging against his, trailing kisses lower and lower. Her eyes dart up to his, and she shoots him a smirk that will be the death of him, and then she wraps her lips around the head of his cock. His stomach lurches. Oh Goddess, oh Goddess, oh Goddess. The rhythm of his internal chanting matches the rhythm of her firm, measured tastes, again and again. He moans realizing it's what he did to her earlier and she might be kinda evil, and it feels unreasonably good, and maybe this means he taught her something. No, she's too good. There's no way he could teach her anything.

She's so warm. And she gets warmer the deeper she takes him. She was absolutely right: she's amazing at this. So good. Too good. It's too much.

One of her hands slides up his stomach, and he grabs at it, tangling his fingers with hers and gripping fast, desperate to be closer to her even though he can barely think about anything other than how she's already touching him, already enveloped him. She's everywhere. She's everything. He needed more of her. In understanding she reaches further up his body, bracing her forearm against his lower ribs to hold him steady. He grabs at her arm too.

Her tongue ripples, kneading up his length in waves, and it's as if she's coaxing all the pleasure up from inside him, beckoning until his legs are shaking and sweat breaks out all over his body.

"I. Oh no. Watch out. I."

He expects her to pull back. But instead she looks him right in the eye, and hollows her cheeks, sucking the orgasm straight out of him. All thought is gone except for the bliss of release that goes on and on.

As soon as his vision returns, he realizes what he's done. His eyes snap open, and he bolts up to find her struggling to swallow.

"Here!" He cups his hands together and holds them under her chin. Instinctively, she spits into them.

And then they both stare at his hands.

Oh, that's...not sexy.

She slaps a hand over her mouth in horror and squeaks, "I'm so sorry! I just..."

A laugh bursts out of him, because of course he would make the most perfect blow job weird.

He tenses his hands so he doesn't lose anything and leans forward to kiss her, sloppy and appreciative, and she squeaks and tenses before cautiously kissing him back.

He pulls back to grin at her, dopey and starry eyed, then awkwardly shuffles off the bed with his hands still cupped together to go to the washroom and clean up.

He looks up as he's drying his hands to see her watching him hesitantly in the doorway, her arms wrapped over her chest, her hair windswept and her legs long and bare.

He pulls her in at the waist and kisses her before pressing his forehead to hers. "You excel at that."

She softens in relief, and she almost sounds haughty when she drapes her arms over his shoulders and says, "I told you so."

"You excel at other things too," he says.

A blush shades her cheeks, and she looks away in embarrassment, giving him easy access to kiss her cheek.

Into her ear he murmured, "I love you for the other things." And when she turns to give him a skeptical look, he shrugs. "This is a bonus."

She laughs, and settles into his arms, her forehead against his temple. “I love you to, you know?”

“You do!?”

She laughs. “Yes. I’m lucky to have you.”

“We’re both lucky.”

She smiles, and it’s so pretty that he has to kiss her.

#Zelda #arranged marriage au #my fic

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therooftopsofketterdam · 8 months

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closed / plotted starter for @thiefofcrows

The music died down as the twilight started to fill the courtyard of the palace. Guests were beckond outside by multicolored firelights. Inej could see her father lighting torches dipped into different powders. They burned blue, green, bright white and guarded them against the shadows. Her older cousins were tumbling through the courtyard, balancing on a barrel, the two of them, doing flips and circles all while keeping them in motion. The young acrobat waited for her signal from far above. She preferred the quiet of the rooftops to the bustling crowds below, up here she didn’t feel like she had to hide, she could focus only on herself and her breathing and the thin wire below her feet. They had secured it earlier that day, high on the towers of the palace spanning diagonally across the courtyard so everyone would be able to see her. Inej wore a dark teal costume with two bands of painted fabric fluttering in the wind behind her, extending from her shoulders like wings. It gave her an ethereal look, her mother had said, but Inej knew it was to help with weight distribution and show. They made her feel like a heroine from the legends her mother used to tell her as a child.

There was a signal, a long, even tone played by flute and fiddle and drum. Her fathers voice boomed above the crowd once it was gathered. “The good Ravkan folks know the legends about the folk of air, but what if I told you, we had a member with us tonight? A young girl, defying gravity!” They started playing a tune and Inej placed her first, bare, foot against the wire. It felt good, familiar, she held a pole in her hands, walking slowly, wobbly towards the middle of the wire, then stumbled a few paces backwards, pretending to struggle with her balance. There was no net. A Ghafa never worked with a net. The crowd below gasped in shock as Inej nearly fell infront of their eyes, but of course, it was their task to put on a good show.

She dropped the pole as if by accident and let herself fall. The wind rushed up to greet her, below her family gasped and ran as if to catch her. “Don’t worry good people, she is a child of the wind. They will not fall.” Her signal. Inej leaned forward, her hand expertly catching the wire and using the velocity to propel herself back up into the air, body tensing as she elegantly twisted and easily landed on pointed feet, arm outstretched in a pose. The crowd erupted in applause. Her dark hair had started coming loose from her braid, strands gently swaying in the light wind that was blowing around her.

Inej bent backwards, slowly, until her hands touched the wire securely, then, slowly pushed off with her feet, gliding into a handstand and walking a third of the length of the wire on her hands before dropping again, hooking her leg through the wire and holding on with her free hand to strike another pose, lieing suspended in mid-air. She changed her grip, swinging back up again in a fluid motion and the second her feet touched the wire she jumped a backflip from a crouch into a standing position, then flipped forwards, her hands on the wire for support as she cartwheeled her way back. The music her family played started picking up as the show of panic passed and people were watching Inej perform. Her cousins were on their way up and would take over in a few moments but for now she enjoyed the fluid, almost dance like, movements of her body, keeping it tense, muscles aching in that satisfying way of good work.

She gently priouhetted her way to the middle of the wire again, standing on the tip of her left toe, right leg outstretched in an arabesque behind her as she slowly turned on the wire, arms gently coming down, sinking into a bow, then she whipped her leg around, turning quick once, vaulting off the wire. Then there was an eruption of light and sparks and a resounding boom and the next time people lifted her eyes. She was simply gone, vanished, like the wind she was supposed to resemble.

#Thread: Tbd #Kaz and Inej: tbd #Silver and wind: Grisha Au

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dragonmuse · 2 years

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I was thinking about Eddy telling Stede about her father's murder in the one prompt fill. She recalls that Izzy always got her home when she drank too hard on those nights and made myself sad, so you get to have that too:

CW: black out drinking, vomiting, brief mention of suicidal ideation

If Izzy hadn’t polished off half a bottle of vodka on his own, then he might’ve caught the warning signs of a bad night earlier. Eddy was in high spirits when they got to the bar, but within an hour or two, they were drinking more steadily and with a grime intent. Izzy had been conned into judging an arm wrestling competition and didn’t notice fast enough. By the time he clued in, Eddy was already down, forehead pillowed in on one arm.

Luckily no one else had noticed yet. There was time for Izzy to save face. He set aside his own booze and sidled up to them.

“Boss?” He asked low, bending to say into their ear. They didn’t twitch. Fuck. He held a hand in front of their mouth and for one heart-dropping second, felt nothing. Then a gust of warm air hit his palm. “Fuck.”

It was a good thing they’d passed out sitting high or he’d have no hope hiding how out they were. This way, he could get under her arm and loft her up. Her body half-woke up and at least she kept her feet, even if he was dragging her along step for step. Eddy often left without saying goodbye, so Izzy carefully skimmed the edge of what had devolved into a complicated slap fight and got them both out onto the sidewalk. That’s when Eddy went boneless and he took her full weight with a grunt.

“Fuck,” he said again, fighting back his own dizziness.

It wasn’t an easy time or place to hail a cab, but driving was out of the question and neither of them lived close enough to even pretend he could walk it. It was a grim fifteen minutes before he finally waved one down. Eddy had roused enough to puke into the gutter by then, and it had taken all of Izzy’s strength to get them back on their feet again. Just long enough to convince a cab driver they were conscious. Which quickly was shown to be a lie when he had to manhandle them into the back.

The ride was quiet at least. Izzy concentrated on his own breathing and tried fruitlessly to clear his head. Out of the cab and he gave up trying to save their dignity. There wasn’t anyone around to notice anymore. With a heave, he got them over his shoulder not for the first or last time. It was awkward as hell, their long limbs splayed every which way, but at least it was an even distribution and he could get them into the elevator without bringing either of them to ruin.

Eddy had never given him a key to their place, but Izzy had on anyway. He’d told them that he had it and that seemed to be enough between them, an unspoken acknowledgement. Tonight, it meant he only had to fumble in his own pockets at least. He dumped them onto their unmade bed, quick to roll them onto their side in recovery position.

When he took a step back, he could make out the ruin of the apartment even in the dim light. Piles and forgotten things everywhere.

He could leave. He should leave. Go back to his own apartment not even a five minute walk away and try to sleep off what was likely to be a banger of a hangover. No one would thank him for doing anything different.

Instead he started in the kitchen. Dishes washed and put away, counters wiped down. Then he gathered clothes and unearthed the hamper, piling it high. Plans from jobs they’d finished weeks ago went into a pile by the door, a reminder to bring them in for proper filing. In progress things were stacked on the coffee table.

The bathroom at least was in decent repair. He found Tylenol and took some dry himself before carrying a few pills and a glass of water to Eddy’s nightstand. They hadn’t so much as twitched. Izzy hovered, steadying himself with one hand on the nightstand, still outlandishly plastered, despite all the industry.

“What’s the point, Iz?” Eddy mumbled.

“What?” He blinked, catching himself from swaying too far. “The point of what?”

“All of it? Why do I even fucking bother? Could just...stop.”

“No,” Izzy said, the word so loud in his mouth that it startled them both. Eddy blinked at him owlishly. “You can’t.”

“I’m tired.” The word had layers.

“So sleep.”

Eddy rolled over, giving him her back and that really was his cue to leave. Instead, he went woozily to his knees, resting his forehead against the mattress.

“You can’t stop,” he said more to himself than Eddy, who was likely already passed out again. “If you do, I do.”

Maybe he should just wait here for a few minutes. Make sure they didn’t puke again or something. He closed his eyes.

Hours later, the gray light of dawn woke him. His body screamed at the abuse. Somehow, he’d kept his position, passed out kneeling next to the bed. Eddy had turned in their sleep, facing him. He stared blankly at familiar features, the downturn of the mouth obvious even tucked so far into the curly beard. There were new things. He blinked to clear his eyes, but there they were. The first fracturing wrinkles. Fine things, hairline. They were with each other for hours almost every day and he had missed that.

“Getting old, boss,” he whispered and they didn’t stir. Good. He got to his feet, fought a tidal wave of nausea and managed to reach the front door.

He hesitated, hand on the knob, then doubled back and started a pot of coffee. There should be something more. Some person that brought them the mug of it in bed and maybe crawled back in with them. Someone to listen to their day after ramblings.

Izzy wasn’t that person. Not anymore if he had ever been. He watched the coffee brew, listened to the first stirring movements in the next room. He forced his hands to release the counter. Enough. It had to be enough.

Eddy would be fine. Eddy was always fine. The door opened and Izzy walked through it, let it slam behind him. He’d go right to the office. There was still work to do, and no one else would be in the shape to do it.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #poison me a little #eddy teach bonnet #izzy hands

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lostsouldierbye · 2 years

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@tobedisastrous : [ BETRAY ] for your muse to reveal to my muse they’re not who they think they are ( from loki, shapeshifting into steve or anita )

He’s exhausted from a mission --- not one assigned to him by SHIELD, but one that had trickled through the grapevine to him privately, so he’d gone it alone and it had also dragged him unexpectedly half way across the country. So he’s late to Anita’s apartment, and pretty sure he’s missed the chance of seeing her that night because he knows she has business to take care of. He’s a little disappointed, but there is the knowledge that he’ll probably catch her in the morning. He lets himself into her apartment, struggling one handed with the key for a moment thanks to the bag of gear he was carrying in the other hand.

He drops it as soon as he enters, sighing as the familiar scent of Anita’s apartment that has become a home to him hits him. He knows no four walls can ever truly be safe with the kind of company they tend to keep, but it’s still a relief to close to the door behind him and shroud himself with all the reminders of Anita and their shared space. The stool left out at the kitchen counter, a couple of bowls and plates left over in the sink because he hasn’t been here the past few days to get on her case about it. A throw rug pulled out of place on the couch and Bucky can imagine how Anita must have laid there, how he would have joined her if he’d been there.

It wasn’t as good as coming home to Anita herself, but it was the next best thing.

Perhaps it’s his exhaustion, or the illusion that this place is a safe place, or that he’s actually in a better place that his paranoia isn’t constantly eating him alive, but he doesn’t realise he’s not alone in the apartment until he’s knocked his boots off, about to start stripping the gear and clothes from his body, and Anita suddenly peers around the hallway wall.

‘ Shit. ’ Bucky flinches in surprise, and then immediately melts and relaxes when he sees who it is. ‘ I thought I’d missed you. This thing took longer to finish off than I expected. Ended up in freakin’ Milwaukee. ’ He makes a beeline for her immediately, gathering her around the waist and stooping to bury his face in her hair, lifting her off her feet a little. He’s overdue for a shower, maybe, but she’s seen him worse. At least there’s no blood on him, and oh, the way he’d had to rush out the last time he’d been with her, there was some unfinished business to tend to . . .

‘ How long have you got ? ’ he murmurs, fingers pushing back her hair to reveal her face, smiling softly down at her and willing to put his exhaustion aside in an instant now presented with Anita in his arms. ‘ Because as I remember, I have some making up to do . . . ’ He kisses her cheek, then the corner of her mouth, then finally, properly, tongue teasing a welcome past her lips and his hands slipping beneath her clothes to touch skin to skin, or his version of it when one hand was metal.

He lasts about three seconds before he pauses, pulling back slowly and opening one eye at a time, uncertain. ‘ Are you okay --- you feel . . . different. ’ He thought he might have noticed something off when he’d picked her up off her feet, like her weight was distributed differently, and now he can definitely feel the way her body gives to his touch is not what he’s used to, minutely so, but still noticeable. And the kiss --- she doesn’t kiss him like that. Ever. Still, he doesn’t associate threat with the anomalies, because it’s still her face staring back at him, and places a hand against her cheek. ‘ Anita, is something wrong ? ’ Had something happened, had he said something . . .

Then she grins, a pointed grin he’s never seen on Anita in his life, and a wave of green light ripples over her, giving Bucky a static shock where he was still holding her and making him flinch back. He balks at the sight of Loki standing in Anita’s place. He knows the god is a friend of Anita’s but that’s the only redeeming account of him that he’s heard of --- and so it’s a good thing that Bucky thinks highly of Anita’s word. He does, however, draw both a knife from his thigh sheath into his right hand and the gun from the sling on his back into his left hand, both ready and poised for use against Loki.

