#// ;;;; if you think about it comms are basically paid requests but for comms i get also. the pose and expression that's wanted so it feels

[averlym]

Wait so I’m kind of confused, are you still doing asks? Or just commissions since you’ve officially closed ur requests. Are you just gonna occasionally do asks with requests no longer being sent?

hi hi!! okay so:

1. commissions are open right now

2. requests are 'closed' - i can't stop you from sending them, but it's pretty unlikely that i'll draw them any time soon

3. i have quite a lot of old requests filling my ask box, so i'll do those asks occasionally

hope that clarifies a bit!

[fionajames]

Hey!!! How’s the concussion? Hope it’s almost healed. How are you since the last time I’ve asked?

Requesting time: may I pretty please with a cherry on top have a story about an AU where the wars over and all our fav clones have been recognized as citizens and all have their dream jobs (what do you think they would be) please?

If that’s too hard, may I substitute it with a little story about Xi (I believe that’s his name?) the clone who got sick from one of my other requests and has a little crush on General Skywalker?

Thank you so much, hope you’re well, have a great day! -Sha 🫡

fix-it-fox au

HI SHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3

I MIGHT DO UR SECOND IDEA LATER, BUT RN IM DEAD

ok so guys, originally i was also gonna do headcanons for all my clone ocs and i wrote a few but gave up cause its been hours.

also, yes, normal dogs and cats and their various breeds exist in this.

have some headcanons:

(writing below the cut)

Overall

The Clones get like, idk imma just say money but basically they get a bunch of money to make up for not getting paid but especially to make sure they’re not gonna end up homeless.

Most Clones live in groups as it feels unnatural for them not too.  (i feel like im doing a david attenborough documentary rn, read: ‘most clones live in groups’ in david’s voice, go check him out if you dunno him)

The Clones are then all ‘employed’ by the GAR (they’re not rlly given a chance, as the senate wouldnt fully permit them to just become civvies, padme, chuchi and bail as well as some others managed to negotiate this, which was the best why could do). This means they can have other jobs and are only called upon if there is a problem that requires them. Sorta like how the Jedi were before that, but different.

Most Clones move to planet Nay-Mets (an anagram of amnesty, i think this is funny because the definition of amnesty is ‘an official pardon for people who have been convicted of political offences’ which is kinda what the anti-clone people would think about them, so its like the clones r saying ‘we dont care what you think’ and owning it) - which I have made up. Nay-Mets is a planet of earthy terrain, with lakes and rivers running through it. Its beautiful, and had a sparse and small population until the clones arrived. The clones are careful with what they do to the land and care for it dearly. The Non-Clone civvies are very welcoming and help the Clones build homes and other things. They moved into a town that had been uninhabited for a year or so for no real reason. Only a month after the end of the war, Nay-Mets is busy and buzzing, with Clones and Non-Clones.

Bail Organa has become Chancellor and is pushing everything for Clone rights. Between him, Chuchi and Padme - plus some other senators - they’ve gotten good and better rights for the Clones.

Anakin lives with Padme on Naboo. When the war ended, he ended up telling Obi-Wan about his marriage who happily informed him the Council was changing the code to allow such things. 

Anakin is off-world when Luke and Leia are born, but feels it through the Force. He rushes home (Obi-Wan orders him to, claiming he can finish the battle by himself) and cries upon meeting his children.

Obi-Wan visits Naboo before returning to Coruscant and immediately feels the tug towards Luke, who’s Force is a blanket of warmth and sunlight. Ahsoka comes as soon as Anakin comms her (which is pretty quickly, and rather excitedly) and upon meeting Leia, she can’t help but hear the raindrops and feel the moonlight she emits to her. Luke has a special bond with Obi-Wan, just as Leia has a bond with Ahsoka. 

Even though Palpatine is dead, the events of the other seasons take place, but slightly differently. The battles that do take place (no way im specifying, i dont have the patience for that) are run by Dooku. He’s keeping the war going, but without Palpatine, it’s hard. He’s captured by Anakin, then Grievous is killed by Obi-Wan. Dooku goes to jail.

Ahsoka still gets the message from Bo-Katan and frees Mandalore. She captures Maul who is taken to trial and he is the reason that the trial against Fox finally proved him not-guilty (well, guilty but fairly).

Order 66 never happens (no shit) and the Kaminoans are ordered to de-chip every single Clone. They are taken to jail immediately afterwards. Some Clones remain on Kamino to raise the youngers, and Shaak Ti ends up taking control of the whole place.

During this time period, after the Kaminoans were arrested, the Bad Batch stumble upon a certain blonde girl hiding in a lab. Hunter - seeing no reason not to - immediately ‘adopts’ her. 

Some cadets and baby Clones leave Kamino, but these are only ones who have an older Clone who has managed to snag legal custody over them. These guys aren’t very common, as they didn’t have much exposure to older Clones, but it’s not so bad.

Shaak Ti begins to make the Clones’ training intertwined with schooling, and also give them excursions off-planet. The young Clones no longer hate Kamino like so many of their elders did.

Alongside the de-chipping process, Clones are all given a vaccine that returns their ageing to normal, meaning they get to live normal, long lives.

Oh and Ahsoka is paid for helping Mandalore, so she’s no longer broke.

Rex

As soon as the war is over, Rex goes and visits Cut.

He isn’t really sure what to do at first, as he’s put his heart and soul into the GAR, and now he doesn’t have to.

He follows Ahsoka around like a lost puppy because she’s got more experience with civilian life, and frankly, he’s missed his sister. He does help Fives whilst he’s recovering from his trauma and as a result, it's Fives and Rex bunking at Ahsoka’s place for a bit (she pretends to be annoyed but she really isn’t).

Eventually she convinces him to take Fives and Jesse (who’s been crashing on her couch and making ramen at 3am for a few weeks) and go get a house. This is because the Clones are given… like, money, because they didn’t get paid during the war.

So Rex, Jesse and Fives get a place next door to the Bad Batch (including Echo and Omega) and end up knocking down the fence separating the two houses and building a hallway between them so it’s like one big, slightly separated house.

Rex slowly begins to relax as a civilian, but still is a bit too rigid. He’s the third person to meet Luke and Leia (aside from Anakin and Padme, ofc) - first being Obi-Wan and second Ahsoka. He’s utterly honoured but immediately uneasy, as he hasn’t had much exposure to children. 

But Luke, with his mighty force connection, sees Rex and is instantly puppy-eyed, and won’t stop crying until his uncle holds him. This boosts Rex’s confidence a lot, and he finds himself visiting a lot.

Rex wears mostly hoodies and baggy/cargo pants. The first time he put a hoodie on, he did that thing where you pull it over your knees and curl up. He didn’t move for hours. Ahsoka went out the next day and put him a ton, mostly blue ofc.

His favourite hoodie is the custom one Fives got for him (although he’ll never admit it aloud). It’s blue and white - the 501st’s colours, ofc - with his jaig eyes on the front. On the back is his CT number, but with a line through it and below, his name. Fives says he wants everyone to know that they’re not numbers, they’re people. Rex cried when he heard.

Rex doesn’t get a job at first, and instead helps Fives, Jesse and Echo out in their cafe when needed. Eventually, he turns his farming hobby (something he’d picked up to use his time) into profit and attends the farmers’ market to sell products.

Echo

Echo didn’t really know when the war ended, until the Bad Batch came and rescued him. 

Even after being sweetly reunited by Fives, he struggles mentally and physically, unused to being a cyborg. 

He finds himself staying with the Bad Batch the most, because of his newly found troubles. When it comes to house-arrangements, he has a talk with Fives, and they agree to live separately, but everyone knows you can often find them in the other’s house anyways.

He ends up running a cafe with Jesse and Fives that becomes popular very quickly. His favourite thing to have is a hot chocolate with a choc-chip cookie, which he often does whilst reading a book at the counter.

Speaking of books, Echo is finally exposed to books, like, fictional books. Although others were shocked, Echo prefers fiction over non-fiction, as he likes the made-up stuff. He wishes desperately he had it growing up and with that thought, he and Shaak Ti teamed up to get the cadets and baby Clones on Kamino books.

Echo cries when he gets his custom hoodie. It’s like the rest of the Bad Batch’s with the grey, black, red and white pattern and ofc his crossed out CT number and name on the back, but there’s also a blue hand print where it was on his armour. 

He wears his hoodie everywhere, much like Rex.

Other than his hoodie, Echo mostly wears baggy long-sleeved stuff in an attempt to cover his robotic screwdriver-thing hand. Anakin offered to get someone to remove it and replace it with a prosthetic hand like his own but Echo denied it. He's proud of it, but a little self-conscious.

Echo’s a lil more shy than he was before, but still his sarcastic goofy self. He buys a bike (bicycle) when he arrives on Nay Mets, and rides it everywhere. Its not uncommon to see him riding his bike through the hills at 6am.

Fives

Because of the whole ‘Tup’ incident, Fives’ mental health has deteriorated drastically. Rex is his biggest help, alongside Echo and as well as Jesse and Ahsoka.

Because of this, he goes with Rex when he moves into Ahsoka’s apartment temporarily. They basically get two mattresses and chuck them in an empty room, sleeping on the floor (on the mattresses tho) with blankets, but its so much comfier than their bunks.

Fives starts becoming his usual self a bit quicker than expected, especially when he arrives on Nay Mets.

He ofc runs the cafe with Jesse and Echo, and is the main drink maker. He makes the best milkshakes.

After a bit, Fives ends up assembling a group of Jedi and Clones to help him get hoodies for almost all the Clones. It takes a few months but with him learning to sew, dozens of others doing the same and various people across the galaxy being paid to make them, the hoodies are distributed everywhere.

He designs his last, and its pretty simple with the blue and white markings and his crossed out CT number and name.

Like most Clones, he prefers comfy and baggy clothes, wearing mostly hoodies and baggy pants. He develops a love for beanies.

Fives takes up electric guitar as his hobby, and thoroughly enjoys it. 

When he first meets Padme, she hugs him and comforts him without a second’s hesitation. He cracks immediately and cries. She spends the entire day calming him and comforting him, and she’s self-employed herself as his unpaid therapist.

He returns to Naboo to visit Padme regularly, and his General, ofc. 

To everyones’ delight, when Leia is toddlerish age and her rebellious side is evident, Fives becomes more like himself as he assists her in getting into trouble.

Anakin and Padme don’t mind having to clean off the noticeably washable marker from the walls when Fives starts laughing again. They’re grateful he’s getting better, and that he chooses to use materials easy to clean up.

Jesse

Jesse spends the first few weeks of his civvie life going absolutely nuts in trying to experience stuff. 

He quickly realises that he has no home and ends up crashing on Ahsoka’s couch. She pretends to get annoyed at him when he constantly gets up at unholy hours to make ramen but she frankly is glad he’s doing well.

He’s the one to organise a house for him, Rex and Fives on Nay Mets.

He ofc runs the cafe with Echo and Fives, and he’s the cooking expert. He’s well known in the town for his delicious foods and alongside Fives’ excellent drinks, its what gets the cafe popular quickly.

His hoodie is the same as Fives’, but with his number and name, ofc.

It’s only been six weeks since the War ended when Jesse arrives home with a sheepish grin and a box that moves. He giddily reveals a black and blue merle mudi dog (such a cute breed, go google it, you wont regret) that he names Tundra. Tundra is rather quiet for his breed (never had this breed but during researching, it says the bark a lot, sorry if thats not true) but filled with energy and affection. 

Jesse and Tundra are rarely separated. When Jesse has work, he brings Tundra. He either sleeps on the floor whilst watching or will go out to the fenced-in area through the dog door they installed in the cafe.

Jesse adapts rather quickly to civvie life and really enjoys it. 

Kix

Kix has pretty mixed-feelings post-war.

He loves being a civvie but can’t help but find himself up late at night, waiting to attend to a wound of sorts.

At first, Kix is really anxious and uncomfortable with being aware from the battlefield. Jesse tries to get through to him but ultimately fails, as Kix needs alone time.

Anakin sees his medic in distress and tells Padme. She immediately agrees to let Kix live with them on Naboo until he can regain his footing, no matter how long that takes. 

Kix spends his almost-three months on Naboo recollecting himself and then turns to Jesse, who immediately agrees to let him move in with him, Fives and Rex. 

Kix ends up taking a job at the hospital, and instantly finds himself better footing. Its much easier for him after he takes up the job.

His hoodie is the usual but with his red medic symbol on the shoulder. He wears it as much as possibly, and thanks Fives almost daily for the gift.

When they were de-chipping, after he got his removed, Kix worked tirelessly to remove the other Clones’ chips. He was thrown a ‘thank you’ party afterwards by all the Clones he helped. 

Cody

Cody’s immediate reaction is relief.

He’s just grateful the war is over.

The first few weeks he spends living with Obi-Wan (idc if you see this as a ship or platonic, basically the embodiment of the ‘and they were roommates vine’ tbh) as he doesn’t really have any where else to go.

Eventually, he moves to Nay Mets like many others, and takes Meerrt and Vick with him. They have a room for Obi-Wan which is used a lot more than expected, but they love having their Jedi over.

Cody’s hoodie is the usual, in yellow of course. 

He spends most of his first few months reading and experiencing life as a civilian (alongside making the best cinnamon scrolls you’ll ever taste) but eventually gets a job at a kindergarten, of all the places.

Unexpectedly, Cody works really well with kids, and it really shows. He becomes an idol to a lot of little kids on Nay Mets.

Upon meeting Luke and Leia, he takes up a job as unofficial babysitter when Padme and Anakin need a break. 

Cody wears mostly sweaters and cargo pants - like so many other Clones - and a golden bracelet with a sun charm attached. He doesn’t take it off.

He also starts learning violin, and really enjoys that too.

He’s one of the first to get de-chipped, and waits until his battalion have also been de-chipped to even leave Kamino. This is mostly because Obi-Wan got annoyed when he found out Cody wasn’t sleeping out of worry.

Wolffe

Wolffe’s immediate reaction was also relief, but in a sarcastic way. Like, ‘oh we’re finally done?!’ But deep down, he is super glad.

He stays with Plo and several others from his battalion before finding a place on Nay Mets with them. Plo lives more on Nay Mets than Coruscant, just like many other Jedi do too.

When he gets his hoodie - the usual but in grey with a small wolf symbol on the front - he breaks and grins, giving Fives a huge hug. But he then blackmails him into not telling anyone he did.

Wolffe wears his hoodie everywhere, rarely takes it off. He likes the ‘not a number’ statement that comes with it.

He also wears like thick, fluffy winter coats and cargo pants a lot, with the occasional bad-ass leather jacket.

He attempts to get a job somewhere, but can’t really find one that works, so he stays unemployed. 

After a little while, Wolffe adopts a grey, male tamaskan dog (also beautiful, check it out, they look like wolves) he names Fang. Everyone thinks its hysterical he got a dog that looks like wolf.

Wolffe and Fang are also inseparable.

Wolffe finds himself enjoying hiking and does it almost daily, with Fang joining him. He finds it peaceful and enjoyable.

Fox

Fox is ofc the one who basically ended the war, or at least he majorly turned the tables.

He’s so relieved when its finally over.

He’s one of the first Clones to move to Nay Mets, and ofc Dhole, Vector, Menace, Dice and Bloodshot tag along. They live in one great big house.

Almost immediately, Fox impulsively adopts a ginger tabby she-cat he names Pumpkin. She’s a beautiful, silly cat and Fox has zero regrets in getting her.

He lets her be a very free cat as he feels bad for being any other way.

His hoodie is red and white with the usual and a fox symbol on the front. He loves sweaters.

He wasn’t really looking for a job at first, and eventually decided to stay unemployed.

Fox picks up piano as a way to calm himself, and grows to become a great pianist. He practises practically all day with Pumpkin sitting on his lap.

He regularly goes for long walks and takes Pumpkin, cause she’s that kinda cat. 

Once there was an incident in town when a guy lost it and started shooting or smth and Fox just calmly tackled him (that's an oxymoron lol) and got someone to arrest him. He was really quiet afterwards.

When he got his chip removed, Fox became a lot more quiet for a little. This was because he could finally hear properly. When he had the chip, he always heard a little voice in his head, something he now knew was Palpatine.

OK IM DONE

MIGHT POST PT 2 LATER (A FEW DAYS)

PLEASE REQUEST THINGS PEOPLE, CHECK THE PINNED POST ON MY BLOG FOR INFO.

REQUEST ONE SHOTS OF THIS AU

REQUEST

PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

<3

[krabmeat]

hhhhhellllooooo aaaagggaiiinnnnnn, thheeeeee ffffficcccc wwwwasssss vvverrryy nnnicceeee tooo rrrreeeeaaadddd!! ccccccoooouulllddddd youuuuu wwwwrrrrittteeeeee aaaaa puffffyyyyy x sbbbiiii rrreeeadddeerrrr whhheeeerrrreeeee ttthhheeeeyyyy wwwweeerrreee neeeegggleeeccccttteeeddd annndddd ssssaaaawwww pppufffy aaassss thhheeeirrrr ppppaaarrrrennnttttalll fffiggurrreee iiinnsstttteeeeadddd (cccaaannn thhiisss beeee iinnn tttheeee uuunnniiveerrrsseeee whhherrreee puffffy, ddrreeeammm, ssschlllaattt annnddd tuubbbooo aaarrreee knnoowwnn aassss tttthheeee hooornnns ffffammmilllyyyyy? aaallsssooo!! alllssoooo!!! cccaaann ttheeee rrreeeaddderrrr bbbeeee aaa cccrooowwwww hhhyyybbbriiiiddddddd?) tthhisss isss kkkinnddaaaa lllikeeee aaaa emmmeeerrrggeeencccyyy rrreeequeeessstt ccausseee myyyy ffffammilyyyy haasss beeen iggnorrringgg meee foooorrr aaaawhileeee nooowwww :(( - beeeee aaannnoooonnnn

𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜

𝙿𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚢 𝚡 𝚗𝚎𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍!𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌)

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: Puffy, (next bunch are only mentioned) Tommy, Wilbur, Technoblade, Philza, Tubbo, Schlatt, Dream

𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: they/them

𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: neglect, mentions of death, mentions of smoking, repetitive words (right after the page break)

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎:

Bee!! im so happy you enjoyed the other request bud!! i hope this one lives up to your expectations!

im so sorry your family has been ignoring you though, dude :[[ they dont deserve you, and trust me! id be more than happy to be your new "horn family" because you deserve so much better

mmmm anyways,

ENJOY!!

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

My name is signed in this book so many different times. It feels like every floorboard and every room in this building knows me like we’re old friends. The same format over and over in the small sign up booklet:

“Y/n L/n- issues to discuss, I’ve been feeling neglected and need help. Please.

Y/n L/n- more problems from the first meeting discussion we had.

Y/n L/n- I feel lonely. Too lonely.

Y/n L/n- they keep on forgetting me, I don’t know what to do.

Y/n L/n- more has happened. Are they forgetting me or ignoring me? Help.

Y/n L/n- they’re drifting away, I don’t know what to do.

Y/n L/n- I miss them.

Y/n L/n- I miss them.

Y/n L/n- I miss them.

Y/n L/n- I miss them.

Y/n L/n- I miss you. 

Y/n L/n- I miss you. 

Y/n L/n- I miss you. 

Y/n L/n- I miss you. 

Y/n L/n- I miss you.”

Puffy is the only one I can turn to at this point. My real family has just...dispersed. They’re all too busy, or y'know- dead. Tommy’s been going off on his own with his hotel. He usually only visits me if he needs to “borrow” money or materials, but lately he’s just been stealing it. Techno and Philza are caught up in their Syndicate work, they haven’t even bothered keeping contact with me. And Wilbur is just...well, dead! He was killed during the Manburg explosion. It’s not even that they just forget me. They ignore me, neglect me. I’ve tried on so many different occasions to just send them messages through our comms or strike up conversation with them if I see them on a rare occasion, but it’s always just the cold shoulder. And it’s getting even colder. It’s numbing. Family is supposed to be there for you through your strife, so where is mine?

Well, I’ll tell you. My family at the moment mainly consists of Puffy and occasionally Tubbo. The horn family of the SMP, technically Schlatt and Dream as well but seeing as Schlatt is dead and Dream is in prison I don’t really see them often. 

“Y/n? Hey there bud!” 

A familiar warm and friendly voice is heard from behind me. I turned around to see the lady I wanted to see right about now, Puffy. She wraps me in a quick side hug, squeezing my shoulder affectionately. 

“I was just here to check my sign up booklet! Did you wanna check in again?”

I nod my head at her signaling that I just wanna chat like usual. She gets the sign and walks me to the small tree we’ve recently been going to to talk. It’s the tree that Schlatt smoked his cigarettes at when he was president. Sure, he’s dead and did a lot of bad things but Puffy suggested this place since she finds it comforting since they’re related. 

We sit down on the worn grass around the tree as we usually do. 

“So, what’s up? Anything in particular you wanna talk about, bud?”

Puffy usually starts off these conversations, she’s looking at me with a soft smile. It’s very comforting. She’s the only one who’s been giving me this kind of affection. I haven’t felt it in so long… 

“Y/n…? Your wings are scrunching up, what’s wrong?”

I look back confused as to what she’s talking about. My wings are in fact scrunching together against my back, it seems like they’ve been scrunching up more and more the more I was in my head about my family.

“I just…my family..did I do something wrong?”

Puffy tilts her head, she usually does this when she wants me to elaborate.

“I’ve tried so many different times to just talk to them! Even when we were younger, they rarely paid any attention to me. I had hoped that letting Tommy take my things or giving Philza and Techno their space to work on their stuff or helping Wil-“

“Y/n! Y/n, please slow down. Now, collect your thoughts, alright? What is it that you're trying to say?”

I take a deep breath. The memories and thoughts clouding my mind. The days I’d spend in our family’s house touch starved and lonely. The days they’d only talk to me to feed me or to ask me for something. The days I’d go to sleep in my twin-sized bed and feel the black and gold-tipped wings on my back rubbing against my arms, reminding me who I was and will always be bound to. A father who doesn’t care, and siblings full of neglect.

“Is it really a big request to just want some attention from them? I don’t know what I did, and Puffy, it destroys me to think I did something to hurt them. I just want them to like me! What did I do?!”

I’m sent over the edge at this point. Tears are streaming down my face and my sobs get more and more aggressive the more I try to repress it.

“AND I HAVE THESE WINGS ON MY BACK TO REMIND ME OF THE PEOPLE WHO DON'T CARE!”

Puffy takes one of my hands in hers and gives me a small handkerchief from her pocket with her free hand.

“Y/n...it kills me to hear that you truly feel this way. But please, please tell me- why do you care so much about people who don’t care at all?”

I sit and stare at the velvet red piece of fabric in my hand. Why do I care so much?

“W-well..because they’re my family! And I should still care for them!”

She looks at me and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. It takes me by surprise and I’m frozen in place.

“Bad people are bad people. It doesn’t matter who they are or what their relations with you are, they hurt you. It doesn’t matter if they’re your blood family, if they aren’t willing to give you the love that you need then they aren’t worth it, Y/n.”

I’ve been caught off guard by what Puffy had said. My mind analyzes and sifts through the memory of her words. It leaves me distraught to realize she makes sense. I’m desperate to grab onto something to say, but I can’t think of anything. So, I say basically the last thing I can. 

“I wanna be part of your family, Puffy. I want horns, not these wings.”

Puffy breaks from the hug to look at me straight in the eyes. She still has that warm, welcoming smile on her face. The only form of comfort I have around here now. And I’m thankful for it.

“You don’t need horns to be part of my family, Y/n. I’ll accept you with open arms.”

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

2 A.M.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

PROMPTS: 48. I called you at 2am because I need you. 50. I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand 

Requested by @wonderlandmind4​

So, I’m not going to include #1, because I already did that prompt in another story. 

The Avengers are at the Tower for plot reasons. And just because I wanted it that way. Deal with it LOL. 

Bucky rubbed his eyes awake as FRIDAY announced that he was receiving an incoming phone call. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and it read 2AM.

“Accept,” he muttered huskily to the AI.

“Wait, FRIDAY, no, no, no!” The call immediately came in.

“Hello?” Bucky asked with confusion.

He expected it to be Steve, who was on a mission with the entire team. It left Bucky as the sole “superhero” left in the tower. But he didn’t see himself as such. Bucky was crashing at the high-rise because he really had no place else to go. And he knew Steve would be disappointed if Bucky didn’t take him up on the offer.

“Bucky, hi.” A female voice said.

He squinted and then put it together. “Y/N, is that you?”

Y/N was Happy’s niece. Tony and Pepper were basically her aunt and uncle without being related. She lived in the city, and therefore was around the tower a lot. Pepper was constantly inviting her over for dinner. Sometimes she’d do her laundry there. If Tony ever had a party, she was invited. The rest of the team had befriended her. 

But Bucky...Bucky kept his distance – just like he kept his distance from basically everyone.

However, that didn’t mean he didn’t take notice of Y/N.

It was ridiculous how long it took him to realize that his eyes seemed to always be searching for her when she was around. He watched her at parties, always dressed in a fancy dress with her makeup a little heavier than usual. He would steal glances at her when she was in the gym. Apparently she didn’t want to pay for one herself, but there wasn’t a gym nicer than the one at the tower.

But just because Bucky noticed Y/N didn’t mean he talked to her. 

Bucky thought the world hated him. Once all of Hydra and SHIELD’s secrets were leaked, everyone knew exactly what he had done.

The Winter Soldier wasn’t someone people wanted to be friends with.

“Hi, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to call you. No, I told FRIDAY not to call you,” she was talking really quickly – obviously, stressed – and yet quietly, like she was scared someone might hear her.

Bucky sat up straighter, fully awake and now on alert. “Everything OK?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean, not really. I’m sure it’s fine. I’m probably being crazy,” her words were coming out faster and faster.

“Y/N, take a breath,” Bucky demanded.

She must’ve done as she was told because there was 5 seconds of silence.

“What’s going on?” He asked then.

“It might just be the storm…” Bucky looked outside his window at the lightning and heavy downpour. “But I swore I heard someone trying to get into my apartment. There’ve been two robberies in my building the last 2 months.”

Bucky already knew about that. He overheard Y/N telling Pepper, Tony, and Happy about it in the kitchen. She seemed pretty shaken up about it. One of her neighbors had to go to the hospital because the robbers timed it wrong and ended attacking the poor man in a panic.

Tony and Happy weren’t happy about Y/N living in what appeared to be an unsafe building. They both tried to convince her to move into the tower. When she refused, pointing out how ridiculous the idea was, Tony told her he’d just buy her a place that had a doorman and high-level security. Y/N refused that too.

It was the first time Bucky had ever agreed with anything Tony said.

“Can you hear anything now?” Bucky asked, taking Y/N’s concerns and fear very seriously.

“No. It’s hard to hear anything with the rain and thunder outside,” Y/N whispered.

Then she sighed.

