#again coulda been shorter

[thanatoseyes]

I feel like I'm being beaten with an exposition stick through the holes of my enclosure that doubles as a carousel.

[idolatrybarbie]

the world tipped on its side

epilogue - a sip or a spoonful

series masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: francisco "frankie" morales x f!reader

word count: 1.9k

rating & summary: mature | he wants all of your love.

warnings: hospitals, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff and feels, discussion of surgery and anesthesia.

notes: we have reached the end of this months-long delve into emotions, disability and family! omg - it's really insane to think that this lil' fic brought me some amazing new friends and introduced me to a great new writing community. twtois is my baby, and i love these two. i hate to say goodbye, but all good stories must come to an end. thank you to everyone who has followed me because of this fic, and/or showed this fic any love. it was a gamble writing about disability - as in, no one coulda read this fic and we would not be here - but like frankie i am a gambling man. and it paid off! so thank you again, and i hope you enjoy.

You’re stuck in the waiting room. Doctors won’t let you past the threshold of the medical floor, so here you are. Family only. Try as you might, the assertion still stings. He’s going to be okay. He has to be. It’s the only thing keeping you from losing your mind.

This ultimate curve ball you’ve been thrown has you reflecting, the flimsy chair you’ve chosen threatening to create a human spill of you at any second. Things with Frankie are easy. You have no clue why you ever wished for anything to come along and complicate that. Except that’s not entirely true—another lie, but you’re getting better at catching yourself.

When you’ve spent so much time acquainted with pain and uncertainty, the lack of it becomes a foreign concept. Existence without struggle is like pulling teeth. Feeling that free-flowing ease that Frankie somehow provides in droves still sometimes makes your skin crawl. It's a learning process. But nothing could possibly be scarier than the thought of losing him. You learned that today. Every other fear, all discomfort you hold fades to the background. He and you are inextricably linked.

A man bursts through the doors of the E.R., a whirlwind for your mind to grasp onto amid the sea of sterile white pain. He’s a bit shorter than Frankie, skin beige and brow creased as he strides through the waiting area like he’s on a mission. His walk makes him impossibly familiar: the way he wears his shoulders like earrings, toddling in the slightest with every right step. When he reaches the front desk and speaks to the attending nurse, his spine only relaxes slightly.

Of course you eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Here to see Francisco Morales,” the man says, speaking precisely.

“I’m afraid he’s not accepting any visitors right now,” the nurse replies.

“You’re looking at his emergency contact. Santiago Garcia…you look it up, you’ll see me.” His words are forceful; a slap across the face with an order to stand at attention.

You mumble an, “Excuse me,” and join Santiago at the attendant's desk. “How is he?”

“Ma’am, I already told you—”

“Please. I’m his…girlfriend,” you say. The word tastes weird in your mouth.

Speaking to Santiago, the nurse says, “I can speak to you. I can’t speak to her.”

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself away from the desk and walk back to your seat. Rubbing fingers into your temples brings no relief to the steadily growing tension headache at your forehead. Your brain is working overtime, thoughts echoing as you try and take deep breaths.

He’s going to be okay.

“Ma’am?”

You’re expecting the nurse again, ready to ask you to vacate the waiting room to make space for the family of someone else—someone more important than him. You fix your mouth to tell her to get bent before you see who it is. Santiago.

“Oh, um—hi,” is all you manage.

He takes the seat next to you, keeping his back straight against the bendy top rail of the chair. “Frankie didn’t tell me he was seeing anybody,” are the first real words to you from this virtual stranger.

“It’s new.”

“I’m glad someone else is here,” he says, presenting you with a hand to shake. You take it, grasp firm around the bones of his knuckles before you let go.

He’s got palms like Frankie’s. Scarred and worn with use, from carrying a gun. From killing people, the back of your mind whispers. You ignore it. What was it that Frankie had said about this Santiago?

“He’s the only one still doing military shit these days…a bit of an asshole. You two probably wouldn’t get along.”

And then there was that other thing—the medical death wish. Perhaps an urge not entirely reserved at the hands of a doctor if he’s out there pretending to be G.I. Joe while all his friends have retired. Suddenly, unfortunately, you understand this Santiago Garcia better than most people you’ll ever meet. The pang of jealousy that hit your stomach at his materialization dissolves as you finally make proper eye contact. You introduce yourself. He does the same, telling you to call him Santi.

“Did they say anything about his condition?”

“He’s fine,” Santi shakes his head. “Just giving him a few to recoup, taking a couple tests.” Silence lingers a while before he broaches the topic of your relationship: when, where, how long. He asks nicely enough that you find yourself answering.

“We met on this stupid fucking movie,” you say. “I needed a helicopter and a pilot to fly it. And I’m sure you know he’s the best.”

“Oh, for sure,” Santi agrees. “You made the right decision.”

“Wasn’t me actually,” you say. Despite yourself, a smile creeps along your face. “My best friend—Mia. She’d worked with him before and it just happened to work out… I don’t know. Strange series of events.”

“Sounds like Frankie.” When you give him a questioning look, Santi explains, “He has a habit of finding himself in unconventional situations. Like crashin’ a fucking helicopter, for example.” The breathy laugh that accompanies his words should lift your spirits, but it doesn’t.

A drop of water falls to the back of your hand, and before your brain can catch up, you’re sobbing in the emergency department waiting room. The pliable chair beneath you threatens to fold with every sob that wracks your body. Santiago sits next to you, frozen in uncertainty.

“Sorry,” you say, voice garbled with tears. “I—it feels like my fault. He shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

“Look, hey. Listen,” Santi starts, “People like us, like Frankie and me…we do dangerous shit. It comes with the job description. That’s the deal we cut.”

You don’t want that. Not for Frankie, not for Santiago. Not for anyone. You love what you do—what you did, before the accident. You know there is no reward without risk, but somehow that doesn't seem quite fair. The hardship you’ve endured is a different sort of pain, but you know regardless. No one should have to live that life.