And the speed of which he reacted may have been impressive if not for the fact that not a moment later, he’s struck with the memory of Loki’s --- not Anita’s --- mouth on his, and promptly pukes at Loki’s feet.

#tobedisastrous #❪ ⠀ * ⠀ bucky ⠀﹕ ⠀ic. ⠀ ❫#❪ ⠀ * ⠀ bucky ⠀﹕ ⠀interactions * tobedisastrous' loki. ⠀ ❫#rip bucky

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essenceb · 10 months

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A trip to The Ringling Museum

"The Triumph of Divine Love" by Peter Paul Ruben

The Triumph of Divine Love by Peter Paul Ruben was made in Ca. 1625. Oil on canvas, 152 x 204 inches. (386.1 x 518.2 cm). It is much taller than a human, sits high like a giraffe, and is as huge as a shed. The painting has warm realistic colors, such as, nude, blue, green, and brown. If you look deeper, you will see a rich red, rich metal like silver and fancy gold. There are a bunch of human forms, animals, curvy patterns, and two pillars in the shape of squares and cylinders made of cement like material. The subject for this picture can go a long way. Humanity is the main subject of how motherhood for Virgin Mary has played a huge part, as she is a single human being with her child being protected. She is not only being protected by God on her right side of her feet who draws blood from its breast, sacrificing His own safety for its young (the bird), but also by a group of cherubs surrounded together around her body. The lions carry her with one of the cherubs hanging tight on the back of the lion on a chariot, which are ready to set her free with peace away from the wicked snakes (the devils). The painting is designed in Baroque style, characterized by drama and emotional density. It features a lot of movement and energy with several twisting and turning dramatically. I believe this painting by Ruben is balanced because the figures are arranged in a way that creates a sense of symmetry as the colors are evenly distributed. The main part of the picture emphasized is the center of the picture to draw importance to the viewers as the cherubs float together in a circular halo form. Unity and variety are often used visually in this image. The chestnut brown bird near Mary that is in defense mode is big with a long neck, large head, and wings. Mary is realistic and tall with an average-sized body. The one healthy baby size is like a 11-month-old and round and Chubby and as long as a 1-year-old. The 16 cherubs are little with a heavy like weight on them. The brown lions are massive with wide heads and muscular shoulders. The white dove, which symbolizes love, peace, and hope, has a round body and a small head with a short beak, and the two black snakes are thin and long.

Looking at the painting, God’s love never fails. It makes me feel so safe to keep going through life even though devils may try to bring me down. It is an emotional painting that evokes a powerful message that includes God’s presence. The Devils tried interfering and slithering through to try to take our peace away from Mary. In the real world, devils try it hardest to make us forget about our faith in God. The thought of when looking straight at Mary, I put myself in her shoes and what came to my headfirst was “The Lord will rescue me from every evil deed and will bring me safely to His heavenly kingdom; to His heavenly kingdom; to him be the glory forever and ever, Amen (2 Timothy 4:18).”

The Triumph of Divine Love by Ruben is linked with the life of Renaissance and Baroque movement, which appeared in Europe in the 17th century. In 1625, Archduchess Isabel Clara Eugenia commissioned Rubens to design about 20 tapestries for the Monastery of the Descalzas Reales in Madrid. When Ruben painting became famous, it was so clear and still is clear enough to know he was open minded about Christ. Ruben was trying to promote and strengthen belief in Christianity in a church.

I picked this mind-blowing painting because the first thing that caught my eye was the two lions looking in two different directions. When I see lions in person or in images, I tend to feel strong. I adore lions so much that I am proud that my birth zodiac sign is represented as a lion. The next thing caught my eye was the protection Mary had while holding her baby tight enough as she balances standing up on the chariot until she made it out away from the wicked devils, the snakes.

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onaperduamedee · 3 years

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"Tawny Newsome: When I look at a character like Georgiou, she is so... What you bring to the body language of that character, to me, ties directly to your contemporary dance background, because the contemporary dancers I know have some of the best, most incredible theatrical dramatic way they embody emotion, because they weren't just taught like some actors to embody it just with their face or with their words. Literally to embody the emotion with their entire body.

And I feel like that's what I'm seeing a bit because you have these incredible fight scenes, these incredible martial arts moments, but even just in tiny moments I feel like I see a lot of that training. Does that sound true for you or did I make that up?

Michelle Yeoh: It sounded so good I'm gonna say it's true."

— Tawny Newsome on Michelle Yeoh's physicality in Star Trek: The Pod Directive, “The Incomparable Michelle Yeoh”

#Michelle Yeoh #Star Trek Discovery #Emperor Georgiou #Philippa Georgiou #Tawny Newsome #myquotes #dancing #source: https://intl.startrek.com/news/star-trek-the-pod-directive-the-incomparable-michelle-yeoh #last one for tonight because this was the moment I was like... I need to do a transcript this is too good #YES YES YES a hundred times yes #I wholeheartedly agree that actors who were/are dancers have a completely different way of acting #that is just mesmerizing #their body language is just... something else #I could wax poetry about Mads Mikkelsen or Andrea Parker #and about contemporary specifically it's got to do with how stillness is used in choreography #Michelle Yeoh is a great physical actress and I've commented before on how the way she walks as Mirrorgiou #is so subtly different from Prime Philippa #it's like the way she distributes her weight on her feet is different #she goes on to talk more about ballet and contemporary and the two Philippas #and I am actually pretty excited to post this #that's all for tonight

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writer-akihiko · 3 years

Note

Hi! Could I get the dorm leaders with a fem!S/O who gets a lot of attention, chocolates and gifts on valentine’s (being the only girl at NRC)? have a good day!

Dorm Leaders + Valentine Jealousy

Just funny, cute scenarios that was really enjoyable to write even though I'm like... 2 months late?? Yeah, forgive me for that.

Cut for length, and some light cussing in the later scenarios.

Malleus Draconia

He put so much effort into preparing a special Valentine's picnic for his beloved. He wanted to surprise you, and by the time he ordered Sebek and Silver to call you to him, they brought him displeasing news.

"Um... Senior YN is caught up!" Sebek reported. Usually, he'd be enthusiastic to share news to his precious Master, but the way those two held back was suspicious.

"Pray tell what those cretins are doing to my YN?" He inquired, his magic seeping from his fingertips.

"Well… giving her Valentine's gifts…" Sebek admitted. "We found her in the courtyard but there were quite a few students from different dorms."

"Sebek, we reported to Malleus because those said students wouldn't move when you yelled 'Move away from Malleus-sama's spouse'," Silver chided. "Despite Senior YN looking like she wanted to escape."

"Move, both of you."

Malleus' rage was more than they anticipated. Lilia, as observant as he usually is, brought the two boys behind his back and let Malleus shift into his dragon form. Lilia simply waved at Malleus, encouraging her more. "Remember Malleus! You're not allowed to burn people! And don't worry about your picnic; we'll bring all the food and preparations!"

Times like this, he was eternally grateful to someone like Lilia. He shifted to his much smaller form, about a fifth of the size of his actual dragon size and took flight. He knew other students would run away, but most importantly of all if it were reported you could easily say that the dragon was your bonded creature. Which, when you think about it, is a decent white lie.

Needless to say, the appearance of the dragon scared away the boys who tried to present their gifts to you, dropping them in fear. Those who ran too late witnessed the dragon's claws snatch up the angelic Senior YN LN away, however they could not see where the dragon took her for the dragon's wings caused the wind to sweep the remaining students off their feet.

He felt a little guilty that you yelped when you saw him, but as he flew, he settled you into his claws much more comfortably.

The moment he landed, his beloved stared directly in wonder into his eyes. He cooed at how small you were next to him and how curious you were of him. It didn't take long before you reached out to his head, asking him, "Tsunotarou? Are you my Tsunotarou?"

His heart melted at his nickname, further nuzzling his nose to your palm. His purring was quite loud, and he plopped his head onto your lap. He was careful not to shift his weight as to not crush you.

"Malleus...why did you do that?" You patted his head, still wondering why you were whisked away. "Were you a little jealous?"

The dragon form of his nudged his nose to you again in agreement. He had never felt jealousy in this way before.

"Malleus… You're the only one who's my Valentine." You spoke. "And I won't spend the day with anyone else besides you."

He shifted out of his dragon form to his much acceptable humanoid form. Malleus, out of his love for you, couldn't help but hug you. He admitted his Valentine's plan for you, especially since he knew how much you anticipated the celebration.

Things were made clear, and you accepted Malleus' apology. He dolled you up a little, calling the flowers to decorate themselves delicately in your hair.

He kissed the soft flesh of your cheek, sitting you on his lap. "Happy Valentine's Day, my precious YN."

Riddle Rosehearts

If the Heartsyabul dorm thought they fully witnessed Riddle's rage, they were sorely mistaken. It was made crystal clear to the students of the Heartsyabul dorm to follow the rule of not harrassing the dorm leader's partner.

It was clear that the point was not received to other ignorant students.

"And what do you think you’re doing?"

The students were immediately caught off guard by the ice chilling voice of the notorious Heartsyabul dorm leader. The boys surrounding you immediately scattered, leaving you with multitudes of presents and chocolates at your feet.

Riddle didn't want to admit it, but the boxes of presents surrounding your being made look as spoilt as you can be.

No, this won't do he thought. He could spoil you better than those group of boys.

"Ace, Deuce, take away the presents," He commanded. The two had no choice but to obey, although Trey did have a look at the chocolates gifted, possibly thinking about using some of them for Riddle's desserts.

He sauntered over to his beloved, taking her hand in his and kissing the top of it. "Not to fear, YN. I hope not a single one of them touched you," He murmured. Before continuing his jealous thoughts, he properly spoke to you, "YN, I asked Cater to deliver a dress to your dorm. I hope you find it pleasing to wear, as later tonight we have a date for ourselves!"

You did find the dress pleasing enough that you would wear it to your date. You knew Riddle was someone who would go all out for Valentine's, especially seeing how he made his affections known. The dress reminded you a little of his red formal wear, and you found the card play motifs on the sash of the dress adorable. Although... You had to admit that you were a little scared if Riddle used his magic unnecessarily for your sake.

Riddle didn't anticipate how much of a worrywart he actually was. He dressed to the best of his abilities, making sure to adjust his tie every so once in a while.

Whatever preparations he calculated and adjusted for flew straight out of the window once he saw you.

He allowed you to walk to him, and once you two met eyes, he got on one knee, kissing your palm.

"My precious Queen… Happy Valentine's Day…"

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim himself didn't realise you were in peril, but he did feel an inkling of jealousy seeing some boys get close to you. Despite all that, he didn't worry a single bit.

For Kalim was going to outdo every. Single. One of them.

"YN-senpai! Please accept this!" A freshman bowed deeply, handing a plain looking love letter. You graciously accepted it, however, all you could do was sit it on top of your precarious pile of presents the past day. All you wanted to do was visit Kalim…

"Eh? I'm sure my gift is the best!"

Sounds of trumpets were heard, and then and there the crowd made way for the dorm leader of Scarabia. The remaining students were shooed away, much to their annoyance. Kalim however only wore a grin as he presented you with a bouquet and a box of chocolates.

A servant nearby bowed to him, and Kalim quickly uttered his order, "Take the flowers and donate them to the Gardening club. As for the chocolates, distribute them to the servants!" He cheerfully ordered, as if the students surrounding the two didn't exist. Gasps of shock and horror were sounded, but Kalim didn't care anyway.

Over Kalim's shoulder, you could see Jamil staring down any potential students possibly trying to pick a fight with Kalim. Although, knowing Jamil, he was doing this for the sake of Kalim being occupied for the rest of the week.

You were delighted to see your boyfriend coming to rescue and you didn't mind his extravagance so much. The only part of the whole scenario you'd be embarrassed about is that some students witnessed Kalim's romantic affections, which… you'd prefer to have your romantic endeavours in a private setting.

The way Kalim tugged your hand along… He was upset and you knew it.

"Kalim… I'm sorry I didn't expect-"

He stopped tugging you along to the Scarabia dorm. You were surprised the moment Kalim hugged you.

"YN… it's not your fault…" He said, patting your head. "Sorry for acting so jealous. I just… really wanted to impress you."

You hugged him back. "Thank you Kalim."

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul felt his heart wrench at the scene of you being confronted by a group of boys adorning you in presents and flowers. He wasn't so sure about giving you his Valentine's letter and present, feeling as if the other students outdid him. Usually, he wouldn't let this kind of thing slide, but... he felt as if it were his fault.

Usually, the other students won't spare a glance towards you, but he had guessed a lot of boys crushed hard that night you sang in the Lounge. Jade and Floyd thought it would be a good way to cheer him up, and Azul himself couldn't deny... He loves your singing so much.

This, however, didn't discern Octavinelle dorm leader Azul Ashengrotto from telling off said students.

"Take your tomfoolery somewhere else."

Murmurs of "Oh shit, it's the dorm leader." and groans came from the other students surrounding you. Azul saw you breathe out a sigh of relief that some of the students left you alone.

He could still see some lingering around. Well, they should surely know better than to disobey his orders on his turf...

"Jade, Floyd, escort them out please."

Azul brought you closer to him. "I'm sorry for not approaching soon, Angelfish."

You shook your head, telling Azul how much you appreciated his help.

"Actually... I never intended to accept their gifts. The presents simply piled up," You said. "If anything, I'd only accept your present!"

Azul stammered, his cheeks flushing to a deep pink. "H-How... How are you so adorable...”?

He regained his composure, hurrying you to sit on the couch. Then and there, he presented you his Valentine's letter. Your heart warmed at how he decorated it so delicately, and his signature never fails to enchant you.

The other half of his gift was an intricately designed parfait presented in a glass. He did the honours of feeding you a spoonful. The moment you finished that spoonful, you heard out the secret.

"It's a new dessert for the Lounge. And I'd like to name it Angelfish Parfait."

Idia Shroud

Idia Shroud was a man who swore to never venture out but mind you he has ears and eyes everywhere. Despite all the commotion around you, especially with the line of students ready to approach you with gifts, you somehow kept a cool head about it.

You didn't spare a glance to the other students, ignoring any other student that try to block your way. You simply walked past them, disregarding their mere existence.

In your perspective, you weren't being rude at all. In fact, you thought whoever stood in your way was rude because of your agenda… and the main event of the day was not exactly Valentine's Day, but your precious date with your precious boyfriend.

Idia wasn't irked by the extravagance of some of the students' presents to you.

After all, he could just buy you the best version of the same thing.

Not to say you were completely materialistic, he just wanted to prove a point to those other guys. He trusted that you were capable… But he couldn't let you handle all of it by yourself. He had to help out too.