“Listen, Bucky, I’m really sorry for waking you up. Pepper and Happy are in Germany for a Stark meeting. I was just trying to reach Tony…”

“Everyone’s out on an assignment right now,” Bucky explained. “I’m the only one here.”

“Oh…” Y/N said lamely.

Bucky could tell she did really feel bad, and was growing more and more embarrassed. “And you don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m just being a total spaz right now and–“ She stopped abruptly.

“Y/N?”

“I definitely just heard something,” she whispered as quietly as possible.

“Y/N, I need you to give me your address,” Bucky instructed calmly.

There was no answer.

“Y/N,” his tone more gentle this time, “you gotta give me your address.”

He was already moving around his room, grabbing necessary clothing. He moved with purpose, not even thinking about what he needed to grab.

Bucky listened as Y/N rattled off her address and apartment number.

He was grateful that her apartment was only a 10 minute drive from the tower.

“I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me,” Bucky sounded like he did was he was on comms during a mission. Not that he’d done that recently.

“O-Okay,” Y/N stuttered in a whisper.

For a second, Bucky thought maybe he should talk to her, try to keep her calm, or make sure she knew she wasn’t alone. He’d be there soon.

But it was obvious that she was staying quiet so she could listen to any possible intruder.

Just when Bucky was two blocks away from her place, the line went dead.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

He slammed his breaks just outsider her building, not bothering to turn off the car or try to park it.

Bucky would’ve shoved his way through the front door of the building with his metal arm and shoulder, but the lock had already been broken.

Now Bucky was more concerned.

He was quick and stealth as he went up the stairs to Y/N’s floor. He pulled out the gun from the back of his waistband.

With one floor left to go, Bucky suddenly heard footsteps running on the floor above him – Y/N’s floor. The footsteps were running toward the opposite side of the building that Bucky was on. Which meant they probably knew someone was on their way up and they were escaping through the emergency stairs on the other side.

For a moment, Bucky considered running after them. He knew he could catch them. They didn’t stand a chance.

But Y/N was now at the forefront of his mind.

He quickly made it to her apartment.

The door was closed, but he could tell from the scratches on the lock and handle that someone had been trying to break their way in discreetly.

Bucky took in a deep breath and knocked.

“Y/N? It’s Bucky. Can you let me in?”

There was no answer. He waited a few minutes and listened for any movements from inside the apartment.

Nothing. 

“Doll… I’m coming in, alright?”

With a quick twist of his metal hand on the doorknob, he was able to crush it to pieces. It should’ve been harder to do, but the building was clearly as old as Bucky and not kept up to code.

Bucky promptly put his gun back in his waistband, not wanting to alarm Y/N with just the mere sight of a firearm.

“Y/N?” He called out to the empty apartment. “It’s just me.”

But he knew where she would be. It was the most common place for people to hide in case of an emergency.

Bucky made his steps quiet, but noticeable, so Y/N knew exactly where he was in the apartment.

He made his way to her bedroom and stopped in front of her closet.

He knew that she knew he was there. He could hear her soft breathing that was still anxious and terrified.

Ever so carefully, he opened her closet door.

Inside Y/N was tucked in the corner, knees to her chest, with a kitchen knife in one hand and her dead cellphone in the other.

Bucky looked at her with only sympathy. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt as scared as Y/N looked. Fear had been beaten out of him long ago.

He kneeled down, his forearms balancing on his knees.

“Mind if I come in?” He asked casually.

She shrugged.

Somehow the giant super soldier managed to fit into the closet, making it feel even smaller than it already did.

“For the record… you aren’t crazy. There was definitely someone trying to get into your apartment.” Then he took in a deep breath, realizing he probably wasn’t making her feel any safer. “But they’re long gone.”

When he glanced down at Y/N, she just nodded in acknowledgment.

Bucky wished he was better with words. He used to be. Words used to be his specialty. But he’d isolated himself from everyone. Before that, he was a brainwashed assassin without a mind of its own. Bucky was out of practice.

Bucky slowed reached over to the hand closest to him, the one holding the knife. Gently, he took it out of her grasp and placed it far enough away from them that it wouldn’t accidentally hurt anyone.

Then he took her hand in his, gripping in tight enough to show her comfort. His thumb brushed back and forth over the back of her hand.

She squeezed in return, silently thanking him.

The closet was quiet, only filled with Y/N’s shaky breathing.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” Bucky finally breathed.

The words surprised him. He had no idea where they’d come from.

But they seemed to finally calm Y/N down.

“Why don’t you pack a few things, so you can stay at the tower for a few days?”

He half expected her to be stubborn and say she was fine, that he’d have to put up a fight to get her to go back home with him.

But Y/N just nodded numbly.

He nodded back and got up first so he could help her back onto her feet.

When he started to leave her bedroom to give her some privacy, she jumped forward.

“W-Where are you going?”

Bucky quickly turned around. “Don’t worry. I’m just going to be in the living room. I’m calling the police. Between your door and building’s front door, there’s enough evidence to prove that someone was trying to rob the building again.”

Y/N blinked at the him saying “again,” proving that he knew this had happened in her building recently.

She didn’t think Bucky ever paid her any attention. She was never offended by it. But he had just proved that he knew paid closer attention to her than she could’ve ever realized. 

20 minutes later, there was a knock at Y/N’s front door.

Bucky quickly answered to find two cops standing outside.

He answered all their questions, hoping he did a good enough job that they wouldn’t really need to talk to Y/N all that much.

“You live here?” One of them finally asked, realizing that his name wasn’t on the lease.

“No,” Bucky answered.

“It’s your girlfriend’s place?” They followed up.

“Uhhh…no. No, Y/N’s just a friend.” He felt awkward as he answered, but the cops didn’t seemed fazed by it.

Y/N finally came out of her room with a duffle bag.

The cops started asking her questions. Bucky stood guard, making sure they didn’t push her too hard or ask things the wrong way.

After seeing how shook up she was, he felt like he’d instantly turned into her personal body guard.

“Your landlord already called a locksmith to fix your door. He should be here in a few minutes. But you should take any valuables with you just to be safe.”

Y/N nodded.

When the cops turned to talk amongst each other and with the landlord, Y/N turned to Bucky.

“Can we go now?” She asked him meekly.

It was the first time she’d talked directly to him since he got there.

“Yeah, doll, we can go.” He ushered her out and, on instinct alone, put himself between her and the cops as they walked out.

Y/N was quiet on the drive back to the Tower.

Bucky had already texted Happy and Tony about what had happened. He assumed the whole team would know soon enough.

When they were in the lobby of the residential floor, Bucky shifted his weight awkwardly. He didn’t want to leave her yet.

This was the first time they’d ever been alone together and Bucky didn’t think he could go back to keeping his distance again.

“Uhh…Do you want me to show you where the guest suites are?” He asked as he scratched the back of his neck. But he knew that she knew.

She gave him a small, forced smirk. “No, I know where they are.”

He nodded.

“Hey, Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you want to just stay up and watch a movie or something? I don’t–I don’t think I can go to sleep any time soon?”

“Of course. I mean, yeah.” Bucky responded immediately.

“Let me just change into some sweats I packed. I’ll meet you in the TV room?”

“Y-Yeah. Sounds good.”

A few minutes later, Y/N joined him on the couch.

She asked him what he wanted to watch.

“Umm…I don’t-there aren’t a lot of movies that I’ve seen,” Bucky finally told her when she kept trying to figure out what he’d like. “Haven’t really tried to catch up on the whole pop culture thing like Steve has.”

“Oh…” Y/N muttered, realizing the mistake she made.

“Put on whatever you want. Really. I’m sure I’ll like it.”

Y/N clicked a few buttons and a quirky song started playing along with someone writing in a notebook.

“Almost Famous,” Y/N explained. “It’s one of my favorites. Always puts me in a good mood, no matter how terrible I feel. And this way, you’ll be able to get a crash course on the best bands ever.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at that.

The opening credits weren’t even over before Bucky felt Y/N looking over at him.

He turned to her.

“Thank you for…saving me tonight,” she told him slowly.

Her words were sincere, her eyes even more so.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.”

“Figured you’d say that.” Then she seemed to be trying to work up the courage to say something else. “I’m…umm…I’m glad it was you.”

Bucky blinked at her small confession.

“Me too,” he finally agreed.

And then they both turned their attention back to the movie.

Halfway through, Bucky felt a weight fall onto his shoulder.

Y/N had fallen asleep, her body choosing Bucky as its pillow.

A soft and shy grin grew on his lips from the feeling and the sight of it.

Very carefully, he maneuvered her body so he could lift his arm around her and make it less uncomfortable for her.

She didn’t wake from the movement, only sighed and shifted a bit.

It wasn’t long after that Bucky fell asleep too.

——————————————

“Sam, I told you to leave ‘em alone,” Steve called out in a hushed tone.

“Not until I document this…”

Then Bucky felt the flash of a camera. His eyes snapped open to find Sam looking guilty with his phone pointed at Bucky and Y/N, who was still fast asleep.

“You have two seconds to get that phone out of my face,” Bucky warned in a growl.

He would’ve jumped up and snatched it himself, but he didn’t want to risk waking Y/N.

Sam winced and instantly fled.

Bucky glanced over at Steve, who gave him an apologetic look.

“Tony told us what happened. She OK?” He whispered.

Bucky shrugged. “She’s a little shaken, but I think she’ll be fine.”

“Well…at least you finally talked to her. Though I wish it didn’t have to be a break-in for it to happen.”

Bucky played the ignorant card. “What do you mean?”

Steve narrowed his eyes as if to say, ‘Don’t even try.’ “Bucky, give me some credit. I’m your best friend. No matter how discrete you are, I know when you have a crush.”

Bucky blushed and the looked down at Y/N.

What neither of the super soldiers knew was that Y/N heard Steve’s confession too. And she wasn’t about to let Bucky go back to ignoring her.

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

This request was put in ages ago. I’m trying to clean out my inbox. I have so many requests that are collecting dust. 

THIS DOES NOT MEAN MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN. THEY ARE NOT. 

Please don’t request things. And please don’t immediately request a second part to this. There is no second part. 

[theeasternempress]

Learning About Love

Summary - Wrecker knows that clones are never shown any kind of physical affection, but nothing could prepare him for the way Omega simply melts into his embrace the first time he hugs her. 

Word count - 2.4k 

AO3

Wrecker had never felt relief like when he opened that escape pod on Bora Vio and found Omega, shivering with fear but alive and unhurt. Wrecker hated the quiver to the small girl’s voice as she cried out his name, but nothing gave him more joy than being able to pull her out of that pod. 

Without hesitation, Wrecker gathered Omega into his arms and hugged her tightly while running a large hand along her back to soothe her. Her small, cuffed hands dug into his armor, but that didn’t stop Omega from resting her head against his chest and nuzzling herself into his arms. 

Wrecker kept his arms around Omega until she pulled herself back only to launch into Hunter’s arms. It was only as he watched Omega cry against Hunter that Wrecker realized just how little physical affection the young girl must have had. The Kaminoans were disgusted by touch, but at least clone brothers had each other to give a pat on the back or a quick hand squeeze. Omega had been isolated away from her brothers her entire life, and thus had been isolated away from the warmth of physical touch. 

Wrecker watched as Echo brought out the scomp attachment for his cybernetic hand to remove Omega’s cuffs while gently running his thumb over her knuckles to soothe her, then Hunter ushered her up to the cockpit so she could sit with Tech and watch the stars. 

They’d all noticed how no matter how many times they were soaring through stars or the glowing blue of hyperspace, Omega would always be fascinated by both. If the stars could bring her a bit of comfort and happiness after the horrors she faced today, Wrecker would let her look at them for as long as she’d like. 

“She’s a smart kid,” Echo spoke, disrupting Wrecker’s thoughts, “I don’t think any other child in the galaxy would have been able to get away, but she did.” 

“I wish she hadn’t had to do any of that, but I’m proud of her for figuring out how to get away,” Hunter replied, rubbing at the spot where Omega had nestled into his sore abdomen. 

“She’s definitely our little sister now,” Wrecker said, voice uncharacteristically soft as he peered up at Omega and Tech in the cockpit as Tech carefully checked Omega’s wrists for any injuries while Omega stared out at the stars. 

Wrecker couldn’t help but continue to stare at Omega, afraid that she would disappear if his gaze wandered for even a second. Omega, ever the smart child she was, turned around at the sensation of being stared at to lock eyes with Wrecker. Wrecker smiled and winked at her, causing Omega to smile in return and squeeze both eyes shut in a failed copy of his wink. 

Omega said something quick to Tech, who nodded at her and helped her out of her seat. She rushed over to Wrecker and his brothers, practically bouncing as she skidded to a stop in front of Wrecker. Her dark brown eyes were still tainted red from crying, but it seemed her sadness was forgotten. 

Omega reached forward to wrap her small hand around Wrecker’s fingers, so he kneeled to the floor and softly asked, “What’s up, kiddo?” 

Omega, still clutching his fingers, replied, “I wanted to thank you, all of you, for coming back for me.” 

Wrecker smiled, scooping her up with ease and feeling his heart flutter at her carefree laughter. Hunter and Echo stepped closer as Omega rested her head against Wrecker’s shoulder. 

Echo spoke, “That’s what family does for each other, Omega. We’re always going to keep each other safe.” 

“Yeah, and we can just punch anyone that gets in our way!” Wrecker bellowed, punching the air enthusiastically. Omega giggled and gripped his armor tighter, her smile growing when Hunter reached forward to brush her bangs off her forehead. He twirled one of her blonde curls around his index finger the same way Omega always did with his hair, and Omega nestled her head closer to Hunter’s delicate touch. 

Omega sighed contently, mumbling something against Wrecker’s chest but before he could ask her to repeat herself, Echo grabbed her hand and asked, “How’d you like to go watch the stars, Omega? I bet there are constellations here that you’ve never seen before.”

Omega’s eyes light up like the stars swirling past their ship and nodded furiously. Echo gripped both her hands and Wrecker bent down to make it easier for Omega to jump out of his arms. Omega kept her grip on Echo’s cybernetic hand as she dragged him up to the cockpit. 

Wrecker watched quietly as Echo helped Omega into the co-pilot chair before kneeling next to her and pointing out stars. Tech pretended not to watch them, but Wrecker saw his brother flick his eyes over occasionally with a smile on his face. 

The horrors of today may have already been dismissed from Omega’s young mind, but Wrecker made it his goal to ensure that nothing bad ever touched his little sister again. 

-

Night fell quickly upon their small ship, and Hunter promptly escorted Omega up to bed. She’d been in the cockpit with Tech for most of the day since she’d begged Tech to teach her every possible way to reroute a circuit and re-wire a comm. She seemed just as determined as the rest of them to never allow them to be separated again. 

Tech had set aside all of his projects in favor of teaching their little sister, and it seemed his teaching had begun to pay off. By the time Hunter put her to bed, she knew all of the basic components of a comm and the fastest way to boost its signal.

Hunter had nominated himself for first watch, leaving Echo, Tech, and Wrecker to try to get some rest. Wrecker and Echo were the only ones actually trying to sleep, if the constant noise from Tech’s tools told Wrecker anything. 

With Lula clutched tightly in his arms, Wrecker rolled away from Tech’s tinkering to face the wall in an attempt to drown out the noise. He’d barely had his eyes shut for a minute when he heard the sound of Omega’s curtain being pulled back and her careful footsteps coming down her ladder. 

There had been several days scattered over the past few weeks where Omega had difficulty sleeping and sought out Hunter to comfort her. They’d simply stare at the stars together, Hunter’s presence somehow calming the young girl until she was tired enough that Hunter had to carry her back to bed. Wrecker, figuring that was what she was doing now, paid the small girl no mind as she quietly approached the bunks. 

Wrecker was surprised when he felt an impossibly-small hand drop onto his shoulder as Omega whispered, “Wrecker? Are you awake?”  

Wrecker rolled over and opened his eyes, responding with, “What’s the matter, kiddo? You wanna hold Lula?”

“Actually … I was wondering if you could hold me? Like you did earlier today?” Omega asked, her hand still resting on his shoulder. 

Her request caught him by surprise but after a moment of thinking, he knew he should have suspected it. She melted every time someone touched her for even a second, her body language showing that she was trying to absorb every second of touch she could get. Wrecker had hugged her for the first time today, and he was happy to know she had enjoyed the gesture. 

Wrecker sat up to grab Omega, and he didn’t miss the instant smile that flashed across her face as she stepped closer to him.  

“Here kiddo, you hold Lula for me,” Wrecker said, quickly passing off the stuffed toy to the child. Omega cradled the toy in one arm before bringing the other up over her head in a motion that Wrecker had seen other children do when they wanted to be picked up. 

Wrecker grabbed her by the waist and picked her up to settle against his chest. With his armor removed, Omega easily snuggled against him and rested her hand against his bicep. Being as careful as if he were cradling glass, Wrecker leaned back into his bunk so they were both lying down chest-to-chest. 

Omega shuffled slightly to better settle herself against him, but sighed at his warmth as she snuggled deeper into him. Lula seemed to be forgotten in her hold as she focused on Wrecker, and the girl made no protest when Wrecker plucked the stuffed toy from her grasp to place it on the floor. 

Omega moved the arm previously occupied by Lula to his chest directly over his heart. Omega giggled softly as she moved her head over his heart and whispered, “I can hear your heartbeat! It’s so loud, just like you!”

Wrecker managed to contain his laugh to just a soft chuckle as he brushed a large hand through her delicate curls and replied, “Yeah? I bet it’s not as loud as your stomach when it growled the other day.”  

Omega scrunched her nose up in anger at Wrecker’s teasing words, burying her face further into his chest so he didn’t see her face turning red. Wrecker laughed softly, patting Omega on the head.  

A few minutes passed as a comfortable silence fell over the pair. The normally boisterous clone was silent as he watched Omega pick bits of fuzz off the fabric of his blacks, her dark brown eyes lacking even an ounce of sleepiness. He knew he should be trying to get her to fall asleep, but he hadn’t the slightest idea on how to do that. 

Just as Wrecker was about to tell Omega to close her eyes and try to sleep, her soft voice asked, “Wrecker, how do you know if you love somebody?”

Wrecker froze. This wasn’t the kind of question he was ready to answer. Tech always diligently answered her questions, even if Omega didn’t fully understand by the end, and Hunter had always been good at explaining things in a way that kids understood. 

“That’s … that’s a hard thing to explain, kiddo. You’re probably better off asking Tech or Hunter,” Wrecker mumbled, figuring Omega would end the conversation there.

To his surprise, Omega picked her head up to look into his eyes and said, “But Wrecker, I want you to tell me!” 

Wrecker swallowed nervously, feeling completely unprepared to answer her simple-yet-deep question. Taking one look into her curious eyes, Wrecker knew he had to answer her, even if he didn’t give her the best reply.

“I think you know you love somebody when they make you happy,” Wrecker started, moving to cradle her hand pressed over his heart, “You also want to see that person be happy, and you’re willing to do anything to make sure that person stays happy and safe.”  

Omega was silent for a moment before quietly asking, “So ... is it okay if I think I love all of you?” 

Wrecker smiled as tears briefly blurred his vision, moving a hand to brush his knuckles delicately against her soft cheek. 

“Yes, Omega, that’s more than okay. We all love you too,” Wrecker replied, enjoying the content look on Omega’s face as her eyes closed as he continued to stroke her cheek. 

“That’s good, because I think I’ve loved you all for a long time,” she mumbled against his chest, but the meaning behind her words wasn’t lost to him.

Wrecker remembered how Omega already knew their names when they first met, and had a certain excitement about her that made him think she’d been waiting a long time to meet them. Had she loved them before she even met them, or did she learn how to love them in the few weeks they had been together?  

Omega’s eyes popped upon as she loudly whispered, “Wait, I have another question! If a group of people all love each other, does that make them a family?”

Wrecker’s hand stilled against her cheek in shock, but a quick nudge of her head into his hand made Wrecker laugh and continue his careful strokes. 

“I think it does, Omega. I love my brothers and I’ve always viewed them as my family. I love you, so now I view you as part of my family,” Wrecker replied. 

Omega hummed contently, clearly happy with Wrecker’s answer. 

“I’ve never had a family before, but I think we’re the best family in the entire galaxy,” Omega said softly, finally sounding tired enough to go to sleep. 

Wrecker moved the hand caressing her cheek to the back of her head, holding her steady as he leaned down to press his lips to the top of her head. She stirred slightly at the sensation, a faint smile flicking across her lips.  

Omega snuggled deeply into his arms, shutting her eyes and drifting to sleep as Wrecker rubbed soft circles into her scalp. Wrecker waited a few minutes for the small girl to pop her eyes open to ask him another question but when she didn’t, he shut his eyes as well and allowed himself to drift off to sleep. 

Wrecker’s last waking thought was of his brothers and baby sister. They weren’t a perfect family, but they were all that each other needed.  

-

When Hunter swapped places with Tech that night, both brothers couldn’t help the smiles that graced their faces at the sight in Wrecker’s bunk. Wrecker had a leg dangling off the side of his bunk, one hand cradling Omega’s lower back while another cupped the back of her head. Omega, looking as sweet as she could with her mouth hanging open, had one hand resting on Wrecker’s chest and another on his shoulder. 

The position didn’t look the slightest bit comfortable, but Hunter knew that didn’t matter to either of them. Hunter unraveled a small red blanket, tattered from years of love, and gently unfolded it on his brother and little sister.  

Omega stretched in her sleep before snuggling back against Wrecker. Tech stepped forward to lift Wrecker’s leg back onto his bunk and gently brush a hand through Omega’s blonde curls. Neither sibling made any movement, each completely lost in their dreams and each other’s warmth.  

[thecowardwrites]

Fifty Shades of Gwaine Part One

Part One: The Meeting

Finally transferring over one of my favorite projects I’ve done so far! 

| Series Masterlist | Next Part | | Ao3 | Support me | 

Summary:  You, a modest yet well known painter, have been commissioned by the legendary King Arthur to paint portraits of the royal court. (That being him, his queen, and his Knights of the Round Table.) With such a large workload, you’ll be working exclusively for the king for months on end. In your time in the palace, you get to know the knights and many of those who live within the city walls. One knight in particular, however, continuously draws your attention: A dark haired rebel with a good heart. Sir Gwaine is the perfect gentleman and you can’t help but get excited every time he looks in your direction.

Warnings: None 

Words: 2.5k 

You were a renowned artist across the five kingdoms: famous to the rich and noble, friend to those in need. Most of what you earned was sent to feed your family who was wedged deep in a lone village on the outskirts of Camelot. It was the least you could do, seeing as you were constantly traveling from place to place depending on where you were needed next.

You began selling landscape paintings in order to make a quick coin, and, eventually, a few more well-off families had asked you to make small portraits for them. From there, your name had been passed around many towns and a few nobles had taken notice of your ability. As time continued, you were more often commissioned to paint portraits for nobility.

You had seen your fair share of stuck up nobles who treated you with a kindness that was not nearly as kind as they tried to seem. Still, you took every job you were offered, and never refused anyone – no matter their social standing or income. Sure, you had been paid fifty gold coins for the portrait of a knight yet merely some cloth for a portrait of a farmer’s daughter; to you they were of equal importance. The poor deserved to remember each other just as much as the rich did.

Never before, though, had you been offered a task so important as the one requested of you now:

You were beyond ecstatic when you received a request from the king of Camelot himself to paint a few portraits of his knights and himself. Of course, you would be greatly compensated for the work (more so than ever before), but the request itself brought happiness to you and your family unparalleled to anything you’d ever felt before.

With a bounce in your step, you were strolling through Camelot’s gates a mere two days after receiving the letter. In your hurry, you had thrown together a single pack, filled with the brushes and paints you had managed to acquire through your travels, and a single red dress that would be worn on special occasions. That was the only article of clothing you could afford to bring with your limited space – aside from the work dress you were currently traveling in.

As you strolled through the streets of the city, you were in awe of the colorful stalls that lined the cobblestone road. Vibrant fabrics, fresh fruits, children playing and weaving through the crowd, it embodied a kingdom truly at peace. Your meandering, however, was cut short when a young child ran up to you and hid behind your legs.

“Well, hello,” You cooed at the young boy. His hair was a caramel brown and disheveled from playing. He looked as if he had barely turned seven, “What are you doing back there?”

You tried to turn around, but he was gripping your skirt so that he would move as you do.

“Don’t let him find me,” The child begged, and protective instincts began kicking in. If someone was after this child, you would not let them get anywhere near him.

“Who are you hiding from?” You ask, scanning the people in the surrounding area and trying to cover the boy up more. He poked his head out from behind you briefly, and pointed at a dark-haired man with stubble in chain mail and a red cape – A knight.

You nodded as the knight made eye contact with you and came your way, smiling with a bounce in his step.

“Excuse me, my lady, have you seen a young boy run by?” He asked, his voice deceitfully kind for someone after a child.

“I haven’t seen anyone,” You roll your shoulders back so that you were puffing out your chest in an attempt to make yourself look bigger and more serious.

“Are you sure?” His hands were clasped behind his back and he bounced on the balls of his feet. “I’m sure I saw him run this way; he’s always chasing the beauties of the city. And, my lady, I would definitely consider you a beauty.”

You looked at the cocky knight quizzically, “Did you check down that alley? I’m sure I saw someone darting down that way.” You were avoiding his flirtatious comment, only focused on the kid gripping your skirt.

The knight seemed to consider your offer, but a small giggle erupted from behind you.

“Ah,” The man smirked at you, “Yes you are right, maybe James went back to hide the treasure he stole from Ms. Seward’s kitchen in his hideout.”

He feigned walking away, which had you fooled for a moment. Your breath hitched – though – as he abruptly turned and, reaching around you, grabbed the child and swung him through the air. The blood roaring in your ears drowned out the two’s laughter, and you reacted by swiftly plucking James away from the knight and holding him in your arms.

“Are you so cruel as to hunt a child for petty thievery?” You cry out, holding him farther away from the knight. “If he stole food, he must need it. Let me pay for whatever it is that he took.”

The grin fell from the knight’s face, “What are you on about?”

“You-You’re trying to arrest the child for stealing, but this is a simple fix as I said I am willing to pay whatever the price is for his crime.” You jut your chin out defiantly at the man, and you watch as laughter bubbled from his lips.

“James what did you tell this woman?” He cackles, reaching for James, “Miss, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Well, then explain it to me before I just let you take him.” You refused to let him near James still, worried it was some ruse.

“James and I stole a pan of pastries from the head chef in the palace. The brat ran off with the last one that we were going to share-“ he sent a pointed look at James, “-and it turned into a game of hide and seek.”

You let out a quiet ‘ooh’ and set James down. The boy immediately skipped over to the knight, and you had to keep yourself from slapping yourself on the forehead. Of course, it was just a game, not every place is as corrupt as you previously observed.

“I do admire your protecting the kid, though.” The knight said as he extends and open palm to you, “I’m Gwaine, by the way.”