“But I can tell you that these last few months, Frankie’s been the happiest I’ve seen him since his kid was born. He’s not one for show ‘n tell, so I wasn’t sure why. But I am now.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“Sweetheart, with all due respect, I don’t say anything that I don’t mean.” He averts his gaze now, staring out at nothing as he says, “Frankie’s been through a lot. Done a lot. I don’t know what he’s told you. But I do know when that man cares about something, he will do anything in his power to get back to it.”

You get tissues from the nurse’s desk, settling in. You’re in the middle of trading Catfish tales when you freeze mid-sentence. The man himself stands before you—patched up and limping, but alive. They’ve taken his clothes and given him a hideous set of toothpaste green scrubs. You practically rush him, pulling Frankie close in a bear hug. The material crinkles like paper beneath you.

Your nose brushes against his jaw, the smell of him under soap and cleaner. Frankie carefully wraps his arms around you in turn. The action warms your skin, bringing you in from the cold.

“You’re okay,” you whisper.

“I’m okay,” he confirms. Frankie pulls back from the hug to look at you. “You saved me.”

“I don’t think—”

“You did. Thank you.”

“Always.” The word falls from your mouth like second nature.

Frankie must spot Santiago over your shoulder, giving him a nod before he pulls you in for another, briefer hug. Then he moves to Santi. You watch as they pat each other on the back like brothers. The shorter man paws at Frankie’s shoulders to get a firm grasp. They share a deep, concentrated stare; their communication is all in the eyes. Maybe that’s where Frankie gets it from. Regardless, you can’t decipher it. Whatever the two men share stays between them. Frankie embraces Santiago, lifting him an inch off the floor for effect.

“Alright,” Santi huffs. “Put me down, Fish.”

“I see you two have already met,” Frankie says as he steps away.

“Quite the lady you got here.”

“He was telling me some stories about your first deployment together,” you say.

“You got here right in time,” Santi says. “Was just about to tell her about how you got that call sign.”

“I think that’s enough storytelling for tonight,” Frankie says resolutely.

You narrow your eyes at him with a laugh. “You can’t escape me, Catfish. I’ll find out sooner or later.”

They let you take Frankie to your car in a wheelchair. Santiago makes Frankie promise to call him before he walks it back to the hospital doors. Frankie’s seat sits at an incline, letting him lay down while he stays buckled in. He looks exhausted, thoroughly worn down and ready for days of bed rest.

“We’re headed home, okay?” you say, readjusting the seat cushion beneath you at a red light. “You’re gonna sleep, and then when you wake up we can order food. That sound alright?”

Your fingers tap against the center console, a tick you’ve picked up from Frankie’s own car habits. You stop when he takes your hand into his own, squeezing gently. He looks up at you with round eyes, dark circles beneath them. He’s okay.

“I’m already there,” Frankie says.

-

You hate hospitals. The smell of antiseptic can never truly hide the stench of death. Your dad died in one; the possibility of living life as you loved it was robbed from you in a room just like this. And yet here you are putting your faith in this hospital, the doctors that work within its walls, and the spirit of hope that lingers here. Or maybe that's just Frankie.

They've got you in a gown, laid out and waiting. Soon enough, the anesthesiologist will come in with another doctor and stick you with a needle. You'll count back from ten...and light outs. It won't be up to you anymore.

Until then, Frankie's by your side. Holding your hand, kissing your forehead. Talking to you about nothing, really, but you like to hear his voice. He stops you short when he asks, "Where do you want to go first?"

"What?"

"When everything is, y’know, said and done. If you could go anywhere?" he explains.

"Home. In a wheelchair. I won't be doing much of anything," you say.

"Come on, just—anywhere."

You laugh. "Frankie, there's nowhere to go. What, are you gonna wheel me across Europe?"

"If you want," he says.

"You are ridiculous."

"And you still love me for it. Where?” Frankie insists. He's not letting this go.

You sigh as you answer, "I don't know. I kind of liked that story you told about Michigan. With the snow."

"The one where I almost froze to death?"

"Yeah, that one. Except maybe we skip out on that part this time," you say.

"There are more glamourous destinations,” Frankie says.

"You said anywhere. That's where I want."

"The great state of Michigan.” He leans back in the plush seat beneath him. “Okay. I think I can make that happen." His phone chimes. Frankie pulls it from his pocket to take a look. "Mia's on her way."

"What? Why?"

"I called her," he admits.

"She won't be here in time, and then I'll be in surgery for a while," you say. Five hours. Three hundred minutes, give or take, to make or break your life. "I won't be discharged for a few days."

"I'll be here. We both will," Frankie says.

"You don't have to—"

"I'll be here," he repeats, firmer this time. The look in his eyes is fierce; halfway between love and a safety net, your own face reflecting back at you.

Part of you, jagged and lingering, wants to call his bluff—expect the worst and you aren't disappointed when it happens. But no, Frankie looks serious. His face is stone, jaw set tight as he holds your gaze. You have no choice but to trust him. Forever and always.

So you nod, squeezing his hand. "Okay."

tags! @wannab-urs @iamskyereads @anoverwhelmingdin

[jadewing-realms]

okay okay, I've been listening to Coulda Been Me by The Strats and I'm in my feels and thinking too much but like like people talk about how Astarion turns vampire tropes on their heads and he really does but I haven't seen anyone talk about the specific trope of like

How the entire concept of what it means to be human is such a recurring theme with them and usually, there's an unspoken point of how immortality is dehumanizing and how these vampires live for so long, they're just entirely removed from empathy for mortals because why would they stop to consider it any more than a human stops to consider the life of a fly, which is comparatively short

Something something mortality, knowing it will all end one day, is what drives humans to live well and make the most of the time they have

While immortals are usually the contrast of cold, aloof and removed from the passion that makes life worth living because they're not alive, they're dead men walking and will be forever, so alien they shall become

AND YET

Despite everything

Despite all the horrors he's experienced, despite the understandably devastating blow to his morale, the jaded self-defense mechanisms he developed because of course he did, he had to just to survive

Astarion never really... stops thinking like a mortal. Even after two whole centuries of pure shit, as he so eloquently puts it, the MOMENT he gets the opportunity, the chance at freedom, at living again, he friggin leaps for it and dives in head first