He, out of all the dorm leaders, is the one who gets annoyed around Valentine's Day due to the constant attention you get. Sure, he'll proudly admit how pretty you are, but anyone else better keep their hands away.

A group still followed to the entrance of the Ignihyde dorm, and for once in his life, he willingly stepped.

It was one foot out of the dorm doors, but hey, it's a lot for him.

"You're not invited. Leave."

As if his chilly dead voice didn't warn them enough, the traps around the entrance targeted themselves to anyone who wasn't you. The students quickly left, scurrying away. The laser-looking machinery was enough for some of the students to piss their pants.

Your cheeks felt warm. "Idia… You were so cool there."

Once he shut the door, it was his turn for his face to redden. "W..What? You were the cool one shrugging all of those… bugs off of you." He admitted. "Besides, those normies ruined our video game date."

"It's not ruined yet," You said, tugging Idia's hoodie on his head, pecking him on the cheek. "Thank you Idia. Now let's continue that RPG you were telling me about yesterday."

"Mmh! …Love you, YN."

Leona Kingscholar

What was this? Some worthless students want to pick a fight with the top predator? Sure, why not. Leona wouldn't mind beating them to a pulp.

There wouldn't be a crowd surrounding you on Valentine's. Those brave enough would slip gifts at the Ramshackle Dorm or on your desk, but they would never dare give it in person unless they wish to not exist.

Leona was walking you back from class, which is generally a big achievement since he's awake.

"Did any punks approach you today?"

You were typically blunt with him. "No, but I got some presents on my desk. Grim took care of them."

You could hear your boyfriend huff in annoyance. "Some idiots don't realise we're in a relationship…"

You decided to poke fun at him a little. After all, he was only reminded this morning that today was Valentine's Day.

"Well, if only you'd be more open about your wooing, if you call it that," You teased.

Before you two could return back to the Savanaclaw dorm, a group of students blocked off your path.

"Enough is enough Kingscholar!"

"Yeah! You shouldn't monopolise YN-senpai's time like that!"

"Give us a fair shot!"

Leona had to hunch himself over from laughing at how stupid these students were. You kept silent, but you did pinch Leona's elbow to warn him about beating them up in a public place.

"You seriously want those to be your dying words?"

You could only facepalm the moment you heard Leona threaten them. Why did Valentine's always have to end this way? Well… the least that could happen is that you get to cuddle with Leona for the night.

Vil Schoenheit

As you, YN were a part of the Photography Club, you surely got a whole lot of attention as you had to travel here and there for the school's news report. You garnered a lot of positive attention from a great deal of the students, but you'd never approach them with intentions of forming a relationship.

After all, you were dating Vil Schoenheit of all people.

You did try to be courteous as possible, thanking some students who gave you gifts and cards during class. You weren't about to cause any ill-will against anybody, and you were sure that you could get rid of them later…

"Ara? What are these worthless beasts doing around my precious YN?"

Vil's presence was one thing, but his threatening voice was another. Vil stood tall, looming over you, and taking your hand in his, shielding you behind him. Through Vil's gaze, the students who were bold enough to present their gifts quickly shuffled to your desk, retrieving back whatever they planned to give.

You were taken aback by Vil's attitude if anything. He'd never act like this, despite what some might believe. That was when you knew he was genuinely angry.

You couldn't blame him much, since the students caused you to be late for your meeting with Vil. You two had planned to dress up and go out to a town district for the weekend of Valentine's. You had guessed that Vil was also a little pissy since he hadn't seen you in a long time.

After arriving at Vil's room, you tried your best to reach your boyfriend's cheek, transferring a kiss from your palm to his cheek. "I know you're a little angry, but our plans aren't completely ruined."

Vil shrugged off his uniform coat, venting out his frustrations. "I know, but it's supposed to be a special day for you," He said. He muttered under his breath as he had you sit still for him to style your hair. "If anything, they're the ones stealing your time from me…"

You turned to look at him despite his instructions. "I've never seen you so adorably jealous."

The colour of his cheeks bloomed a pink hue. "W-Well, of course my sweet potato," He said. "They need to be taught a lesson and you, my sweet potato, should sit still otherwise I'll never be done with your hair."

You let Vil do his magic, literally and figuratively, on your hair. Once he was done, you hugged him tight, "Thank you Vil, for what's about to come and for before too."

He patted your head. "Anything for you, YN."

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst #twst scenarios #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #malleus draconia #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts #idia shroud #vil x reader #vil schoenheit #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #kalim x reader #twisted wonderland dorm leaders

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thevoidfishsminstrel · 3 years

Text

Lena let out an undignified squeak as she grabbed hold of the bookshelf beside her in an effort to not land on her face.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Lena turned, wiggling her foot back into her heels properly, before freezing, eyes widening at the caped figure now scrambling to her feet.

An array of books and magazines were spread out on the floor, presumably the culprit of her latest near death experience. It was as though National City’s newly revealed superhero had been sitting in between the bookshelves on the library floor… studying?

Lena clutched the cheesy romance novel she had been too busy reading to her chest as Supergirl looked at her in concern.

“Miss?”

Lena’s brain finally restarted and she cleared her throat, straightening her blazer. “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Supergirl was wringing the edge of her cape in her fingers, looking far too nervous for someone who was suspected to be the strongest being on Earth by several sapphic blogs that Lena most definitely did not read.

“I’m fine.” She reached out to put a hand on Supergirl’s forearm in an impulse comfort gesture. “I promise.”

Supergirl seemed to relax slightly, some of the tension seeping from her shoulders. She held out a hand. “I’m Kara.”

Any tension that had left her immediately returned tenfold, eyes widening in panic as she froze.

Lena bit back a smile and took Kara’s hand, shaking it despite Kara’s lack of movement. “Lena. And don’t worry - your secret’s safe with me.”

Kara deflated, running a hand through her hair. “Alex is going to kill me.”

Lena laughed and patted Kara’s bicep (definitely the strongest being on Earth). “Maybe you should stop saying names now.”

Kara grimaced. “Oops.” She looked like she was about to say something else but stopped and looked at Lena again. “Wait… are you Lena Luthor?”

Lena straightened up, careful mask falling into place to try to hide the way her heart sped up and her throat constricted. “Yes.”

But before she could launch into her speech about how she was different from the rest of her family and only wanted to help, Kara lit up, crouching down to shuffle through her piles of literature until she came up with an issue of a science magazine from a few years ago.

“I just read your article about sustainable building and how we can introduce cost-effective eco-friendly measures to construction to reduce the damage done to the environment and promote a symbiotic relationship with nature.”

Lena blinked.

Kara almost poked herself in the eye before redirecting the movement to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry, I just thought it was really interesting. You’re probably tired of people asking you about your work.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “No I… I don’t mind.”

Kara smiled and Lena found her heart racing for an entirely different reason. She redirected her attention to the books scattered on the floor.

“So what’s National City’s resident superhero doing studying civil engineering, first aid and… veterinary science on the floor of the library?”

Kara blushed and knelt down to start scooping up all her things. “Sorry - I know I should have been at a desk I just got carried away.”

The pile of books was up to Kara’s eyebrows when she stood up and Lena laughed, taking the top third of them from her. “And I shouldn’t have been reading and walking. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Supergirl shrugged, toeing at the worn carpet with her red boots. “I’m new at the whole superhero thing. I don’t know where to freeze breath a building to hold it up or how to save someone who’s got water in their lungs from almost drowning. The other day I rescued a snake from a tree and tried to wrap it up in my cape to keep it warm and the owner told me ‘thanks, but reptiles are cold-blooded so they don’t warm up like that.’” She pouted at Lena. “The owner was a ten year old.”

Lena bit back a smile. “So you’re trying to learn how to be a better superhero?”

She shrugged and bit her lip. “I just don’t want to mess up.”

Lena considered her for a moment. “You know, I happen to have degrees in a few different kinds of engineering. And I made everyone at L-corp, including myself, take a first aid course when I took over.”

Kara looked as though she was trying to contain her hopeful expression. It wasn’t working very well, although that probably wasn’t surprising since her motto was ‘hope, help, and compassion for all.’

Kara bounced on her toes excitedly. “Would you help?”

Lena grinned and gestured to the left with her head. “Come on, I know which desk is the best in the library.”

———

It became somewhat of a routine after that. Every Saturday, Lena would go to the library as normal, pick out a new cheesy romance novel for the week and some kind of thick science book to hide it underneath, and then meet Supergirl in the back corner of the library, at the desk hidden behind the spare computers from the 90s where no one would find them.

Kara would normally already be there, pouring over texts and making notes in coloured pens and highlighters. Lena had bought her a rainbow of folders and dividers for each of the aspects of superheroing she was trying to improve in, and they had spent one very unproductive but fun day labelling and decorating them. They were now covered in random doodles, squiggly multicoloured patterns, and stickers that Kara had found in a rotating rack by the front desk, immediately claiming were essential for her learning.

During the week, Lena would keep an eye on any news of Supergirl, getting some strange looks from Jess when she walked into her office to see Lena cheering as Kara did something they’d worked on together. At the weekend she would listen to Kara excitedly retell those same events until the librarian came over to shush them. She seemed to be the only person in National city that wasn’t completely charmed by Supergirl, and it always led to half an hour of Kara pouting and asking Lena why the librarian didn’t like her.

It was a few weeks before Lena got there first. She frowned, checking the surrounding isles of books for any caped figures but they were all empty as usual.

She sat at their desk and opened up the book she had randomly grabbed off a shelf, putting her latest romance novel inside it to covertly read. It was called ‘Lost and Found: A Love Story’, the back of it claiming it was about a woman who ‘drops her scarf at a train station but ends up finding something much more meaningful in the woman she bumps into at the lost and found.’ It was exactly as awful as it sounded.

Kara bounded up to the table about 20 minutes later, a coffee cup in each hand and a satchel slung over her shoulder that made her cape bunch up awkwardly. She beamed at Lena and set a coffee down in front of her.

“Guess what I just did.”

Lena slammed the books shut inside each other, scrambling to put her arms over them and rest her chin in her hand casually. “What?”

Kara either didn’t notice or didn’t care, rounding the desk and putting her bag down on it with a grin. “I laservisioned the supports of a broken crane back together using some metal from a billboard and now it’s totally fine for use again.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “What happened to the crane in the first place?”

Kara’s cheeks heated and she looked away, rubbing the back of her neck as she mumbled, “I may have flown into it a little bit.”

She scowled at Lena as Lena started laughing but it was undermined by the way her lips tugged up.

“Oh!” Kara lit up and started rifling through her bag. “I brought you this.”

She held out a book with a bright smile. Lena’s eyes widened as she looked down at the cover of what was very clearly another cheesy romance.

“It’s my favourite love story. It’s a bit like the one you’re reading at the moment but better, in my opinion. I thought you might like it.”

“What?” Lena scoffed. “I wasn’t reading a romance. I was reading…” she glanced over to check what book she had picked up, internally filling with regret as she read the title, but she had already committed to the facade. “The rhyming dictionary.”

Kara was very clearly trying not to laugh. “Ok. Well I’ll just leave this one here. And in case you didn’t know,” she leaned closer to Lena’s ear as she climbed into her seat, and whispered, “I have x-ray vision.”

Lena blushed, refusing to look at Kara’s smug grin. She cleared her throat and moved her books off to the side, along with the one Kara had put down, as casually as possible, and attempted to change the subject.

“So you remembered about weight distribution in support structures?”

Kara paused in taking folders and notes out her bag to turn to Lena excitedly, rambling on about her save, gesturing wildly with her hands.

Lena picked up her coffee as she listened with a soft smile, absentmindedly taking a sip.

She frowned down at the cup. “Is this my usual?”

Kara paused in her rambling. “Yeah. Does it not taste right?”

Lena shook her head, staring back down at her perfect coffee, cheeks heating at the heart drawn in latte art that Kara probably didn’t even have anything to do with. “No I just… I didn’t know you knew my order.”

Kara grinned, raising an eyebrow (Lena should never have taught her how to do that). “Perhaps you’re not as elusive as you think, Lena Luthor.”

———

Lena arrived at the library one Saturday to find Supergirl staring at the front doors like she might set light to them any moment.

“What’s wrong Supergirl? Lose a fight with a door handle?”

Kara turned to her with a pout, pointing at a sign hanging on the other side of the glass. It read ‘Library closed until 23rd due to water damage. Apologies for the inconvenience.’

Lena sighed.

“Where am I going to get my books for this week, Lena? I’m never going to understand civil engineering without them.”

Lena bit the inside of her cheek, the rational part of her brain at war with the part that was helpless to the superhero’s pout. It had to be one of her superpowers because Lena would never admit she was actually soft.

She tore her gaze away, trying to seem casual. “I actually have some engineering textbooks at my apartment. I guess you could borrow them if you wanted.”

Lena squeaked as Supergirl crushed her in a bear hug, lifting her a few inches off the ground. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

Lena laughed, trying to turn it inconspicuously into a cough when a passerby gave a slightly shocked and confused look at the sight of a Luthor and a Super laughing on the library steps. Kara dropped her back to her feet, stepping back with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, I got excited.”

Lena shook her head with a smile. She turned to go but as she went to gesture for Kara to follow, her hand caught against Kara’s. Her brain misfired and decided in the split second where her index finger hooked onto Kara’s pinkie that the best course of action was to commit to it and simply hold hands. In an attempt to make it seem less affectionate and more practical, she walked off quickly, dragging Kara along in the direction of her apartment.

She could feel Kara’s smile like rays of sun behind her. At least her hair was down to cover up the heat that was creeping up the back of her neck.

Her apartment was only a few minutes from the library. She had to slap Kara’s hand away from the elevator buttons before she pressed them all, marveling at how many floors there were.

“So this is where you live?” Kara looked around the hallway, panicking when she snapped a leaf off of a decorative plant, while Lena unlocked the penthouse door.

Lena pretended not to see her discreetly dropping the leaf into the plant pot but raised an eyebrow at her. “No, Supergirl. I just decided we should come and stare at this random person’s door.”

Kara ignored her, walking past into her apartment and looking down at the city below through the large floor to ceiling windows. “Nice view. I should take you flying sometime - it’s even better from up in the clouds, especially at night.”

Lena closed the front door, trying not to think about romantic flights and being cradled in strong arms. “I’ll go get the textbooks.”

She moved towards her home office, Kara trailing behind in interest. The engineering textbooks were over in the left corner and she scanned the alphabetised section for the ones she wanted.

Kara ran her fingers over the spines of books until Lena was done. She smirked at Lena, letting her hand trail teasingly down the bookshelf before she left. Lena blushed as she realised why. Kara had found her fiction section, over half the books in which were very clearly a certain genre.

