barely even noon

maybe one day: part two.

A/N: Yeah. Okay. I said it would be a one-shot, but then I had a request for a second part from the lovely @love231999your and… I’m really bad at saying no. I think they both still stand on their own quite well, so please feel free to interpret these as you choose! This one got a little bigger and… sexier… than I’d originally intended. Oh well. 

This is another “what-if” gap-filler, this time set after 2x13. Abby and Kane have stared down their deaths and come out of the wreckage alive. So now what?

Ao3 links: Part One: here! Part Two: here!

“Abby… what’s wrong?”

Marcus’ voice rose softly through the air in his bedroom, cracked and thick with sleep. Abby pressed herself back against the door, one hand trembling over the handle as she watched Marcus sit up from his mattress. The blankets fell to his lap, uncovering a broad, masculine, bare torso; the moonlight working in tandem with his ever-present sheen of sweat to highlight the dip of his collarbone, the curve of his shoulders, and - most enticingly - the shallow valley at the centre of his chest, dotted with fine, dark hair.

She shouldn’t be here.

Abby wasn’t really sure where she was supposed to be, lately. Since they’d been rescued from the wreckage at TonDC, Jackson had been infuriatingly insistent that she rest, despite the sudden influx of the wounded in Medical. He’d allowed her to help out while they were in the village; there were simply too many places to be at one time. She’d eased her efforts once they were on the move, but once they’d arrived at the camp, she’d barely given Jackson time to check and clean her wounds before she set herself to work. Her assistant wouldn’t have it – there was some compression to her spinal cord, he said. She’d sprained her left medial collateral ligament. She’d be putting herself at risk of permanent injury.

Abby had insisted she was fine, however; that the Grounder woman next to her would need more saline solution for the laceration on her arm, that it was showing signs of infection – I need it now, Jackson she couldn’t understand what on earth he was waiting for, had he inhaled too much dust? He’d tried to physically grab her, in an effort to steer her out of Medical – but Abby had quickly wrestled herself out of his weak grasp and made her way towards the supply cabinets to get the solution herself.

It was then that Jackson had raised his voice; she’d jumped at the sharpness of it. Her soft-spoken assistant had a powerful baritone that he was loathe to use; but it had shaken her into stillness, then, with just two words: “That’s enough!

The entire Med bay had quieted at that, and all eyes were on Abby as she sheepishly turned to face the flustered Jackson. Offering a small nod of concession at the young man, she’d made her exit.

Standing in the open, sparsely-populated hallway, trying to invent a task to occupy her – the chancellor and head of medical suddenly usurped by the boy she’d trained and the teenager she’d given birth to - Abby felt completely untethered.

She tried to think of what she’d advised her patients to do: sleep it off. But… it was barely even noon. So, she’d headed for the war room, where she knew Raven would be working to figure out the acid fog – if it was safe enough work to do with a full leg brace, it was safe enough for Abby. However, when she arrived, she found that Raven had miraculously already acquired an assistant. The young mechanic did her best to catch Abby up, but Wick had jumped in with a sudden revelation that, upon having it explained twice, Abby still couldn’t quite wrap her head around. But Raven understood, and Raven was excited – and there was a glimmer of girlish mischief in her eyes as she smacked her fellow engineer for not thinking of it sooner. Abby quietly excused herself.

She’d managed to pass an entire half hour picking at a bowl of berries in the mess hall before she finally gave in and headed for her quarters.

She’d covered her window with a bedsheet and gotten herself undressed. She’d climbed under the covers of her bed. The adrenaline finally seeping out of her body as she lay flat on her back, it was quickly replaced with a heavy, consuming soreness, which Abby concentrated on, breathing deeply into the places where it hurt most. In this meditation, she’d almost found sleep.


“Are you alright?”

“It’s nothing, Marcus,” she replied at last. Then, with a sigh: “Move over.”

Keep reading


Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

A/N: Part 3. Man, you have no idea how happy it makes me that you guys like this story!

Pairing: Pietro x reader

Words: 2,542

Warning: None (???)

Keep reading



It was the invention of Jazz.
It was a beetle
in the stomach of a floating fish.


I remember Sasquatch petitioning for entry. Not enough hooves, they said.

Who said?

Lawrence, king of the wicker geese. They scrubbed him down. Shaved him with a rock lobster. The flute poked its head out of its egg. On the other side of the river bank, an otter put on a tinny hat.


They were heading to Mardi Gras to play for the Queen. A family of them.
Her face was green and lightly violent.
Her husband a purple fool,
bottling his hiccups and turning them to gold.


You had to peel the colors in those days.
That was how secrets were made.
A lot rigor. A lot of hope and thrusting.


I strummed the narrow winds,
and let the lone candle howl.

The wolves were not entirely wax,
but they had a museum. And feet
for marching and banging tamborines.


The catfish in Paris
wear their accordions
like a badge of honor.

The humpback whale stuffed up in his tower,
singing like a bell to the nearest gargoyles.

The next day I bought very expensive cheese
from a man in a red suit. He smiled a little helicopter.


The kestrel told me death
is like a party without a host.

Just a lot of wet bones banging against the rocks.

Everyone painted slick
with crude oil
and marmalade.

The nudists rejoice. They bury their paws in one
another’s folds, and pray the rain stays away.


But to that I say, ‘Even a cloud is a kind of musician.’

A beak and stormy wings.
A puffin without a face,
but tons of brass.

I caught one years ago, and kept it in a jar.

But that’s its own story, for it’s own time. And I’m so tired.
And it’s barely even noon.

Text | Virginia 😍
  • Cooper: I was gonna be a good boy and not bug you while you're at work but I miss you
  • Cooper: And I'm bored, but mostly I miss you
  • Cooper: I've done a million things already today and it's barely even noon, how do people live like this
  • Cooper: I vacuumed, I did some laundry, I checked out the gym downstairs, I had a couple smoothies, I played solitaire
  • Cooper: When do you get home again?