“Y/N,” You take his hand, and he presses a chaste kiss to your knuckle.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

James pretended to gag at the gesture and ran away from the scene, “Thanks for playing, Sir Gwaine, but I’ve got to go be somewhere less gross now!”

And with that he disappeared through the crowd.

“I’m sorry for assuming you were trying to arrest a seven-year-old.” You adjust the pack on your back and attempt to hide your embarrassment over the whole ordeal behind your hair. Your cheeks were surely tinted pink.

“It’s quite alright, Lady Y/N.” Gwaine bites his lip to hide a smile, “It’s good to know there’s someone looking after the tiny troublemakers.”

You let out a giggle at his response and begin to resume your trek towards the palace, “Someone has to.”

“I assume, by your response, that you’re somewhat of a troublemaker yourself.” Gwaine laughs as he falls into step with you, “Or, at least, a retired one.”

“Let’s just say I know a thing or two about escaping authority, so keep that in mind if you try anything funny.”

He chuckles and holds his hands up in surrender, “You have my word as a gentleman that I won’t try anything funny…

… Unless you want me to.” He leans in and whispers that last part to you. You are forced to quicken your pace so that he won’t see that the previously pink hue adorning your cheeks has gone to a bright red.

“No thank you,” Your voice is two octaves higher than it was before, “I am quite alright for now, now if you’ll excuse me –”

Basically, jogging at this point, you reach the palace much faster than you had anticipated. As you approach the entrance, you are met by King Arthur waiting with four knights by his side, as well as his wife and servant. You couldn’t help but be surprised that he would go to such lengths for a humble painter. You hardly had time to compose your heavy breathing before the king began descending down the stone stairs towards you. You dipped into a low curtsey as the queen followed, waiting for the two of them to address you before speaking.

“Welcome to Camelot, Lady Y/N.” King Arthur’s voice was warm and soothing, nothing like what you expected. You’ve heard that he was a kind and just king, but assumed you would be facing a drunken old man who was more positively ignorant than kind. To be fair, you had never been to Camelot before, and had never met anyone – aside from Gwaine now – from the great kingdom. You gathered what you could from other drunken rich men and assumed they were biased in their retellings. But no – the man who stood before you now held no resemblance to the other noble you had had the pleasure of working with.

“Your Highness,” You bowed your head, “I am truly honored to be at your service. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Yea, so you were kind of playing it up a bit for the king, but you learned that buttering up nobles made them tip a little more.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He smiled and it was blinding, “May I introduce you to my wife, Guinevere – she is a very big fan of your work. She’s positively obsessed with your landscapes.”

Queen Guinevere elbowed her husband in the side while grinning at you, “I’m not obsessed, though I will admit that I am a big fan. Your color schemes and brush details make the pictures seem more like realty than reality itself. I insisted that my husband commission you the moment he told me he needed to get some portraits done.”

You couldn’t help the enormous smile that broke out across your face. A queen was complimenting your paintings in such a way that your heart nearly burst with joy. “I thank you, my Lady. I am unbelievably ecstatic that you enjoy my work.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” She winked, “My praise does not fall on someone undeserving of it. I do hope we can become friends during your stay, though.”

It took a moment to wipe the shocked expression from your face. You had never been greeted with such humility into a place like this. Every smile seemed genuine, nothing like the ones that were faked by many noble members of society.

“Merlin will show you to your room, and I invite you to dine with the knights and I tonight so that you may get to know a few friendly faces and – Gwaine where have you been?” King Arthur clapped a hand on the knight’s shoulder as he approached him.

“I was caught up in the beautiful sights the city has to offer nowadays.” Gwaine replied, shooting a wink in your direction.

You looked away from the pair and took your time to observe the knights who were still waiting on the stairs. You tried to focus on them, but you couldn't help watching the king and Sir Gwaine from your peripheral. 

“Well, I hope that view was worth organizing the armory and helping Merlin polish said armor before dinner tonight.” King Arthur beamed at the knight, who looked nonetheless pleased than he was earlier.

“Aye captain, whatever you say almighty King of Camelot.” Gwaine pat the king on the shoulder and bounded up the stairs into the palace. As he reached the doors, though, he turned and caught you watching him. You didn’t realize your eyes had fully strayed back to him, but you watched as his mouth quirked up slightly and he disappeared from your sight.

“Forgive me, Lady Y/N.” King Arthur apologized, coming to stand next to his wife once again, “As I was saying this would give you a chance to meet the mugs you will be painting beforehand.”

“That sounds like wonderful, Your Majesty,” You tear your eyes away from the door Gwaine disappeared through to smile at the king.

“Allow Merlin to take your bag, and, forgive me, but I must get ready for the feast and tend to an unruly knight.”

“Of course,” You chuckle and bow into a parting curtsey as the king returns the gesture before retreating into the castle with the knights in tow.

You turn towards the servant, Merlin, as he nervously introduces himself. “I’m Merlin, m’lady. I can take your bag and show you where you’ll be staying.”

You relinquish your hold on the bag and grinned at him, “Thank you, Merlin. You can call me Y/N, though. I’m not much of a lady.”

“You seem every part of a lady when you talk to Arthur and Gwen, though.” He said with a slight airier tone, and begins climbing the stairs.

“Isn’t that how you’re supposed to speak to a king and queen?” You ask as you follow him through the palace, trying to take note of the turns he’s taking so you don’t get lost when you’re walking through later.

“I don’t know,” Merlin admitted, laughing lightly, “If you ask Arthur, I’m the worst man-servant ever.”

“Yet, you haven’t been sacked, so he must like you.”

“It’s just because he knows he wouldn’t survive a single day without me,” Merlin stops at a wooden door and glances back at you, eyes twinkling with a joke you didn’t understand, “Here we are.”

As Merlin opens the door, you feel as if the oxygen has been sucked out of the air around you. It was much grander than any room you had ever been given before.

“This is amazing!” You squeal and run past Merlin into the room. The dark, oak bedframe looked elegant with white sheets and a table by an open window that was already covered in various paints, brushes, and canvases.

“The king and queen insisted on making sure you have every supply you could possibly need for the project.” Merlin informed you and you couldn’t help but beam at the table.

“This is more than I could ever need,” You sigh, dreamily.

“I think they felt bad asking you to do so many paintings all in one period. There’s the portraits of the five knights, the single portrait of the queen, the portrait of the king and queen, and then the larger painting with all the knights and the king and queen.” Merlin paused, “How long do you think you’ll be working on them?”

You calculated your answer, drawing from previous project times and prep time, before answering, “However long the king and queen allow me to, to be frank. It will take me nearly three months to finish all the portraits, another two months – maybe more – for the final painting. That’s not including time for a margin of error.”

“Well, Y/N, I look forward to getting to know you over the next few months. But, for now, I’ll let you get settled and ready for dinner.” And with that, he excused himself and slipped out the door as you turned to gawk at the new paints.

<><><><>

Next Part  --->

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[yaelathewordsmith]

Writing commissions!

Hi, I’m opening writing commissions! You can check out at my AO3 for examples of my work if you’re interested. I’m also open for fic + art comms with @springpalettes-art, so you can commission both of us at the same time for the content you’d like to see! 

Pricing

1 INR/8 words (500 rupees for 4000 words)

1 cent USD/5 words (1 USD for 500 words) + 50 cents to cover PayPal transfer/conversion fees

I’ve tried to price my writing so what you actually pay is the same in terms of value, no matter the currency. If your native currency is neither INR nor USD, we can work out a price in that currency that matches the value of the mentioned prices as closely as possible.

More details are under the read more -

Payment

Payment will be through PayPal for international comms. If you’re within India, you can use Google Pay if you prefer.

Fandoms

I mostly write for Haikyuu!!, but other fandoms I have written for/are familiar with include BNHA, The Inheritance Cycle, MCU, and a wide variety of assorted anime, movies and shows (for example, Mob Psycho 100, Kimetsu no Yaiba, Brooklyn 9-9, The Half of It, Sherlock, etc). Feel free to DM me to ask if I’ll be able to write for your fandom!

I don’t watch a lot of Indian series/films, but I have seen some, so I can also be commissioned to write for them/write fics with those shows or films as AUs. Again, feel free to DM me and ask. (Some I have seen include Made in Heaven, Panchaayat, and Pataal Lok.)

What I will write

Any kind of relationship - M/M, F/F, M/F, poly, anything. I’m down to write any LGBTQ+ character if you like, but keep in mind that as a cis and fairly privileged person I might struggle with writing such characters in a nuanced and realistic way, so I might not accept fics where someone’s sexual/gender identity is the focus of the story.

Rarepairs (especially for Haikyuu!!)

Genderbent characters

Platonic ships

Makeout scenes

Songfics

Fluff

Hurt/comfort

A certain amount of implied/explicit violence (for example, an army or mercenary AU)

What I won’t write

Explicit NSFW scenes

Heavy gore

Unsavoury/unethical themes (abusive ships, non consensual/dubious consent ships, a large age difference, etc)

Self insert/reader insert

IRL ships

OCs as main characters

Anything else that I’m uncomfortable with/find problematic

Other stuff

Specificity and details are appreciated! The more information you give me on what you’d like your fic to look like, the better I can match your expectations and the easier it will be for the both of us. At the very least, I need a basic plot outline/setting, the pairing/interactions between characters you’d like to see, and the genre.

If you’d like me to write in a particular style you’ve seen elsewhere (with a lot of snappy dialogue, for example, or with a lot of flowery description) you can send me a sample of similar writing and I’ll do my best to match it.

You can request fics between 1k and 10k in length. 

Once I’ve agreed to a comm, I’ll send you an outline based on what you’ve requested. You can mention an approximate word limit here, or, alternatively, you can tell me what you’re willing to pay. For example, if you’re willing to pay 6 USD, that comes to 4.8k words, and I’ll do my best to stick to this limit. Unless I go over by a significant amount (more than 400 words), and you decide you would like that included in the story, I won’t charge you for words above the limit we agreed on.

After you okay the outline, I’ll write out a rough draft so we both have an idea of how long the story is going to end up and send it to you. You can ask for changes to plot events or characterization after seeing this draft.

Once you’ve okayed the draft, I’d like you to pay the full amount. Once I receive it, I’ll write out the story in full and send it to you again to look over once more. At this point, you can request changes to pacing, word choice, and minor details, but not major details.

I’ll revise it again, and send it to you either as a PDF or Google Doc, whatever you prefer!

I’ll alter as many details as you like during these two revision periods, but requests for further revisions will not be entertained outside of that.

The story is now yours, and it will not be posted unless you’re okay with it. However, please don’t take credit for my work as your own.

I reserve the right to refuse a commission if I feel unable to undertake it, unfamiliar with the characters, uncomfortable with any part of the request, or at any point during the process if it becomes too much of a drain on my time and resources. If you’ve already paid me at this point, the money will be entirely refunded to you.

Feel free to commission me for further stories in AUs I’ve already written for! However, I’m likely to already have ideas for spinoffs, it’s just that I don’t have time to write it out, so I won’t take these commissions unless there’s no conflict between what you’d like to see and what I already had in mind.

I’ll have five slots open at a time for commissions so I don’t get overwhelmed.

Please be patient, time-wise - I’ll do my best to give you a quality fic, and it’s not a simple or quick process.

My pricing is significantly lower than that of most commission writers. This is a deliberate choice, both because I don’t think my writing is worth 20 USD for 2000 words, and because I live in a country where the cost of living is fairly low, so a price that seems reasonable to someone living in an industrialized country is likely to seem like overpricing to me. That being said, if you feel like my writing is worth more than I’m charging for it, you’re welcome to pay as much as you like - I’d be very grateful, even if it’s just a dollar or two above the price I’ve set. :)

Contacting me

You can contact me either by DMing me/messaging my ask box here on Tumblr, or by emailing me at yaelathewordsmith@gmail.com.

That’s about it! My DMs are always open for any questions you might have. If you’re not interested yourself, but you know others who might be, please share this post with them or reblog so they see it ^.^ Thanks!

[annathewitch]

An Apple A Day

Summary: Leonard McCoy x Reader. An unexpected encounter with Leonard McCoy at the Academy leaves you with a poor impression. Will he manage to redeem himself when you encounter him again years later?

Word Count: 6,000

Warnings: Little bit of swearing, and a tiny bit of angst. Incidental o/c death.

A/N: My entry into @thefanficfaerie’s West Wing Challenge! I LOVE The West Wing and it has some really quotable lines. I chose “Nature, like a woman, will seduce you with its sights and its scents and its touch, and then it breaks your ankle, also like a woman.” It screamed cynical post-divorce Bones to me... This is the first thing I have written to completion in a long-while - I hope you enjoy it!

..........

Your training as a cadet is intended to prepare you for the unexpected and unexplained. After all, there’s so much out there in deep space that cannot be predicted. However, you’re more than a little startled by the man lurching out of the bushes with a shout, as you take your usual shortcut across the Academy grounds from the botany lab back to the dorms.

You find yourself assuming a defensive stance, noting with detached surprise that Lt Commander Ono’s persistence in teaching you basic combat skills has actually paid off. Still, it’s a relief when you don’t have to test your tenuous muscle memory further, as the man — another cadet judging by the reds — simply grunts a string of inventive obscenities and sits heavily on the path in front of you clutching a tree branch.

He’s most likely drunk, but, just as you’re thinking you should really check, you realise that you actually know him.

“Cadet McCoy? Is that you? You, uh, startled me.” You crouch down beside him and he squints at you, a little unfocussed in his gaze. You gesture towards yourself. “Cadet Y/L/N? We have an advanced xenobiology class together?”

He grunts again and you try not to feel too hurt that he clearly doesn’t recognise you. The class you take together is compulsory for all science track cadets and you’re not the type to draw attention by debating with your professor. Not like McCoy. It still stings just a tiny bit because by any standard, even in his less than pristine current state, he’s an attractive guy.

“Are you okay?” You wave vaguely around in the direction he came from.

He shifts a little and winces, and just when you think he’s not going to answer, he sighs. The whiskey scent of his breath confirms your initial suspicion that he’s had more than a couple of drinks.

“I’m fine. I just need a minute.” It seems like a dismissal, but as you stand he actually looks at you properly and bites out, “Dammit. Help me up would ya.”

“How could I refuse such a gracious request.” You roll your eyes, wishing that he had stumbled across some other poor unsuspecting cadet and that you could be back in your dorm. Still you stick an arm out and brace yourself as he uses it to lever his unstable frame from the ground.

It becomes apparent that he is less than fine the minute he tries to take a step away from you. He bellows like an enraged bull, and does what looks like an awkward pirouette before toppling towards you. It’s all you can do to catch him under the arms and stop him crashing to the ground again. Unfortunately, this means he practically faceplants in your boobs and you’re on the receiving end of another boozy exhale.

“Shit, McCoy, you’re no ballet dancer. How much have you had to drink?”

“No more than usual. It’s my damned ankle!” McCoy protests, righting himself on one foot. “Stupid fucking tree.” Turning pink around his collar, he glares at the fine specimen of an apple tree that was probably here long before the Academy built a dorm right next to it and long before an intoxicated cadet decided to take exception to it.

“What did the tree ever do to you? Besides produce perfectly edible fruit?” A single apple, presumably from the branch McCoy was wielding, is sitting at the edge of the path and you pick it up. “White Pearmain. Dates back to the 1200s.”

McCoy looks at you with a raised eyebrow as if you’ve grown an extra head. “What are you? Some kind of fruit historian?”

“Botanist, actually.” You pocket the apple. “Look, can you manage from here?” You ask, more out of hope than expectation.You’re vaguely curious about the situation and, before this evening, would have jumped at the chance of spending some time with the tall, dark and brooding cadet, but right now he just seems grumpy and ungrateful.

“There’s a satellite med-centre just around the corner. Can you help me there?” It takes a pointed look for him to mutter something unintelligible and growl, “Please?”

You smile as if to say ‘there that wasn’t so hard now’ and he huffs impatiently.

“It won’t be staffed at this time of night,” you point out.

“Doesn’t matter.” He does a kind of wobbling hop in the direction he wants you to go. “Are you gonna help me or not? Please?” He adds without any prompting this time. When he’s being polite, there’s a pleasing southern lilt to his voice.

You glance around, but there’s no one else in sight and by the time you could comm security you could have deposited McCoy where he wants to go. Even if it seems patently pointless.

“Fine. But I want to know why you were lurking in the bushes in the first place.” You stand on the cadet’s good side, and let him lean his weight across your shoulders. You reprimand the part of your brain that insists on making you aware that underneath the liquor he smells warm and spicy.

With you as a crutch, you make steady shuffling progress to the med-centre, mostly in silence except for McCoy’s occasional cursing when he tries to put too much weight on his injured ankle.

The centre, one of the daytime ones for check ups and routine treatment, is in darkness when you get there and you resist the urge to tell him ‘I told you so.’

“What now? You can’t just sit out here until morning?”

“Don’t intend to darlin’,” he grins crookedly as he places the palm of his free hand against the entry pad and to your surprise the door slides open. “Doctor’s privileges,” he stage whispers.

“You’re a doctor?”

“Got it in one Sherlock. On rotation at Starfleet Medical between classes.” He steers you both towards the exam room which also swishes open at the touch of his hand. “Physician heal thyself,” he announces with a flourish and a smug grin.

He hops around the small room leaning on the counter and furniture, rummaging in drawers and cupboards while you loiter awkwardly by the door unsure if you should just make your excuses. Doctor or not, surely this is breaking one of Starfleet’s many regulations?

“Uh, are you sure this is okay?” You ask tentatively. “Maybe I should just leave you to it?”

McCoy glances up from the cupboard where he’s going through vials of what look like hypospray cartridges. “It’s fine. Anyone asks, you had nothing to do with it.” He puts some medication on a little trolley next to the biobed, and hauls himself onto it swinging his good leg up then more carefully lifting his injured one up after. “You mind giving me a hand here?”

It’s not really phrased as a question, and part of you would dearly like to leave him to it, but for some inexplicable reason — maybe its the way he’s looking up at you from under his messy fringe — you find yourself asking, “What do you want me to do?”

“Play Doctor with me,” he drawls and you belatedly remember that this man is most probably drunk and not more than fifteen minutes ago jumped out of the bushes at you. You file away a reminder to reconsider your life choices when you eventually get back to your dorm.

Thankfully, McCoy seems sincere about the doctoring part, and all he wants is some assistance removing his boot. He administers his own hypo first, which he tells you is a painkiller, but he still muffles another string of curses as you ease the boot over his heel while he steadies his swollen ankle.

After a few breaths, he presses a few buttons on a tricorder and passes it to you. “Move this over my foot and ankle, slowly,” he instructs before tacking on a hasty, “please.”

You do as instructed, waving the instrument methodically up and down making sure that you don’t miss any spots. You can see an image forming on the display behind the biobed, but have no idea what it means.

McCoy is twisted around to look. “That’ll do, thanks.” He squints and mutters under his breath, something about a Jim or maybe a John.

“Is it bad?”

“Nah, just a sprain. An hour under the regen unit and it’ll be good as new.” McCoy has you bring over a piece of equipment sitting on the countertop, and talks you through setting it up around his ankle. He adjusts the settings himself though and it’s not long before he’s reclined comfortably with the unit gently whirring and bathing his foot in blue light.

There’s no other seats in the room, and so you perch on the countertop. Five more minutes, you tell yourself, and you’ll leave the doctor to it.

“You still haven’t told me why you were hiding in the shrubbery, McCoy.”

He glares at you, eyebrow raised and the pinkness creeping up around his collar again. “I was hoping you would forget about that.”

“If I’m going to get kicked out of Starfleet for breaking into a med-centre, an explanation is the least I deserve.”

You hold his gaze and eventually he huffs sulkily and looks away. “We didn’t break in. And I fell. Fell and sprained my damned ankle.”

You frown. Fell, not tripped. It dawns on you after a moment — the tree branch and the apple. “You fell? Don’t tell me you fell out of the tree?” His silence and flushed face is incriminating. “Why the hell were you in the tree in the first place?” A horrible thought crosses your mind. “Were you... spying on someone?”

“No!” McCoy protests, “I’m an idiot not a voyeur! My fool of a roommate managed to lock me out! I was trying to break in to my own damned dorm. Climbing the tree seemed like a good idea at the time.” He grumbles something about hypo-ing someone’s ass, presumably directed at his roommate.

His indignation seems genuine and you’re a little relieved that you haven’t managed to find yourself alone in a deserted med-centre with some kind of creepy stalker. Though on reflection he’s still a drunk who thought climbing a tree was a sensible course of action.

“You know you could have called security, unless you make a habit of breaking and entering?”

He props himself up on one arm to glare at you again, though you’re starting to think that perhaps it’s just his default expression. “I told you already we didn’t break in. And clearly,” he waves an arm in the general direction of his foot, “I’m not a very successful cat-burglar.”

Your lips twist in a wry smile. McCoy looks just a little bit self-satisfied and settles back with his head resting on his arms.

“So, you’re a botanist then?”

“Yup.”

“Rather you than me.” He chuckles a little as he says this and though a second ago you were starting to warm to him, now you bristle at his tone.

“You’re not a fan of nature then?’ you ask archly. “You seem pretty fond of trees.”

“Touché, darlin’.” He grins again at you, not seeming to register the coolness of your question. “Me and the natural world rub along just fine, as long as we maintain a respectful distance from each other. Trouble is, you botanists and geologists and biologists, you get all starry eyed at the thought of all those new worlds to explore, those billions of new specimens to examine — Vulcan vines, seventy different kinds of Denobulan phosphorescent moss.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Sure they look pretty, but you know what I see? A billion new potential bio-hazards that you scientists are just desperate to expose us all to, and it’s doctors like me that are going to have to pick up the pieces. People think that its red shirts who give doctors the most trouble, but give me a phaser burn or shrapnel injury over a blue shirt who’s inhaled a mystery pollen any day.”

This outburst is unexpected, and you’re unsure whether you want to laugh or be offended. Maybe both. “Well that’s a remarkably cynical view of Starfleet’s scientific research programme,” you say drily. “And here I was thinking we were discovering the wonders of the universe.”

McCoy props himself up on an elbow again and jabs a finger at you. "Discovering the wonders of the universe my ass. Nature, like a woman, will seduce you with its sights and its scents and its touch, and then it breaks your ankle, also like a woman.”

You think the noise you make is a disbelieving snort. Any sense of warmth evaporates as the doctor incriminates himself as just another egotistical, opinionated ass. He looks so utterly cocksure it makes your blood rise. You pull out your comm theatrically and flip it open.

He frowns. “Who you calling?”

“The Cretaceous period. They want their dinosaur back.”

“Very funny. That’s cute.”

Cute? You snap the comm shut, and throw your hands up in the air. “I mean, seriously?” You don’t even know where to begin. “I help you and then you insult my profession and my gender. Is there anything else you’d like to criticise - my family perhaps?”

McCoy jerks upright, looking surprised. “I meant women like my ex-wife and her cronies. Not you.”

“Why thank you for exempting me from the seducing, ankle-breaking majority. Though I guess I’m still a reckless botanist.” You berate yourself for staying as long as you have, swayed by a pretty face, and hop down from the counter. “I think I should be going.”

“Come on,” he drawls, “we were getting on so well. You know this is actually the best date I’ve been on in years.” He winks at you. An actual wink. The man is delusional.

“You need to seriously rethink your definition of a date.”

“Okay. I’ll take you out for coffee sometime then.”

“It’s tempting.” You mime an exaggeratedly thoughtful pose. “I mean, what with you being an irascible divorcé with a ton of emotional baggage that you’re dealing with by getting drunk, falling out of trees and insulting women you barely know and all. However, I fear I must decline.”

“Ouch!” he clutches a hand to his chest. “A simple no would have worked.”

You remember the apple you stuffed in your pocket earlier, and throw it at McCoy who catches it awkwardly before it thumps him in the chest.

“What was that for?” he grumbles.

You shrug. “You know what they say. An apple a day...”

As you turn to leave, you imagine for just a second that a look of disappointment flashes across his face. He’ll get over it. A guy like him will forget all about you in a couple of days.

You don’t regret turning McCoy down, even if you pause for a moment when the flowers arrive a few days later, with a comm number and a request to let him make it up to you. You don’t regret it either when he catches your eye in class, while he’s defending the point you were trying to make to the professor, though you have to remind yourself that he thinks you and your colleagues are nothing more than accidents waiting to happen.

By the time you get your first posting on the science ship USS Intrepid, the night you had to help a cadet who fell out of a tree has become nothing more than an amusing academy anecdote, and you’re far too busy to ever think about what might have been, had Cadet McCoy been a little less of an ass.

...........

It’s amazing then, how clear your recollection is of that night years ago as you’re being wheeled through the corridors of an unfamiliar ship inside some kind of stasis tube. It’s the unmistakeable southern drawl, alternating barked orders with unexpectedly gentle reassurance, that sends you straight back to a long-forgotten exam room light years away in San Francisco. If you could focus, you know there would be a messy dark fringe and pair of serious hazel eyes hovering over you.

It’s getting harder to breathe and the tube feels more and more claustrophobic. The overhead lights start to flash by more quickly as you realise the medical team has started moving at a run.

“Don’t worry Y/N, we’ve got you,” you hear McCoy say gruffly. “You hang in there.”

It goes dark.

There’s unconnected flashes of things — a spray of warm water with the sharp tang of antiseptic, hooded faces, the feeling of a mask that pinches across the bridge of your nose, piercing beeps — but the first thing you’re really aware of is waking up in a biobed with the gentle whir of a tricorder being waved over your chest. You try to sit up and a hand presses down on your shoulder.

A figure in a familiar biohazard suit leans over you. “Well hello there.”

“McCoy?” Your voice is little more than a croak and from somewhere behind you another pair of hands swabs your cracked lips with something syrupy.

“Got it in one, Sherlock. How’s my favourite fruit historian feeling?”

His brow is arched expectantly. He remembers.

“Like an elephant sat on my chest.” There are bands of tightness around your rib cage, but you take a deep breath anyway. “Or maybe like I fell out of a tree.”

McCoy barks a laugh, and you attempt a smile. But he’s quick to resume his serious doctor demeanour. “Y/N, you were exposed to toxic spores from a fungal sample that an Ensign was working with. You started bleeding into your lungs. You had us all worried for a while.”

“I remember,” you whisper as it comes flooding back — the shrill of the bio-hazard alarms, Ensign Collet’s containment chamber not quite properly closed, and the quiet Frenchman coughing up blood. You remember triggering the containment protocols on your lab section and dragging Collet into a decontamination chamber while the rest of your team look on from the other side of the glass. “Collet?” you ask, already knowing what the answer will be.

The doctor shakes his head. “His exposure was more serious than yours. By the time the Enterprise team arrived planetside it was too late. I’m sorry Y/N. It was a miracle no one else was exposed, you were very brave.” His gruff sincerity is too much.