Lena groaned and followed her out.

They spent the entire afternoon on the floor around Lena’s coffee table, going through the textbooks, laughing over Kara’s constant puns, and eating the seemingly endless supply of snacks Kara produced from her bag. It wasn’t until the sun had started to set that Lena realised how long they’d spent simply telling jokes and stories.

It was alarmingly easy to just be around Kara. Strangely, Lena didn’t think she minded.

———

Lena frowned as someone knocked on her door. It was a Saturday morning and she was just about to leave to meet Supergirl at the library.

She only grew more confused as she opened the door to see a fluffy white cloud panting happily at her and squirming in her direction. A head poked out from behind it, looking just as happy.

“Lena, hi! Sorry to just turn up but the mean librarian lady threw me out because apparently you aren’t allowed to play fetch in the library.”

Lena stared at the woman currently holding a large puppy in front of her, familiar blonde curls pinned back and glasses slipping down her nose. “…Kara?”

Kara blinked at her for a moment before she seemed to realise. “Oh! Right. Sorry - this is what I look like normally. When I’m not being Supergirl I mean. Alex said I wasn’t allowed to wear the suit all the time because it had to be washed.”

Lena nodded slowly, trying to reconcile the image of this Kara with Supergirl and to not think too hard about the implications of Kara being comfortable enough around her to show her her civilian identity. “Right. Why do you have a dog?”

Kara lit up. ��I saved an animal shelter from a fire and they let me adopt this guy. Isn’t he adorable?”

Lena looked at the matching faces of excitement. “Very cute. But why is he here?”

Kara shrugged. “Well I couldn’t leave him after I’d just adopted him so I thought he could join us for our study session?”

Lena crossed her arms and Kara pouted. It was somewhat undermined by the puppy licking her face and making her giggle but Lena was still helpless to resist.

“Ok but he better not mess up any of my stuff.”

“Yes!” Kara grinned, wiggling the puppy excitedly, his ears flopping about.

Kara kissed her cheek on her way into the apartment and Lena’s heart skipped a beat. The puppy licked her in an attempt to join in but even that didn’t stop the way her heart raced.

They settled on the couch, facing each other as Lena quizzed Kara with flashcards. The puppy alternated between curling up in Kara’s lap and zooming around Lena’s living room, falling over his own paws.

“Ok, last one. How do you treat a sprain?”

“Ice it with my freezebreath, wrap it so it’s compressed but not cutting off circulation, keep it elevated.”

Lena grinned proudly. “That’s it! Done.”

Kara threw her hands in the air in delight, squealing as she propelled herself forwards to tackle Lena to the couch. She pulled back just as quickly, pushing up to brace herself over Lena.

“Sorry. I got excited.”

All the breath had deserted Lena’s lungs and she stared up at Kara. A light flush rose on Kara’s cheeks, pale pink against the deep blue of her eyes, bringing out the freckles that dusted her skin.

The flashcards slipped from Lena’s grasp as she surged up to meet Kara’s lips. Kara’s arms almost buckled but she caught herself. And then she was kissing back.

Lena’s hands slid up Kara’s back, practically pulling Kara down on top of her.

They were both breathing hard when they pulled apart, eyes closed and foreheads rested together.

Kara was smiling softly down at her when she finally opened her eyes. She had shifted to hold herself up on one hand and one elbow, her free hand gently stroking back Lena’s hair.

She looked like she was about to say something when she did a double take over the armrest of the couch behind Lena and her soft look turned into a wince. “What was it you said about the puppy not messing up any of your stuff?”

#supercorp #you can thank AYeti for not having to read my terrible run on sentences #a ‘lotl writing

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fett-djarin · 3 years

Text

Anything

this bitch done YEET

anyway this is Boba Fett x f!Reader! I had this idea kicking around for awhile and shit finally came together and i was able to get it done!

Rating: 18+

Length: 4.1k

Warnings/Tags: SMUT, canon-typical violence (not in the smut), PiV intercourse, unprotected sex, fingering, riding, throne sex come get yalls juice, multiple orgasms, creampie, spanking, slight cockwarming?, pet names, swearing

NSFW BELOW THE CUT!

Boba Fett was an enigma. He intimidated you, intrigued you--but he didn’t scare you. Boba could be violent, occasionally cruel, but only to those who had earned his ire. You had nothing to fear.

You still remember the day he stormed into Jabba’s palace, a wrathful spectre on a mission. You had been afraid you would be caught in the crossfire, an exchange of possession through violence. But then your chains were blasted apart, scum of men dying around you instead of finding your own demise. Instead of fleeing like the other girls, you dove towards a dropped blaster and levelled it at one of the smugglers putting up a fight. This particular one had been a thorn in your side for a long time. You’d be lying if you said you felt no satisfaction watching him fall lifeless from your well-placed blaster bolt.

“Nice shot,” the woman--Fennec, you had come to learn--commented. You had turned in a panic, pointing the blaster in her direction, her own rifle coming up in an instant, aimed squarely at your head.

“Easy, girl,” the Mandalorian--Boba--had said. “We have no interest in fighting you.”

“If you mean to sell me again,” you spat, “it would be easier to kill me now.” Your fingers flexed on the blaster, and you tried to steady your shaking hands. Fennec’s aim hadn’t faltered.

“Stand down, Shand,” Fett directed the sharpshooter, who immediately lowered her weapon. He then addressed you again. “I don’t deal in flesh.” You slowly dropped your arm. “What’s your name, girl?”

That had been...a few standard months ago, now. Boba ran his syndicate under a tight fist. He had no use for slaves, and had told you you were free, even offered you credits to return home. Some of the others took his offer. You had opted to stay--your birth planet had nothing to offer you, and you did not want to try your luck as a newly freed woman with nothing to your name on Tatooine. You didn’t even have a name, really. You were called something different each time you moved; your birthname was no longer you. That person had died long ago.

“Call me anything,” you had told Boba. “I don’t mind.”

He thought for a minute, and then decided. “Mayen.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. The gruff, seemingly serious man had a sense of humor. Mayen--Mando’a for ‘anything.’ His lips quirked in a sly smirk. You liked it. Mayen it was.

“You know Mando’a?” He had asked.

“I’ve picked up things here and there,” you smiled in return.

He later on told you that you could pick your own name, you had no obligation to go by the silly pun he called you. But you had a sense of humor, and actually liked how it sounded. It was a new beginning. You decided you would keep it.

You knew quite a few languages, or bits and pieces you heard over the years. Boba had hired you as a translator, and you accompanied him to meetings with traders, smugglers, and pirates. He didn’t allow any of them to harass you. If they so much as leered in your direction, they tended to lose a few fingers or teeth, either by your hand or his. At Boba’s insistence, you now carried a blaster and a vibroblade. Fennec had been showing you how to properly aim and shoot so you could better protect yourself. He had gifted you the vibroblade as part of your payment.

Yes, Boba Fett was a hard man, but you appreciated his kindness.

His scars added to his imposing figure, and you often found yourself wondering about their origin. What he must have gone through for his skin to be marked so. You also wondered about how stupid some people could be--Mandalorians were legendary warriors, and Boba Fett had some infamy connected to his name, yet fools still picked fights they were destined to lose. His armor impressed you--and the dark stare of the T-visor when he looked your way always had something low and warm stirring in your belly.

It didn’t help that sometimes he would watch while you practiced with your blade. Your heart thundered in your ears the first time he came up behind you, chest to your back, and moved your arms into the correct defensive position. His boot also nudged your stance wider, centering your weight. It’s part of training, you told yourself. You prayed he didn’t notice the heat in your face or the way you refused to look at him. Stars, if you turned your head you could kiss him--

What could you say? He was a handsome man.

Occasionally he offered to spar with you, which was laughable. The first time you had outright refused. “I don’t want to die, thanks,” you said.

“You’re gonna have to face people bigger and stronger than you sometimes, princess,” he said the endearment mockingly.

“Most people aren’t Boba Fett.”

“You’re right about that. Still, come on, show me what you’ve learned.”

Your first fight ended miserably in about three seconds. You gave him a pointed look that said I-told-you-so, and he just shrugged. “Not bad for your first time.” Sparring became regular.

“You’re quicker than me. Use that to your advantage, stay out of my reach. Strike and retreat.”

“Arms up, but keep ‘em close--protect your body.”

“Stagger your stance, distribute your weight. Make it harder for people to knock you down.”

“Move with confidence--this is not the time to falter.”

His words of advice came with each session and stuck. After a few weeks, you could hold your own for a minute against Fett. Then five minutes. Then your sparring was like a coordinated, aggressive dance, blades flashing and deflected, ducking, dodging, weaving, spinning around each other. Once, you had even managed to disarm him, knocking the blade from his hand--you both froze in stunned surprise before Boba recovered and had you pinned to the floor in an instant.

“Very good.” He said from his place atop your legs, pride curling darkly through his voice. “But next time, press the advantage. You freeze, you die.” Now you froze for an entirely different reason--his weight on top of you caused something hot and wanting to smolder in you, his thumb gently stroking the hollow of your throat making your breath hitch. And then he was off you, pulling you back to your feet with ease.

You still couldn’t beat him--you don’t think you would ever be capable of that. The best bounty hunter in the galaxy against you? You much prefer being on his good side.

Boba had just returned from a recent bounty hunt alongside a fellow Mandalorian, having left you and Fennec at the palace. You had been helping her sort through the datalogs and contraband left behind from the previous occupants when he appeared, moving surprisingly silent for such a broad, imposing man.

“Mayen,” he called you, and you looked at him over your shoulder, having been preoccupied cataloguing the contents of the crate in front of you. He was still in his armor, adding to his bulk. The green-painted beskar gave nothing away. “I’ve got a meeting. You’ll be needed. Fennec, I sent you scouting information on the next bounty.”

You nodded, and with your acknowledgment, he turned and strode back towards the throne room. Fennec stood, brushing sand off her pants. “Careful,” Fennec warned. “Keep your blaster close. You never know how these meetings will turn out.” She patted you on the shoulder.

“Got it,” you said, adjusting your tunic so she could see the holster on your hip. It would be the first time she wasn’t there alongside you while Boba arranged deals with crime lords. Sometimes Boba would go in alone, or the both of you would attend. “Trained by the best.”

She cracked a smile at that. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to track down our next target.” She exited the storage room opposite of the way Boba went.

You gathered yourself, then followed after Boba. Entering the throne room was daunting, as the traders he was meeting with were already there and turned to stare. A few of them openly looked you up and down. Your eyes were fixed solely on Boba lounging on the throne, legs spread, seemingly completely at ease and exuding power. You strode past the group of men come to bargain, refusing to look away from the void of Boba's visor that tracked your movement. One of them muttered something as you passed that you couldn't make out, but it had not sounded pleasant. You took your place at Boba's side.

"Boba Fett, the legendary bounty hunter back from the dead," a wiry human man stepped forward, rubbing his hands together. His grin was more of a baring of teeth. "Now that you run this joint, I have a few propositions to consider--"

Since he was speaking Basic, you have to admit, you tuned out. You watched the two Twi’leks that had accompanied him, who kept throwing glances your way, murmuring to themselves. Something about them put you on edge. Of course, you never trusted the people who came to do business with Boba, but you liked this group even less.

You translated for a Rodian bounty hunter when it was his turn to speak. You noticed the Twi'leks and the first human had been getting antsy, shifting from foot to foot and continuing to eye you and Boba. The Twi'leks had never come forward. They spelled trouble. You were tense the entire time, but they reached an agreement and left without trouble.

Boba on the throne was a sight. Your mind wandered, wondering what it would be like to sit on his lap, straddle his strong thighs. You shook your head to clear it as Boba cleared his throat, drawing your attention.

"Go get some rest, little one." And with that, you were dismissed.

You touched yourself thinking of him that night. Imagining it was his fingers instead of yours bringing you to your peak. You bit your fist as you came, muffling your moans and preventing you from calling his name out into the night.

The next day, he had gone out once again. When he returned, you noted his armor had some new scratches, some of the fresh green paint chipped away. He beckoned you forward with a wave, following him to the throne room. He sat with a heavy sigh. You stood before him, waiting for his direction, when he removed his helmet and set it aside. There was a new cut on his cheek, dried blood sticking to his skin.

"You're hurt," you said, stepping forward. Boba grunted noncommittally in response, reaching into a pouch on his belt and pulling out a small container of bacta.

"Use this," his voice was gravelly and he tossed the container to you. He...wanted you to put the bacta on him? Your pulse kicked up. But you would do as he asked.

You unscrewed the lid, swiping your finger through the gel. "What happened?" You asked as you spread it as gently as you could over the cut.

"Those hunters from yesterday," he sighed. "Thought they could catch me unaware out in the dunes. Their last mistake." He chuckled. "This was really the only hit I took," he gestured to the cut along his cheek. You had finished spreading the bacta, but your hand still lingered. You were entranced, being this close to him. Your thumb mindlessly caressed his cheekbone.

"Mayen," he said your name. You met his eyes, the heat in his gaze taking you by surprise. He always had fire and fight in him, but this wasn't like that. It was wanting. Boba grasped your wrist of the hand that still held his face, his other coming up to cup the back of your head.

Then you were kissing him.

You don't know if you leaned down or if he pulled you down or if he leaned up or if it even mattered, all you cared about was his rough lips against yours. When you gasped into it, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Boba's kisses were all consuming, overwhelming--he demanded all of you, and wouldn't accept any less.

He leaned back, bringing you with him so you had no choice but to straddle his lap or be pulled off-balance. You settled along his thighs, sighing as you could now grind your center against his stiffening member. He nipped your bottom lip, breaking away to press kisses down your throat.

“Tell me, sweetheart…” he murmured, worrying a mark into the delicate skin of your neck.

You whined, rolling your hips against his. His hands clamped down like durasteel around your hips, stilling you. “Tell me. We stop if you say so.”

“I want you, Boba,” you gasped, and he rewarded you with another hickey sucked into your neck. He guided your hips back into a slow grind, thrusting up against you. The layers of clothes between you dulled the sensation, but warm waves of pleasure still radiated through you. You cradled his jaw, bringing his lips back to yours, before trailing your palms down his chest. You pawed at his chestplate and robes, making him chuckle.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he teased you lightly. You squeaked when he pinched your ass. “Take this off, princess.” His hands slid up under your tunic, running up and down your sides before caressing your breasts.

You lifted your arms, helping him slide your shirt over your head. Instinctively, your arms came down to cover yourself, but Boba tutted at you. “Don’t get shy on me now, mesh’la. Let me see you.” He murmured in your ear before lightly nipping the lobe, sending shivers down your spine. He encouraged you to put your hands back on his chest. You whined against him, need building in your core as he undid your bindings and continued to guide your hips in a deep grind.