He wants to experience everything he possibly can, he's insatiable, he wants nothing more than to just see, think, do, feel All The Things

He maintains such a zest for life, a passion for freedom and experience, that most vampires in media just. Lack. Or only get back through a romantic subplot pff

He claims a romanced Tav helped him want to live again, but honestly, when Tav can say "nah, you did it yourself, I just gave you a nudge when you needed it" its absolutely the truth. He loves and wants life so badly that he overcompensates, is desperate not to lose it, is almost willing to lose his soul for it if not convinced he doesn't have to

And I've never really seen a functionally immortal character represent such a drive to Live before, its such a break from form

From Dracula and Lestat to Tolkien elves, we're used to seeing a sort of malaise, a despondency and passiveness associated with characters doomed to live forever, to the point that they've forgotten so much of what it means to be alive, truly alive, are confused by the "shortsighted" wants and goals of shorter lived companions, yet here's Astarion, undead yet more alive than any of them

Like, he sells himself so short sometimes, but he's positively bursting with life 24/7, he's vivacious and passionate and his energy is infectious and god, I don't know how anyone could genuinely, thoughtlessly choose the dialogue where you accuse him of having given up while suffering under Cazador, this man is so strong and so determined to live, it's probably what made him the scapegoat in the first place

His character arc is just a battle cry of LIVE

LIVE YOUR LIFE

No matter what you've seen, no matter how you've suffered, there is so much worth living for and all you have to do is reach out and seize every opportunity you get

Don't waste a single moment because time is precious and we never know how much we have

[im-houstons-problem]

Hi I was wondering if I can request a Dallas Winston x muscular fem reader who’s practically best friends with Johnny and pony<3

She's Buff, She's Really Really Buff

Pairing ;; dallas x muscular!reader Pronouns ;; she/her Warnings ;; some misogny

A/N ;; buff women <3 (we're also gonna pretend the move for tropic if cancer came out in the 60's)

you, johnny, and ponyboy met at school, during after hours when students could study/practise/etc.

you were by the wrestling mats, lifting a dumbell in one hand and book in the other you payed no mind the chatter around you- completely engulfed in your reading/workout session

it was only when you heard sarcastic whooping and the sound of someone hitting the mats that your focus was shifted elsewhere

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You were submeresed in the raw and humane lines of Tropic of Cancer, when a dull thud echoing through the gym caught your attention. Looking up from the ivory pages, you saw a group of boys, surroundng two others who looked like tooth-picks compared to the teens they were up aganst. One of the boys lay half-sat on the padded platform. The other stood with his arms raised defensively, wide eyes darting around.

Seeing how this was go, you were quick to set your things down and strided over. "Hey-" seven heads turned to face you. "Who's this? Your broad? If she even is one," one of the teens remarked earning a chorus of snickers. You scoffed, used to the comments made about your appearance. You weren't exactly "curvy", having more muscle than most girls at your school. Your physique was something you prided yourself on- proof you had more balls than these guys who were tormenting innocent kids.

Without hesitation you barreled into the 'funny guy', feeling a sense of satisfaction when you heard him exclaim. He stumbled back and you caught him by the collar of his madras. You were shorter than him but you strength fueled your steady hold. "Pick on someone your own size, wise guy." You dropped him and another dull thud echoed through the gym.

A couple of his friends went to help him up, the others parting as you turned back around. Both boys were up on there feet and you ushered them away and to where you had been. Figuring you shouldn't stay much longer you packed away your book and weights, pulling along the boys again with you out the doors.

It was only when you stepped onto the pavement of the parking lot that one spoke up. It was the kid who was on the floor. He had slicked back auburn hair and sincere eyes. "Thanks."

You shrugged, "It's notta problem." You flashed them both a grin for extra reassurance, adjusting the straps of your backpack. "You both alright?"

It was the other kid now- a mop of dark curls with bangs that refused to be pushed back and worn denim jacket. "Yeah I- I think so. You helped us outta there before they coulda hurt Pony any more."

"Pony?" you question.

" 'S my name. Ponyboy. Ponyboy Curtis." He looked at you almost challengingly but the tips of his ears had gone red. You couldn't blame him- his name was Ponyboy.

"Uh huh-" you drawled, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "And you'd be?"

He mumbled something you couldn't quite hear, "Johnny cake?" You were bewildered at this point.

The tan boy made a flustered noise of frustration, "Why's everyone always thinkin' thas' what I said, man?"

"You gotta speak up."

"Yeah, okay, Ponyboy Curtis-" he slugged the auburn haired boy. Clearing his throat, he pronounced louder, "Johnny Cade."

"Yeah- that makes more sense." The three of you shared a laugh before you introduced yourself as well. "I'm Y/N. Y/N L/N."

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since then you three were basically seen everywhere at school together (despite the grade differences)

you'd teach them hand to hand self defense moves- a lot of the time ending up doing satire Soc vs Greaser scenarios for example

the three of you would be out on the field, ponyboy reading aloud, you doing burpees and johnny carving random crap into the stands

the two would literally glare daggers at anyone who shared their good for nothing opinions on your body

they thought it was really cool you could lift a cement block without a sweat

but it also led to them seeing what they could lift compared to you and...well you can guess how that goes

johnny once brought walkie talkies (which he stole from the toy store) and the three of you did a scavenger hunt

^ not at all relavent to the story but author thought it was cute

you'd hear about their other friends ("the gang" as they put it)

you'd ask ponyboy how sodapop was doing, knowing him through their gym class before the other had dropped out

you would've asked him yourself but you'd never gone over to the curtis house before

untill you did

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You parked your jeep outside the small house, looking at it warily. Your hands were getting clammy and your legs were getting shaky. Or maybe that was just from racing Ponyboy earlier. Either way, you weren't feeling the most confident right now. You knew how much "the gang" meant to Pony and Johnny, you wanted to make a good impression. Even if they were a grade or a few (ahem, ponyboy) below you, they were basically your best friends.

Johnny, spotting your worry, told you it would be fine. "Me 'n Pone' talk about ya a lot- they seem to like ya just from that. All you gotta do now is be yourself."

"That's so cheesy, Johnny-Cake."