“Stupid and reckless more like,” you growl, as you squeeze your eyes tightly shut so you can’t see the ‘I told you so’ expression on his face. Tears drip down the sides of your face into your ears. “I think I need to sleep.”

“Okay.”

A hand presses your shoulder again, then there’s the clunk and hiss of an airlock and then silence.

The next time you wake up, everything seems a little less sore and your breathing is easier. You focus on the room for the first time. It’s a tiny little box, with an observation window on one wall and the biobed, a little table and two chairs. Apart from the airlock, there’s another smaller door, which you assume must be a bathroom. You sigh — it’s just like every other isolation unit you’ve seen.

McCoy comes in, still in the suit, and helps you sit up in the biobed. He checks your vitals, murmuring approvingly every so often. When he’s done he sits in the chair beside your bed.

You try and scrutinise his expression through the plastic visor. “Hit me with it McCoy. How long am in in quarantine for?”

“Until you’ve been asymptomatic for three weeks. Spock, Commander Spock that is, is ninety-nine percent certain that will cover the maturation cycle of any spores that might have survived decontamination.”

“Three weeks.” You blow out a breath and nod. “Okay, I can do that.”

“I’ll get you a padd to help pass the time and Uhura will hook you up with a comm link if you need to contact anyone. It’s going to be pretty dull though.” He reaches out a gloved hand and rests it on your arm. You stare at it mildly surprised at how nice McCoy is being, given, well... before. He seems to remember himself and pulls away, flexing his fingers.

“Will you come and talk to me?” you find yourself blurting out. “I mean only if you’re not busy. Of course you’re busy, but, I don’t know anyone else.”

“Me?” The eyebrow is doing its thing again. “I could find you someone a bit less... irascible.”

“Oh. Right. That. I was probably a bit harsh.” You’re surprised to find that you’re disappointed.

The doctor stands up and paces the few steps towards the window. He rocks back and forth on his toes a couple of times, before turning back to face you.

“No Y/N. I was an arrogant, self-absorbed, asshole, with a chip on my shoulder a mile wide, and within a hair’s breadth of becoming a drunk. You punctured my ego with ruthless efficiency. I was hurt at first, and determined to prove you utterly wrong, but the more I thought about it, the more obvious it was.” McCoy lifts a hand to his head as if to run his fingers through his hair until he realises he can’t and he just ends up smoothing the top of his hood awkwardly. “Dammit Y/N, I’m just surprised you want to even speak to me after what I said. It’s been years and I still cringe.”

You grin wickedly. “Come on. I thought we were getting on so well!”

The doctor groans. “Are you going to remind me of everything I said word for word? If you are I’m going to get Spock in to sit with you instead. You’ll be begging me for mercy after three weeks.”

“Not word for word...”

You’re surprised by how much you start to look forward to McCoy’s visits. He brings cards and you argue good-naturedly over the cheat rules of Ferengi poker and he teaches you the basics of chess. Sometimes you just talk. He asks you questions about botany and where you’ve been posted since leaving the academy and seems genuinely interested in your replies. In return he tells you all about the less glamorous side of serving on the flagship, with an unexpected flair for the dramatic. You wonder if he notices that neither of you talk about anything too personal.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a tiny bit disappointed on the days where the doctor can’t spend more than a few minutes with you, taking vitals and swabbing for spores. Usually Christine Chapel comes and sits with you then, and you try and slip unobtrusive questions about McCoy into the conversation. If she notices, she’s too polite to say anything.

It’s one day towards the end of the third week, that the person in the suit is someone new. Though you’ve ever met him, you’ve seen his face in holo-form a million times and would recognise the Starfleet poster boy anywhere.

“I’d stand to attention, Captain, or salute or something, but I’d probably fall over.”

Kirk smiles dazzlingly, “Relax, this is a social call. Call me Jim.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jim. Take a seat.”

He sits, leaning back with one leg crossed, looking for all the world like he’s lounging in his quarters not sat in an isolation unit with a stranger.

“Bones sends his apologies, he was called away. I offered to come and keep you company and it’s past time I introduced myself to you as a guest on my ship.”

“Bones? You mean McCoy?”

Kirk grins. “Yeah, it started as a joke at the academy and kinda stuck. I don’t think he minds, much.” He sweeps a glance over the room and shudders. “I’ve spent my fair share of time in these units, but not three weeks. I’m amazed you’re not climbing the walls.”

The corners of your mouth lift into a half-smile. “I’m too tired to climb anything, Captain. Jim. McCoy’s been kind enough to distract me.”

Jim leans forward propping has elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. “So I hear. You know, when I’ve been in isolation he usually just visits me to stab me with hypos and yell at me that I’m ‘out of my corn-fed mind’.” He does a passable imitation of McCoy and you giggle. “I like to think grumpiness is his form of affection.”

He spots the chess set. “You play?”

“Badly.” You scrunch up your nose. “McCoy’s been teaching me, but I’m not as quick on the uptake as usual.”

He rub his hands together in a rustle of fabric. “Well then let me teach you a couple of moves to help you beat him.”

You play for a while, Kirk coaching you through a couple of Vulcan gambits. It’s only when you’ve begun to relax a bit that he turns the conversation back towards you and McCoy.

“You know I didn’t ever think I would get to meet The Botanist,” Jim says as he casually moves to take one of your rooks.

“What do you mean.” You eye the Captain suspiciously. He clearly knows more than he has let on so far.

“You’re her, aren’t you? The botanist from the Academy. The One That Got Away.” Jim wiggles his fingers in air quotes around the last part.

“That’s ridiculous,” you snort. The idea that your encounter had meant anything more than a bit of wake-up call to McCoy was madness, wasn’t it? You move a piece blindly.

Kirk shrugs. “All I know is that one night he met you, you turned him down — quite spectacularly by all accounts — and he couldn’t think about anything else for weeks.” He moves his queen. “Check.”

“But he got over it after that, right?” You hop a knight over one of his pieces and capture a pawn.

“Sure, he stopped crying into his cereal after a while. But I think you were always his biggest regret. There’s more than once when he’s in one of his more reflective moods that he’s wondered what if he hadn’t screwed it up with the Botanist. Checkmate, by the way.”

You’ve lost all interest in the game now anyway. Surely this is an exaggeration. “Why are you telling me this Jim?”

He stands and puts the chair back at the table. “I know McCoy. Even if he denies it, there’s a part of him that thinks maybe this is a second chance. His feelings run deep Y/N, I’d hate to see him get hurt if he’s wrong.”

“So you want to know if I plan to, I don’t know, seduce him, then break his ankles — metaphorically speaking?” This is a lot to take in, but it’s clear that you’re getting The Talk from Jim. It’s hilarious and mortifying at the same time.

“Metaphorically speaking, yes. He’s different than he was in the Academy Y/N, if you give him a chance.”

“I already know that, Jim. And I’ve never been the ankle-breaking type.”

“He’s still the grumpiest man I know.” Jim shakes his head.

“Irascible.” You smile. “But I think I’m getting to appreciate irascible.”

“Well... good.” As if a switch has been flipped, Jim’s serious expression is replaced by one of pure sunshine and he give’s you a jaunty wave as he let’s himself out of the airlock.

You flop back on the bed, hugging a pillow. There’s far too much to think about here when all you want is to sleep.

The final couple of days in quarantine drag. Something has shifted between you and McCoy, with the knowledge of what Kirk said hanging between you and you wonder how much of that Kirk has shared with his friend.

Though he visits as usual, the doctor seems more on edge, a little more watchful. It’s impossible to really tell anything, though, with the biohazard suit masking the truth of his expression. You’re itching to be out of this room, to have some privacy, to actually look into his face and tell him... tell him what?

Hi Doctor McCoy, I used to think you were an asshole, but now I want to jump your bones?

“Did you say something?” McCoy looks up from the biobed display and you realise you must have been mumbling. You feel heat rush from the tips of your toes to the roots of your hair.

“Nope,” you choke out. “Nothing.”

He regards you with his customary raised eyebrow. “So, we’ll being doing your final decontamination tomorrow and then you’re free to go. Everything looks normal here and all your swabs have been clear for weeks.”

“Oh!” You knew it was coming, but it’s only just hit you now that it means the end of your almost daily visits. “We should have an end of quarantine party or something!”

McCoy busies himself entering some data into the panel on the wall. “Well, actually, Doctor M’Benga is going to oversee your procedure tomorrow.” He looks up at you frowning a bit. “I’ll hope to check in on you later when you’re settled in your quarters though.”

Hope to. You nod, deflated. This is it then. You think you should say something. You thought you would have time to prepare, but he’s making his way to the door so it’s now or never.

“McCoy!” He pauses at the airlock and looks back at you, just as your mind goes blank. “Thank you, for everything. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you better.” You kick yourself mentally at your brilliant choice of words, which convey exactly your strength of feeling towards the doctor.

“Me too. Uhm, you that is. Getting to know you.” He clears his throat. “See you tomorrow Y/N.”

Emerging back into the real world is a bit of an anti-climax. Sparse white rooms seem to be the norm on the Enterprise rather than a particular feature of the isolation unit, you realise when Christine wheels you into your quarters for the first time. Still at least you have more than about 90 square feet of space to explore, and not everything whirs and beeps at your every movement. Still, it could use some plants.

Christine gives you a quick tour, before retrieving a bag from the wardrobe. She looks at you knowingly.

“Doctor McCoy mentioned that you have nothing with you. So I thought you might appreciate some clothes.” She opens the bag and pulls out some comfy looking loungewear that’s positively luxurious after weeks of disposable scrubs. “Someone will replicate you up some uniforms, but I thought it might make you feel a bit more human.”

You rub the soft fabric between your fingers. “Thanks Christine.”

“I, uh, also threw in a bit of make-up and a hairbrush and stuff. I can help you get ready if you like?”

You’re only going to be sitting on the couch, and then the bed, at least for the next 24 hours, but the thought of looking a bit more presentable sounds nice, and you’d be lying if there wasn’t a small part of you hoping that if McCoy comes later he sees you as more than a patient. “Sure, why not.”

Christine takes it more seriously than you expected, and really ‘a bit of make-up’ turns out to be a full on beauty kit, but by the time she leaves you’re brushed and moisturised and subtly glowing like you’ve spent three weeks in a spa not in quarantine with dubious lung function. Now there’s nothing to do but wait.

Being shaken awake by a large warm hand is unexpected. As is the voice edged with concern calling your name. “Y/N, wake up for me darlin’.” After a beat, “Please.”

You crack open one eye, thinking how southern he sounds when he’s being polite. “M’awake McCoy,” you slur sleepily. He’s perched on the edge of the couch next to you in all his rumpled gorgeousness. “Been breaking and entering again?”

“Doctor’s privileges,” he says with a wry smile. He helps you sit up and you revel in the warmth of his ungloved hands. “You look different. Nice. Nice different not...” he stumbles and tails off.

Though he’s avoiding your gaze, you’re enjoying being able to see him properly again, to see the flush creeping up his neck. You take pity on him.

“Why thank you. I washed my hair in actual water. And Christine worked a bit of magic to make me look human.”

He nods and meets your eyes finally for a second, before jumping up. “I brought you something,” he says, retrieving an arrangement of brightly coloured flowers from the counter. “I checked them out with the botany lab, they’re officially the least dangerous plant in the Alpha Quadrant. Some kind of daisy from Risa. I thought you might be missing some greenery.”

“Leucanthemum Risaii — totally harmless. Thanks McCoy.” You fuss with the flowers a bit, smiling and put them on the table beside you. “So, do you want to check me over?”

He looks at you in confusion. “Um no. Unless you need me to? Dammit, I should have asked how you were feeling.” He reaches out to take your hand pressing his fingers against your pulse.

“No! No, I’m fine McCoy. I just thought you’d need to do some... doctory stuff.”

“Oh.’ His expression clears. “Right. So I, uh, passed your care over to Doctor M’Benga. He’s going to do all the ‘doctory stuff’ from now on.” He turns your hand in his to hold it properly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. After weeks of restricted contact, it feels electric. Kirk just might have been right.

“Why?” you ask tentatively, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach. If it’s true, you want to hear it from him.

He gazes at you with dark eyes and breathes deeply, like he’s steeling his nerves. You feel a little bad that he’s so uncertain, so much the opposite of the first time you met.

“Because I think you’re smart and beautiful. And so I could ask if this idiot doctor might take you out for coffee. Properly this time, not like a drunk entitled asshole. What do you say darlin’?” He squeezes your hand, smiling hopefully and your insides do a flip flop.

“No,” you whisper. His face falls and he swallows thickly looking down at your hands. You place two fingers under his chin and tilt his face until he has no choice but to look you in the eyes. “Coffee’s first date territory. I think we’re way past coffee, McCoy.”

“We are?” His voice is gruff and disbelieving.

“Are you kidding? These last few weeks we’ve had the best dates I’ve been on in years.”

McCoy growls. “Dammit Y/N, are you trying to kill me? You promised me you weren’t going to remind me of that!” He runs his free hand through his hair. “Okay then, not coffee. Dinner?”

“Yes.” You grin stupidly, and without thinking peck a kiss on McCoy’s lips to seal the deal. After a second of stunned silence he briefly kisses you back before leaning back on the couch with you in his arms. He smells warm and spicy just like you remember.

“Jim told me you’d changed your mind about me. He said you promised him you wouldn’t break my ankles. Hell, he couldn’t have made that up, but I hardly dared to believe it.”

“You know he gave me The Talk?”

“He didn’t!” McCoy looks down in horror.

“Oh he did,” you laugh. “It was sweet, but by then I didn’t need convincing.”

“He’s going to be insufferable when he finds out.” The doctor sighs. “Speaking of the infant that is our glorious Captain, he sent you a housewarming gift. It’s on the counter.”

You heave yourself up to standing with a groan and totter the few paces across the room and back again on unsteady legs. “I’m going to need that dinner sooner rather than later McCoy. I need feeding up.”

He chuckles and kisses your hair. “Sure thing sweetheart. Now come on, what’s in the box?”

It’s a plain box wrapped with a big blue ribbon, and it’s heavy. You pull the bow loose and lift the lid. It’s full of perfect red apples, and a scrawled note sits on top — An apple a day!

“Goddammit, Jim! That’s not funny!”

“You told him about the apple? What must he think — I was so mean to you!”

“He heard me call you my favourite fruit historian and wouldn’t let up until I told him the whole thing. He thought it was hilarious, said I deserved it. And I did.” He picks an apple out the box. “I told you, he’s going to be insufferable,” he grumbles.

“Are you not afraid I’m going to start throwing them at you again?” You ask putting the box out of sight on the floor and snuggle back in under McCoy’s arm.

“Are you?”

“No!”

“Well then, there’s your answer. Besides you forget, I’m not your doctor anymore. Apples have no power over me.” He takes a bite out of the one he’s holding and wiggles his eyebrows. “You can throw all the fruit you like at M’Benga.”

“Idiot.” You swat him playfully across the chest, enjoying this less serious McCoy. Something tells you if you can make this work you’re going to be very happy. “Okay so I have a very important question.”

“Fire away. I have an encyclopaedic knowledge of many things.”

“If apples keep doctors away, how do you get them to stay? Pineapples maybe?”

McCoy hums thoughtfully and the vibrations in his chest tickle your cheek. “How long are we talking?”

You prop yourself up so you can see his face, brushing a piece of his fringe out the way. “A good long while.”

His lips curve in a satisfied smile. “Not pineapples then. That’s gonna need kisses.”

“Kisses?” You lean in further so that your lips are brushing his. “Like this?” you whisper pressing your mouth against his more deeply than the pecks you gave him earlier so you can taste the sweet tang of apple juice. He responds with a moan, until you both break away slightly breathless.

“Perfect darlin’,” he murmurs. “Plenty of kisses just like that.”

..........

Taglist: Tagging Urban Shitposters and a few other people I think may be interested. It’s been so long since I tagged I’m not sure who is on my general list. Just ask if you want to be added, or taken off!

@musikat18 @bkwrm523 @bookcaseninja @queenmismatched @outside-the-government @space-helen @starshiphufflebadger @yallneedtrek @feelmyroarrrr @mad-girl-without-a-box @kawaiiusagichansan @bonesmccoybones @thefanficfaerie @janeykath318 @fear0fdeathkeepsusalive @goingknowherewastaken @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse

[mairights]

→ fix me slowly | p.p.

summary: you mess up and the repercussions are isolating. peter parker has his own doubts, but he tries to ease your aching heart. requested by anon.

words: 3K

pairing: peter parker x fem!avenger!reader

warnings: self-doubt, tension, some angst. heavy fluff to fix it all, though.

the quinjet has never felt so cold. it’s made of metal and tony always wants the air conditioning on full blast so, realistically, it’s always cold. but not chill-you-to-the-bone cold. not the cold you’re feeling right now that makes you want to curl in on yourself. it’s unusual, having no one sitting next to you, cracking jokes or exchanging smiles. not even peter wants to be near you right now. it hurts.

just an hour or so earlier, the mission the avengers had set out on was running smoothly. the target was in position and everybody was geared up and ready to go. everybody had exchanged wishes of luck and performed whatever tiny rituals they usually did; all seemed normal, and it was, until you screwed things up.

you’d been on edge all day. you didn’t know why, didn’t think much of it, but you were. anxiety prickled beneath your skin and stiffened your steps. natasha, your partner for the day, didn’t say anything of it; after all, she could be pretty stiff and closed off herself on missions. in fact, she was kind of thankful you were less chatty and bouncy than usual. she took it as a good sign. that is, until it came back to bite everyone in the ass.

peter had infiltrated the facility first; everyone knew that was to be the plan. you assumed it was because he was one of the smallest and lithest on the team, not to mention his ability to stick to the ceiling. you anticipated a scuffle, but what you didn’t anticipate was to see him start to fail. barely a minute in, he was yelling for help into the comms and being slammed into walls by men he should’ve been able to beat easily. naturally, you ran in immediately, full force. natasha tried to call for you without giving herself away but you didn’t listen.

long story short, you gave away everybody’s positions; you were overwhelmed once entering to the point where peter’s main focus wasn’t the mission but you instead, and that made him reckless, not as careful. then more of the team had to rush in. and then the building’s security was alerted and everybody had to flee.

god, you must’ve missed it in the briefing. four different people on the team yelling at you brought you to your senses; peter’s plan was to let them kick him while he was down, act as a martyr to kickstart the rest of the plan, give them the illusion that he was the only threat. you ruined that. anyone who didn’t snap at you turned away and sulked.

you didn’t mean it, but it doesn’t matter. you screwed up and you couldn’t fix it.

all you want to do is hide. well, you want to apologize, make things right, but no one’s gonna let you for a while. that, you’re sure of. hell, if peter’s not speaking to you, you know you’ve fucked up.

you curl your knees to your chest in the little corner of the jet you’ve claimed for yourself. your ribs ache along with your chest and head but all you can think is that you deserve it after what you did.

eventually, the jet lands. everybody files out quickly without even acknowledging or waiting for you. peter’s the only one to give you a glance; for a moment, his face softens, but he just clenches his jaw, sighs, and walks out. a hollow feeling settles in your chest. you bite the inside of your cheek to keep tears at bay as you enter the compound, following everyone to the living spaces. nobody talks to anybody; they all just file into their respective rooms and areas.

you try to catch natasha’s arm on her way in, but she just shrugs you off, embarrassed to have been working with you that day. no one looks at you— not sam, not bucky, not tony, no one. you feel well and truly alone.

the worst part is that this was the first mission you’d really been trusted on. for every other one before this, you’d been giving a basic debriefing and a minimal role. this was supposed to be your chance to prove yourself viable, or that you at least didn’t need a babysitter. so much for that.

you stand sullenly in the center of the kitchen, watching everybody walk away, not even stopping for water or a snack. peter’s the only one to linger for a bit; he slouches on the couch with the tv remote. desperately, you search for an apology.

“peter…” you start, “peter, i swear i… i was just trying to help.”

he ignores you. the remote’s dull click seems to echo throughout the living room. you draw in a shaky breath; what you wouldn’t give for him to pull you in close and whisper reassurances.

“please, peter, i-i’m really sorry. you know that, right? i wanna fix this.”

peter pauses, if only for a moment. his hand stills and the only audible noises are your breathing and the quiet show on the television. it seems peter might say something, maybe turn to you, and you feel your heart leap at the thought.

but he doesn’t. without a word, he shuts off the television, pushes off the couch, and stalks off to his room. and you’re alone.

you find yourself tailing him, just for a moment, wanting to catch his hand and beg him to talk to you; you think you’re going insane with the radio silence. but you stop as soon as you reach the couch. you just watch him leave, all the while missing his soft laugh and warm smile. he’s never been so angry with you.

it feels as if your chest collapses in on itself as the gravity of the situation really sets in. alone with your thoughts, no other people to look at to distract you, you can’t escape your guilt. it’s your fault, wholly and completely. there’s no getting out of that, but you just want to make things right and nobody wants to let you. they’re mad, sure, understandably so, but don’t they have any sense? compassion?

you can���t breathe well suddenly.

the couch doesn’t feel as comfortable as it normally does when you collapse onto it, once again drawing your knees to your chest. you shove your face against them and try to control your breathing but it fails; heavy pants fall from your lips, muffled by your legs. and then you’re crying.

you enjoyed being the baby of the team when it meant all soft smiles and playful protectiveness and introductions and training sessions; you loved being the apple of everyone’s eye, selfishly; you even loved the teasing. you just didn’t anticipate how being the youngest and most inexperienced would transform into making adult-level mistakes and needing a nanny once again. it all hurts so much and nobody’s there to help.

you try and cover your mouth to stifle the crying, praying nobody walks in; you can’t imagine the eye-rolling that would ensue. first, you royally mess up, and then have the audacity to feel sorry for yourself? you just want to disappear until it all blows over. they’ll forgive you in time and things will go back to normal— you know that logically— but when will that be, really? right now, it feels like never.

your ears would be ringing from the silence in the room if not for the volume of your breathing in your ears. whether you’re panicking or just crying hard, you don’t know, don’t care. it doesn’t even make you feel better at this point. it does distract you, though, enough to where you don’t hear the footsteps right behind the couch.

a touch to your shoulder startles you out of your upset state. you spring back on your hands, knees bent in front of you, and look up to find peter looking at you. his face is pinched tight with concern.

“are you…” he bites his lip. “…okay?”

you purse your lips, chest still rising and falling sporadically and cheeks damp and cool. you try and regain composure to speak.

“fine,” you croak out. so much for composure, because as soon as you say that, you have to turn away before peter sees you crying again.

it surprises you when he leaps over the back of the couch and sidles up next to you. he places a hand over yours just to let you know he’s there.

“hey,” he begins, voice soft and low. you shake your head.

“i didn’t mean it,” it comes out shaky and whiny but you’re not sure you care, “i-i know it doesn’t matter but i swear i didn’t mean to mess up and i know, i know i should’ve paid more attention and i deserve to be booted but i… i…”

you can’t catch your breath; yeah, you’re definitely panicking. peter squeezes your hand but he can’t bring himself to say something so you just keep on babbling to him.

“i tried so hard, i swear, i tried to prove myself and be an asset to the team because i know i’m new and i’m not as experienced but i try? okay? so hard. so, so hard. every day. i just… i panicked. and i can’t do that, i know, i know. i was just… thinking of you. i’m stupid. stupid and incompetent and i can’t fix it.”

your little monologue is interrupted with a sob erupting from your throat; it’s louder than your current speaking voice and pathetic when you hear it. you clap a hand over your mouth to stifle it but you just can’t calm down. how’d you manage to mess up so badly?

the next words out of your mouth come out so incredibly soft and shaky that peter barely hears them.

“i just wanna be good enough.”

peter’s heart breaks right then and there.

he knows how hard you try; he sees it every day, saw it today, even if you messed up. he knows your doubts and fears and he kicks himself for not thinking about how today was literally one of your worst ones coming true. he kicks himself for not being more considerate because, god, he cares about you so much and wants to see you succeed. it hits him now how shutting you out never would’ve helped. that, and he can’t stand seeing you cry.

not hesitating for a second, he reaches forward and pulls you against his chest. you don’t fight it; if anything, you feel relieved that he still wants to touch you. your crying is muffled against his shirt (he must’ve changed in his room).

“shhh,” he strokes a hand down the back of your head, “you’re okay, everyone’s okay. it’s okay.”

you try to believe it— you want to do badly. perhaps selfishly, you fully succumb to the comfort, allowing yourself to relish in the feeling of peter’s arms around you, warm and strong and all-encompassing. he presses his cheek against the side of your head.

“i’m so sorry,” you babble senselessly. peter shushes you again.

“you don’t have to apologize. i know you are, i know.”

you somewhat quiet at that, more conscious of your little breakdown now. but peter doesn’t blame you; you’ve never had anything like this happened.

it dawns on peter that this whole thing only really happened because you wanted to protect him. the second you thought he was overwhelmed, you rushed in. yeah, it backfired, but you did it for him. he can’t shake that.

“please don’t apologize,” he whispers, pulling you ever closer. “you… you did what you thought was right, okay? you messed up. things didn’t go as planned but that’s okay. we’ve all messed up, even if everybody else won’t let you believe it.”

you manage a laugh against peter’s chest, sniffling and trying to get rid of the sobs you have left in you. peter’s lips ghost the shell of your ear with tender, nervous energy.

“i love you,” he murmurs, just as he does every day.

“but i messed up.”

“i still love you. i always will, baby, okay? always. i don’t care about the mission, not when it’s causing you so much pain. you’re more important to me than any stupid mission that everybody wants to sulk about.”

the two of you rest in silence for a bit. peter lightly rubs circles in between your shoulder blades as you stay tucked against his chest, letting out your emotions and calming down. when you do speak again, your voice is more measured.

“i’m still sorry. i really am.”

“i know. it’s okay, babylove. i’m not angry, okay?”

peter pulls back, tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him. he lightly strokes your skin with the pad of his thumb. your eyes are so puffy and red and he just wants to kiss your sorrows away.

he sure does try.

peter parker places soft, tender kisses all along your face. they start on your forehead, just a few in the same general spot, and then they migrate down. he kisses along the bridge of your nose, careful and measured, and places a cute peck on the top of it. his lips then migrate across your cheeks to kiss away any remaining tears, to dot your freckles and smudges with bits of love. you allow your eyelids to flutter shut as he kisses along your jawline and just beneath it, grazing the soft space of skin that always makes you shiver when he touches it.

he takes his time kissing up to your lips, placing soft pecks alone your throat and chin until he finds his destination. the resulting kiss on your mouth is slow, sweet, and so tender that you swear every bit of tension melts into it. all the while, peter still gently keeps ahold of your chin.

he pulls away very reluctantly with a soft exhale, nose still brushing with yours. both of your eyes are half-lidded with dreamy feelings and honey-thick blood pumping through your veins. you’ve stopped crying altogether.