Boba’s fingers crept along the waistband of your pants before diving inside. You moaned as they landed on your clit. “This wet already? Someone’s a needy little thing.” You felt your face heat at his teasing accompanied by his rough fingers circling your clit built you up even more. You hid your face in his shoulder, grinding against his hand for more of that raw pleasure. Boba suddenly pressed hard against your clit in a tight circle, making you cry out loudly and grip his robes for dear life.

“Boba, please,” you whined, lips tracing his throat, his jaw, wherever you could reach. You brought your own hand down to cup him through his pants, running your hand along his bulge. He cursed lightly in your ear as you gently squeezed him.

“Up,” he said, patting your ass. You stood, taking the opportunity to shimmy out of your pants and panties. He lounged back against the throne, taking in your form. You didn’t cover yourself this time. “Good girl. Come here.” You stepped between his spread knees and he took you by the elbow, pulling you down and turning you so your back was pressed to his chest and your legs were spread by his own. His touch returned to your clit, sliding through your slick folds to tease your entrance. You pressed your ass back against his hardness and he groaned.

His arm banded around your waist as he finally slid a finger into your dripping entrance. You gasped, head falling back to rest on his shoulder. When he introduced a second one, you began to squirm. The stretch was so good as his fingers slid within you, curling and pressing into that perfect spot that sent you soaring. You were practically riding his hand, your hips circling as his fingers moved faster and faster.

“Oh,” you gasped as he added a third, legs trembling. Your hand shot to his where it was locked around your middle, holding you against him, while your other curled up and back, turning his head so you could kiss him. Boba found that spot in you that made you clench tight around him and zeroed in with deadly precision. You felt him grin smugly against your lips as your breathing stuttered. “Boba!”

“Look at you, so desperate for my fingers. Squeezin’ me so tight, sweetheart, can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

You found yourself teetering at the edge of release. You turned your head, burying your nose in Boba’s neck. “Please, Boba, g’nna cum, please--” you gasped out. It was a good thing he held you to him, else you would have been bucking off his lap.

“Cum on my fingers, cyar’ika.”

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you tipped over the edge of orgasm, cumming hard around Boba’s fingers. Your cunt flooded with wetness, the lewd sound of his fingers thrusting into you becoming even wetter. If he hadn’t been holding you to his chest you would have doubled over with the devastating pulses of pleasure rocking through you from your center. He continued working you through it until you whined, pushing at his hand that still moved between your thighs, need building up in you again.

Boba brought his fingers up to his mouth and you moaned at the sight of him sucking and licking them clean of your arousal. “Taste so sweet,” he said. “Open.” You opened your mouth, and he slid his fingers inside. Obediently, you sucked on them, swirling your tongue around his fingers like you would his cock. Boba groaned. "Dirty girl."

He withdrew his fingers from your mouth and you begged. "Want your cock, please, Boba--please fuck me, please--"

"Hush, needy pet. You'll get what you want." He bit your neck, the sharp pinpricks fading into a warm buzz that made you squirm, wiggling your hips on his lap. Boba reached down between you two and shifted himself out of his robes, sliding his cock against your soaked folds. You looked down and Maker, he was thick. You were suddenly glad he made you take three fingers--you hoped you would be able to take his cock.

He rutted against you, his cock sliding through your folds and pulling breathless little gasps from you each time his head nudged your clit. Each slick drag of him against your lips coated his cock in your wetness. Boba evidently grew tired of teasing you, because he urged you up and took hold of the base of his cock, guiding it to your dripping entrance. You moaned at the feeling of his thick tip splitting you open, sinking down the first inch.

Boba's hand came around to rub little circles on your clit, making you jerk against him, his other hand caging you in by your hip. Slowly, he encouraged you to sit back on his lap, the thick drag and push of his cock working inch-by-inch deeper into you. Stars, you felt him in your fucking guts. Your thighs trembled, and when your ass touched his lap you nearly sobbed from how full you felt.

"Look at that," he murmured into your hair. "Takin' me so well, princess. Feels fucking good, doesn't it?" You clenched around him at his words, making him choke off a moan. He rubbed your clit a tick faster just to feel you spasm around him again and he laughed at your high gasp of pleasure.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it was too good--that ache, the raw sparks shooting down your legs and up your spine. Shifting the slightest bit pushed him right up something devastating inside you and you couldn't stop the wrecked moan that tore from your throat. Boba gave an experimental thrust and you nearly shrieked and lurched off of him, if he hadn't grabbed a hold of your hips and held you on his lap. You babbled senselessly, too overwhelmed as every ridge of his cock pressed your walls just right. "B-Boba, Boba, move, please--"

His big hand slapped your inner thigh and this time you did wail, the hot sting fading into a pleasant, buzzing warmth. His fingers dug in to the soft flesh hard enough that you knew there would be bruises in the shape of his fingers come morning. Then he lifted you slightly off him, cock sliding only a few inches out, before pulling you down in time with a thrust upwards, burying himself in you with a deep grind. You let out a choked moan, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

"Ride," he demanded. Your breath hitched as you scrambled for purchase, hands going to his strong thighs for support. It was sort of an awkward position, your feet barely touching the floor, requiring you to go on your tiptoes to pull a few inches off his cock. Boba's thick fingers cupped your pussy in a V shape, so every time you rose and fell they rolled against your clit. You couldn't tell if you wanted to push your hips back away or forward for more stimulation.

He slapped your other thigh this time, rubbing to soothe the sting, encouraging you to bounce on his cock faster. Your breath was coming in high, moaning pants as each drop of your hips buried him deep inside you, reaching places you never had and lighting up your nerves like a star gone supernova. Paired with his touch teasing your clit with every thrust, you weren't going to last long.

Boba's hands on your hips guided you faster, rougher--each downstroke hitting deep and holding you there for a second just to feel how full, how stuffed your pussy was of him. His thrusts up as you dropped down allowed his cock to hit your g-spot dead on, over and over. You felt yourself rhythmically clenching around him, heard his groans as your cunt strangled his cock, and you were so close to cumming again. The feeling coiled up at the base of your spine, the pleasure winding tighter and higher and ready to burst.

And then--then Boba hooked his hands under your knees, pulling your legs up so all your weight rested on where he was buried in you, and he slipped another inch further inside. You couldn't stop the sob of pleasure as he held you like this, open for him to take, and he set a punishing pace. The dull slap of skin-on-skin paired with the wet gush of your arousal around him, dripping down his balls and onto the throne, made your head tip back onto his shoulder and wrenched moan after moan out of you.

You were talking, babbling nonsense--begging, pleading for him to make you cum again. Boba tilted his hips just right and you keened as it pushed his cock right against the soft spot along your walls. Each thrust shoved you closer to the edge right until that coil inside you snapped. Your legs shook and your pussy clamped down so hard around Boba's cock that it stunted him to short, shallow thrusts as you rode it out. You distantly heard him groaning, praising you, telling you good girl, good fuckin' girl--you were spasming around him, each jolt of pleasure like a white-hot knife radiating from your core to your toes. Boba kept fucking you through it and you nearly begged him to stop--it was too much, the bite of overstimulation burning your nerves--when he pulled you down, fucking into you as deep as he could and he came with a groan of your name, cock throbbing as his release coated your walls.

Somehow, you ended up turned, face buried in his neck and legs wrapped around his waist as you trembled and caught your breath. His hands trailed up and down your spine and thighs in soothing motions as you came back down. You sighed and cuddled closer to him, the hard beskar plating cold against your bare skin, but it felt good on your overheated body.

"Made quite a mess on me, sweetheart," he said, deep voice rumbling in his chest under your ear. You just mmm'd and clung closer to him while he chuckled. It was true. Your arousal coated your thighs, dripped down onto the throne, soaked Boba's cock where it was still buried in you. Boba pulled his robe around you and stood, supporting you with his hands under your thighs. "Come on, little one, let's go to bed." You closed your eyes as he made his way out of the throne room and through the palace. He didn't drop you off in your bedroom, instead taking you to his and laying you in the spacious bed before stripping off his armor and joining you.

#boba fett x reader #boba x reader #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars #fanfic #fanfiction #the mandalorian #reader insert #no y/n #boba fett x you #boba x you #my writing

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its-deputy-caleb · 3 years

Note

haiiiiiiiiiiiiii can we get a john x fem reader wherein the reader is the doctor and a friend of the macfarlanes and they patch him up after getting shot by bill LOL (rdr1!! i’m not sure if you’ve played that but if you havent it’s ok to ignore this tysm :3)

WOAHH this is long overdue but I haven’t played the first (don’t kill me) so I decided to watch a 10hr play through— I’m yet to finish it cause its long and I’m watching it in short segments but I think I could tackle this. I really hope this doesn’t flop bc idk what I’m doing lmao.

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

It’s just a regular afternoon when Bonnie returns back to the ranch, you’re cleaning some of the medical cabinets, making lists of what needs to be topped up when you next take a trip to town or the Ranch’s general store. It’s light work for an easy afternoon but that all change pretty quickly when Bonnie came storming through the door, asking you for help on a man who’d been shot and needed urgent medical attention.

The list of medicines is dropped to the floor as she shows you to one of the units where he was currently laid out in the bed. You sat down, clearing his shirt and jacket to stop the bleeding and clean the wound. You were well focused on your work, stitching up the wound with practiced ease and addressing his other minor injuries like the small cut to the back of his head from hitting the ground and the bruising to his ribs from the bullet wound. Unbeknown to you, Bonnie has taken a stand behind your shoulder to watch you work.

“Damn fool thought he could take out Bill Williamson.”

“Bill Williamson?”

You could only stare down in surprise at the unconscious man before you. A man like Bill Williamson was not to be reckoned with, especially in a shootout if the evidence before you is anything to go by.

It took a few more hours of care but Bonnie stayed with you to make light of the situation and keep you company, only coming and going to bring back any supplies you needed. Once you’d properly bandaged his abdomen you stood from the shabby wooden stool you were sitting on and dusted your hands. You collected your tools into your bag and placed a soft hand to Bonnie’s shoulder.

“He should be fine now. He’s going to need lots of rest while his wound heals and he’ll probably be disoriented and dehydrated when he wakes but nothing more, you’ll find me if his condition worsens?”

Bonnie gave you a short nod in agreement, happy to stay with him for a few hours while you went and got some rest.

John woke with a splitting headache and a burning pain in his side. The events of the last few days coming back to him. He didn’t get time to think about it much however, when a golden haired woman came through the door, instantly giving him a light hearted lecture about chasing after Bill Williamson and getting shot at.

“Well while you may have done something stupid— we got to you in time and the Doc fixed you up real fine, got the bullets removed a few days ago. You’re a lucky man Mr…err?”

John made his way to the edge of the bed, sitting up and groaning at the pain that is usual for a bullet wound.

“Mr. Marston— John Marston and I suppose I should be thankin’ him for fixing me up.”

The woman leaned against the handle of the door, watching him shuffle on his feet awkwardly as she smirked at him.

“Bonnie MacFarlane. Miss, Bonnie MacFarlane and I hope you do thank her. She did a real fine job of takin’ care of you. She spends her mornings up on the hill by one of the large oak trees by the paddock, I suggest you pay her a visit before you start working off your medical bills.”

And with that, John picked up his hat from the wooden table that Bonnie had saved for him and started making his way over to you.

You were standing over by one of the smaller sheep paddocks off to the side of the MacFarlane Ranch and took in a deep breath, basking in the morning sun and leaning your elbows against the fence. You usually took the mornings to yourself, having half an hour to wake up slowly and enjoy yourself before you tented to a range of injuries and illnesses. Having been longtime friends to Bonnie and her father, your family had always been respected at the ranch and that came with certain privileges such as time off work in the morning.

Your peaceful moment was distributed, but not unpleasantly as you noticed the man who Bonnie bought in yesterday walking towards you. When he reached a certain distance his hat came off and held it in his hands, flattening his stringy hair as he addressed you.

“Pardon me ma’am, I didn’t mean to disturb you. Miss MacFarlane said you were the one needed thanking for taking care o’ me— so thank you.”

You noticed how he fiddled with the brim of his hat in his hands, trying not to look what you’d guess was embarrassed.

After you two introduced each other and you accepted John’s thanks, you offered for him to come and stand beside you by the fence.

“So who does a man have to be to go after an outlaw and bandit such as Bill Williamson?”

Your question was supposed to be lighthearted and fun, ready to tease him just as Bonnie had done for waltzing into Fort Mercer alone. You didn’t expect for John to answer you honestly

“An old friend…”

You stared at him in shock but he didn’t seem to notice as he stared out into the paddock of grazing sheep.

“Wait you know Bill Williamson?”

He could only nod for a moment, giving you a polite but almost sad smile at what seemed like a painful memory.

“Yes ma’am. There was a time when Bill and I weren’t so different.”

You actually spent a lot longer than you’d anticipated talking to John. For some reason unknown to you, John seemed to open up a fair bit. Maybe it all came down to the fact that you were approachable and kind, a quality you needed as the ranches doctor. Nevertheless he spent hours telling you about some of his time with the old ‘Van Der Linde Gang’. John spoke of train robberies and homesteads, what it was like to steal from folk and live wildly. He even mentioned gang rivalries and the epic tale of surviving a wolf attack.

He told you of some of the best times and even the worst but all of them were distance memories and he seemed quick to change the topic about why exactly he wanted to ‘reunite’ with Bill.

“What about you, Miss? How’d you end up here? Don’t see many female doctors around— w-with no offence intended ma’am.”

You let out a small laugh, hearing his curiosity turn to something desperate as he realised he may have been offensive. You kept your weight on one elbow, facing towards him and smiled.

“Well my daddy is the head doctor but he’s now semi retired. He’s a good man but he wasn’t always a doctor. A long time ago, when I was just a little girl our family were ranch handlers just like Bonnie’s family, but well… one season all the cattle got sick and were dying so my father moved to medicine. The MacFarlane’s are old friends and we’ve been with them ever since.”

John hummed, turning his gaze from you to stare at the vast Ranch that was almost a village in his eyes.

“Seem like good people— real decent folk.”

You nodded in response, growing up on this ranch became your home and you loved the MacFarlane’s very deeply.

“Indeed they are Mr.Marston, decent folk are hard to come by these days.”

Your pleasant conversation with John was suddenly interrupted by Bonnie who whistled down by the stables, clearly signalling for John to come and assist her with chores around the ranch. You could only hope that meant seeing more of John.

“It seems Miss MacFarlane will be needing my help. Thank you again ma’am, you saved my life.”

You didn’t get to say much as John took your hand in his, brining it to his mouth in a polite kiss to your knuckle before walking down the hill. He didn’t get far before you stopped him one last time.

“Oh Mr. Marston! I need to ride into town tomorrow to restock on medicines that they don’t stock at the general store. Would you be so kind as to accompany me?”