He huffed playfully, turning back to Ponyboy, "Ya try givin' advice and this is what ya get!"

You snickered, the weight on your chest a bit ligter, and hopped out of the jeep.

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needless to say, everything went pretty well after first introducing yourself

you were quick to call out the stories you'd been told, earning the younger boys a raised eye brow from Two-Bit ("stop actin' like yer so high and mighty, two-")

you, soda, and steve ended up having an arm wrestling tournament

darry had to put an end to it before either you or steve broke or dislocated something, both your faces turning red from effort

^achievement: you earned steve randle's respect

you caught up more with soda after, glad to know he was happy at the dx

darry was in the middle of trying to recruit you for the summer (after hearing ponyboy and johnny go on in awed voices about your strength, he thought it might be good to have another set of hands. plus, it might look good on your college resume he added)

and then the side door opened and slammed shut

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"I'd be more than happy to be a refrance on your college application. It's more phsyical work than school, but I'm sure ya could show for a good work ethic-"

Door hinges creaked and a bang resonated throughout the household. "Honey, I'm home-" a voice called. Footsteps padded down the corrider, untill a tall figure emmerged from the doorway. A series of 'hellos' were given, except- "I'm filin' for divorce," Two-Bit deadpanned. "Damn broad-"

You chuckled at that, catching the strangers attention. "Speakin' of broads," he said eyeing you. "Who's this?"

"I'm Y/N. You must be Dallas," you concluded, seeing that he was the only of the mentioned gang who hadn't been there when you showed up.

"Ah, so yer the girl these kids keep talkin' bout," he glanced at the two, "Ya better be nice, she could snap the pair of you in half."

You scoffed with no real malice, "Like you should have a say in when they should be nice. Mister-jailhouse-rock."

"Jailhouse rock?"

"Oh, sorry- forgot you preferred juneville delinquent."

The others burst into laughter at that, and you caught the small upturn of Dallas' mouth too.

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after that, you found yourself spending even more time with ponyboy and johnny

now just at the curtis household too

you even started hanging out with the other boys as well

but more specifically, dallas winston

the two of you would rough house, sometimes getting into a drunken tussle at buck's

dally would complain the next day about "getting beat up by a girl"

much like johnny and ponyboy, he'd bore a hole into people who whispered about how your body looked

except he'd actually start something, whether it be with fists or words

you're favourite so far was, "she has the body of every guys dreams! yer body is the one of every girl's nightmare"

you'd have competitions to see who could ride bull better...dally was always more of a jocke man... ("it's alright, dal! horses are like baby bulls!" "piss off, y/n-")

you were as close with dallas as you were ponyboy and johnny

except-

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"Where we goin' Dal?"

"Right up ahead-"

As you approached a fence, you could faint sound of Paul Newman's voice, and see a large illuminated screen. "The Drive-In? The entrance 's the other way, stupid."

He grumbled, chucking a twig he'd been carrying at you. "Aye- don't damage the goods." "You'll live, wonder woman. And I know that by the way. We're jus' goin' in the 'juvenille delinquent' way."

You shook your head with a laugh, he never let you live that down. The dialogue of the scene grew louder, as did the brightness of the screen when you got to the fence. You saw Dally crouch down and was about question it when you saw the ditch underneath. It was small enough to go unnoticed (espeically in the back like this) but big enough to get a tall figure like Dallas' under. The other teen had pulled himself out of the hole, dusting off his jacket. "Aight, you go now."

You walked up to the fencing, but instead of kneeling you grabbed onto the chainlink. It rattled as you pulled yourself up, finding you footing with ease. Once up you sat yourself ontop before launching off, though your landing was nowhere near graceful. "Ya been hangin' 'round, Steve, huh?" Dallas offered his hand with a smirk.

"Shut up."

As the two of you walked to the concession stand, you noticed that Dally was being more quiet than usual. In fact, he hadn't talked much on the way there either. Filling a cup with coke you nudged his arm, "You alright?" You saw how he glanced at you, blue eyes almost suspicious, "Yeah- yeah I'm fine, man." You decided not to push it, shuffling up in line.

The two of you were in your seats now, and surprisingly actually watching the movie. You hadn't realised it until a quarter of the way in, "Hey, this is Tropic of Cancers." "Duh." You slapped his arm, "Dal, you know I love the book. You even complain I'm just like Pony when I talk about it. Did ya know this would be playing?"

The Greaser looked away, shyly you even dared to describe it. "Maybe." You gave him a soft smile, hitting your knee against his. You turned back to enjoy the movie, but fate had other plans when a quad of Socs filled the seats around you both.

"Look what we have here- a Greaser and his golemn," one snickered. You payed them no attention, training your eyes onto the screen. You were a bit taken aback when you noticed Dally clenching his hans into a fist. Usually he's fire something right back. So why was he resisting?

The Socs has their fun, makin some more comments. Some about you. Other about Dallas. The rest of the about the both of you.

You were half paying attention, on the verge of turning around and slapping each and every one of them. But you'd come out here to have a good night with Dally, not some petty brawl that gave those Socs a much needed testosterone boost. Apprently, one of those comments had reached the limit of Dally's patience and temper. He whipped around, socking the teen square in the face.

Suddenly seats were being overturned, blows delivered and recieved. Swears were being yelled, parents covering their children's ears. You'd been thrown to the ground, the Soc above kicking you. It hurt, but you used your momentum to pull yourself up off the ground, headbutting the guy. He stumbled back into the Socs Dally was dealing with himself, knocking down like bowling pins. The pair of you stood menacingly in front of them, Dallas flashing his heater with a finger pressed to his lips. They had half the sense to get up and scram.

You took a moment to catch your breaths, spitting out some blood.

"C'mon Y/N, let's get outta here before someone starts talkin' to the workers." You nodded in agreement, following after him.

The two of you now trudged along the sidewalks of Tulsa, passing a weed between the two of you. You heard Dallas take a drag, wheezing a bit. He stopped to beat at his chest, and you stopped beside him. You patted his back before he started swatting your hand away. "'M fine- 'm fine."