“peter…” you begin, but he hushes you with a soft noise and another kiss.

“shh, don’t speak for now, okay?” he says softly. “i just want you to know you’re okay, that you are good enough. things are gonna be fine. you’re gonna be fine, babygirl.”

from peter, you let yourself believe it. you kiss him once more, all things gentle and smooth, before he envelops you once again in his arms. you gratefully accept the embrace with a sigh and tuck your face into his neck.

“i love you,” you murmur, smiling a little at the way your breath against his skin makes him shiver. he nods.

“‘n i love you too. always.”

you just stay like that, all cheesy and mushy and romantic, letting the sunset over your little scene. both of you are oblivious to the few members of the team standing in the hallway, spying on you because, well… that’s what they do. it’s then that they remember they were all there at one point or another; scared and alone and isolated because of a mistake. they’re glad peter came to his senses quicker than they did, but they kick themselves for being so childish before.

you nearly lose your grip on reality in peter’s arm until he nudges you lightly.

“baby, c’mon, let’s go to bed.”

you nod and allow him to help you up, but after that, he gives you a coy smile and lifts you up against him. without the energy to complain, you just scoff and let your head rest against his shoulder. it’s not like you’re much for him to carry anyway, what with his super strength and all.

peter enters his room and kicks the door closed before placing you on his bed. you watch him attentively as he digs through his dresser. one article he pulls out is a t-shirt, worn and soft, and a pair of pajama pants. your boyfriend nods to you and gestures with the shirt.

“can i…?” he asks, hoping you get the hint. you nod and smile lightly.

with slow, cautious hands, peter helps you undress. it’s not sexual or heated; it’s simply domestic and soft and full of comfort, full of love and attentiveness. your suit is one of zippers and smooth material, so it’s easier to get out of than his normally are. it only takes a moment to undo all the zippers, even with peter taking his time, and you step out of it with ease.

peter blushes at the sight of you undressed in front of him, but makes no comment as he insists on helping you into his shirt. he marvels at the way it fits on you and you muse in your head at how good it feels after such an awful day.

peter then kicks off his jeans and puts on the pajama pants he retrieved, a little clumsier than he was when helping you. it makes you laugh, though, so peter doesn’t mind.

after getting changed, he takes your hand and gently leads you to his bed. it’s already unmade, so he just lifts up the covers, letting you crawl underneath them before climbing in after you. you face each other for a bit with dazed, lovestruck looks on your face. peter kisses your forehead.

“we’ll be okay,” he says, “all of us.”

you nod; for the first time, you really do believe that. it still sucks, still hurts, but you know things are okay.

“i know.”

peter reaches up to lightly stroke your cheek, smiling at the way you nuzzle into the touch. he punctuates his next sentence with a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“tomorrow’s a new day, baby. and you’ve got all the tomorrows in the world right now.”

tomorrow. the thought of that sounds much better than you expected it to. again, you nod, and peter’s hand falls from your cheek, pulling you close to his chest.

you fall asleep just like that, knowing you’re curled up with possibly the most loving people on the planet. and you feel lucky for the first time all day.

tagged: @poetrypeter @xxtomxo @softcrybabyboy @dreamboatparker @cleopatera @quitetommy @yikes-ohman @kashootthanos @that70sfanficwriter @melancholy-honey @thehyperactiveteen @tom-hollands-blog @babebenhardy @miraclesoflove @parkers-fidelity @peterplanet @lowkey-holland @neverlandparker @shullie @airwrekcuh @tomshufflepuff

[ask-de-writer]

CAPTURED BY THE CLANS : Part 10 of 10 : Science Fiction

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CAPTURED BY THE CLANS

Part 10 of 10

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

18231 words

Copyright 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  Part 1 is HERE.

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All of the Feront creatures, T’cass and Lezon piled into the Feront shuttle and quickly became a vanishing speck in the sky.

The salesperson shook her head and asked, “What makes that pair so special?  I’ve never heard of anything like that.  What do they play at?”

Wryly, K’ress said, “Computerized space battle simulations, virtual reality hand to hand combat, even board games.  As far as I know, they are the only ones that the Feront plays with.”

Shaking her head, the salesperson commented, “It’s hard to imagine that thing playing.  There’s two city ships of it up there with enough fire power to knock out a battle fleet and it’s still one thing.  I can’t imagine it.”

Six hours later, tanks filled with water for reaction mass, the D’ancer was ready to launch. Beside the crew ladder M’rel calmly and K’ress impatiently waited for the Feront shuttle to land.  It was so silent in its approach that it took both of them by surprise.  

They found the explanation for that when the canopy lifted and they saw Lezon dismounting from the pilot’s saddle.  K’ress overheard her explaining, “. . . and that’s how you can avoid detection without any fancy equipment.”

The Feront replied, “Was that how you separated me in the Contact/Conflict?”

“In part.  I used some other tricks, too.”

As she and T’cass joined their friends at the foot of the ladder, K’ress couldn’t resist asking, “Does the Port know that the shuttle has come down?”

With a feral grin, Lezon replied, “They do now!  T’cass notified the Control Bunker once we were on the ground.  Let’s get going before they figure out that it was us!”

In the control room, M’rel asked, “Do you know how to lift this leaky tachyon bucket, T’cass?”

Finished strapping into her crash couch, T’cass replied cheerfully, “Nope.”  She gestured at Lezon, who was already setting up the launch sequence in the computer, “She does, though.  If anyone can get this thing up, its Lezon.”

T’cass settled deep into her crash couch and serenely shut her eyes, gone into the calm retreat of a Warrior’s Way Meditation.

K’ress noted wryly, “That’s one hell of vote of confidence.  Is there anything that I can do, Lezon?”

“Yes,” was the prompt reply. “Take the couch just to the left of mine.  It’s engineering.  I want you to monitor the pump pressure.  We need at least four hundred kg/cm^2 all the time.  We can run as high as six.  If any pump falls below four, make it up with raised pressure in the ones that are left.  Also, keep an eye on the power capsule.  We need a steady twelve meg output.”

Lezon turned to M’rel and said respectfully, “Ma’am, you know how the Comm panel works.  Strap in there and raise the Control Bunker.  Let them know that we are ready to lift, per certificate T.C. 404-GT76.  Warn them to clear the area because we are using a reaction drive.  We need a totally clear traffic lane because, after launch commit, we cannot maneuver away from our ballistic course.”

M’rel sat and secured her safety harness.  She reached out and activated the Comm.  Smiling her best professional smile, M’rel stated, “Hello, Control.  This is D’ancer, T.C.404-GT76.  We request clearance to lift.  We are on reaction drives with inertial assist.  We need a totally clear traffic lane to orbit, as we cannot deviate once we commit.  Be sure the pad zone is clear.  This thing has a hot exhaust.”

A grizzled veteran with scars visible through her mane, replied, “This is Control.  The notion that you are actually taking up that hundred and fifty year old antique has drawn news flitters and a camera crew on the ground. They have set up at the north side of your pad.  Watch out for the flitters.  You can lift at will.”

M’rel replied tartly, “Oh good!  I’ll get a lot of work out of this lift off!  I’m a reconstructive medical specialist, you know.  I’ve had to be doing Barbeque Cats from the War.  Those news tapers will make well paid private work at last!

“Um, the rest of the crew just said that we’ll give them twenty minutes to notify their next of kin or clear out to at least 800 meters.  Let the news flitters know that the wake and exhaust of something this big, driven by reaction engines, will splash them all over the field if they get closer than 900 meters.”

Control actually grinned and said, “I like your style.  I made them listen to the clearance chatter.  You just warned them.  They have twenty minutes to get clear.  I wish that you could see it.  They’re scrambling like ants when you turn over a rock.  One of the flitters is actually moving in for a close up.  I just sent them a canned get-clear warning.”

K’ress was running engineering checks on the ancient systems, familiarizing herself with them. Lezon joined T’cass in meditation.  At four minutes to lift, both Lezon and T’cass came fully alert.  

Lezon smiled approvingly at K’ress and said, “I see that you spent your time well.”

“Thank-you,” K’ress replied.  “The drive is preheated and the pumps are up to pressure. That old capsule is working better than I hoped.”

M’rel called Control again. “Time is up.  Lift Commit is initiated.  Engine core is coming up to operational heat.  Reaction mass pumps are on line.  Call you from orbit!”

Enormous box shaped air scoops opened out from the sides of the tall, ancient, winged projectile-like vehicle.  Steam began to blast out around the base of the ship.  A moment later, the steam turned to a screaming, almost totally transparent blue-white glare of flame.  The D’ancer, nearly as tall, if far less massive than a military Siege Ship, lifted smoothly, appearing to barely move at first.  Suddenly gathering way she leaped straight up into the sky.  The concrete pad where she had been sitting was cooling and cracking off glazed bits of fused, glassy blast scar.

One reckless news flitter did get caught in the supersonic wake of the monster that was screaming past on its way out of the atmosphere.  Luckily the flitter’s pilot had fast reflexes and they recovered control a good seven meters above the ground.

The D’ancer rolled out at 15.5 kilometers and began to accelerate even more.  She was eating all the air that the scoops could grab for free reaction mass along with the water that she carried.  Besides speed, the D’ancer was gaining altitude, running ahead of a big plume of vapor.  She continued to climb, coasting on inertia now.  The antique engines had shut down exactly on their mark.  On a shallow angle, the D’ancer rose up to a low orbit.

Lezon checked her course and made a low acceleration correction to regularize the orbit.  There was no onboard artificial gravity.  It was hard to realize that something so basic hadn’t even been invented when the D’ancer was built. Everyone was experiencing the sensation of free-fall.  Lezon and T’cass were moving about the D’ancer with practiced ease.  Small combat ships didn’t waste energy on artificial gravity either, so both were familiar with the feeling.  K’ress, as an engineer, was at least used to it.  M’rel was quietly curled around her tummy, being miserable.

While Lezon and T’cass were busy, K’ress noticed a ship approaching, matching their orbit.  She hit the intercom and her voice rang out through the ship, “We have company!  Intercept in fifteen minutes.”

The Feront activated the visual communicator.  Several reptilian heads scanned about, focusing on Lezon and T’cass.  “My friends!  It is good to see your entities again so soon.

“You fulfilled your promise to come and bring your ship to me for salvage and refit.  I will carry out my promises as well.  While I work on your vessel, we can play! This time, I believe that my strategy will prevail!”

M’rel opened one eye and stared balefully at the others, cheerfully chattering away and said, “I have two questions.  One, does this feeling of nausea ever actually get better?  Two, why is the Feront always saying that it thinks that it will beat you?���

T’cass responded, “You will get used to the free-fall soon enough.  Just orient by eye and forget about your ears.  

“As for the Feront, it’s simply being utterly honest.  It does think that it may beat us and says so.  It’s right about twenty percent of the time, too.  It enjoys playing and doesn’t get the chance very often.”

Just then, the Feront chimed in on the communicator, “I will be using a gravitational grapple to remove your vessel to the working and salvage area.  Please secure. Down will face my vessel.”

Lezon looked sympathetically at M’rel and requested, “This vessel was designed for gravity along the line of thrust.  Could you orient your tow that way for the comfort of one of ours?”

The polyphonic voice replied, “Certainly, friend Lezon.  Field is now building.”  Gently up and down returned.  

K’ress brought M’rel an antinausiant.  M’rel sipped gently and remarked, “Someday, somebody will invent something to stop stomach heaves that doesn’t need to go into a stomach that already can’t hold it.”  She smiled wanly.  “I like the Feront already, just for being considerate.”

“It can be, when it wants to be,” acknowledged Lezon, “but if you are going to deal with the Feront you need to understand that it will often not think of you at all.  Remember, it has been a single thing and living in space craft for at least four million standard years.  In all of that time, it had never encountered another intelligent entity that it recognized as such.  As a result, it has only a little experience in dealing with others that are not itself.”

M’rel nodded, interested and focusing on something besides her now subsiding nausea.  “I see. How can it stay one thing over interstellar distances?  Does its mind have a faster than light way to communicate?”

Lezon answered, “That is best demonstrated.  Pour some water into a drinking bowl and get a second bowl.”

Mystified, M’rel did as asked. Lezon took the bowl with the water and said, “This is the Feront.” She poured some into the empty bowl.  “This is still the Feront, only now it is in two parts.”  Pouring the two back together, she added, “Now, the Feront is one thing again.  So far as it knows, it was never two.  Both the separation and the merging are not conscious actions and are totally without trauma.  There is a particular distance at which it simply separates or merges, that’s all.”

M’rel shivered all over at the thought.  “The universe is strange,” she quoted from a Clan Precept.

Lezon surprised her by finishing, “And in that very strangeness lies all of the riches of life.”

“You know the Precepts?” M’rel questioned.

T’cass cut in, “Of course. How can you understand a conflict if you do not grasp all sides of it?”

K’ress put in, “You mean something like knowing your enemy?”

Easily, Lezon replied, “Yes, but that is very incomplete.  All of life is conflict, even friendship is the management of conflict.  Thus, you must understand all that you can of everything about you if you are to manage the conflict to the best good of all.”

“What about your enemies?  Do you consider them?” K’ress asked sarcastically.  She was not prepared for the answer that she got.

“Of course.  Their lives are as valuable as your own.  Otherwise, the conflict has no value or meaning at all.  As soon as the armed portion of the conflict is over for them, they must be protected.”

K’ress snorted at that and retorted, “What about the crew of the signal laser at K’stall? That was knocked out and helpless.  A cruiser wiped them out later.”

“Right,” agreed T’cass. “And after the battle, War Leader Lezon sent the captain home to M’cratt in disgrace.  The Empress Triad ordered the captain executed for violation of the Warrior’s Way.  We heard about it on the Strategy Board.”

About then, the Feront came onto the communicator.  “I have brought you to the place of work.  It will be best if you come into my vessel while I work on yours.  Your input will be desirable from time to time in regard to the life support system and its amenities.”

During the refit, M’rel and K’ress shivered and stayed close in their quarters.  The Feront liked cold places, arctic regions and ice worlds.  Its idea of warm was still more than a bit cool.

T’cass and Lezon didn’t seem to notice.  They went scampering off with Feront in tow.  There were games to play and mock combats to enjoy.  They showed up irregularly for meals and to cuddle up in a warm fur pile to sleep.

The Feront always seemed to have time for its guests.  It courteously answered any questions except for ones relating to how the big city ship worked.  The Feront would only say that the fusion system that drove it operated on a different principle than the ones used by either the Clans or M’cratti.

K’ress and M’rel spent a good deal of time going over the details of their ship’s refit.  Doing so revealed that both T’cass and Lezon had ideas about creature comfort that were at odds with their Clan raised partners.  The Warriors cheerfully yielded on most points but both insisted on a liquid exercise tank and a gymnasium.

The antique ship’s monster fuel tank became three cavernous holds and a serious group of maintenance shops for metal, electronic and tachyonic equipment.  The power capsule had been replaced.  K’ress’s practiced eye noted that it was one from a capital ship and far bigger than would normally be needed for a freight hauler.  The drive was one from a fast messenger ship that had been pretty badly shot up.  Her eyes widened when she saw the specs.

This vessel was no longer an antique.  The fore and aft gun emplacements were not large by most standards.  There were seven five kiloton per second weapons in each battery, the most firepower allowed to their newly assigned Class B freight designation.

They needed only to stock the galley and seek a cargo to begin their new life as the Clan D’ancer. Lezon reflected that since the war was over, so was her service to the Empress Triad.  She hadn’t surrendered, she was Submitted to T’cass.  The others came with her.  The Clan D’ancer was as good a place to be as she could find.  This new way of life would be an interesting Conflict to manage.

–THE END–    

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[cake-writes]

Low

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Drug and Alcohol Abuse, Mental Illness (Bipolar & Depression), Violence, 18+

Word Count: 3.5k

Requested by @josiewinters1999​: I was wondering if you could write a Steve x Reader where Steve helps Reader (his girlfriend) get over a drug addiction?

This request really hits close to home. To write this, I relied heavily on my own experiences with bipolar and drug addiction. If you - any of you - ever you need someone to talk to, my ask box and messages are always open!

Steve had always known you were big into gym supplements. You didn’t have serum or anything else enhanced running through your veins, just plain human blood, so you were always on the lookout for safe, healthy ways to boost your abilities. Even before the two of you got together, you introduced him to protein shakes, amino acids, creatine, the works – and you were very rarely ever found without a shaker bottle in hand, fresh from the gym.  

It certainly helped you quite a lot to supplement your exercise. You could bench press and deadlift a lot of weight for your small stature, and your squats were in a league of their own. You were strong. Not as strong as him, of course, but for a regular person, you could definitely pack a wallop.

Even though your body was strong, your mind wasn’t. He knew that too, and he didn’t pry. Steve certainly wasn’t without his demons, and he reminded you every now and then that he’d be happy to talk if you ever wanted to. You’d been together for a little over a year, now, and he’d opened up quite a bit about his own past – but you hadn’t. Not about the things that plagued you. Not yet. It would take time, and he knew that. He understood.  

He probably should have paid more mind than he did to the pills you started to take. Over the last few months, your bedside drawer slowly became full of them. Some were for medical reasons, and the rest were vitamins or supplements – or so you claimed.

In some regards, he knew a fair bit about your meds. The little white pill was your birth control. The little blue one was an antidepressant. The capsule was lithium. All for medical reasons.

The others weren’t.

The bigger white pill was oxycodone. The yellow one was valium.

Those weren’t vitamins at all. You lied to him about them, and he was oblivious. He certainly didn’t think to research them, because he trusted you. Vitamins and supplements were nothing out of the ordinary.

What Steve didn’t know was that you were spiralling.

You’d been prescribed the oxy a few weeks back to alleviate the pain from a couple of broken bones in your wrist. You’d mostly healed up by now, but due to your line of work, the doctor had given you a backup supply along with a warning not to abuse them – just in case the pain very likely flared up in your wrist.

And it did.

And you did.

You abused them. Not only did they make you feel good, like everything would be alright, but they also gave you extra energy and made you chatty and sociable. You liked to pop one or two before missions where a lot of teamwork would be involved. Sometimes you’d take them before Tony’s insufferable parties, too, and combine them with alcohol for extra effect. That was always fun.

The valium, on the other hand, was originally meant to manage your anxiety, carefully prescribed by a psychiatrist who monitored your condition. Flare-ups didn’t happen often, mostly just when you made a stupid mistake on a mission, and afterwards you’d stew over it for hours like a broken record, over and over and over. You’d ruminate. The valium took the edge off and distracted you from your thoughts. It, too, made you feel good.

Needless to say, as of late you weren’t in a very good headspace. The fact that you were manic depressive was bad enough. It was manageable, but that kind of diagnosis didn’t just go away, even if you usually did handle it well enough with a delicate combination of medication and therapy.

Work stress was what triggered your downward spiral. The longer you were an Avenger, the more it took its toll on you and, eventually, your mood started to plummet despite your medication. You went low.

Truth be told, you’d been low for weeks. The fact that you’d started to pop pills was a good indication, but you refused to acknowledge that something was wrong.

Steve always made sure you knew that you could talk to him if you ever needed to, but you didn’t about the more serious stuff. For basic things, you did – how your wrist was healing up, how you were feeling today, if you’d achieved one of your top three things for the day like he gently encouraged you to do. They were little questions that showed he cared, and it meant the world to you that he asked them – just as much as when he told you I love you outright.

You knew how much it would hurt him to know that you were feeling depressed, so you didn’t share that with him. He already had so much on his shoulders, and you didn’t want to be a burden. He knew all about your highs and your lows and he did what he could to help you through them – but there wasn’t much he could do and it only made you feel guilty. You knew how helpless he felt on the days you couldn’t even get yourself out of bed, and you didn’t want him to think anything was wrong.

So, instead, you popped pills – pills that made the world seem bright again, if only for a few short hours.

One small dose of valium slowly turned to three as your tolerance increased. It made you feel so incredibly relaxed that you stared into space sometimes, mind blissfully blank. Sometimes it knocked you out, too; made you sleep like the dead. Steve had never known you to be a heavy sleeper, but as of late, you had been. He figured you’d just been having a rough couple of weeks because your body was still healing. He was oblivious.

In the Quinjet before a particularly bothersome mission, you needed the extra energy and ego boost. This mission would require a fair amount of teamwork and you were in no mood for it. Sam sat to your left while the two of you prepped your gear, and Steve was across the aisle from you, his shield in the vacant seat beside him. Clint was piloting. The rest of the team was already on site, ready to raid.

After your gear was all ready and adjusted, Sam just happened to glance over and catch you pull a little orange pill bottle from your pocket. At first, he assumed it was another vitamin or supplement or some stupid new thing you were into, until he caught a glimpse of the label – oxycodone.

You popped two of the tablets into your mouth, and dry swallowed them with ease.

Well, that wasn’t normal.

As you shoved the bottle back into your duffel bag, you caught him eyeing you and asked blankly, “What?”

“Those your, uh,” he chose his words carefully to test the waters, “new supps?”

You beamed at him. “Aw, Sammy, you know me so well.”

Sam had been a counsellor at the VA for a number of years. He knew what drug addiction looked like. Of course he was the first person to catch on to yours. The fact that you’d blatantly lied about it was the first sign – lied and deflected. And then, later on during the mission, when your words slurred just a little over comms, that was the second one.

He was going to have a very difficult conversation with you, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. What’s worse was that he needed to keep it from Steve out of respect for you. Sam was never one for secrets, but for now, he’d keep yours. If the conversation went south like he highly suspected it would, then he’d would have no choice but to tell him. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen and you’d come to your senses, but he already knew you wouldn’t.

In the morning, Sam made you breakfast. That wasn’t too unusual, because he made everyone breakfast every now and then. He liked to cook, and his pancakes were to die for. Knowing he was making them this morning put a tiny bit of light into your otherwise bleak outlook on life as of late.

It was just the two of you in the kitchen so early in the morning. Steve had accidentally woken you up as he was getting ready for his morning jog, and you hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. Sam had strangely chosen to forego his, but he did that every now and then so you didn’t think anything of it.

As expected, the conversation went poorly.

“Those weren’t vitamins yesterday,” Sam commented casually, “were they?”

You’d just started bringing your loaded fork up to your mouth, but you stilled. The pause was extremely brief, just long enough to make it obvious that he wasn’t wrong. Then you rolled your eyes and shoved the bite of pancakes into your mouth.

“Sure they were,” you told him, muffled by pancakes. “Gotta get my B-12’s, you know.”

You lied about it so easily, like you’d done it a hundred times before. Sam knew what oxycodone looked like, and he could only imagine what other things you were on if you were popping pills so easily before a mission – and two of them, no less.

Sam said your name firmly, almost in reprimand and immediately, your temper flared.  You purposely dropped your fork down onto the plate with a loud clink and shot him a nasty glare.

“It’s oxy,” he responded. “You shouldn’t be taking it on a mission. You know that.”

“It’s a vitamin,” you hissed. “Ask Steve. He knows.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “You lie to him too?”

At that, you loudly shoved your chair back from the kitchen counter and got to your feet. “I’m not gonna put up with your bullshit, Wilson. You wanna counsel someone, go back to the VA.”

“This isn’t about me.” His voice was patient and kind, not accusatory. “You’ve got a problem.”

“No, you’re the one with the problem,” you spat at him. “Get off my ass.”

Projection. He’d expected as much.

“I can get you in contact with someone. She’s really good—”

You interrupted him angrily, “Go to hell, Sam.”  

And then, when you stormed out of the room, he let you go. He knew it was a hard pill to swallow – literally – to be told something like this, and he’d dealt with it hundreds of times by this point. Everyone reacted differently. Some people came to terms with it and tried to do better, while others sank even further into addiction. He hoped you’d be the former, not the latter.

Just in case, though, he sent Steve a quick text.

Keep an eye on her for the next couple of days, yeah? She’s low.

When you got back upstairs to your shared room with Steve, you popped another couple pills – valium this time – and cried into your pillow.

After he received Sam’s text, Steve returned from his jog sooner than he’d planned. He found you bundled up in the sheets, staring into space with streaks of tears and mascara drying on your cheeks. You didn’t even notice he was there, or if you did, you didn’t acknowledge him. You just kept staring blankly at the wall.

His heart broke at the sight.

“Oh, sweetheart—”

Steve gathered you into his arms so easily and held you close, bringing your head against his chest as the two of you lay in bed together. Your messy makeup stained his white t-shirt, but he didn’t care and neither did you. It was a small comfort, the way he threaded his fingers through your hair as he whispered sweet things to you, reassurances he always told you when you were low. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. I love you.”

You didn’t respond, or maybe you couldn’t. You loved him, but in this moment you were numb. You fell asleep to the sound of his voice, surrounded by the warmth and love that only Steve – your sweet, caring Steve – could provide.

You were low. Almost at rock bottom, as a matter of fact, but not quite.

Rock bottom hit during your next mission, two days later.

You took a couple shots of alcohol before the mission to settle the pre-mission jitters, and then you popped three oxy on the Quinjet, not because you needed them but as an act of rebellion. Sam wasn’t there this time to get on your case, and for that, you were thankful. Instead, you were paired up with Bucky and Natasha. You didn’t need the drugs for this mission because you got along with the two of them, but you took them anyway as a nice fuck you.

That fuck you almost got you and your teammates killed.

It was meant to be a covert mission – pop in and out unseen, grab some intel, but you were, to put it bluntly, entirely too fucked up to be in the field. You couldn’t sneak around when you were so clumsy and uncoordinated. While you’d combined alcohol with oxy before, you’d never done it with three and you didn’t realize to what extent it would fuck you up.

Needless to say, your presence was quickly detected.

The three of you were outnumbered.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Natasha bit out, shoving you behind the wall right before a flood of bullets ricocheted off of it. You just slid down it and fell on your ass, high as hell, not to mention the fact that your vision was blurry and you were seeing double. You didn’t care that you’d nearly been shot.

Maybe it would have been a blessing.

You didn’t even realize that you already had been shot until Bucky was suddenly there, crouching down in front of you, his lips pressed together in a thin line. You weren’t even sure where he came from, but he started applying firm pressure to your shoulder with one hand, patting your cheek with the other. It was the only way he could capture your attention long enough to assess you – and what he found was that you were in a stupor.

He knew it wasn’t shock settling in, because he could smell the alcohol on your breath for one, and for two, all you did was smile up at him like an idiot. You didn’t feel a thing. You probably didn’t even know where the hell you were.

He wasn’t wrong.

Blood seeped through his fingers as he tore open a pack of gauze with his teeth, and then he swore under his breath, packing the wound with practiced finesse. He was no medic, nor was he perfect at it, but he knew enough.

Your blood streamed freely down the back of his hand, the bright colour a stark contrast to his pale skin and the only thought on your mind was that it was a very pretty red.

Then Bucky and Natasha were saying things to each other, but you couldn’t really focus on it with the blood loss and the noise from the gunshots – particularly Natasha’s when she returned fire as Bucky hoisted you up onto his back.