You eyes were full of hope and joy as he nodded and gave you a warm smile.

“It’s John, and I could think of nothing better than to help you ma’am”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread onto your face as you watched John load his horse and ride of with Bonnie and a few others to work at various places around the ranch. You couldn’t stop the fluttery feeling in your stomach either at the anticipation and excitement of getting to see the mysterious but intriguing man John Marston.

(I will do a part 2 since i need more time to get a feel for rdr1!!)

#wow my first rdr1 fic #i have no idea what im doing #if this is horrible pls tell me bc i am soo lost #but i hope i did johnny justice here #and yes i promise a part 2 #john marston #john marston x reader #john marston imagines #red dead redemption 1 #red dead redemption #rdr1 #rdr2 #fem!reader

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drabbleitout · 2 years

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Find the Word Tag Game

Tagged by: The lovely @emelkae over here and @kaiusvnoir over here My Words: Different, Same, Turn, Weak, Pause, Feel, Poor, & Fun Tagging: @ferrariwrites, @writer-on-time, @waysofink, @druidx, @reininginthefirewriting & anyone else who wants to join! (As always please don't feel pressured or rushed!) Your Words: Grace, Game, Guess, Gift & Groan

Different & Feel

When the strike didn’t stop Beau, Garnet grabbed him by his belt, throwing his weight and sending them both tumbling onto a grave. Beau swung, knocking him across the face, earning a yell. “You have been nothing but terrible to me!” Beau frantically scrambled away from him and off the plot, “From the very first day. The only time you're nice is when you’re pretending. When you’re teasing me. You think I don’t feel that? You expect me to be a disaster like you, but you're pissed when I'm different!” “Because you showed up like you’re better than the rest of us,” Garnet snarled, blood spilling from his nose.

Same & Turn

“Ooh, looks like you got a new Synthetic. Now you can have your own office pet, Garnet,” Benton’s cackle muffled as his face was shoved into the carpet. “Pardon me,” Duras’ voice caused them all to turn, shuffling aside to let her through. “Looks like you have a mess on your hands, Lieutenant. I do hope you can get things cleaned up.” She patted Beau on the shoulder before passing through. Distributing another pat to Ives’ arm. “Hey babes,” Benton chuckled, craning his head trying to see. “Whaddya doin’ later? You free tonight?” “I’m afraid you can’t say the same,” she huffed on her way out. Snarling and hasty, Garnet heaved the man to his feet in one harsh yank.

Weak

It'd been months since Lora had seen Beau still at the station after shift. After his first few weeks here, he'd always gone home with someone. She found him in the breakroom, sitting at one of the hightops with the lights off. "Beau?" there was a delay in noticing her, coming out from his thoughts with a weak smile. "Are you leaving for the night, Lora?" "Yeah, you?" He started to speak before deciding against it and shaking his head. "No? Did Thatcher say you couldn't?" Another shake of the head. "Amor, go get your bag."

Pause

Beau hesitated, running probability to know if this was a conversation he wanted to have. It suggested not, that Garnet wouldn’t provide the answer he hoped for. Garnet sat up, “You know of something wrong with Ives?” “No, Ives is fine.” Another pause. “Are you fine?” Garnet whispered. Beau aimlessly stirred his spoon, simulating answers again. It was going to hurt. Garnet reached out, touching his arm. “Jevito, you’re worrying me.”

Poor(ly)

[Ives] lost momentum as he passed the breakroom, catching what was on the TV hanging above the hightops. A crowd had formed to watch as well, faces lifted, dead silent. Ryker. Ives recognized him by voice before sight. Battered, disheveled, it was a low-quality feed of him kneeling on the floor of a poorly lit cement complex. His wrists were duct-taped together, shirt wrinkled and dirty. A bruise darkened one eye as he glared at someone off-screen. The blinking social media emblem in the corner read LIVE FEED.

Fun

“A crossing guard? You sure this is a good idea? I mean, they’re kids. They don’t know any better.” Garnet fixed his sunglasses, sitting on the hood of the car as Ryker adjusted the acidic yellow vest over Beau’s uniform. “Lay off, he’s excited. Beau knows the traffic laws.” Ryker stood back, checking his work. Beau wasn’t quite the same since they’d rushed that child to the ER. Over the past few days, he’d been a little defeated. “It’ll be fun. Here, kid, you need sunglasses?” “No sir, my lenses adjust.” “Friggin’ creepy,” Garnet mumbled.

#tag game #writing #writeblr #writblr #my writing #wip: tb

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

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smoke and fire (12)

word count; 8943

summary; you and newt are called to another unusual call.

notes; this is the first half (technically) of a mini sub-plot. the end comes in the next part.

warnings; violence, gun use, description of injury, slight gore, intentional harm, attempted murder, reference to drowning.

“I feel disgusting.” You mumbled, water still dripping from your arms as you stood, shaking yourself odd a little and groaning at the chill that was beginning to sweep in. The lights on the firetruck were flashing, equipment still being loaded back up, and Newt was standing on the other side of the ambulance, a water bottle Minho had given him sitting in his hand as he took another large sip, gargling the water loudly and frothing it around his mouth before spitting it out onto the concrete and grimacing.

“I think I swallowed, like, half the lake.”

You felt bad for him, you really did, and you tried to peel the wet material of the shirt away from yourself. Unbuttoning it slowly, you frowned, wet hair plastered to the back of your neck in the ponytail you wore, and Newt choked on his drink, laughing loudly and spitting up water again. He patted at his chest, turning away from you, his cheeks going red as he tries to hack up water that had gone down the wrong pipe, and you patted his back, startled at his sudden reaction.

His eyes were watering when he recovered, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “You know, if I was straight, I’d be very flattered.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your nipples.” He beamed, and your brows furrowed, before you glanced down, noting the hardened peaks from the cold, showing clearly through your tank that had gone clear enough in its pale grey colour to show off the plain design of your bra, and you scoffed. “Truly, it’s an honour, but it’s doing nothing for me.”

“Oh, no, whatever will I do now?” You mused, voice flat of any emotions, and he only laughed again, peeling off his shirt, and ringing it out, goosebumps rising along pale skin as the chill of the air washed over his skin. The lake was clear now, a group of kids who had stupidly enough decided it would be a good idea to jump off the edge of the dock before realising the wall was too tall and slippery with algae to get out, beginnings of hypothermia and ingestions of dirty water before anybody had wandered past close enough to hear them calling for help.

Sometimes, you really hated teenagers.

“Think if we’re fast enough, we can get back to the house before the firefighters? First dibs on the showers with the best water pressure, and guaranteed hot water.”

His eyes twinkled a little as he lifted a still damp but no longer sodden shirt back onto his shoulders, grimy and covered in green and brown stains from the water, no bothering to button it back up. “I take that as a challenge, and I accept.”

You climbed in through the back of the van, pulling open the bottom drawer and finding the plastic seat coverings, chucking one of the sheet packages to Newt for his own chair, before he slammed the doors with you in the back, and rounded to the driver’s side. Smoothing the plastic over your chair to make sure it was covered, your shoes squelched a little as you collapsed down into it. Newt did the same, and the second the keys were twisted into the lock once he was shuffling uncomfortably on the plastic, you were flicking the heating on to the highest temperature you could get it.

The downside of working in a van filled with drugs and medicine? The heat didn’t get very high in order to keep what needed to be refrigerated at the temperature is was required to be at. His eyes checked the mirrors as he reversed, noting the firetruck that was beginning to back out, the Squad truck leaving first, Gally and Fry still milling around to talk to the cops, and so you and Squad had a head start.

It would seem that they had the same idea, because Minho had a positively dangerous look in her eyes as she pulled up towards the entrance alongside you both, and Newt smirked, hand on the gearstick as he switched gears and pressed his foot down on the pedal. He surged forwards, the van moving faster than the trucks due to their added weight, a delay in its start-up, and the pair of you shot across the uneven gravelly path towards the main highway.

The red truck wasn’t far behind, and yet you were laughing a little at the determined look on your partners face, what had been a modest challenge was now becoming a battle between yourselves and the Squad team. You had the edge, being a lightweight vehicle, easy navigation and more speed, but they had the edge, the big red truck was more noticeable to other driver’s and they tended to move out of the way more for firetrucks than they did for ambulances.

As you met the junction for the highway, Newt flicked on the indicators and swerved onto the highway in a gap between cars that was too small to be considered safe. The move left you pressed into the side door of the ambo’, turning to look at him as his eyes stayed fixed on the road, a smirk on his face as the red truck was left in the dust, having to wait much longer to be able to pull out.

“Alright, Vin Diesel, settle down.”

“You want a hot shower to get clean? Or do you want lukewarm water with weak pressure that takes hours to get you clean?” You considered it, knowing that the more the showers were used, the weaker the water pressure got and the colder they ran as the hot water was distributed out, and you weighed out the pros and cons. You gave in with a reluctant sigh, watching Newt weave between cars, and he let out a triumphant noise. “Exactly. So, be a good co-driver, and play something exciting.”

“This is an ambulance, Newt. We have the classical jazz station, the news station, the emergency radio, or static and silence.”

“Sing something.” He offered, and you laughed loudly. “Maybe just yell exciting things at the top of your voice like it’s a James Bond movie. You can be my Bond woman.”

“Exciting things? You mean like ‘Quick, Newt, watch out for the rock slide’ or ‘Oh my God, Newt, he’s shooting at us’?” He hummed, rolling his lips together a little, and looking into the mirror where the red van wasn’t all that far behind anymore. “Oh, okay, I got it. How about ‘Quick! Newt! The bomb that will destroy world peace and the alien trade federation is about to go off, hurry so you can disarm it and save the galaxy!”

“That’s the one!” He shouted back, laughter taking up the cabin between you both as he picked up a little more speed, growling under his breath as distant wailing took place. “Did they just turn the fucking sirens on?”

“That’s illegal! A crime! Disqualified!”

Only a moment later, the truck was passing you by, Thomas lounging in the front seat with a smirk on his face, not even bothering to look at the two of you as he held up his middle finger, feet popped up on the dashboard, before they were pulling ahead, and you gaped at it.

“He flipped us off!”

“He did what?” Newt sounded like he had been told that Thomas had run over his dog, before his face was growing stormy, and he peeled off towards one of the exits, and you sat up a little more in your seat.

“Newt, this isn’t our exit, why are we slowing down? This is war now!”

“We’re taking a shortcut! I think.”

You pouted, watching as he pulled off onto the quieter roads, already resigning yourself to the loss. The van moved slower, not by much and certainly still considered fast for these roads, and you didn’t recognise the area you were driving through until you were almost at the house, coming at it from a completely different angle. It was a side that the trucks would be unaware of, the roads on this side of the house too narrow for the trucks to navigate on, but an ambulance could definitely weave and dodge along them.

You were expecting the grey garage to already be stained with bright and shiny flashes of colour, but as you approached it, the bay was still empty, and you gasped.

Unclipping your seatbelt before the vehicle had even rolled to a halt, and as soon as it was in park, haphazardly and slightly wonky within the designated space but still inside the lines, and Newt was ripping the keys from the ignition. You didn’t even bother peeling away the plastic overs, both hopping down from the van, doors slamming, uncomfortable runs in wet shoes from the vehicle to the changing rooms, the door practically bounding from the wall with the urgency that you forced it open.

Your fingers were trembling with both the cold and the adrenaline as you opened your locker, grabbing for the towel and washbag that sat on the middle shelf, slamming the metal canister shut a second behind Newt, and on the other side of the room, you heard a shower curtain swipe open, before the water spray was coming on.

Kicking off your shoes onto the white tile, your socks were ridden with water, and you stopped into the basin, flimsy curtain closing behind you. Switching on the water, you didn’t care about clothes getting wet as they were all drenched regardless. The water was hot and strong, pouring down over you as you let out a breath in relief, sighing out at the feeling, and stripping the partially unbuttons shirt the rest of the way down.

Dropping it to the floor outside, your vest followed, bra dropping by your feet for modesty, not all too thrilled about the idea of the entire team seeing your underwear. One fireman was plenty enough. Your trousers came next, panties following your bra, and socks lastly, before you were freeing your hair from its bobble and scrubbing dirt from the tendrils. The water was murky as it pooled around your feet, and you grinned through the suds as you heard the locker room door open up.

“Nice of you guys to finally join us!”

Newt laughed at your words, and you scowled at the taste of shampoo that got in your mouth, eyes squeezed closed tightly, but you couldn't hold back your laughter at the several complaints that burst out.

The shower next to yours clicked into gear, a slight dip in the flow of water as it adjusted, and it was steadily growing weaker as the firemen all changed and climbed into a shower, but you had already shampooed, only some soap and conditioner to go.

“How the fuck did you guys beat us here?”

“We played by the rules, Bren! Flicking on sirens, that was cheating.” You tutted, the girl scoffing from the cubicle beside you.

“Uh, playing it smart isn’t cheating!” She retaliated, and you scrubbed a bar of exfoliating soap over your skin, the extra shrub helping to rid you of the feeling of grunge from the lake away from your flesh. “But seriously, how the hell did you beat us here with so much time?”

“Newt knew a short cut, apparently.” She made a vague sound of agreement, the boys all chatting loudly from the other side of the room, and the build-up of steam was beginning to give you a headache. Running some conditioner through your hair and combing the knots out quickly, you finished up, switching off the water and finding your towel, hand fumbling outside of the stall for the material, before you were finding it, and wrapping it around your body. Wringing out your hair, you pushed back the shower curtain and stepped free.

Newt was at the lockers, pulling a shirt over his head, almost fully dressed, the plastic washing basket from the corner was sitting outside him, water pooling through the cracks to the floor as his clothes dripped, and you scooped up your own, dropping them in with his and flashing him a grateful smile as he all but nodded in a promise to load them into the washer.

His fluffy hair was almost dry already, messy and sticking up from his towel, and you envied how quickly he could get ready again. How quickly all men could get dressed, really.

Taking your kit over to the sink, you fastened your towel a little tighter around yourself again to make sure it would stay tight, before wiping a patch in the steamed-up glass to see your reflection. Running a collection of moisturisers and serums over your cheeks, keeping it at it’s best despite the smoky and dirty conundrums you found yourself in on a day to day basis, you rehydrated and cleansed your skin, before moving on to your hair.

Heading to your locker to get a new set of clothes, you lifted the catch open, the door swinging as you gathered belongings, checking you had everything for a new uniform in your back-up bag, before placing it down on the bench. As you closed it, you jumped, a body leaning on the metal on the other side, and a mumbled curse fell from your lips at the shock. Reaching up to clutch at the edge of your towel and ensure it didn’t fall, you glared at the laughing attacker.