The way his shoulders sagged suggested otherwise. You knew you said you wouldn't push it but-

"What's goin' on, Dal?"

"Whad'd'ya mean?"

"You're all mopey and crap."

For a moment he was silent and you thought he would brush it off again like earlier.

"I just," he started throwing down the cigarette and stomping on it, "I just didn't want the date to go like that-"

"Date?"

"Yeah."

"This was a date?"

"Yeah-"

"Since when?" your voice raised in surprise, and Dallas wore a bewildered expression as well.

"Since I asked you!"

"You never asked me!"

"Yes I did-"

Your bickering filled the empty streets, your figures under a street lamp, waving your arms in animated motions.

"When?"

"When-" Dallas paused. "Shit- shit, shit, shit..." he muttered to himself, pulling at his hair. "I forgot man. I freakin' forgot! Forget I said anything then, let's just go-"

He started to stalk away but you grabbed onto his leather sleeve before he could. "The whole point of this was supposed to be a date, and you forgot to even ask me out?"

"...Yeah."

"Guess you'll just have to ask me out for another one."

His head turned, and his blue eyes were blown wide, "What?-"

"Just make sure to actually ask me this time, yeah?" you let go of his arm, a teasing grin on your face.

The message seemed to sink in, a smile growing on him, too. "Then- Y/N, would ya go on a date with me?"

"Hm, guess I would."

"Great, just make sure to dress real ugly."

You quirked an eyebrow, "And why is that?"

He linked your hands, "Can't have ya being the beauty and the brawns, now can I? I gotta have somethin' to show for too."

You laughed, "Yeah, okay."

[tvrningout]

"ay, dios mío . . . i'm glad to be back home again." a relieved sigh escaped from his lips as rayo let himself fall back into the cushions of his bed, suitcase discarded into a corner of his room. it had been a whole month since being able to see his roommates and of course, the beloved woman who had been standing at the edge of his bed. "i brought you some gifts from quisqueya . . . " the mother of lands, dominican republic where his roots lay. alas, his brows furrowed a little as he saw chiyo continuing to stand there. quickly, would he sit up, supporting himself before one of his hands reached for her wrist, yanking her on top of him. as she lay on his chest, toned arms were quick to embrace the shorter female, burying his nose into her hair before inhaling her scent. "i need to make up for lost time, mami." / soft but spicy? yes ♥

unprompted | @metrictita makes up for lost time!

" you didn't need to do that, " she says, but a small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. it's a sweet sort of knowledge, to know that she wasn't so far from rayo's thoughts despite the distance. " i'm just happy to have you home. " and chiyo's happy to see him sprawled across his bed, content and comfortable upon familiar sheets. he must be tired, she thinks. she wonders if maybe he'd like to be left alone for a nap, even gets ready to ask, when rayo scowls. he's got her wrist in his grasp before chiyo can ask what's wrong.

how silly of her to think he'd want her gone after a month of being apart.

the mangaka lands with an " oof " upon rayo's chest before breathing a laugh and peering up at him. " you coulda just asked me to come lay with you, dork. " not that she's complaining, really. the feeling of his arms around her, the way he breathes her in -- she's wanted this since she, gaia, and niko saw rayo off at the airport. she remembers thinking she should've stolen one last hug, should've held onto him for a little longer. chiyo remembers how silly she felt because it wasn't as if rayo was leaving forever, yet the regret stuck with her the whole month.

" i need to make up for lost time, mami. " a little tingle shoots up her spine as chiyo hums.

" you do. " squirming until she can get a proper look at his face, chiyo grins, gaze warm and perhaps a little teasing if not challenging. " but how're you gonna do that, hmm? a month's a long time, and i missed you a lot. dunno how i'll ever recover. "

[vulgar-display-of-escapism]

'A Day's Work' - Chibs Telford drabble

Ok, this was originally supposed to be Chibs x Reader X Taza smut. Alas, Adelaide took over. Some of you know this little girl runs around in my mind all the time and vision of Chibs as a single dad is something I can't quite shake. Anyway, enjoy.

The tension in the building started dissipating as the sound of engines belonging to VM assholes faded away. When the air grew quiet again, Mayans and Reaper men all took a collective breath of relief and started filling out of the room, eager to get their drink on. Chibs motioned for Taza and Bishop to stay behind. “Tha’ coulda ended very bloody.” He stated after he emptied his shot glass. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid boys. So I won’t have to come back and clean up another mess.” “We didn’t…” Bishop started to argue, but was stopped short when Chibs stood in front of him and pushed a finger right into the shorter man’s face. “Listen to me, you little shite! Ye rule yer table with that fragile ego o’ yers and yer all gonna be dead within a year!” Bishop’s nostrils flared and his entire body tensed as if he was getting ready to tackle the SOA President. Thankfully, the feud was avoided when Taza stepped between the two men. “Chibs, this matter doesn’t concern you.” “Aye, yer forgettin’ - he pointed at Taza now - Old Friend, I’ve been there. With two presidents. Redwood nearly got wiped off the bloody map because of personal feuds handled the wrong way. Ye do what ye will, but mind my words.” A knock on the door interrupted what might have been another misguided remark from Bishop. Hap stuck his head into the room, “We good here, Prez?” “Yeah, Hap. Now, where’s my drink?”