How the three of you made it out, you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t pass out, but you weren’t entirely awake for it, either.

That was the shock settling in.

You didn’t stay conscious for long.

It was all a blur until the next day, when you finally woke to Steve sitting at your bedside with a book. He hadn’t managed to get very far into it. One of his large, warm hands lay atop yours, but the only thing you could focus on was the sharp, awful pain in your shoulder. That was when the memories – what little of them remained – came flooding back.

You’d been shot.

“I thought I was supposed to get morphine,” you joked, wincing from both the pain and at how raspy your voice sounded.

Steve’s eyes snapped up from his novel to your face, and on it you saw mostly relief – but it was coupled with an emotion you couldn’t quite grasp. Not yet.

“They couldn’t give you any,” he told you, squeezing your hand gently but it did nothing to soften the blow of his next words. “You had too much… stuff in your system.”

Oh.

Oh.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, hesitant and awkward and it only put you on the defensive because, in that moment, you realized that he knew.

“What do you think?” you snapped at him, pulling your hand from his grasp. That was a mistake, because it was on the same side as your wound and searing pain rushed through you at the action, so much that you were forced to bite down on your lower lip to keep from screaming. Every single muscle in your body was tense, ready to fight or to run, to flee from the conversation you knew you were going to have.

You refused to look at him again. You were ashamed. You’d fucked up.

You’d fucked up bad.

“Bucky and Nat are fine,” he reassured you. “They want to see you.”

Hot tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you chewed at your lower lip, slowly shaking your head. “No. I don’t want them to see me like this.”

Like a junkie. That was what you’d become.

He knew what you meant. They’d seen you in a hospital bed before, as had Steve.

“Bucky was really worried, you know?” Steve’s attempt to lighten the mood fell flat. “Said he’d never seen so much blood coming from such a small—”

“Can we just get this over with?” you interrupted, finally meeting his eyes again. The tears hadn’t yet spilled over, but when you saw the look on his face, you knew they were close. “Rip off the band-aid, Steve. Come on.”  

Steve slowly exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t planning on discussing this right now with you, because you’d literally just woken up, you were in pain, upset and the last thing he wanted to do was upset you further. It wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have right now, and truth be told, it made him nervous.

Even still, he ripped off the band-aid just like you asked him to.

“They ran a tox screen,” he told you, point-blank. “Sam’s suggestion. He said the two of you had a conversation the other day, and the mission reports…”

You grimaced. “What did they say?”

“You know what they said.”

Natasha might have covered for you before, for other, smaller things, but for this she wouldn’t – and Bucky wouldn’t, either. They couldn’t rely on you to have their backs, not like this. If you were in no condition to be in the field, then they would have had no choice but to report it. You’d nearly gotten them killed as it was, and you were lucky that it was only you who’d been shot.

You supposed you deserved it. That thought made you look down at your lap in shame, and you fidgeted anxiously with the thin, scratchy blanket on your uninjured side.

“It’s okay,” Steve told you in his familiar way, gently wrapping his fingers around your small hand again. You didn’t pull away this time, but you didn’t look up at him, either, because the dam finally broke. Tears streamed down your face for what felt like the umpteenth time in the last few weeks.

Steve was always too kind, never judgmental, but right now all you wanted was for him to yell at you. You didn’t want his kindness, not right now. You’d nearly gotten your teammates killed and here he was he was telling you that it was okay.

“It’s not, Steve.” Your voice was weak and pathetic, and it broke when you spoke again, “I’m not.”

That was when the bed dipped, and then Steve gathered you in his arms so easily, just like he always did – except this time, he was a lot more careful with you. He was too gentle, like you were going to shatter to pieces if he wasn’t.

“I know,” he whispered. “I love you.”

He said those three little words so often to you – a couple times a day, at least – but even now you never really understood how he could love someone like you. You were broken, and at your core you had far too many troubles for him to handle, but he tried. He always tried.

Even if he didn’t know what to do to help you, and even if there was nothing he could do, he still tried.

Maybe you’d try, too. Maybe you’d finally talk to him about your troubles.

“I���m sorry,” you managed in between sobs, burying your face into his chest. The words just kept coming, spilling out of your mouth like verbal vomit and it only made you hate yourself more. “I’m sorry. I love you so much, Steve, please don’t leave me—”

“I won’t,” he reassured you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “We’re in this together. It’ll be okay.”

He’d told you that so many times over the past year that you’d been with him, but this was the first time you ever believed him.

It would be okay.

(If you like my work, please consider donating to my Patreon or my Ko-Fi!)

[visualin]

Film at MIT

Before I came to MIT, I strongly considered going to film school. I enjoyed acting and screenwriting, and most importantly I had an interest in cinematography and photography.

I’ve found that event at a technical institution like MIT, there’s a lot of hidden opportunities.

Clubs and Activities

Extracurricular-wise, the landscape isn’t exactly sparse.

LSC: The MIT Lecture Series Committee

LSC hosts advance screenings, 35mm motion picture projections, concerts, the annual Science Fiction Marathon, and public film programs for the greater MIT community. Tickets are usually $5, although there are free movie nights. Committee members help organize lectures, set up the 6-channel DTS digital and Dolby Digital sound system, and other electronics in 26–100, as well as work on publicity and exec roles.

MIT Animation Group

MITAG primarily organizes animation lectures, IAP/Spark/semesterly workshops on 3D and 2D animation, and hosts the annual AniMIThon (an animation competition open to high school and college students in the Northeast region).

MIT Student Cable

The Student Cable Club primarily works on filming scripted and live shows. The club used to run MITV Channel 36 on the MIT cable television system, but now primarily works on creating ads for student groups, filming on-campus performances, and other tasks. They have (likely) the largest collection of cameras and film equipment on campus.

Tea with Teachers

Tea With Teachers curates a regular YouTube series where students interview prominent professors about their lives. The show features anecdotes, wise quotes from faculty members, and good tea.

I go to meet Nick from the UA committee working on TwT, and he taught me about DaVinci Resolve and the editing process for the YouTube series. I was unable to fulfill the time commitment for the role, but learning more about the project was interesting nonetheless.

E33 Productions | Home

E33 doesn’t exactly do film, but if you’re interested in lighting, they provide paid services for shows and special events. They also offer tape and gels, rentals for equipment, sound systems (although most requests go to MIT A/V Services), headset/comm services, masonite, and other theater production requests.

Technique

Technique is also not strictly a film club, but they are the primary photography club on campus, running the campus yearbook and group photos for student groups and living groups. They offer paid photography services, and many on-campus amateur photographers have been born from the club.

The Tech

There seems to be a trend of not-quite-film clubs on campus, but I needed to rep The Tech’s Arts and Photography Departments. They primarily review movies/live performances and take photos of different events happening around Cambridge. If you’re lucky, you might get a press pass to a high-attendance event or conference.

Classes

There’s also the option of cross-enrolling at Wellesley, Harvard, or MassArt. I have a few friends who have taken a variety of fine arts and animation classes at MassArt, and there’s definitely a lot of rich classes to take in film theory and film studies at Harvard.

In addition, I was amused to find that unlike the extreme numbering system of MIT or elaborate names of Harvard, MassArt classes go by a simpler scheme: Film I, Film II, Film II and so on in the style of a typical arts curriculum where you build on skills in previous classes.

There’s definitely a different vibe with MassArt classes — they focus more on drawing and fine arts (if that’s your style) and application of skills in an industry standard. Harvard classes are definitely more theory than studio, in comparison.

If you’re looking to build a portfolio or to hang around other artsy people, the commute to Boston might be more worth it than you think. (This is especially true because MIT’s Drawing for Designers class is incredibly over-enrolled and we don’t exactly offer too many fine arts-type classes or studio-type classes for students interested in building a portfolio/reel of work).

In terms of classes, there’s a few must-take film classes.

21M.011: The Film Experience

This counts as a CI-H, and rightfully so — the class features a number of written assignments, nightly film screenings, and lectures analyzing the aspects of cinema and film styles across the ages. It’s definitely one of the best intro film classes and one of the best HASS classes offered.

21L.706: Advanced Topics in Film

The topics covered in this class vary. This semester, it’s Contemporary Horror, and the lecturer (Prof. Eugenie Brinkema) is similarly legendary. I haven’t yet taken the course, but I’ve heard really great things about the professor and mind-blowing debates during Lit Tea.

CMS.335: Short Attention Span Documentary

This class focuses on producing 1–5 minute digital video documentaries for platforms such as YouTube. It also includes screenings and discussions of the technical aspects of documentary film (not to mention actually workshop-ing and shooting a series of short videos!)

CMS.333: Production of Education Videos

I have a friend taking this class right now, and it sounds really interesting. Basically, you’re tasked with choosing a topic and doing a semester-long dive into creating a short series that explains specific topics within the area (similar to Crash Course!) It reminds me of my high school I-SEARCH assignment (I did mine on ASMR…good memories…)

4.354: Intro to Video and Related Media

In this class, you analyze time, space, perspective, and sound within film, working on performance, social critique, and manipulating raw experiences into aesthetic form (equal parts studio and theory, although it seems to be more practical and hands-on). I’ve had a really positive experience with Course 4 classes, and I’m definitely looking to take this class in the near future.

4.352 — Advanced Video and Related Media

This class focuses on pre-production planning, digital editing techniques, chroma-keying, post-production, audio, visual effects, and contemporary video artwork for image and sound manipulation. It’s one of the courses offered through SA+P ACT (School of Architecture and Planning, Arts Culture and Technology).

Some other cool classes I won’t delve into, but may be interesting:

21W.752 — Making Documentary: Audio, Video, and More

CMS.313 — Silent Film

4.341 — Intro. to Photography & Related Media

4.344 — Adv. Photography & Related Media

4.356 — Cinematic Migrations

CMS.339 — Virtual Reality and Immersive Media Production

6.163 — Strobe Project Laboratory

21M.842 — Live Cinema Performance

21M.863 — Interactive Design and Projection for Live Performance

Research Roles

There’s also a few opportunities for research roles related to film, most notably through the MIT Media Lab’s Open Documentary Lab. There’s quite a few Fellows working at the Media Lab with a variety of industry experience (one of my current professors premiered at Sundance, Cannes, Tribeca, and several other prestigious film festivals in the past year alone. Even masters students have had extensive film experience and can be incredible resources to pick the brains of or work beside).

There’s also a huge focus on VR/AR experiences right now, with an entire lab space dedicated to 360 video, mixed reality, virtual reality games, etc.

In addition, MIT’s Game Lab is also working on animations/game design if you’re particularly interested in the animation side of filmmaking.

Majors/Minors

Although MIT doesn’t offer an official film major/minor, there’s a few programs that are remarkably similar to a film studies minor and have a nice handful of classes that explore film in depth.

Course 4: Art, Culture and Technology

While ACT is only offered as a minor (alongside Art History and Design, among others), it does open the doors to an incredible range of media classes focused on photography, video, and sound, exploring cinema, public art, and the intersections of art and culture in public spaces. Since it is offered through the School of Architecture and Planning, there is more of a focus on the physical side of aesthetics.

Course 21L: Literature

Offered through the SHASS departments, Literature (aka Lit@MIT) is a close-knit major that focuses heavily on analysis and interpretation. There is definitely a good degree of writing/essays and critiques, but it’s more theoretical than studio-styled. Many of the academic-focused film classes are offered through 21L. (It’s also offered as both a major and minor, and they have 6-credit sample classes every term!)

Comparative Media Studies

Nick, who I mentioned before, works in film through the CMS department. This department also encompasses the MIT Writing major, and ranges in discipline from photography and games to comics and film. It’s located within the Media Lab and has close ties with the Open Documentary Lab. A lot of visiting scholars and artists usually visit CMS, and (in my biased opinion) they have some of the best events and talks on campus.

I’ve been dancing around majors/minors for some time now. I know that I definitely enjoy being a 6–2 (Electrical Engineering and Computer Science), but I’ve enjoyed my classes in 8 (Physics) and 18 (Mathematics), and I’m also a big fan of those departments. On the other hand, Course 2 (Mechanical Engineering) sounds incredibly interesting, as do CMS, Course 4 (Architecture and Design), and Course 11 (Urban Planning).

This semester, I’m taking CMS.339 (Virtual Reality for Immersive Media) and listening in on 4.s22 (Domesticity for New Humans). I was also able to shop 4.s48 (Design for Robotic Assembly) and it seems like an absolutely fantastic class integrating technology and robotics with architecture and design.

I’m looking forward to exploring more film opportunities throughout my time at MIT. I’ll hopefully do a write-up about the Reality, Virtually Hackathon and some of the cool VR projects being done in conjunction with film. In the meantime, I hope this is helpful!

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

Reposted from Medium

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

Maximum Potency

The abo fic no one asked for HAHA I was trying to write a feral!Jack fic.... and then it changed so I still need to do that I guess hahaha

Also on my ao3 here :) My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here. See the ao3 post for tags and shit :)

--

Rhys was having trouble getting pregnant. And Jack was pretty sure it was his fault.

His last three heats had resulted in nothing. The fertility treatments weren’t doing squat.

Rhys was getting anxious, worried he’d never be able to give the CEO heirs to control Hyperion after Jack. He was young and healthy, but over six months of trying and the omega started to develop a look in his eyes bordering on guilty shame, and Jack couldn’t have that.

“Something must be wrong with me,” Rhys said as Jack held him on the couch in his penthouse, the lack of results from the latest treatment hanging over them both. “...maybe I can’t have children, Jack.”

“Hey now, don’t think so negative, buttercup,” the alpha said as he nuzzled the back of Rhys’ neck. “We haven’t even been trying that long--”

“We’ve gone three heats already--”

“Yeah, but we’ve been busy with the new gun line distribution, kitten,” Jack reminded. “Just a shitload of stress, baby. You know what that can do.”

“But what if--”

“Nah pumpkin, don’t worry.” Jack pressed a kiss to Rhys’ frowning forehead, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “These things take time. We just need a little R an’ R, you’ll see. It’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t fine, though, and Jack was finally ready to accept that he was the source of the problem.

He paid an overdue visit down to R&D, absentmindedly scratching at the scar that the mask over his face covered. The memory made a swell of fury crest in him which he quickly suppressed, refusing to acknowledge how much his altered-face bothered him.

That Eridian piece of shit that had maimed him had changed him. In more ways than he’d originally considered. It had to have. Rhys was as healthy as the next omega, young and right in his prime. There was no reason his mate shouldn’t be able to get him pregnant.

...Unless of course his mate happened to be a much older, scarred-by-alien-artifacts alpha whose face refused all surgeries, skin-grafts, and cosmetic-procedures to fix the brand there.

So as much as it shamed Jack to think so, he was fairly positive it was all on him.

“I’m not a doctor though, sir,” the beta in R&D reminded as he tried to assist with what was made lucidly clear to be a life and death situation-- for the tech, not for Jack’s own health. “And not a fertility doctor, especially. Sir.”

“Yeah, but aren’t you science morons supposed to know about this shit? Alien tech and all that crap? I know we have samples down here.” The beta wasn’t sure if it was rhetorical or not, and Jack just rolled his eyes, then gestured nonchalantly at the crotch of his pants. “Just make my dick work, idiot. I’m overdue for sticking a pup in my mate.”

“Um, sir, i-if the issue is arousal, I can���t actually prescribe any aphrodisiacs but the--”

“...are you freakin’ kidding me…?” Jack growled to himself then glared at the tech. “I can get my dick up! This is the busiest dick on Helios! In the galaxy!” the alpha declared maybe a bit louder than he’d intended. “It’s this shit that’s the problem!” Jack indicated his face in the same moment that he realized the idiot in front of him took it to mean his face was what was putting his partner off.

The alpha made an aggravated noise, so goddamn frustrated that his hands reacted before he even thought out what he was doing. Jack ripped off the mask covering his face, the little latches there protesting against the less-than-gentle movement on the durable, synthetic skin, and the CEO reveled in the look of shock and pallor on the tech in front of him.

The man’s expression was worth cutting through the bullshit, frankly. The CEO knew there were rumors about what was under his mask out there, but this idiot clearly needed the facts.

And if Jack later became concerned about revealing as much, well, he could always reassign the tech to weapon’s testing. As a target-dummy. “This. This shit needs to be fixed before I can knock up my mate. I’m sure this is it. Think you got something for that, peabrain?”

“W-well we have an experimental drug we wanted to use on the battlefield,” the beta said, eyes glued on the scar bisecting Jack’s face as he quickly spoke. “F-for major trauma from grenades and… things.” The tech’s eyes left their study of the scar only to meet Jack’s own intense look-- awareness of the CEO’s damaged eye making the beta quickly look down- and the tech’s voice shook just a little. “It’s uh… it’s meant to knit flesh back together after major trauma, but on fresh--”

“Alrighty, well, cool. Go get it and stick it in me,” Jack said as he lackadaisically rolled up a sleeve and then looked at the still-standing tech expectantly. He raised a brow as the beta stood there looking at the CEO’s arm blankly. “Hel-lo?”

The beta made a noise before quickly locating the experimental pills from a locked cabinet, and scurried back to the CEO. “It’s not an injection, sir, but a pill regimen… ah… it’s basically a steroid with healing effects comparable to an anshin but--”

Jack snatched the prototype jar of yellow pills from the scientist, tipping one out into his hand. “This baby will make my boys swim faster, huh?” Jack said as he eyed the pill in between thumb and index finger. It didn’t look like anything special.

But then again, the deceptively-simple-looking technology in the mask he wore supplemented his poor vision as well as concealed the scar that ruined his face. Big things, small packages, yada yada.

Jack reaffixed the second skin only to level an intense look at the beta.

“Um… the pills were designed to repair currently in-distress flesh. We’ve had issues with piercings healed shut and uh… willful cosmetic procedures to reverse, so to speak--”

“That sounds like exactly what I need! Cool. So just a couple o’ these and bam! Cock is rockin’ again and everything fixed! Ha-ha, not that I need to be fixed, mind you,” the CEO quipped.

“Ah…” the beta was losing his nerve to Jack’s mercurial moods. The fact he was even having this conversation was like something out of a nightmare, and he’d try to block it out as soon as possible. “No sir, it’s one three times a day for a week… But we don’t know what effect alien--”

“Only a week, huh?” That didn’t sound so bad. He could probably pass them off as painkillers or vitamins if Rhys asked. ...Not that he wanted to keep secrets from the younger man, but he was ashamed in ways he didn’t even want to accept himself; that he was keeping the omega from the dream of children.

“They’re still experimental, sir, but the side effects have been minimal with proper use and--”

“Yeah yeah,” Jack started dismissively, “side effects blah blah. You think these little babies will do the trick? Not like your whole department’s funding depends on it or anything,” Jack mocked, only a little serious.

The beta sputtered a moment in trying to figure out the best response to that, and instead just helplessly repeated how they were still experimental, but Jack was already leaving with the bottle in hand and echoing a request behind himself for the details to be sent to his comm.

Back in the privacy of his office in his big plush chair, Jack eyed the discreet little pill between his fingers, not wanting to hope that some experimental battlefield-steroids could be the answer to his problems, but oh how he wanted.

Jack took one, but if he was supposed to feel anything immediately, he couldn't tell.

Peeking beneath the synthetic skin back home after Rhys was asleep yielded similar disappointment. He reminded himself it was for a week, and he needed to be patient. He took the nighttime pill and decided he’d check again the following morning.

Three days and 9 pills later and he placed a call down to R&D, getting the same beta on the line to ask questions and vent frustrations.

“Give it the full week, sir! That’s when it worked by with all skag trials. But--”

“I haven’t seen any changes,” Jack growled out over the comm. “No change. Nada. That means nothing. Is this what I’m paying you for?”

“It needs to build up in your system first, sir. You’re only about halfway to effective potency...”

Jack snorted at that, but as the words sunk in, he figured it wouldn’t take that much longer to see results. “Full-potency, huh? Why didn't you tell me that before, Rudy?”

“...Randy, sir.”

“Robbie, awesome, thanks. Hope you don’t hear back from me.” Jack hung up on a gasp with a smirk. Not but a few more days and he should start noticing some changes; maybe his scar would completely heal. Maybe he’d even get vision back and not need the synthetic skin anymore.

He tried not to get too ahead of himself, but his anticipation put him in way better spirits as the week slowly dragged on.

—

Jack’s obsession with checking the skin of his face multiple times a day had finally been put to a stop as shit hit the fan from multiple angles, drowning him in a heavy workload at the office that put everything else from his mind.

The worries about Rhys’ private little guilty looks Jack sometimes caught, coupled with fall out from a supply ship being attacked and subsequently lost, and also idiot interns making million-dollar payroll mistakes in accounting had meant that Jack had been so preoccupied with his work that he’d forgotten to take the pills, and more than one dose at that.

He realized the mistake with a little spike of anxiety as his thoughts went immediately to Rhys; he was doing this for him. Kept hinting at some sort of surprise at the end of the week that made the omega give him odd looks, but it was better than that sort of self-loathing that started to creep into the younger man’s eyes.

“Oh fuck. Dammit… piece of shit, where’s-- Mm.” He’d located the bottle inside the desk drawer-- brain still preoccupied with trying to locate where their shipment had ended up- as he looked at the little yellow pills.

He was almost done with the treatment. He didn't want to prolong this shit over missing doses. Did the amount matter more than being on time with it? That’s how the tech had made it sound. Maximum potency and all that. Right. Build it up in your system, that’s what he’d said.

He shook out one pill, realizing he had two previously-missed doses, and decided, what the hell? He shook out two more, tossing back all three with some slight relief to have kept himself on track, and got back to work for some hours more.

--

Rhys called the office later that same evening, and sheepishly asked if Jack still wanted to try and make the dinner reservation they’d set two weeks ago… which was for some thirty minutes prior, with a fancy dress code.

“I didn’t want to bug you. I mean, that supply ship was a pretty big deal…” Rhys said, tone a bit beseeching, like he thought he had no right to be complaining about anything in his failure to give the alpha heirs. And considering he assumed he couldn’t give Jack children, the omega didn’t want to press his powerful mate on such a minor thing as having dinner with him.

Jack frowned as he listened to the younger man’s voice on the comm. That Rhys thought he had to be careful with his alpha made Jack feel like a shit head. “Fuck baby, I didn’t realize how late it was. I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Are you sure? We can always go some other time. I really don’t mind, Jack.”

The alpha highly doubted that. The last time Jack had tried to get out of a dinner reservation to a posh new Helios restaurant, Rhys had withheld blowjobs for a week. That his usually-prissy omega was so quick to voluntarily dismiss his own wants made Jack feel worse; as if Rhys was afraid to lose him for any minor infraction.

...As if anyone or anything could take Rhys from him.

Jack stared at the closed bottle of experimental pills after he’d ended the call with the omega.

It was all him. His fault Rhys hadn’t gotten pregnant yet. The most powerful man in the freakin’ universe couldn’t do what any lowlife bandit could, and it was hard for him to admit it.

It would be okay though. Soon it wouldn’t matter, and whatever damage that that scar had caused the rest of his body should heal. And then he’d give Rhys all the pups he ever wanted and spend the rest of their lives reassuring his mate that he was well-loved and not going anywhere. Ever.

Jack called Rhys back as he left the office with an idea to make up for the late reservation, and proposed he cook the omega a romantic dinner for two-- if Rhys would let him- followed by some pampering from his favorite alpha. Just the two of them.

Rhys was a lot more enthusiastic about having Jack’s undivided attention than the alpha had assumed, and it lit a fire under Jack’s butt to really show the younger man just how much he cared.

Jack ended up getting home not twenty minutes later, and pressed hasty, hot kisses on Rhys’ face and neck in lieu of proper greeting. The pleased noises Rhys made were soothing to Jack’s sense of guilt, and the happy scent coming off the younger man was enough reassurance that he really did prefer to stay in.

“I missed you,” Rhys sweetly purred into the embrace Jack gave him, and opened his mouth to the greedy kiss he was subjected to.

“I’d keep you in my office all day if the company wouldn’t go down the crapper with how distracted I’d get,” Jack promised with a smirk as he broke from Rhys’ lips, and touched their foreheads together. “Why don’t you start a bath, and I’ll start dinner, baby. Hm? Use that fancy soap I got you.”

“I’d rather you joined me, Jack,” Rhys purred as he pressed against the older man, and the alpha lightly chuffed before pressing a kiss to Rhys’ jaw.

“Mm that’s the plan buttercup,” Jack told him as he pressed another kiss to Rhys’ lips. “It’s been a long day and I’m just a simple alpha that wants his omega naked in his lap.”

“You’re anything but simple, Jack.” Rhys laughed throatily as Jack was all hands about him. “You work way too hard.”

“Heh, and don’t you know it, Rhysie.” The wiggle of his hips against Rhys’ own made the omega snort, and Jack pressed a kiss to his jaw. “How about I give you a massage and a happy ending? How about that?”

Rhys chuckled, but such an idea definitely had its merits. Rhys loved Jack’s hands. “Maybe we should order something in… Knowing how your massages go.”

“Nah, no way. No one’s interrupting our evening together, sugar. I’ve got this.” Jack laughed, thinking of the last time he’d given Rhys a proper massage that had turned into an hours-long fuckfest only to come out the other side starving with only chips to munch on. Hardly a post-sex meal, to be sure.

Good memories overall though.

“We’ll run the gamut, cupcake. Dinner, romantic bath, and the dicking of a lifetime.” Rhys’ snorts turned into light chuckles as Jack grinned and caressed Rhys’ jaw with his thumb. “Pick out a bottle of something nice and get the tub going. I’ll get something easy started.”

“Easy by your definition or mine?”

“You little shit,” Jack laughed, pressing a kiss to Rhys’ forehead. “Get in the tub, sweetheart. I’ll meet you there.”

A squeeze of Rhys’ ass later and the younger man broke with a grin to pick out a nice bottle of something sparkling before disappearing with it and two glasses into the bathroom that adjoined their bedroom.

Jack grinned widely to himself, thinking of how nice a night he planned to give the younger man, and went to the cupboards and fridge to try and plan something that wouldn’t require his attention for the time they’d be indulgently soaking.

He removed a few layers of clothing before cooking, hot under the collar with eagerness to join Rhys. Tacos were easy but messy. Spaghetti held the same issues. Steak maybe? But that seemed almost too simple. He wanted Rhys to be shown how much he cared, and by definition, nothing simple would do.

The omega himself was happily filling the large tub with the flower-scented bubbles Jack had gotten him from their last trip to the Edens. The sheer quantity and compactness of the suds nearly swallowed him when he eased himself in, laughing lightly at the face he knew Jack would make before unashamedly giving himself a bubble beard and demanding Rhys to do the same.

It was with thoughts of Jack and a towering wig of bubbles that Rhys popped the cork and poured out two glasses of champagne, enjoying a few sips himself before relaxing back against the edge as the enormous tub still filled around him.