“You fucking suck. Why are you scaring me when I’m in a towel? Dumbass.”

“Oh, ouch. Cranky today, huh?” Thomas teased, reaching out a finger to poke at your stomach through the towel, and you jumped, slapping his hand away as he chuckled more.

“I’m cranky when I’m in a towel, and risking flashing the entire team because you wanna’ startle me!” He smirked, eyes scanning over your body particularly slowly, as if to make a point, and you rolled your eyes, despite the heat forming on your face. Adjusting your towel again, he watched your fingers move, and you kicked at his shin, watching him hop around in his towel at the aggression.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You know what that was for!” You held your fingers up, pointing them from your chest to your eyes, and he got a wicked grin once again as he clocked onto what you were saying. “Go away so I can get dressed in peace!”

“So now you don’t want me around? That’s not how you felt a couple of weeks ago.” You glared at him again, crossing your arms and stomping your foot a little, knowing what he was referring to, and he hadn't been any less affectionate since. At the action, though, he gave in, hands held up in a surrender and his laughter following him all the way around to his locker on the other side, leaving you alone.

Members of the team were still wandering around, and so you tried to be as quick but as discreet as you possibly could, tugging your panties and trousers up under your towel. Your spare shoes were uncomfortable and tight, barely worn in as opposed to your regular ones, and you were cold as you put on the clothes that had been chilling in the metal canister, bag ready to be taken home to refill.

Rubbing your towel across your hair to dry it out better, you left it as it was, towel folding in the bag to be taken home, and you placed it all back inside. Adjusting your fresh uniform to sit a little more comfortably on your body, your fingers smoothed along the collar and flattened it down, before sweeping still damp locks away from your clothes.

The men were all filtering from the room, a faster turn around as they dried, all carrying dirty and sodden uniforms to the laundry room to try and get them sorted, hoping to find themselves with one less task to do when they go home, and not wanting to stink up their cars with the foul smell that came with the water from the dock by trailing the wet garments home.

The dull buzzing of the only hairdryer the fire station had was already in use by Brenda, shorter hair looking a little crazy as she only had her fingers to come through instead of her usual styling brush, and she was scowling at her reflection in the mirror as her hair curved up in the wrong directions at the edges, bangs looking untamed. She glared at your snickering as you approached, finger flipping over the switch to turn it off, clearly deeming the effort good enough, and she stuck her tongue out at you and handed it over, letting you start it up to reduce some of the water trapped in your own hair as she tried desperately to do something to control it a little better.

“Why don’t you just comb it all back?”

“And look like a starring member from ‘Grease’? Want me to start singing ‘Go Grease Lightning’ on the top of one of the fire trucks, huh?” She was so over-dramatic, and yet you loved that about her, shaking your head and smirking a little as she continued to struggle. You weren’t all that bothered about getting it completely dry, just enough that you wouldn’t catch a chill from it. You didn’t really feel like facing the next few weeks with a sore throat and a blocked nose.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you that I’m pretty sure I have a curled brush in my bag?”

She paused her work, arms crossing over her chest, hip leaning on the porcelain of the sink, and you could feel her burning glare on you as you continued to keep your one hair tame just with the use of the machine and your fingers. “You’ve had a blow-dry brush this whole time and you let me suffer?”

“Uh, first off, it’s not a blow-dry brush. It’s just a round brush. Make do. Secondly, you make it sound like I had food and you’ve not eaten for three days.”

“Same thing.” She hissed, playfully through it all, and she didn’t wait for permission, before she was meandering to your locker over hers and letting herself in, beginning to dig through the items in there to find the brush. She let out a triumphant little noise, and as she all but skipped back across the room, you decided you were close enough to dry, shaking your head to tame fly-aways and handing her the dryer back. You turned, walking away from her, and she let out a sound of complaint. “You’re just gonna’ leave me in here, alone?”

“It’s the changing rooms, not a back-alley at a nightclub at 3am.”

“What if I get lonely?” She pouted, turning the heat up and power down, the whirring going quieter so neither of you had to shout quite as loudly to one another, and you shrugged, backing away from her a little more, and smirking.

“Talk to your reflection. I’m going to make a snack.”

She huffed, but smiled, turning back to her plans, and you were the only one to what your soft chuckle as you left, the chill out in the corridor being shocking as you stepped from the steam-filled room to the breeze-filled hall to the main bay, shuddering as goosebumps rose over your arms, and you crossed them across your chest to keep your heat in.

Thomas was standing at the entrance of the laundry room, a basket full of wet clothes, nose turned up a little as Newt and Jeff loaded the machines, and you didn’t envy them at all. The doors to the common room were sealed shut tightly, presumably to keep in the warmth, because Fry had turned on both of the space heaters, and the room was already warming up to being hot. The smell of garlic bread was filling the room, some kind of cheesy pasta following it, and Fry was already singing loudly to the song playing over the radio, almost drawing out the television as Gally watched a movie that was so old it was in black and white, but he wasn’t paying attention, rather, he was texting on his phone and enjoying the background noise.

Minho was sitting beside him much the same, fingers moving swiftly over the screen, and Clint was chewing on a pen at the table as he filled out the puzzles in one of the newspapers from last week's stack.

“What’cha making, Fry?”

“Chicken and mushroom pasta, you want some?” Your face screwed up, shaking your head, and he laughed. “Let me guess, you don’t like mushrooms?”

“They’re gross and slimy. No offence to your pasta.”

“They’re delicious, and healthy.” He corrected, and you grunted, opening the fridge, and pulling out a loaf of bread, shuffling through the contents of the fridge to find a topping you wanted. As you searched, a soft bumping at your ankle caught your attention, a sharp and chipper bark to follow it, and you glanced down, finding a wagging tail and a ball of golden fur staring up at you expectantly. “That dog is a bottomless pit of food!”

“He’s a growing boy!” You waved the cook off, taking a packet of ham out and peeling a slice off from the inside of the pack, holding it up at about waist height, and watching as the dog shuffled backwards, staring up at it and preparing himself. “C’mon, Scoot, jump!”

The dog did so, a happy yip sounding from him as he did, snatching half of the slice as it tore in your hands, and chewing down on it happily, pieces falling from its mouth and onto the floor, and he was quick to lick those up too. “He’s never going to learn any tricks if you pamper him like that.”

You looked up, Thomas having come through the doorway, Newt following behind him, your partner raising his shirt to his nose and sniffing at it, trying to determine whether the stench had transferred to his uniform just from doing the laundry, before collapsing down in the armchair. “He just did a trick! He jumped!” Scooter did it again, snatching the rest of the ham from your fingers, and you gasped as teeth brushed over your fingers, your hand snatching back, and Thomas chuckled, coming to a stop before you and taking the ham from your fingers.

“He did not jump on command, he just jumped for food.”

“Fine! You try!” You raised a brow, and Thomas took the challenge, a smirk forming.

“Scooter!” The dog’s head snapped to face him, from where he’d been occupying himself with pawing at one of your undone laces, now focused on Thomas. “Scooter, sit.” The dog remained still for a second, your lips pursing as he continued to pant and wag happily, stood on all four paws.

“What was it you were saying?”

Thomas’ eyes flicked up to you, narrowing for a second, before he was trying again. “Scooter, sit.” Your jaw was slack as the dog did exactly as told, sitting neatly and letting his tail brush over the flooring patterns, hearing the fridge behind you opening and closing, jars and tins rattling as Fry continued to cook. “Good boy, Scoot! No, lay down.” Thomas clicked his fingers, pointing at the floor, and the dog flattened out, staring up at Thomas expectantly, and you huffed. “Good boy. You want a treat?”

A bark signalled that, and Thomas rolled up a piece of the honey-glazed delicacy that Fry was snatching back a second later with mumbles about it being wasted, and Scooter stood up to snatch it, running away across the room in a pitter-patter of movements, scurrying away to his bed in the corner.

“See?”

“How the hell did you do that?” You demanded, washing your hands under the tap and drying them off, before going back to the sandwich you’d been preparing, and Thomas seated himself on one of the island stools with a shrug.

“I’ve been practising. Wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, consider me surprised.” You offered, grabbing a knife from one of the drawers, and Fry groaned beside you, shooting you both a dirty look as you began to spread the butter.

“Consider me revolted.” He gagged, and you rolled your eyes, swinging your foot out to kick at his shin, Thomas flipping him off despite the heat that was building on his cheek, and the chef wasn’t deterred from mimicking your conversation. “Seriously, get a room.”

“We have a room. It’s this kitchen. Two out of three, we win, majority rules.”

“Nice.” Thomas grinned, holding his hand out, and you slammed your palm against his in a satisfying high five, before pressing the knife down and cleaning it off, sealing the butter back up and putting it in the fridge, before grabbing your fillings. Layering them on carefully, you started slowly, constructing your sandwich carefully, and building it on your plate, before slicing it evenly down the middle, starting at your lunch proudly.

You only had a second to appreciate it, before a large hand was picking up a piece of it, taking it away and biting the corner off or it happily. “Hey! Who the hell said you could eat my sandwich?”

“Sharing is caring, sweetheart.” He winked, taking another large bite and speaking through his food, hopping down from the stool, and your face screwed up. You took your now half a sandwich, walking towards the empty couch and hearing Thomas trail after you, the couch the wrong way to the screen, but you weren’t all that bothered about what was happening in this movie anyway, and so you faced away from it, spreading out along the couch. “Move your legs.”

“Give me my sandwich back!”

“It’s half gone now!” He held it up, showing you the evidence of the half-eaten piece, and you shrugged. As if to prove a point, he pushed the rest of it all into his mouth at once, cheeks feeling with food and lips barely able to close, before he was brushing crumbs from his shirt, and picking your legs up at the ankles, lifting them up to be able to sit down.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Yep.” His words were muffled, your feet being laid back down across his lap, and you took a more polite bite of the remaining half. His fingers moved to your shoes, finding the undone laces and wrapping them around his fingers, before pulling them tightly and looping them into neat knots. He repeated the same on the other foot, before slumping back into the couch a little, still trying to chew the whole mouthful, and you wiggled a little as you got more comfortable, sliding further down until it was your calves in his lap instead of your feet, and your shoulders could rest on the armrest.

His hand rested on your knee, thumb smoothing over you lightly as his other hand produced his phone from his pocket, beginning to swipe at it absentmindedly.

“You two are honestly sickening. I have toothache.”

“Oh, cut the crap, Newt. You spent a half-hour on the phone to me two days ago talking about Derek.” Newt looked shocked for a second, pale cheeks flushing with warm colour, before he was shrugging it off.

“Yeah, well, at least me and Derek have never cuddled in a waiting room at his job.”

“We aren’t cuddling right now!” You scoffed, taking another bite of your sandwich, and chewing it as you process what to say next. “Besides, it would be unprofessional to cuddle in a waiting room where patients could see. This is totally different because we’re inside the house, an-”

Your words went flat as you heard the siren overhead go off, even Thomas’ thumb on your knee pausing its motions, everybody going silent, only the sounds of sizzling oil and the muted television static to go as the alarm went off. You deflated, only yourself and Newt being called for, and you heaved yourself to a sitting position, Newt already beginning to peel his body back up out of the comfy chair he’d seated himself in.

“At least it’s only a local call, we’ll be back before the shift even ends.”

Your partner’s words did little to comfort you, and he chuckled as you continued to glare, before forcing yourself into action.

Swinging your legs down to sit up, you looked mournfully at your only half-eaten meal, before handing the plate to Thomas, who beamed at the offering, your fingers tousling his hair before you were wandering away, and attempting to pull your hair back into something that resembled a pony-tail using on the bobble on your wrist and your fingers.

Newt grabbed the keys, ready to set off, and you followed after him as the doors remained yet to even start swinging shut in his haste. Reaching the van, you hesitated as you neared climbing in, stripping away the plastic over your seat and dropping it down into the footwell of the van, watching Newt do the same. Starting up the ambulance and fastening your seatbelt, Newt flicked on the SatNav, the machine taking a second to load up, before it was programming in your given destination and beginning to guide you.

“So, that’s something pretty new.”

“What is?” Your eyes flickered over yourself, the same uniform you always wore clad on your body, and a pair of sneakers, your brow raising as you turned to your friend, the silence saying everything, and he scoffed. Switching gears as he pulled out onto the faster roads, he spared you a look, dubious and unbelieving of your confusion.

“You know what.”

“I assure you, I don’t.” You shuffled a little, the radio crackling, but none of the chatter directed toward the two of you was coming through yet, and you waited.

He sighed, flicking on the indicators and pulling out onto the highway. “You and Tommy. That’s what I’m talking about. What’s up with you two?”

Heat flushed over your face, and you sank back a little further into your seat, but your lips wanted to form a smile, and you had to bite down on the inside of your cheek just to contain it. “I’m not totally sure.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Well, I kinda’ know. It’s all so new. It’s scary, but exhilarating.” Newt only smiled, eyes flicking to the mirror to check over everything he was looking at, before taking another turn following the SatNav, a side road to leave the highway, and you were still waiting on call details to come through on the radio. “I mean, I know it’s something. He knows that, too. We’ve talked about it, but we’re just, sort of, waiting.”

“Waiting for what, exactly?”

“The right time, I guess.” You sighed, realising how odd it all sounded out loud, to be talking like a teenager to your friend about a guy you liked, but it also felt natural and right. “Everything has just been crazy lately. I don’t think we would be like we were without the craziness, and it’s kinda’ weird to think that this job has changed my life so much, that this house has changed my life so much, when none of the others did before. I think we’re just waiting to see if it’s real, or just an in-the-moment emotional deal.”

“Seems pretty real to me.”

You smiled, knowing that Newt’s words were intended to be soothing, but instead, they made your heart race a little more.

Everything made your heart race nowadays, like you were in overdrive all the time, you were constantly on the edge, and not in an anxious way. You’d spent so much of your life feeling closed off and locked down that you weren’t used to how it felt to be on the opposite end of the scale. You had anxiety, and fear, and loneliness, that was your normal status, but since settling into Firehouse ‘21, everything had been turned upside down.

Your heart would race with thrill and excitement, and the heat flushing over you wasn’t so much from rage - after you’d sorted your problems with Thomas, anyway - but from flustered shyness. On the days when you felt lonely, when the urge to be around someone else was stronger, your phone was there, lighting up with notifications from a group chat and you knew you had friends you could call, someone who would spend time with you, when they weren’t on duty.

It was all still new, and a little scary, and still thrilling.

Then, there was Thomas. You weren’t sure what it was with Thomas, because you had nothing to compare it to. Your previous relationships had been quick and spinning. A fling that ended just as fast as it started, almost always ending after a first date with tumbling into bed and shutting down when the first signs of intimacy began to rear their heads. You moved around and you never stayed put long enough to invest in something, but you had no plans of leaving Firehouse ‘21 any time soon, and so you’d allowed yourself to let Thomas in before you’d even realised it was happening.