About an hour later, when the fences were mended and egos sufficiently lubricated, Chibs gave his men the signal to pack it up. As Reaper exited the building and older Mayans followed them outside, Taza clapped Chibs on the back. “You sure you don't wanna stay and party for old times sake?” “Hell nah. Man was not intended to survive in this heat,” the Scott practically scoffed. Taza made a sweeping motion with his arms, “Then walk your old ass back inside, where there’s AC as God intended.” “And ride out after dark, when it’s cooler.” Bishop added, his good humor clearly restored. “Your favorite girl is gonna be here later,” Taza added with a knowing smirk. Chibs sat on his bike seemingly pondering the offer before sighing and saying, “Wish I could. Gotta get home to my daughter.” At Taza’s and Bishop’s raised eyebrows, Hap cut into the conversation, “It’s Disney night, Frozen. Addie loves that movie.” Had anyone else said that, a good, long round of laughter and good-natured ribbing would follow. Alas, when Happy was deadly serious like that, not one outlaw dared. The silence was cut by Montez, who said, “Prez, I could call up Tig, see if the little banshee can stay with him and Venus tonight.” And then he added, “ You know how he loves singing those songs around the house.” Hap and Quinn snorted in unison, but Chibs’ expression remained serious as he replied, “Aye, and then Venus will have my balls in a jar for that.” It was now Taza’s turn to chuckle, “So use ‘em while got ‘em?” After a moment, Chibs turned to his Road Captain and said, “Aye, fine. Just make sure to tell Venus not to sprinkle glitter all over my kid. That shite sticks to everything.” “Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything,” Bishop reached to touch Chibs’ kutte. “But it sure does,” with that he plucked a spec of pink and shiny off Chibs’ President flash. “Jesus Christ,” Chibs muttered as he dismounted. “You know, Old Friend, “ Taza hooked his arm around his arms. “We still don’t know which is more shocking. You knocking up the sheriff and co-parenting with her or Tig putting his crow on a gal with a huge cock.”

A little while later, Chibs was enjoying the god-given AC and nursing another glass of Jameson, passing the time before the girls arrived, when Hap walked over to him with their family-only burner in hand. “It’s Addy. She wants to vent about school.” “Christ, seven years old and already questioning authority,” Chibs muttered as he reached for the phone. Before handing it over, Hap chuckled and mutter his own, “I wonder where she gets that from.” By a way of replying Chibs raised his middle finger, as he snatched the burner with his other hand. “Hey, little warrior. How was school?” He asked already sensing the answer. “Stupid. Boring. Miss Courtney wouldn't let me read in class,” the sound of his younger daughter’s voice filled his head as she continued chatting and venting and everything in between. When he finally could get a word in, Chibs asked, “What were ye trying to read, sweetie?” ‘Um, The Witcher?” “Addie… Where did ye get it?” “I…erm… swipped,” she stopped herself, "I mean borrowed it from uncle Juice and auntie Tristan.” After a short pause, she added resolutely, “Without them knowing.” As Chibs massaged his temple with his free hand, he thought his baby definitely took after Althea, at least in the diplomacy department.

[therealityhelix]

Shards of the Nexus: Applesauce pt. 4

Everybody tries.

@cardwrecks​ @captainbaddecisions​

?~?~?~?~?

The time whizzed by as he wondered what he was going to do now.

“You baleful, deleterious, idle-brained douche bag! “

Oh. Die, that's what.

He turned just in time for Narci to grab him roughly by the shirt. The kid was shorter than him by a decent amount, but strong enough to twist his head off, and he felt his toes leave the floor.

“Hey, watch the threads!” he protested in a watery voice. Narci shook him like a rattle.

“Fuck your threads! I'll burn down your closet! I'll burn down your whole life!” Narci exclaimed, then shuddered so hard, his black ponytail shook. He set Swag back down, very carefully, and released his clothes. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. But just...how could you? You're supposed to be the best of us. How could you?”

“I'm not the best of anything, Narci.” Swag said, leaning against the bar to let his heart rest, ignoring the sticky mess that still dripped. “I'm not a role model. Not really. I'm a fuckup in good clothes. I mean, it's not that I don't try, it's that when I make mistakes, they are really big mistakes that get people hurt. Helix. Harvey. Puzzles. You. Fuck, I coulda done something for you, way back. But I turned you away. I was too busy pretending I had no obligation to anyone else but myself to see how everything was connected. That I could at least try to help someone who should have been like a little brother. I...the idea of me is far better than the actuality of me.”

“Swag. You know you couldn't have really done anything for me back then, right? I would have just killed you instead.” the wavering tone was back, a permanent feature in his voice. “Mine was a sickness that couldn't be cured with human hands. And part of me is missing now. I didn't come back whole. Maybe I'm better this way. But you...why did you hurt her? I don't understand that. Her hand is so badly burned that our medicines did nothing! She was crying so much, and she couldn't actually tell me. What did you do? And why?”

“It wasn't supposed to go down like this. It was supposed to...I don't even know. I never meant it to hurt her, I'd never...I'd never mean to do that. I just started thinking down the wrong road, and I got swept away. I try not to do that. It always goes bad. Now, I know a lot of you think I've allowed myself to dumb down, and Unswag doesn't hesitate to point out that I don't allow myself to think, but-”

“It's an attempt at self control.” Narci stated. “I know. I know.”

Narci's new eyes had been pleas for help since the moment he'd opened them. Swag believed him.

“Got paranoid. Got serious about it. Got this dumb thing.”

Swag showed Narci the little wire. He'd twisted it around his left ring finger, like a true fool.

Narci, possessed of the simian curiosity writ large in Edwards Nigma the multiverse over, grasped his hand for a better look.

For the next few minutes, Swag held Narci's lifeless body in his arms, whispering grief and apology. If Helix had been mad at him before, she really was going to turn him inside out now. She was ready to fistfight Satan himself for this kid.

The doorbell rang.

This was the worst possible time. He was in mourning, damnit! Who could even be at his door at this hour?

Swag stared up into the dark cowl, panic thumping in his blood. There was a body in his parlour. He was wearing contraband. He'd been hiding a second self. Not to mention possession of controlled substances, and the aiding and abetting of known criminals from other universes. Surely any of that would be enough to put him away again. Maybe forever and ever this time.

“What could you possibly want?” Swag asked, trying to keep his voice from trembling. He was pretty sure his hammering pulse was loud enough to be heard.

“The Nth metal, Nigma. Where is it? Why do you have it?”

“Oh this thing? This fuckin' thing? You can have it!” Swag yanked it from his finger and flung it into the parking lot. “Take it! I never wanna fuckin' see it again. Worthless scrap of shit. You want it, go get it, just leave me alone. I don't want nothin' to do with it.”

He slammed the door shut. And waited.

It didn't smash back open in his face, so it looked like he'd been taken at face value. The wire would be gone; no matter where it landed, it would be found. And good riddance.

He turned, then flung himself back against the door, heart in his throat choking off a scream. Narci's body lurched down the hall towards him, flopping and stumbling like a puppet on very loose strings.