Rhys heard the sound of something shattering, and sat up with concern. Sounded like their good salad bowl, but no shrieks or curses following it. “Everything okay?” he hollered, knowing his voice would carry to the kitchen. “...Jack?”

Rhys waited a few moments before calling out to the older man again and straining to hear. He knew Jack would be able to hear him, but the fact that he wasn’t answering was enough for Rhys to pull himself from the tub with concern and reach for a towel and then his bathrobe. “Jack? Everything okay?”

Rhys entered their living room, bathrobe wrapped about him, eyes trained on the open kitchen as he called out again. “Jack? You okay?”

“Don’t come in here, baby.” Jack was standing before the sink rinsing his hands and gave Rhys a sheepish smile as they laid eyes upon one another. Their salad bowl was on the floor in pieces, a mess of some kind of marinade and meat and glass at Jack’s feet. The man himself was also covered, his front stained in sauce as if he’d lost his grip on the bowl. “There’s glass on the floor. I dropped our skewers.”

“Skewers?” That sounded good actually. But the slow-roasted meat was hardly a priority at the moment. “You dropped it? Did you cut yourself?” the omega asked in concern.

“Nah. Go get back in the bath, kitten, and I’ll meet ya in a second.”

“You’re gonna need a shower first,” Rhys judged, smiling when it made Jack chuckle. “Want me to help you clean it up?”

“Nah baby, I don’t want you to hurt your feet.” Jack wiped his now-clean hands on a dish towel and carefully stepped over to the omega. His shoes made a crunch even as he avoided the glass there. He looked at the mess he’d made with a frown. This wasn’t going the way he’d planned. “Dinner might be delayed, though…”

Rhys just smirked. “Jack, just clean it up and have a bath with me. We’ll order take out. Just get naked and get in there.” The alpha turned his warm gaze on Rhys, and the omega smirked at the blush stealing up the older man’s neck. He felt a little thrill of confidence at that and inclined his face towards the older man. He was rewarded with a kiss, though Jack kept his messy self away from the fluffy bathrobe.

“Give me ten minutes to clean this shit up and I’ll be all yours, sugar.”

Jack ended up being true to his word, and Rhys watched the older man peel off his sodden layers with a smile as he finally joined the younger man in the bathroom.

Rhys lazily watched Jack rinse himself off in the adjacent shower, smiling in appreciation of the older man’s body and the attractive flush running down his neck. And then he jolted up in the tub as Jack seemed to almost lose his balance a moment beneath the water, stumbling a bit where he stood.

“Hey,” Rhys said as he was opening the glass door and immediately touching the older man. Jack’s big hands found themselves on Rhys’ shoulders, and he gave the younger man a sort of dazed look while Rhys held onto him tightly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m…. I’m fine.”

“You looked like you were gonna pass out,” Rhys reported as he searched Jack’s face, arms still fully around him at the ready to catch the big alpha at any moment. Rhys frowned and lifted his flesh hand to Jack’s forehead. He was still flushed, but Rhys had chalked that up to arousal. Maybe not. “Are you okay? How do you feel? You’re running hot.”

“I’m always hot,” Jack muttered, but he allowed Rhys to remove them both from the shower and wrap a towel around his waist. “Just a little dizzy,” Jack easily wrote off. “It’s been a long day. Let’s get back in the tub, baby.”

“Did this happen in the kitchen too?” Rhys asked as he ignored Jack’s last sentence, slightly concerned at the lack of fight Jack was putting up as he wound a towel around the alpha and left the bath behind. Rhys was unworried about his own state of nakedness or the water dripping off of him and onto the carpet as he eased Jack toward their bedroom with growing concern.

Jack made a begrudging sound of affirmation as he allowed Rhys to sit him on their bed and dry him with a second towel. He felt a little dazed. He answered Rhys’ various questions about if he’d missed meals today and how much he actually slept last night, but kept brushing things off to having had a stressful work day.

“The flu has been going around the station,” Rhys proposed with concern, brushing back a wet lock of brown behind Jack’s ear. “You do have a fever…”

“I don’t get sick.”

Rhys ignored that statement, remembering how much Jack had bitched the last time he’d caught a cold. The omega returned to their bathroom to check the medicine cabinet for syrup, but didn’t find so much as a single pain-killer. Then he remembered Jack had cleaned them out the last hangover they’d both suffered.

“We don’t have any medicine,” Rhys announced as he returned to Jack, only to towel himself off and pull on some sweatpants and one of Jack’s shirts.

“I’m fine, pumpkin.”

His voice didn’t sound fine to the omega, nor to his own ears, as Jack reclined in the pillows of their unmade bed with his eyes closed. Rhys pulled on his shoes and pressed a kiss to Jack’s hot forehead, giving the alpha a look of concern. Maybe it was lucky they’d missed their reservation, because his alpha did not look good. “I’m gonna go pick up some medicine from the hub, Jack.”

The older man whined a little in his throat and groped weakly for Rhys. This was not how a romantic-night in was supposed to go. “...you’re all the medicine I need, Rhysie.”

Rhys indulged Jack in wrapping his arms around the alpha, holding him tightly while something inside of him was grateful to still be useful. He pulled back to look at the older man. “I’ll be real quick, okay?”

Jack groaned when he pulled away. “Rhysie…”

“Yeah?”

“...I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you’re not dying or anything, okay? You just need rest.”

Jack grumbled some more as Rhys got to his feet, giving the bed and the man in it a last look before he was already readying elevators and clearing security-doors for shortcuts through Helios.

--

Chapter 2 can be found on ao3.

[babycoulson]

Naiveté

Note at the end of the chapter this time.

“This could have been a traumatic experience for Dr. Hall. He may not be the same when you find him,” Phil warned the two of you over the comms. “(Y/N) will talk him down. We don't want your personality to set him on edge, Ward.”

“Great time for humor, sir,” he replied blandly. “My people skills are the least of our problems if Skye can't get us in.”

With one last tug, your raft was safely on the beach, tucked behind a rock.

“You still don’t have any faith in her,” you called Ward out. “How do you expect to be able to bond with her in a way that helps you to train her if you refuse to believe that she can do anything?”

“She’s gotta earn my trust, too,” he replied stiffly.

“That’s not what being a teacher is about. You know that, right?” you asked seriously. “In a teaching situation, you have to trust your student for them to trust you. If they break your trust, then that’s that, but you can’t start out without a little blind trust.”

“You suggest that I trust someone who could betray us at any moment?” He glared at you as you walked up the path to Quinn’s property.

You returned a glare with equal force. “No, I suggest that you trust your student.”

He said nothing, just sighed and shook his head as if he were dealing with an unreasonable toddler.

You kept your anger at his ineptitude down and instead promised yourself that you’d kick his butt sparring later. “When I was in middle school, I had a lot of trouble with math,” you stated.

“You’re not special.”

“Oh, you’re certainly not wrong. I hated math, just like every kid across the world is conditioned to. Something kind of miraculous happened in high school, though. I suddenly got really good at math, and I was pretty stoked honestly. The numbers and letters and Greek alphabet started making sense out of nowhere.”

“Lucky you.”

“Do you know why I got so good at math?”

“If it’s not crucial to our success here, I don’t think it really matters, does it?”

“It may not be crucial to the success of this mission, but it will be in any future missions where you have to put your trust in Skye.”

“You talk like there will be future missions.”

“Yes, because I trust her to do her part!” you exclaimed angrily. “Math started making sense because I wanted it to make sense. I couldn’t learn it until I wanted to, get it? You won’t be able to trust her until you want to.”

“I do want to trust her!”

“No, you don’t.”

“Oh, well, excuse me, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, but trust doesn’t come so easily to all of us.”

“Just like math.”

He didn’t have a response, but that may have partially been because you rounded a corner on the trail to see a bright yellow warning sign. In an English translation below the warning in Maltese, the sign read, “Do not cross / Lethal radiation.”

Eyeing the sign and the seemingly clear trail ahead of you, you picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it forward. With a buzzing noise straight out of a video game, the laser grid glowed bright yellow and ate the destroyed the dirt. You and Ward exchanged a concerned glance.

“Next patrol any minute now,” he said.

“Skye's offline,” May reported urgently. “Repeat, we've lost audio and vitals.”

“No,” you murmured.

Ward gave you an exasperated look with a hint of “I told you so” and said, “Abort is not an option, but if she's compromising--”

“She's still our only way in to get to Dr. Hall,” your father interrupted him over the comms.

“And we're their only way out,” Ward accepted.

The sounds of soldiers’ feet crunching on the sandy trail preceded the “Beach is all clear. Let's move up the ridge.”

You retreated quickly behind a large bush, pulling Ward with you.

“Do you understand the plan or do I have to explain it to you?” you whispered.

“What do you think?” he spat quietly.

“I don’t know! I guess I just feel the need to treat you like you treat me.”

“I don’t treat you like a little kid.”

“I never said you did.”

“But you said you’re treating me the way I treat--” he all but gasped as he realized his error-- “oh my g--”

“You could have pled the fifth, man, but you decided to self-incriminate instead.”

“Listen here, you little--”

“Change of plans. You stay in the bush, and I’ll take care of the problem, understood?”

“No, we are a team and we make decisions--”

You stepped out from your hiding place as the guards became even with your position off the trail. The first guard in line raised his gun quickly as he heard the leaves of the bushes rustling as you made your appearance. You forced his arms down and punched him across his face, knocking him to the ground. The second guard tried to hit you, but you turned around just in time to catch his arm and twist it in just the wrong way and use his immobility to strike him as well. You caught the third guard with a sharp elbow to the face and a strong push down the hill, which sent him tumbling.

The first guard stood up and attempted to hit you, but you grabbed his arm and flipped him over your shoulder. He didn’t get up after that.

“Dang, a little rusty, I guess,” you sniffed, picking up the first guard’s gun and disarming it in a second. “Hey, speaking of rusty, how long does it take you to disarm a gun, Dad?” you asked, touching the ear your comm was in.

“I will have to find out,” he responded.

Ward looked at the three men and said, his teeth gritted, “I have to admit that wasn’t bad.”

“Not bad?” you chuckled. “Not exactly the words I’d pick. It wasn’t good, either. I haven’t really fought in a while and it shows.”

He kept looking at the fallen men and scratched the back of his neck. “Rusty,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Hey, clock's ticking, guys,” you reminded the team back at the Bus. “Where's Skye?”

“We still don’t know,” Fitz worried. “She may have abandoned ship.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Simmons agreed sullenly. “Quinn’s got a lot to offer.”

“Hey, so do we,” you argued. “I know you all think that she’s using us, but I can tell that she’s sincere about wanting to be with us.”

“You’re naive is what you are,” Ward growled.

“Maybe I am!” you yelled, frustrated with the baseless dislike that he’d had for you since you’d met. “I’m also significantly better at making friends than you are.”

“We’re in!” May exclaimed.

“She’s done it!” Jemma followed excitedly.

You crossed your arms and gave Ward a smug look. “Freaking told you,” you gloated.

“Fitz, you’re up,” May told the scientist.

“Oh, mother of all things,” he mumbled to himself. “Move, move, move!”

“We have a man down,” a voice came loudly from one of the soldiers' walkie talkies. “Hostiles on the east ridge!”

Your eyes widened and it was Ward’s turn to try to pull you into the bushes as gunfire came from more soldiers downhill. The bullets disintegrated when they hit the laser grid behind you.

“We need a reset here, Fitz!” you called.

“Fitz!” your father pushed.

“Fitz!” you repeated, pulling your gun from its holster as you looked for a target to shoot.

“Saying his name repeatedly does not increase productivity!” Simmons stressed.

“Okay, go!” Fitz said.

The grid dropped and you dashed across the border, but Ward stood still, firing back at the enemy.

“Or maybe it does,” she resigned, impressed with her friend’s speed.

“System rebooting in two, one, now!”

Ward dove over the border just as Fitz said “now.”

“Cutting it close for no reason,” you teased him, helping him to his feet. “Love that.”

He paid you no mind, instead starting to jog down the path to Quinn’s estate. He seemed pretty set on not speaking to you, so you obliged him.

When the mansion came into view, you told Ward, “I'll look for Dr. Hall down in the lab.”

“I'll get Skye,” Ward said.

You split up at the swimming pool. Remembering the basics on where you had to go, you headed towards the mansion.

“Remind me where to go next?” you requested of your father.

“You’re heading in the right direction,” he assured you. “There’ll be a door coming up in about twenty feet.”

“It’s so nice having an audial Marauder’s Map,” you joked.

“I know just as well as you do that you’d get lost without me.”

“I will certainly not deny that,” you chuckled. “Found the door, now what?”

“Head down the stairs on the left until you get to a door that looks like it belongs in front of a lab.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard to spot.” You hurried down the stairs until a door that looked like it very much belonged in front of a lab came into your view. “Found it,” you said.

You opened the door and entered quickly upon seeing Dr. Hall.

“Dr. Hall,” you called to him, quickly approaching him before introducing yourself, “Agent Coulson. We have an exit strategy.”

“SHIELD?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” you confirmed, walking back towards the door. “Let's get you out of here.”

“I'm sorry, Miss Coulson. I'm right where I'm supposed to be,” he said.

You froze, looking at him with your eyebrows raised. “I'll be honest, our strategy did not take into consideration you saying that.”

“I’m sure it didn’t,” he said, shaking his head and smiling.

You moved to stand in between Dr. Hall’s control table and what you assumed to be the gravitonium. It was huge, at least twelve feet across. The surface was silvery and undulating like it was in turbulent zero-gravity.

“Look, I don't know what Quinn is promising you, but--”

“An opportunity,” Hall interrupted you earnestly.

You looked at the gravitonium as it began to solidify under the electric currents of the ring spinning around it. “We can't let Quinn have control of this, sir, it's too dangerous.”

“We can't let anyone have control of this,” he agreed passionately. “That's why I'm here.” To bury it at the bottom of the ocean, with him.” He pressed more buttons on the control table and the spinning rings gathered more and more speed.

“(Y/N),” May grabbed your attention, “The leak came from--”

“Dr. Hall. Yeah, I'm kinda getting that,” you replied, staring at the gravitonium.

“All the petitions, embargoes in the world couldn't stop Ian,” Hall explained. “He grows more powerful every day. And then I get word he's found this.”

Another wave of electricity from the rings zapped the gravitonium and it visibly solidified, releasing a shockwave that nearly knocked you off your feet.

“I'm sorry, Miss Coulson. I had to make a choice.” He made one more adjustment on the control board and the insides of every cupboard in the lab spilled out.

You responded nervously, “Something tells me that wasn't the "off" button!”

One last shockwave jerked you violently to the left side of the room where you slammed into a metal filing cabinet.

So bad news.

My family is canceling Netflix at the end of April because of rising prices. Unfortunately, this means that I won't have access to Agents of SHIELD anymore. I'm going to try to get one more chapter out before the end of the month, but I'm starting a new semester of college, so I don't know if that'll be possible.

So yes. I'll be going on hiatus for an indeterminate amount of time.

Here's a face reveal to cheer you up?

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Caramel Skin Under A Purple Rain prt 5 full draft

Bar work... was worse than mission work. The constant being polite and smiling when what he really wanted to do was just shoot people... Keith was exhausted by the time he collapsed face first into their bed. Disappearing into their bathroom, Lance seemed in a much better mood. His husband's scent had been all over the place. One tick he was horny, the next he was angry, or suddenly sad. He didn't know how to keep up. Plus, he kept being scolded for glaring at the customers, which wasn't his fault. He didn't like them teasingly asking "how good Lance was in bed", or jokingly saying "I would love to have a piece of that". He wasn't like his husband. He barely spoke to anyone he didn't know about Lance. He didn't randomly brag because he didn't know what would be appropriate and what would be crossing the line. He respected his husband too much to just blurt to some random about how wonderful Lance was... also... he didn't want to share. He didn't want someone taking him away because of how wonderful he was.

  "Keith! Call your mum! I'm going to take a shower!"

 Ugh. That was like effort. Effort that led to him nearly falling off the bed sideways in search of his comms. Giving up to gravity, he "gracefully" slid to the ground, comms in hand as he bothered to check the messages from his mother properly. Most of it was boring coalition crap. He really couldn't be bothered with reading, so opened up the call log and video called his mother.

 Almost as if she'd been waiting for his call, Krolia answered with a smile on her face

"Keith! How's Lance?!"

Snorting at his mother, he tried to look hurt but was too exhausted to pull it off

"He's good. He'd recovered a few quintants ago, so I've had him resting"

"Is he there?"

"He's in the shower"

"Aw. How can I say hi to my two sons if one isn't there?"

"You could say hi to this one? You know, the one you actually produced"

Krolia rolled her eyes at him

"Someone's grumpy. What's the matter?"

"Nothing... Fine. It's just outpost stuff..."

"Mmmm? What's happening?"

"Everyone keeps hitting on Lance"

Having the nerve to laugh at him, he wanted to punch his mother in the arm for it

"It's not funny"

"For you I suppose it's not. What does Lance say?"

"He's bragged to everyone about me apparently... it doesn't stop them though"

"Then it's fine. As long as you trust Lance, I'm sure he can handle a few customers"

"It's them I don't trust. He shouldn't have to handle anyone"

"You knew what he was getting into when he started the hotel side of the outpost. Now, what else is going on? You don't exactly look too happy to see me"

"What? No. It's not like that. It's just been a long day, and you're the one who totally spammed my comms up. I have no idea what most of the messages are about"

 Krolia's expression morphed into something more neutral

"Ah... yes. We do need to talk about. The coalition have decided you're receiving an award over exposing what was happening with Kre'el and the others. I know we failed to locate the planet in question, but they feel you conducted a very thorough investigation, opening new avenues and raising new issues"

Ugh. The last thing he wanted to think about was Kre'el. Her stupid photo was even up in the bar. Her, Lance, some other woman named Leah and Helo. Th'al had sent through a bunch from the Gilded Cage's surveillance systems

"That was all Lance"

"I did explain that, several times over actually. Because you've become the face of the next generation, they wish to use the press to push for further peace"

"I don't want an award"

"I'm sorry. We did raise an objection, but the ceremony will be going on about a phoeb after Allura day. They're planning on broadcasting from Altea on the day, then using images from that day during the ceremony. It's mostly celebrating Daibazaal and it's..."

"Mum. I don't want this. Do you know what this is going to do to Lance when he finds out that they want to celebrate the death of his friends?"

"Don't shoot the messenger. We tried to decline, but that only led to tension. We're now being accused to hiding information gathered during the investigation. It doesn't help that the ships now been destroyed, and now that the miner settlements have been reorganised its... well... complicated. The also wish to award you for your humanitarian work"

  Lance was the one doing all quiznakking hard work. With all this he was going to have to head back to Daibazaal and sort it all out. There was no way Lance wasn't getting any kind of recognition. If he had to get up there like a fool, his husband was doing the same damn thing

"Humanitarian work can suck my dick"

"Keith!"

"You know this is crap! Lance did all that work. He traced the leads and followed everything up. You were there for that briefing"

"I know! You don't need to take that tone with me. That's why I was hoping Lance was there so we could all discuss it... Why don't you bring him to Daibazaal?"

"Because he's still recovering. I hope you know all this work is ruining my marriage!"

Krolia sighed deeply

"You can't run away from something you don't like. I'll try and talk to Kolivan. I agree that Lance should receive some kind of recognition, but I also have the feeling he'd turn it down. Talk to him and call me back about it. Oh, Acxa and Krystaal want to know when you're returning too. Acxa's requested leave to go stay with Veronica for a movement or so on the Atlas, I told her once you returned she'd clear to leave"

Unfortunately if he didn't leave, his mother could simply open a wormhole then collect him herself

"I don't know when that's going to be..."

"You did say Lance is doing better? Your time there is accelerated, correct?"

"Yeah. It's time and a half here. Are you trying to tell me you can't do without me for a couple of movements"

"Not at the moment. I should be thanking my lucky stars both of you haven't gone missing for phoebs this time..."

"That wasn't our fault"

Hearing Lance shuffling out the bathroom, Keith closed his eyes as he drew a deep breath

"I didn't say it was... completely. You both still acted recklessly"

Letting the breath out, Keith forced himself to sit up

"I've got to go now. I'll be home when I can"

His mother looked mildly annoyed

"Alright. Tell Lance I said "hello". You're better off getting started as soon as possible with these preparations"

"Mum, I told you I don't want..."

Quiznak. Lance was right there

"I'll call you later. Tell Kosmo I love him"

"I love you, Keith"

His mother stared at him until he finally relented

"I love you, too"

  Annoyed at the conversation, Keith tossed his comms across the room before forcing himself to climb off the floor. Thanks to the magic that was the maids, the washing he'd gathered up from their room had magically returned clean. Lance paid them all enough to keep their mouths shut, and he wouldn't have had them there if he didn't trust them. Whatever was going through Lance's head, his scent had shifted again, back to fear. Great. Juuuust what he needed.

  Stripping down to his boxers, Keith slipped into his side of the bed with a yawn. Shuffling up behind Lance, his husband shifted away from his hold. Pushing his hand away before Keith could even wrap his arm around his waist

"Babe?"

"Not tonight"

That was short and direct

"Are you ok?"

"Fine. How was mum Krolia?"

Lance wasn't acting like everything was fine

"The same as usual. Everything's a mess. It's the end of the world. The coalition wants this. The coalition wants that... it doesn't end"

"The coalition wants to give you medal because Kre'el's dead"

Oh... oh... no wonder his husband was frosting him out

"You heard that"

"Yeah. I was going to ask you something if you hadn't already called her. I heard everything from the start"

"Babe... Lance, you know I don't want anything like an award. I don't see why they'd even want to give me an award. What happened isn't something to be celebrated"

"Apparently it is"

Having dropped his hand to rest right behind Lance's back, Keith walked his fingers slightly up

"I'm not accepting anything"

"You have to"

"I don't"

"You heard Krolia. Daibazaal needs the publicity"

"Daibazaal can jump"

 Pushing the blankets back, Lance moved to sit on the end edge of their bed, burying his face in his hands as he did

"You know it's not that easy"

"Daibazaal isn't a threat anymore. The coalition doesn't know what they're talking about"

"The coalition that we all worked so fucking hard to form when we were Paladins... The coalition that was made up of the people with the biggest Galra issues... If you want peace, you need to keep showing the Galra doing good things"

"Our lives aren't theirs to use"

"They kind of are. Why do you think I like living out here away from all that? We're not even part of the coalition here. Erathus is on the verge because Shiro got the Atlas involved, but that would only be in a name anyway. They couldn't give two shits about the people out here"

Sighing mentally, Keith crawled up behind his husband

"I know that. But I'm serious. I don't want an award. I don't agree with this at all. I know politics is all pretty much a game, but the coalition can't throw this back in mum's face when they're in the wrong"

"You're not getting it. You are the legendary Black Paladin. The first Galra-Human born. The hope for the future. You're young. Good looking. Have combat experience. Helped saved the universe and are the son of the Rulers of Daibazaal. It is also widely known that you and Shiro and tight as fuck. There's a reason it couldn't be anyone but you, because you're the future in the eyes of the media while we're all basically background noise. I wasn't lying when I said you were the future on that stupid game show. You are the future and it means you're going to have to go through with this for the greater good of the Galaxy. Even if you don't agree with it. Besides, your mother also mentioned your team's humanitarian work. I wouldn't be surprised if the coalition requested more half-Galra to accept awards or be present during the ceremony to promote peace"

"These are our lives. Everything you went through is going to be lost and forgotten..."

"As it should be! What are they supposed to do? Show me being fucked on the big screen? Lance is different from Leandro. Leandro did the work. Lance simply provided the body"

  As Lance snapped at him, Keith saw red

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

"It is what it is"

Climbing off their bed, Keith rounded his husband. Crossing his arms as he stared down at him

"It isn't right!"

"You ended a mass murderer in the eyes of the media. The story's already started to be forgotten"

"And you're ok with that? With people forgetting what Kre'el went through?"

"Of course I'm not! She deserved more! She wanted her and her people to survive! But her story won't create sensational headlines. It won't bring peace. How are people going to feel about the Altean's knowing Kre'el was Altean?! It won't just be Daibazaal that the coalition will start questioning"

"If they trusted us, they wouldn't question us to begin with!"

"I know that!"

"Then why can't you see where I'm coming from!?"

"I never I didn't!"

"You're not agreeing with me"

"Because you're being narrow minded! You have to look at the bigger picture here. It's more than us... You were always meant for great things Keith..."

  Lance sounded lost and broken, like he didn't deserve to achieve anything in his life, and thought he never had

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter"

"Obviously it does, or you wouldn't be making such an issue out of it"

"It doesn't matter because no matter how it plays, this is something we can't change. For the sake of peace in the future you have to go through with this"

"And what about the sake of the man I love?"

Lance gazed up at him with pained eyes

"When it comes to the fate of the universe, it doesn't matter how much you love someone"

"It isn't right"

"That doesn't matter. If any of the information relating to how I met Kre'el was to come out... for everyone to know... Keith, they'd know the kind of man you married. They'd know what I did to his officers. To him. The judgment of Shiro, Coran, Kolivan and Krolia would all be questioned. Why would they take the word of a man with a brain injury? It wouldn't matter what the truth was anymore. It'd all be about what story they can tell to gather the most support. If you fight this... if it causes Kre'el's comp..."

Lance trailed off, his eyes widening

"If if causes what? What is it?"

"If it causes Kre'el's compatriots to make a move... The could turn the awards ceremony into a public declaration and provoke them. If they over emphasis whatever information they have, things will start moving again. They never found the planet. I haven't been keep in the loop regarding investigations carried out since I stepped back put this marriage first. This could be speculation, yet I'm sure someone with the coalitions staff would have already thought of this"

"That's even more reason to shoot this down"

"Didn't you hear me. We can't. If you go to them and say we can't make this public, they're going to ask why. I'm one tiny spec of insignificant dust"

  "Would you fucking stop putting yourself down! I'm sick to death of hearing it!"

 Keith didn't mean to blow his temper again. Lance was so much more than he let himself believe. He definitely could have worded things better, especially when Lance fled back across the bed and over to the door to their room

"Babe. You know what I mean. You know you're so much more than all these things you think you are. You're my husband. You're my husband and I fucking adore you. You're not insignificant. You're not any of those other words your anxieties tell you you are. I don't want things having to change for you. I don't want you going back to worrying who knows what. I want you to be comfortable, and safe..."

  With his arms wrapped around him, Lance was visibly trembling. Stepping towards him, Lance held his hand up as he pressed himself against the door

"Don't! Just don't!"

"Babe..."

How was this fucking fair? Lance was right. He knew he was right, but that didn't make Keith any less right either

"I'm going to... go be somewhere else. I can't..."

"You don't need to leave. This is our room"

"I can't... I haven't been able to control my moods all day. If I stay..."

Shaking his head, Lance changed tangent

"...no. I can't stay... call Krolia and talk it through. Tell her I understand"

"You're serious..."