Intimate and emotional, a connection that wasn’t physical yet, you didn’t even know what it felt like to kiss him, and yet it still made you feel a little breathless and lightheaded to imagine it because there was a weight and meaning hanging to it now. There was something deeper than you’d ever had, a relationship that wasn’t pinned on sex and quick connections to chase away the cold sheets when you felt truly alone, but instead, left you feeling warm and loved even when no one was around.

“So, what about you and Derek?”

It was Newt’s turn to be embarrassed, the gravel and shale under the tires crunching loudly as the two of you began to trail up abandoned dirt roads, the rickety and deafening sounds of the trains of the metal bridges overhead shooting past were like the banging of metal against metal, hitting a spoon against a pan or steel-tipped work boots on metal platforms.

Pale skin turned dark pink, and he flashed a cheesy grin, eyes sparkling a little, and you already knew how excited he was. “That good, huh?”

“Things with Derek are awesome.”

“I take full responsibility for that awesomeness.” You teased, and he chuckled, the van coming to a halt, and your brows furrowed, amusement disappearing and confusion over as you stared out at the empty scene. The SatNav on the dashboard clicked green and shut down as you reached your destination, clearly telling you both that this was the correct location, and yet there was nothing, and nobody to be seen. “Put a pin in that conversation.”

He only mumbled his response, equally as confused, and the two of you stepped out of the car, a chill sweeping over you as it became eerily similar to the last case you’d received with nobody present, still so recent that the police investigation into it was still open, the court case over Chuck’s death was yet to be closed and the arson investigators hadn't even completed their analysis. “Check the radio. Is it turned on?”

You moved back in, knowing that it was because the static had been playing lowly in your ears all the way through, but there was nothing else. Normally, at a call on the edge of a town like this, the two of you would be greeted by someone, a frantic pedestrian, friend or family member, the person who had made the call would arrive to lead you to the person, and even as you listened, you couldn't hear anything.

No loud groaning or yells of pain, no mangled screams for help or even a blood trail to guide you. There was absolutely nothing to suggest why the two of you would be here, and it all became more and more suspicious as each second ticked by. Newt tucked his hands into his pockets, and you picked up the receiver, sitting sideways on your seat and turning the dial, before pressing the button down on the side.

“House ‘21 ambulance, calling in. We haven't had any more details, can we get an update?”

You waited for a second, eyes narrowing as the machine clicked you through to an operator, and there were muffled voices in the background of the call centre, before a clearer voice rang through. “‘21 ambulance, can you confirm your location, registration number and ID for me.”

Newt smirked at the frown on your face, knowing that every so often a caller came who actually required you to cite the information. While you couldn't deny that it was protocol, and they should be doing it every time, most of them took it simply at your word of being the paramedics, because they knew that most robbers wouldn't be bothering to call in on the radio of they were stealing from an ambulance, they’d just clear out all the medicines and run.

Listing off the information she requested, you listened and waited, the sound of long nails typing quickly at a keyboard sounded out, and you turned up the volume, holding the device out from you a little, so Newt could hear more clearly, even as he wandered a few feet away, looking around some more. “Still there, ‘21?”

“Yep.” You paused, hearing a few more clicks, before the woman was sighing.

“My files don’t have much. The caller didn’t leave a name or an identification, the only notes here are the address, and that you’re looking for a stab wound victim.” Newt's brows raised as he heard the words, and you only felt more confused. If someone had been stabbed, there should be a trail of blood or someone calling for help, you should be able to see them, they couldn't have gotten far without leaving a pathway of where they were, and yet, there was nothing here except the trains on the bridge overhead. “That all?”

“That's all.”

She hung up not long after, and you grabbed for your go-bag, chucking Newt his bag too, and he only just managed to catch it as the breath was knocked from his lungs, sticking his tongue out at you childishly as you grinned, before slamming your door back shut, and letting Newt lock it up, the van chirping and flashing as it sealed.

Swinging your bag onto your shoulder, your partner mimicked you. Wandering away together, you paced a few minutes from the van, staring out across the empty area, and crossing your arms. “I gave up my lunch for this shit.”

“You go left, I’ll go right, we’ll sweep around, and in ten minutes we meet at the van?” You only nodded, kicking at a particularly large pebble under your foot, and turning to face the direction you were told to go in. You heard Newt stepping away, pebbles shifting underfoot, and you followed suit, glancing back at the blond over your shoulder for a second. “Yell if you find something.”

“Will do.” You saluted, a grin thrown over his shoulder to you, before fixing your gaze ahead of you once again.

There were a few old houses, run-down and abandoned, nobody having lived in them for at least a decade. Broken windows were boarded up and front doors were hanging on their hinges, spray paint that was old and faded, drips and chips on the wood that was stained with years of abandonment, and wire fences with chains on that had been long since cut away. The grass was dead, yellowed and brown and overrun with weeds, and spoke spots ere charred blank with ash, where you suspected kids had come to light fires and get away from parents when they were bored; empty bottles of booze and cans of pop littered the ground, among wrappers and boxes for things too old to see the labels on.

You checked every garden, standing in the gate and calling out to offer help, but nothing except for silence came back. The rusty metal creaked as you stepped out from the last row, three random houses in an area of town that had clearly been skipped in the surrounding gentrification, left to fall into disrepair, and you didn’t blame it. The constant source of trains of the tracks overhead was already beginning to give you a headache, there were no real roads built to this area, and it was miles to the closest bus stop or shopping centre.

Turning back around, you didn’t walk straight back to him, but you walked a little to the side, taking an angle back towards the van just to be sure you were covering the maximum space that you could, checking over it all thoroughly, and just as you’d been giving up, your eyes caught the flicker of movement in your peripherals. When you focused on it, it took you a second to find it again, the trembling of metal stilts holding the bridge up forty feet above you disguising it, but then there was a twitch again.

In the shadows, easily missed, but then there they were. Sitting, leaned up against one of the bars from the other side, hand-pressed weakly over their stomach, head lolled to the side. You weren’t even sure if they had moved, or if they’d simply slumped forward because of the vibrations of the rickety bridge legs, and you felt a jolt of adrenaline race through you as you tried to jump into action.

“Shit!” You muttered, a slight rise on the hill before you as you tried to climb up it, the dust forming clouds behind you as the stones slipped at the sudden and uncoordinated movements, before you were stumbling closer to the person. “Newt!”

Another train shot overhead, drowning out the sounds of your shouts, and you hoped Newt had actually heard it, because you’d walked so far that he was more like a blur away from you, and you certainly couldn't hear his yells as he offered help anymore, they’d faded away a few minutes ago, but you couldn't be occupied with it now. The second the train had passed, you tried yelling again, out of breath and panting as you dropped to your knees before the person.

Their head was lying forward, chin pressed to their chest, fresh red blood seeping out between their fingers in weak bursts, and at least you knew they were still alive. Cupping their face, you pushed their head back, skin sickly pale and flushed with sweat, a very quiet groan leaving his lips, and hooded eyes cracked open barely at all to look at you. “Did you make that call?”

“Call?” He echoed, seemingly confused about what was even happening, but with the amount of blood that was staining the pebbles around you and clumping in the dust and dirt as it turned dark, you weren’t all that surprised.

“Alright, buddy, we’ll get you all sorted out, okay?” You circled a hand around behind his neck, the other on his side, and you needed to lay him down just to be able to get to the wound, because you couldn't see anything with him slumped over like this, daylight partially blocked out from the bridge overhead and shadows forming over the man. “I need to get you laying down, think you can handle that?”

He didn’t even nod, simply made a broken hum under his breath that you decided to take as an acknowledgement, before pulling him forwards. He let out a louder cry this time, the pain taking him over, and you heard the rapid-fire crunches of Newt running towards you, slightly uneven footsteps on his hurt leg, but you didn’t pay any attention to it, grateful that he’d heard you, but focusing on your patient.

His hands had fallen away from his wounds, and you fumbled for your torch, the light designed to check eyes did little to light up the wound but blood was staining the pale shirt he wore, leaving wet red patches as far up as his ribs. Newt skidded to a stop behind you, a hand running through the longer fringe in his face as he pushed it back, eyes wide.

“Well, shit, I’ll be damned.”

“Knife wound, pretty deep, can you hold the torch for me?” He nodded, stains of red smeared across it from where you’d already got blood on your fingers, and you pushed up the edge of his shirt, getting a look at the wound. He sank to his knees, holding the light over it more clearly, and you hoped he could sense your silent appreciation. It helped you to see, but didn’t clarify much, because blood was smeared over his skin and gave illusions about where his injuries started and ended, bubbling blood still leaving the gash. Dropping your bag down to your side, you opened it up, fumbling through for a pair of rubber gloves, and a tissue to be able to wipe away the blood with.

Snapping the latex onto your wrists and taking the folded clump of paper, dragging it delicately but firmly over the spot to try and get a better look. A second, maybe two, was all you got of clear skin before blood was beginning to fill the space once again, the man’s shallow pants and groans getting lighter and weaker, and you knew you had to hurry, lost time in having to search for him taking its toll now, but it was long enough to get a good look.

“We’re going to need some stuff from the van, probably the stretcher, but I don’t know how well we can wheel him across that gravel.”

“I can just pull up the van?” He offered, clicking off the torch to hand it back to you as you put the correct pressure down on the wound to stop the bleeding, pinching around the edges and holding tight to seal the wound, and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s good. Pull up the van!”

He nodded, brushing dust from his knees as he stood, and you used your other hand to begin searching through your bag for the disinfectant spray you needed to start cleaning up his wound so you could put a provisionary seal on it.

You found the canister, shaking it carefully and trying to squeeze the lid with two fingers to get it off, a ‘pop’ sounding before the fading footsteps Newt was making came to a sudden halt.

“Woah, woah, woah..” You looked up, eyes widening and blood running cold at the sight. Newt had his hand held up, a man who’d ace you couldn't quite see behind the baseball cap and the hood he had pulled up to obscure his features, sleeves reaching gloved hands, and a gun in one hand, finger pressed over the trigger as Newt took a few steps back toward you both and stumbling slightly, his leg going weak as he stood unevenly on a rock, and you couldn't help the gasp in fear that left you. “Look, man, we don’t want any trouble. We just got a call, for that guy.”

He reached out one hand, pointing to where you were kneeling still, and you leaned forwards, moving very slowly as you tried to press down gently on the top of the canister, spraying gently on the wound, but as the man let out a sudden and pained noise, the gun moved to you, and you froze, jumping back from the actions and dropping the can.

“I know, because I made the call.”

“You made the call?” You repeated, the face of the shadowed man becoming a little clearer, a large tattoo taking up one side of his face, and you shifted, the uncomfortable stones digging into your knees making you wince as you tried to hold still, an ache in your muscles as your heart raced with fear once again. “If you made the call, why can’t we help him.”

“You’re not here to help him, his wound is just to get you here.”

“You stabbed a man to get ahold of a paramedic?” The gun clicked, the safety catch off, and you swallowed thickly, internally berating yourself for asking such a question when the moment was so tense. “Look, we’ll come with you, we’re more than happy to, but just let me help him and then we’ll go wherever y-”

“Lady, if you don’t stop talking, I will blow your fucking brains all over these stones.” Your jaw snapped shut, heart freezing in your chest entirely, and you nodded dumbly. “Great, now get the fuck up, grab your bag, and walk over here real slow.”

You hesitated, only for a second, before lifting your hand from the man’s wound, hearing him groan out a little, and you ducked your head, knocking your bag over and the contents falling out across the gravel. “I don’t know if you’re even sentient enough to hear me right now,”

Your words were as low as you could get them, hoping then standing a few metres away wouldn't pick them up as he focused back on Newt, and you packed away slowly,

“If you can, I’m leaving the antiseptic and some gauze here. You need to pinch the sides of your wound, lay still, take deep breaths, and hold as much pressure as you can. In about forty minutes, we’d be due to make a call in, we’re supposed to every hour we’re out; when we don’t report in, they’ll send another ambulance. Just hold on, alright?”

You nudged the items a little further into the shadows, hoping the man had caught your words and had the strength to hold on, before you were peeling off your gloves, tucking them into your bag, and zipping it up to sit on your shoulder. Holding your hands up to show they were empty, you stepped beside Newt, the look on his face silently questioning if you were alright, and you gave him a subtle nod, raising a brow in return, and he ducked his head once in reply.

He stood behind you both, pushing the edge of the gun against Newt’s head to urge you both forward, and you matched his steps, the three of you walking slowly as you allowed yourself to be guided. There was a sleek black car pulled up, one you’d missed when arriving, and you suspected he’d driven away and waited somewhere for the ambulance to go past before pulling up again, because it wasn’t exactly hidden.

“Look, we’re going willingly, alright? No fight here, I’ll help. Our ambulance is right there,” You pointed to it, hands still raised up, arms beginning to ache and tire, and Newt folded his, resting his hands behind his head, and turning to look at you as you spoke, “Just let me call in for someone else to come help the other guy, they won’t even get here until after we’ve gone anyway, it’ll t-”

Your ears were ringing, the sound of the bang going off, the rush of air, and the way it felt like an explosion had gone off inside of your own head. You stumbled, falling to your knees at the impact as your entire body went weak, and your vision went black for a second as you tried to process it. You couldn't focus, everything seeming a little blurry, and you could feel Newt’s hands on your shoulders, shaking you, a very muffled shout of your name, before it was all torn backwards once again, and you felt nauseous as the shock swept through your body.

The man crouched down, pulling his hood back and directing an angry gaze straight at you as you blinked to clear your vision, barely able to hear a thing. “That was a fucking warning shot, speak again, and the next bullet won’t miss.”

You had to read his lips for half of the words he said, barely processing them, the bullet that had flown past your ear was making everything fade around the edges, and you were hauled roughly to your feet by a hand under your arm, leaning you against Newt as you staggered the final few feet to the car that was your destination. You could barely clear your head, shaking it a little bit finding even that action was too painful.

Blood was rushing, your headache felt like it was about to split your skull in half, and your shoulder ached as you were tossed down roughly into the open boot, unable to catch yourself in time. Newt followed, the lid slamming shut, darkness surrounding instead. You could feel Newt’s hands on you, the flash of light from his keyring over your irises making you wince, his fingers pressing along your jaw and around your ears, checking for any signs of a ruptured eardrum or any bleeding, but as the car rumbled to life, peeling out of abandoned area everything felt like it was slipping.

Your fingers scratched at the flooring of the car, nails digging into the felt, grains and dirt stuck under your fingernails, and then the car jolted, dipping into a pothole on the road, your head hitting against the floor of the car, and everything you were still clinging to was lost as well as you blacked out.

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