“Narci?” Swag whispered. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sor-”

He mumbled over and over again, growing hoarser and more urgent with every shuffling step closer, until it became a hyperventilating plea as Narci pressed his drooling, slack-jawed face against Swag's chest.

“Could...n't...get...back...in...while...you...were...touch...ing...me...” The words escaped from Narci's mouth, each syllable a labored puff of air.

“I'm sorry.”

“At...least...you...grieved...”

Ooh, ooh, that cut. Because the first time, he hadn't.

No one had.

Guilt choked him silent once more, and Swag carefully, cautiously curled his arms around the boy's shoulders. Maybe he should have done this sooner. Maybe years ago.

But the second best time was now.

“D-does it hurt?”

“No...can't...feel...an...y...thing...”

“That actually sounds worse.”

“Yes...”

“Anything I can do?”

“Must...go...home...”

Swag helped him to the special door, and let him slip through, just like Helix did. It seemed the way was still closed only to Swag himself.

There was a lot of cleaning up to do, partially gelled apple goop, a broken mirror. It smelled so good that it hurt; his favorite apples reduced to a soup of memories that would now never be made. Forced to mop up what should have been a sweet song on his tongue, no more than a paraklausithyron to the world now barred to him.

He glanced at the sky while taking the trash out. Cloudy, as usual. Starlight was the rarest commodity in Gotham. Would he ever see it again?

Swag tested the door over and over during the next few days, even under the scorn of his pale twin, with whom he'd gotten into a terrible row upon returning. Just like old times.

Back and forth and back and forth, until a small hand reached out and pulled him through.

That nauseating, semi-familiar feeling of falling without moving. Stomach twisted around his spine, blood in the brain and feet, and the unbreakable, all-encompassing cold.

An eternity in an hourglass, then a shocking blast of humid heat. His glasses fogged as he gasped, gulping in the warming air.

Clutching his pinkie finger was a tiny, blue-eyed doll of a child, a little girl who, aside from her barely contained mass of curly orange hair, clearly resembled a miniature Helix.

“Hey there, Maddie-mads.” he said, taking in the lush garden around him. “How're you doing today?”

“I'm okay.” she said in her chipper, squeaky little voice. “But you're not. Momma's not either”

“Ah. I imagine not. Did she, uh, say why?”

Maddie shook her head.

“She said she made a mistake and she doesn't know how to fix it. Can you help?”

Swag rubbed the back of his neck.

“I'm...not sure this time, kiddo. I might make it worse.”

Her expression said that she didn't believe that for a second. The unwavering faith of a child. He'd had that once too. He hoped she would be able to keep it longer than he had.

It looked like he had to try.

Maddie held her hands in the air, and Swag scooped her up into his arms without really thinking about it. He looked out over Helixs hand built garden home, with its improbable, Escheresque landscapes, and soaring, vaulted glass sky. He had only been here a few times, and never very deep into the gardens, but he knew that space was warped and folded in unexpected ways; recursive paths and nested areas that one could easily get lost in forever.

He had never built a more perfectly horrifying maze. Here, if he lost his way, there was enough food and water that he could wander for the rest of his life, slowly losing hope, descending into madness. Surrounded by Eden, yet utterly, helplessly trapped.

It was frightening. She was frightening. All of this and everything about it was terrifying. It was.

And so was he. And so was Unswag, and everything he represented. And so was Arkham's undying bloodthirst, the direction Narci was taking, Puzzles' new lease on life, Nash's growing involvement with literal demons. The things YJ had almost gotten involved in, the disease that had nearly taken Detective. This whole big tightly tangled Nexus. Knowledge of the multiverse itself.

It was all an ever-expanding cosmic dread, bearing down on all their shoulders, and they each had to figure out how to handle it, because it wasn't going away.

He could look at Helix as a representative of that dread, or he could see her as yet another person upon whose shoulders that weight rested. See her as an alien being, like the Grays, or as a familiar woman whose warmth he had tasted. He could destroy a good thing, like he always did, or he could finally cherish what he actually had.

This could be his last chance.

Madeline guided him along the color-coded pebble paths, a labyrinth perhaps only she and her mother truly knew by heart. Greenery, flowers, and fruits burst joyfully on every side. An artificial stream meandered through the young trees and under small bridges. Little waterfalls trickled, and fish flashed in the water. Here and there stood a carved log, stacked rocks, suncatchers, and circles of standing stones.

Birds chirped and flitted about, Every now and then he saw a chicken, heard the braying of a goat somewhere.

Over the top of it all, a song floated like perfume on the breeze, a pair of voices entwined in haunting harmonies. One of them was Helix, naturally, of course she could sing. That was practically required of a sorceress, wasn't it?

That meant that the other voice had to be Narci, didn't it? Swag would never have guessed the kid could hold a tune, much less that his reedy, wavering voice could produce such enchanting sounds.

Maddie, cradled securely at shoulder level, loosed her own voice into the air. A string of notes akin to the birdsong, that particular pitch that only children could achieve fitted into the music with improvised ease.

Song swam through his mind. It was a compulsion, to add his voice, add himself in. To become part of the music, complete it.

He could not find the notes.

He was led to a clearing, a community center of sorts. This was a place Swag had been before. Under a tall arbor of blooming vines, tables and chairs, set up for a meal. Narci, his black curls crowned with flowers, Helix in her frilly apron, setting out the dishes. The song dying on both their lips as they noticed him approach.

Narci scowled, but Helix just gazed back at him, her expression apprehensive. Her hand was still bandaged. Narci had said that no medicine had worked on the injury.

Words clogged his throat, each one begging to be said, but reluctant to be the first.

Madeline squealed happily at the sight of the meal, and Swag put her down. She rushed over to Narci, who swept her up and sat her into her bright purple booster chair.

Swag swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

“Starlight...” he managed.

“I'll set another place at the table.” Helix said.

artists: @captainbaddecisions​ @miasmacaron​ @cardwrecks​

[spymeister]

The worst, he figures, isn't so much the sight- it's the lingering smell that still remains.