"It... it has to be done. Like the briefing. Maybe we'll be lucky and you'll just get some fancy award. Or maybe my spread legs will be all over the galactic media... I can't deal with this right. I don't want to fight you because I love you. And I know you're fighting for what you think is best for me... and I appreciate it. I really do. I'm going to take a walk... I can't be in here when it smells of your anger and hurt"

His husband got it. He understood what Keith was trying to say. The half-Galra knew he should of been relieved, yet at the same time, he'd scared the hell out of Lance who'd admitted he hadn't been able to control his moods all day

"Lance..."

"It's alright. Let's not spend what little time you have left here fighting. Krolia wants you home soon. I'm used to it"

Lance's voice broke with emotion as he slammed his hand on the scanner for the door, disappearing outside and leaving Keith feeling like his heart was shattering. He knew he was being selfish. He hadn't planned to tell Lance immediately. He'd also intended to put off his return with whatever series of white lies he needed to spin. Why couldn't everyone butt out of their relationship? Why did the coalition have to think this was all a good idea? It was their lives. They weren't fucking puppets. Keith felt that instead of putting the issue to sleep, it was only going to bring the lingering embers back to life. If they stuck him in front of the press, the press were going to want the full story. Or they'd put enough pieces together to form a story they liked. Quiznak... If only he could go back in time.

    *

Having spent most of the night tossing and turning, Keith felt barely human as he dragged himself out of bed. He'd gotten a few vargas in, but without Lance there... in his arms, where he was supposed to be, it wasn't right. The bed wasn't right. They had their own spots, and that was where they were supposed to be. No matter what happened.

  Rubbing his eyes as he stumbled over to their wardrobe, his heart was broken all over again. Covered in a thin blanket, blood remained smeared on Lance's cheeks and arms. He didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know Lance had tried clawing his marks off his cheeks. His husband had told him he couldn't deal with things, and this was the end result. Ignoring the temptation to grab his comms up and send a photo of Lance to his mother to shove in her face how much of a bad idea this all was, Keith laid himself down on the edge of the wardrobe, reaching out to rest his hand on lance's chest. More than once he'd done exactly the same thing to escape reality. More than once his wardrobe had been his only source of safety and comfort. His heart pranged at the knowledge he knew what Lance would have been feeling when he climbed in there. Lance would have seen him on the bed and not wanted to disturb him, so chose the next place he felt safe. He didn't want to fight either. Lance was the single most precious person he had. He loved Shiro. He'd go through hell for the man... but Lance... if he lost Lance, he knew he'd lose his mind. Lance was his stability. Lance would never let him down or fall, even if it led to self destruction.

  Stirring under his touch, his husband's bottom lip quivered as he pulled the blankets up under his chin

"I don't want to fight"

"I don't want to fight either"

"I know you love me. I do..."

"I know"

"You haven't even left and I'm already trying to act like you have so it doesn't hurt as much... I'm sorry I'm so selfish... the whole universe needs you"

  Wriggling himself over and under the blanket, Keith pulled Lance up against him

"You're not selfish. You're an idiot. Sometimes I don't know how you can love me as fiercely as you do. But I love you back just as much. You're my family. I was hesitant to ask, even before mum mentioned it, but do you think you might want to come to Daibazaal for a bit? It doesn't have to be long or any longer than you want..."

Lance let out a weird gasped sob

"I can't... I can't... I've lost my... I've lost my support again and I'm still trying to find my feet... I can't say how I'll react... I don't want to embarrass you... and I don't want... want to be sent back to step one all over again because I'm not strong enough. I make so many demands on you..."

"Baby, you can always make demands. Let's face it, I'm probably going to honestly forget half the time. And I've probably hurt you dozens and dozens of times by forgetting as it is. But I don't care how many demands you make. I like it when you boss me around. I like it when you get all excited and start planning things out even though there's ages before it happens"

"I feel like I talk at you too much... I feel like I shouldn't be messaging you at all when you're on missions... I know you turn your comms off and get them all when you come back... but doesn't that make me too needy?"

"Lance, you're recovering. You need to breathe. I love those messages. I look forward to your messages. I appreciate when you keep me in the loop"

"Do you?"

"Of course. Why would you ask?"

"B-because I thought you were going to dump me"

  Keith blinked rapidly as he frowned. Why was he dumping the man who adopted him like it was as natural as breathing?

"Why would you think that?"

"Because I message too much... you tell me a little... and you love me... and I know you can't say everything but I feel so far out on the outside of your life. You're making all these memories with everyone else... that I won't ever know about or be a part of... I... think... you'd be happier if you'd never met me. You..."

"Don't be an idiot"

Lance didn't reply. One moment turn into three very long moments before Keith continued

"You're my husband"

"Who's like this... Who's brain damaged and will probably keep having seizures for the rest of my life... you didn't sign up for this"

"I don't care what I signed up for"

"I do. All I want is you to be happy. No matter what it costs"

"I want the same for you. I can't always answer your calls, but you're not alone. You can call mum, and Shiro, and Coran, and Mami, and Veronica, anytime you need. Mum and Shiro are the two that will probably know my schedule the best"

"I get stupidly worried you're gone forever when I don't hear from you"

"I get worried too. When I see you've signed up for a bounty, or you're off planet"

"I know you do... but sometimes it's nice to hear it... or to read it... I'm being demanding again. I honestly only really care to know you and your team are safe"

"I'll try and work on it. You might need to remind me, but I'll try"

Lance nodded with a loud sniffle

"Thank you... You should... probably leave tomorrow... I don't want to say goodbye, but if Krolia is pregnant, she's dealing with enough as it is"

  Keith bit down the tiny flash of anger at Lance telling him to go

"One more quintant isn't going to make much of a change, let alone two"

"It... it's hard enough to think of you leaving... I need to get back into my routine"

"You're still recovering from your heat. It was a major strain on your body"

"It was on yours too. You always, always get stuck looking after me"

"That's not true. I seem to remember you carrying me around Kre'el's ship"

"Because you had to rush to my rescue to begin with"

"Like you didn't have a plan all along"

"I planned to die"

"I... I know you did. Have... Things are better now, aren't they?"

"Y-yeah... yeah... they're more tolerable"

"Doesn't that mean I should stay around longer?"

"It's only going to hurt more if you leave later... you should go"

  Keith felt horribly torn. Again, he knew exactly what Lance was feeling. He didn't want to. It already felt far too hard to say goodbye, and he most definitely didn't want to go

"Acxa is supposed to be going to stay with Veronica... I guess that means I'll be training the recruits with Zethrid and Ezor"

"You're good with them"

"I don't know about that. There's some real dumbarses in the group. Krystaal is probably the most competent. You'd really like them. They're not up with your sharp shooting skill, but I think they'd make it with a little more time and dedication"

"You really like Krystaal, don't you?"

"We get on pretty well. Krystaal is a lot like you. A selfless idiot who'd let themselves be blown up to protect everyone... you also have the same sense of weird humour... plus you're both not half bad looking. You're both tall... and smart... and quick thinkers able to adapt in the middle of the battle... buuuut, you're beautiful and my husband"

Nudging Lance at his joke, Keith had no idea the poisonous barbs he'd filled Lance's heart with

"It sounds to me like you have a crush"

Rolling his eyes, Keith stole a kiss

"Who needs a crush when I have my husband waiting all the way out here for me?"

 Driving those thorns deeper, Keith really was an idiot if he thought Lance was going to have the courage to confide in him after being compared to someone Keith was in contact almost all the time when on duty.

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Lost in Translation

Title: Lost in Translation

Fandom: Star Trek

Pairing: Mckirk

Rating: Lemon

Tags: minor character death, hurt, little bit of self destruction, stranded, possible smut down the line, FLUFF!!!

Summary:

    “Attention citizens. This is the crew of the Enterprise asking for your aid. On Stardate 2264.78 a shuttle manned by our captain and fourteen cadets was ambushed by an unknown source and chased out of sight of our ship and into open space. Those cadets as well as our captain, James Tiberius Kirk, are still missing. We are asking anyone with any information on their whereabouts, or regarding the attack, to please contact the Enterprise immediately. Our family would appreciate any assistance you can give.” 

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Special Thanks: wanted to give a huge shout out to my girl Katie, AKA @goingknowherewastaken for being a huge inspiration for this fic as well as for being a huge help (especially when it comes to putting up with my frantic ramblings lol) you're awesome boo <3

A/N: So this is a work in progress but it’s basically finished and I’ve been making great headway with this recently, so this will be the first fic I’ve ever finished! Woohoo!! And I'm thinking that I’ll probably stick to a Sunday post schedule.

    Also a little note for y’all to keep in mind while reading. I have tagged this fic “possible eventual smut” and that’s because right now I don’t have any planned buuuuut… I'm going to leave that option up to you guys! Between the readers here and AO3, if you're still with me by the end of this fic, leave a comment and let me know if you would be interested in an epilogue or end scene with smut. I’ll post a reminder at the end, but keep it in mind while reading.

    And if anyone is interested in being tagged for future posts for this fic or any others I may post, please let me know and I’ll add you to the list! Thanks for reading <3

AN: Sorry this is so late... I’ve had a shitty shitty weekend. But now it’s up and I cant wait to see what you guys think of this one!

SO MUCH FLUFF IN THIS CHAPTER! SO MUCH FLUFF!!

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

Chapter 6

“Damn it kid, look what you do to me.”

    Leonard ran his thumb gently across the back of the hand he was still holding. He remembered waking up that day in the sickbay, he remembered his conversation with Uhora, remembered the feeling of acceptance that washed over him but also the fear of possibly never being able to admit that to the person who actually mattered.

    He looked over to Jim still unconscious in the bed, as lifeless as he had been when he was being rushed through the sickbay after Spock had finally found him.

    “Jim,” he began, nervously, “kid… you gotta wake up. You heard the log, I’ve got a lot of things to say and I want to be able to say them to your face. I don’t even care if you don’t… if you don’t feel the same, I just need to say it. I need you to know the truth. I don’t want another chance lost on us like this Jim, I-”

    Tears clouded his vision and a lump filled his throat as he squeezed Jim's hand a little tighter. What were the words worth if Jim couldn’t even hear them?

    The padd in his lap prompted him with a new log, this one belonging to Jim again, and a shaking finger touched the screen allowing Jim's voice to fill the room.

    “Kirk’s log, stardate 2264.97. I buried them today Bones, all of them. I buried fourteen rookie cadets, kids, in the sand, on a planet we don’t even know, a planet that’s not even federation! Kids, Bones, they were all kids!” Leonard heard a muffled sound through the padd, he was sure it was a sob Jim was trying to cover, “I couldn’t just leave them lying there like that, it didn’t feel right. So… so I took a piece of metal from the wreckage and used it yesterday to dig out fourteen graves. The metal tore up my hands pretty bad but… a small price to pay for the indefinite price those cadets paid. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be found, but at least this way, whatever happens, I know I did my best to make sure those kids have some kind of peace. And if you do find me, Bones, or if somehow this comm makes its way back to you, will you let their parents know that I tried. I tried my best to keep them alive long enough but I just… I couldn’t do it. Not with the supplies I had, I just… god, Bones. Kids, they were all just kids…”

~~~~~~~~~~~

    After a full day of digging fourteen graves, Jim laid down for one last sleep in his battered shelter, surrounded by his fallen crew members. The next morning he woke with the sun and began finally laying his cadets to rest.

    He started with the first fallen, Trever, their pilot. Then moved on to the second, VooHook, then Amanda, and Kent. One by one he pulled their lifeless bodies into their far too early graves, with ripped apart hands and still limping on his injured knee, until all fourteen graves were filled. And one by one he filled in each and every one of them.

    When he was finished it was mid day and Jim stood panting before the graves in the blazing hot sun. He stared down at them, the fourteen bumps of freshly turned ground at his feet, and fell to his knees in a crying lump. “I'm sorry,” he choked out around the uncontrollable sobs, “I let you all down and I'm so sorry. I’ll never be able to forgive myself for this. You all deserved better then me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

    After Jim had said his goodbyes and cried until he couldn’t cry anymore, he gathered what little he could from the shelter, shoving it into the now empty medkit, and started making his way towards the lonely mountain.

    As he was walking he pulled out his comm and began talking, trying to keep his mind off of how far the mountain really was. “Kirks log, stardate 2264.97. I’ve started walking, Bones. I'm making my way towards the only other thing I can see besides desert, the single mountain. It’s definitely going to take me much longer then I was hoping with my injured knee, but I'm trying not to think about that so much.”

    Jim paused, continuing to limp towards the mountain as he thought back to better times. To his times in the academy after Pike had finally set him straight, and to think on it now Jim realized he had a lot more then his captaincy to thank his mentor for. He thought back on meeting Bones on that shuttle in Riverside, to the first time he laid eyes on that grumpy old doctor who seemed to worm his way right into his closed off little heart in the blink of an eye. To the ship, his ship, and the crew that came with it, his family. To the good times and the bad times, and the times he managed to drag Bones’s argumentative ass along on away missions, just so he could hear the doctors ever present negative outlook on whatever crazed idea Jim had come up with. In fact, now that he really thought about it, a lot of his memories involved Bones.

    “Hey, Bones,” he chimed, glossy eyed as he sunk back into the memory, “remember when we first met? You were hiding in the bathroom on the shuttle in Riverside. I was bruised and covered in blood after Pike just pulled my ass out of an epic whooping, and you were drunk off your ass and fighting with the attendant on the shuttle, rambling on about your aviophobia.” He scoffed as he continued, “You know, I’ll never get over the fact that a man as terrified of flying as you ever joined Starfleet to begin with… but I'm damn glad you did. And on the bright side, you never did throw up on me.”

    He chuckled at the thought. The entire flight to the academy was spent listening to the man beside him ramble on and on about everything and anything that could go wrong in space, sharing the flask the man had hidden in his jacket pocket, and praying that he wouldn’t end up with a lap full of the mans lunch by the end of it. But regardless of the fact that he was the most down trod man Jim had ever met besides himself, he couldn’t help but feel right away that they fit together better then any two beings in the entire universe. And he missed him so much right now.

    “Remember,” He laughed trying to remember the exact words, “remember what you said to me that day, Bones, how you described space. You said, “space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence,”” he did his best to imitate the mans gruffy southern accent and looked around him at the vast amount of nothing before him, “ain’t that the truth. But no matter how this ends, Bones, I want you to know that I am thankful for you. I'm thankful for everything that brought us together in the end. For your ex wife who took the whole damn planet in your divorce, for the flight attendant who forced you to sit next to me on the shuttle, for the rooming snafu that ignored your request for a single room and landed you with me as a roommate instead, for being suspended and having my pouty ass hypoed and snuck onto the Enterprise by you. I feel like every being in the universe was always trying to bring us together, Bones, and by some god damn miracle we finally managed it after all those years. I just hope… I hope it doesn’t end on this sour note. I hope we pull off another miracle and I can find my way back to you. We’ve got a lot to talk about that’s for sure.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

    “Hey, Bones.” It had only been a few hours since his last log, but his injured knee was starting to ache even more with the walking and Jim needed some kind of distraction, “Remember first year, it was second term, and you were all riled up about passing the shuttle exam? And you killed me in the shuttle crash?! I know I never let you live it down but you have to admit it was pretty damn funny.” He trailed off, laughing at the memory of it. “It was when we were just starting to become really close, closer then we already were at the time. And despite the fact that you crashed our shuttle a bunch of times it’s a really great memory for me. When we were in that shuttle together, alone, just the two of us, it was the first time we really touched, we… we held hands for the first time. And when we were in there together, I thought for sure… Bones, I thought you were going to say something, I thought you were going to tell me that-” he sighed, still not quite able to say it yet, “but you didn’t. Anyways, I uh, I was just thinking about that memory. I hope you remember it, Bones.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

    “Just ease the shuttle out of the port, Bones.”

    Jim sat beside Len, the two of them in their casual grey academy sweats and matching oversized hoodies, just the two of them after class hours. Len was in the pilots seat, hand wrapped around the control stick in a white knuckled grip as he did as Jim said, and tried to ease the shuttle out of the port. Jim gripped the arm of his chair as the shuttle stuttered out of port, past the few docked shuttles around them, and into open space.

    “Good,” he nodded, “a little shaky, but good. Now, accelerate forwards at a nice pace and head for the planet’s surface.”

    Len nodded without taking his eyes off the view screen, focused on his task while trying not to have a mental break down mid flight, like he had while his instructor was in the passenger seat a few days prior.

    The shuttle continued at its slow and not so steady pace, and Jim was sure the planet was actually getting further away from them instead of closer. “Speed up a bit grandma or else we’ll die of old age before we even get there.”

    Len's fingers gripped tighter around the control stick as he ground out around clenched teeth, “Jim, this is stressful enough as it is!

    “Easy there, Bones” Jim chuckled, “but you do need to go a little faster, we’re in open space, and stop shaking so much, everything’s fine.

    Len tried to take a steadying breath but what came out was more like a stutter. He chanced a glance down at his hand still clenched tightly around the control stick and noticed just how much he was shaking.

    He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. “You know I hate flying, kid. It’s not as easy as you make it sound to just relax while I'm holding not only my life in my hands, but now yours as well.”

    Jim let go a small smile as his eyes travelled over to Len’s still shaking hands. Before he could stop himself he stretched his arm across and let his fingers trail gently down Len's arm, starting at his elbow and stopping at his wrist. He let his fingers linger on the back of Len's hand for a moment, tracing small circles on the skin there, before wrapping his hand around Len's and running his thumb soothingly over Len's and pushing the stick forwards into a slightly faster speed.

    Without looking up he spoke to Len again, in an almost whisper, “You know I willingly give you my life, right, Bones.”

    Len scoffed, “As a doctor, yes, but as a pilot you shouldn’t.”

    “It wouldn’t matter the situation, Bones, I would trust you with my life regardless.”

    “Kid,” Len shook his head again, “I'm the worst pilot the academy’s got. You’d be better off never getting into a shuttle with me, it’d probably be a hell of a lot safer.”

    “You're not a bad pilot,” he continued to ease Len's hand forwards bit by bit as he continued, “you're just a little too high strung at times and over worrisome. You’ve just got to learn to let things go, whatever’s going to happen will happen, and as long as it happens with you and I together, then I'm ok with it.”

    For the first time since they entered the shuttle Len took his eyes off the view screen to look at Jim. He didn’t know exactly what to say…well that was actually a lie. He did know what to say, but what he struggled with was how to say it. “Jim…”

    Jim still refused eye contact, eyes focused on their hands as he whispered barely audible, “Yeah, Bones.”

    “Jim, I-” before he could get it out the shuttle rocked violently to the side. Len's eyes widened in panic and Jim sat straight up in his chair. He removed his hand from Len's and kept his eyes fixed on the view screen. “Jim, what was that?!”

    “You’re the pilot, you tell me.”

    “I thought you were supposed to be helping me!” Len was in full panic mode. His hands flew across the controls, trying desperately to locate the source of the hit, and stop the deafening alarms from going off around them.

    “I am helping you, Bones,” Jim’s voice remained calm and collected, and it flustered Len even more, “this is a great time for a lesson.”

    “It sure as hell is not!”

    “It sure as hell is!” Jim shot back full of enthusiasm, “Now tell me what's happening, and quick before we’re hit again.”

    Len's hands continued to move across the controls before he sat back, face pale and eyes wide, “We’re in an asteroid field!”

    “Yes we are!” Jim sat back and crossed one leg over the other, turning slightly towards Len, “Now what do you do?”

    Len turned to Jim, annoyed at the very collected and undisturbed kid beside him and growled, “How are you so calm?!”

    Jim merely ignored the question and asked the same one again, “What do you do, Bones? I know you know the answer.”

    He huffed a breath and searched his memory, thinking back to class and what his instructor had told him before stuttering out, “I… I pull up a view screen of the field to help navigate through it and then… land on the nearest safe surface until I can get aid.”

    With out so much more than a nod Jim said, “Then do it.”

    Len turned back to the controls and brought up the view of the asteroid field on the screen, and quickly tried to navigate a path through the debris towards the planet he was originally headed for. His frantic movements caught Jim's eye and he reached over and placed a firm hand on Len's shoulder.

    “Relax, Bones.”

    “Kid…” Len was sure that if he gripped the control stick any tighter with his right hand it would mould to his skin, but he just couldn’t bring himself to the calm level that was Jim Kirk.

    Jim gave his shoulder a light squeeze, “You wanna get through this asteroid field then you have to have a calm steady hand and a clear mind. Just breathe.”

    “Kid…” Len could feel every muscle in his body tensing despite Jim's words, “We’re gunna hit that huge asteroid!”

    “Reverse thrusters, Bones, you can get through this field easily.”

    Len found himself completely frozen as the asteroid was coming closer and closer. He couldn’t move any part of his body no matter how hard he tried, no matter how loud his brain yelled at his hand to reach across and activate the reverse thrusters, nothing was working. All he could do was stare straight ahead and think about the inevitable.

    “Kid…” was all he could manage to choke out.

    Jim gave Len's shoulder another squeeze, leaning closer to him, “You know how to do this, Bones, reverse thrusters.”

    “Jim!”

    With Len completely locked up, the shuttle crashed hard with the large asteroid, shaking the entire shuttle as the view screen went black. The shuttle around them filled with a deep red hue and the alarms were replaced with a robotic female voice.

    “Away mission to class M planet, Maldova, failed. Shuttle destroyed on impact, all life forms aboard perished. Simulation end.”

    The red hue was then replaced with the normal glow of artificial light as Len slumped back into his chair with a huff, rubbing at his eyes with both hands.

    Jim shook Len's shoulder where his hand still held him tightly, as he breathed with a smile, “It’s ok, Bones.”

    “No, no it’s not, Jim!” He threw his hands up in frustration, “I have another simulator test coming up in two weeks, and if I don’t pass this one I won’t be allowed to move into the next semester with you. I’ll be held back until I can pass this god forsaken test! Not to mention if this was a real life situation I would have killed you!” he sighed, “I'm a doctor damn it, not a pilot! Why do I have to learn how to fly?!”

    “Every member of a ship has to know how to fly, no matter what their position is, everyone has to be certified. It’s Starfleet regulation. If something happened and every crew member was unable to fly except you, then we would all look to you to pilot.”

    Len groaned, not even wanting to think about such a mess, “I'm never going to pass this test. I'm going to be held back and you’ll move on without me.”

    Jim shook his head, “Not a chance, Bones.”

    “Jim,” Len began in a firm voice, “you are not halting your education or dream of captaincy because this old man can’t pass a damn simulation test. It just means we won’t graduate together.”

    “I'm not walking that stage without you.”

    “Kid-”

    Jim stopped him, looking Len directly in the eyes as he spoke his next words with sincerity, “Bones, I meant what I said before. No matter what the situation, I willingly lay my life in your hands.” Len could only stare at him in awe as he continued, “I would never give that trust to anyone else, only you. And I can’t do that if I'm in space and you're still grounded. No one else on any ship, or anywhere in the universe, would be worthy enough of that trust, and I don’t want anyone else, I only want you. And if that means that I have to stay here with you for another year and wait while you pass the test, or two years, or ten years, even if we never leave earth, I will wait right here beside you, Bones. I am not going into space without you, do you understand?”

    Len didn’t know what to say. All he could do was stare and nod to let Jim know that he did understand, but what he wanted to say was how much Jim's words had meant to him. After a hardened childhood and a shitty marriage followed by an equally shitty divorce, Len was starting to think he would never know compassion again. But sure enough, Jim Kirk had some how managed to flip his entire life view around and flutter his heart like a love sick teenager, despite the hard exterior he worked so hard on.

    “Good,” Jim smiled, leaning away from Len, “but I'm not going to let you fail. We are going to work on this until you feel comfortable with it.”

    While Len continued to stare at Jim, he turned away and started rebooting the simulator to play a random mission. While his hands worked the controls Len reached forwards and caught Jim's hand in his, holding it firmly, linking their fingers together and giving them a squeeze. Jim stopped all movements and looked to Len, waiting for him to say something.

    “I...” He began, “Thanks, Jim, for sticking with me, it means a lot.”

     Jim returned the squeeze and smile, and when Len let go they both found their hands feeling very empty. A want to pull back and never let go washing over the both of them, but neither knowing how to go about that. So Jim decided instead to turn back to his work and busy himself with rebooting the simulator, and less then a minute later they found themselves looking through the view screen at the now very familiar port.

    “Ok, Bones,” Jim settled back into the chair once again and explained Len's new mission, “this time you're rescuing a stranded four man crew stalled in open space. You’ve got to locate them, bring your shuttle to rest beside them without jostling them further into space, and engage the boarding tube so they can safely leave their ship and board ours. Got it?”

    “Got it,” he confirmed with a nod.

    “Great.” A smirk quickly found its way onto Jim's face as he turned to face Len, “And this time don’t forget to watch out for oncoming debris or danger, don’t get distracted while ogling my fine self again.”

    Len just reached over and gave Jim's shoulder a shove. Jim burst out laughing, and as much and Len tried to give the kid his signature scowl he just couldn’t, and ended up laughing along with him. He spared him one last glance, Jim's face bright with laughter and Len couldn’t help but think how much he loved that smile on Jim kirks face, what he wouldn’t give to have it always there and only for him.

    As the shuttle pulled further out of the port he returned his eyes reluctantly to the view screen. Taking the shuttle out into open space, this time with more confidence and less of a shake to his hands, as Jim's laughter beside him filled the shuttle.

~~~~~~~~~~~

    Len ran his thumbs over Jim's fingers, his hand still tightly held in his while Jim still lay unconscious beside him. “How could I forget, kid,” and how could he.

    He remembered that day perfectly, as if it were yesterday. The day Jim had not only sent a whirlwind of shivers through his body with his touch, and held his hand, but it was also the day that Jim had given his whole self to Len. After knowing Jim for close to a year at the time, Len knew that Jim was not one to trust others easily if even at all, and for Jim to openly and completely give that trust to Leonard was a feeling he could not explain. Jim's declaration of trust meant more to him then the universe itself.

    Looking at the padd revealed yet another one of Leonard's logs. He pulled Jim's hand into his lap, still not letting go, and opened the next file.

    “CMO’s log. Stardate 2264. 98. Its been two days now since lieutenant Uhura found me in a heap in my room. One day since I woke up in the medbay an absolute mess. I will admit that… that Jim's disappearance has taken a huge toll on me. I’ve never been this long without the kid and once we get him back, and we will get him back, I will do everything in my power to personally make sure Jim never leaves my side again. Protocol be damned! But after yet another hard day with news of another planet coming up empty, it was the lieutenant’s words that helped me get through the night without another incident. Uhora was right, we can’t help Jim if we can’t even help ourselves.”

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A/N: I warned you... FLUFF!!! ok, getting into some flashbacks now as Jim’s journey across the empty planet begins... more good times to come XD

Let me know what Y’all think <3 Love you guys!!

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