Behind him, the careful steps of the invader pauses just out of reach- shadows on the wall curling up as the other's kibble shifts organically. His optics are narrowed behind his visor, claws flexing as the the heated garrote wire hisses close to his throat cabling. To attack now would mean being losing his helm. Before him, the ruined and charred remains of his original clade lie in piles, the scent of their melted lines and metal putrid in his olfactory centers.

"Weird game, if this is where ya wanted me-" he drawls, idly and discreetly reaching for the hidden vibroblade hilts attached to his armor. "Coulda jus' asked me out on a date, been easier."

There's a soft chuckle behind him as the garrote moves closer, the heat warming the soft protometal of his throat cables.

"Why would I do that," the tone soft, accent high-caste and old.

Claws nearly the same color as his own tip his chin up a little- showing that Jazz's CNA lineage isn't the only one with a multiple set of limbs. Behind them both, a long shadow flexes- the pointed tip jerking slightly.

"Cause ya want me 'ere?"

Two sets of indigo optics lid at that, their focusing rings multiple and smaller than his own- though the optics themselves are just as large. The effect is eerie, allowing the mechanism to focus on more than one subject at any given time. Despite the near presence of death, only a faint tensor cable in his neck twitches- the only outward sign of reaction.

"Mm. A good supposition, but no-"that tone laughs, almost bordering on the purring as that helm leans in. "I'm not looking for you, Majora's heir."

The shorter mechanism takes the moment's distraction as the other talks to pull both knives out of their hidden sheaves- twisting around to stab them both in the other's vents. It works, the garrote wire hissing as it falls from suddenly nerveless hands.

However, he is not fast enough for the second strike.

A curved shape slices out of the darkness from above- and he jerks with the sudden point of insurmountable agony as something begins to bleed from underneath his right shoulder-strut. The sheer abruptness of it makes him gasp for air in struggling gents, optics watering behind the curved visor.

It twists out of his shoulder, only to strike again- this time at the base of his spinal strut.

His relays are scrambled, and even his protection protocols aren't coming online. Battle instincts he's spent eons hardening and refining into a weapon themselves are suddenly inert as foreign code slams through his firewalls and subroutines like ironants on a dead frame.

He collapses to the ground like a broken marionette, pushing up with shaking arms to stare upwards at his attacker with a mix of hatred and confusion. Before him, in the dimness of the clade antechamber- the tall frame pulls the blades out of his vents- purple energon splattering the ground with a hiss.

His processor finally connects the pieces, optics widening further behind the visorband. He has felt fear very few times in his long functioning.

And tonight would be another.

The source of his agony arches above the mech's helm- a curved sickle shape attached to what he now realizes is a venom depositor. His vents catch, heaving as they try to cool his agonized frame. The corruptive subroutines in the venom continues to race through his system, even as his firewalls try their hardest to retaliate.

Purple optics are now on level with his as the mech kneels, a thumb-claw pushing up the visor to meet him directly.

"Now, child of Liege-" he murmurs, brushing another claw over the Polyhexian's bottom lip. -"You know what to do." That claw pushes inwards, hovering over one sharp eyetooth dentae.

"Don't you."

[eristic-kaleidoscope]

Once Again, an End | Erik A | CH1 Exe Reaction

Death has always been a funny thing, to Erik A. Not comical, exactly, but not nearly as sorrowful to him as it’s always been to everyone else. Just a strange thing that sometimes happens, like a scene out of a movie, like the end of a book. He wouldn’t call it a good thing, necessarily, but he wouldn’t call it tragic either, at least in his own mind. Just a part of life in the end like any other, even if the consequences were much more permanent than most things.

And for life to be cut far shorter than it ever should have been, well… Them’s the breaks, huh? This kind of impossible to win situation wasn’t new to him, and he certainly wasn’t a fan of being without some greater form of control, of death being so utterly Needless like this, but he wasn’t the type to break down crying either, to say the least.

So one moment Erinys is giving their final words, to which Erik A shoots them a thumbs up and a grin to acknowledge them, and the next they’re being taken away, their fated end shown out to all of them as if it were a movie they were watching and not a feed of someone’s actual bloody demise. The pink half of Erinys’ hair remains something that makes his mind reach for something that isn’t there, to remember things that he knows aren’t relevant now.

Maybe he’s just desensitized to that sort of thing, maybe he's too tired register it as real, or maybe it’s just not something that hits him as strongly as other people, but he doesn’t have any problem watching the entire execution from where he stood just beyond where Erinys had formerly been before. Maybe as a service, for them? Or maybe not, it’s not like he knew what they’d prefer for their end. Either way, his pose and expression are still relatively casual even if he’s not grinning brightly as per usual.

And then it was done, huh? Erik A offers a nod of respect in no true direction, or perhaps a brief bow of his head at Erinys' presumed passing.

In the moments before they’re set to be released, Erik A glances around, seeing how everyone else is doing. Arakiel is already at the door, waiting for his moment to leave. Erik Azr is immediately at AIRika’s side, and while he could comment on that, he decides to leave it be for now. It’s not like he needs any kind of comfort himself, after all, even if that’s not what he was actually really about it for. Maybe he can talk to him later in private. So beyond that…?

…Well, Erik A’s not really the comforting type, but he'll staying standing where he is near Ae-ra is something, at least. Maybe. He’s not sure if she’d rather be left alone right now, honestly, so he won’t make a big deal about it regardless and she can go be she wants to be.

Unfortunately, he's also still incredibly sleep deprived too, so he involuntarily yawns before he turns to their captors with a hum, leaning a little on the side of a trial seat half out of necessity and half casually.

“Damn, you guys really went all out for this shit, high budget. Would have to be with all of this anyways, but you know. Coulda been a pretty sick attraction you could monetize without the memory loss if there wasn't actual death involved, but maybe that's just me. Either way, we done here?"

...Thanks, my guy. Honestly, Erik A was about ready to pass out again any moment by now, even if he was well practiced in working through this kind of thing too.

[mammonshuman92]

- Watched - Pt.2

(Mammon x GN!MC)

**TW: Stalking, cussing, kidnapping

Lucifer briefly looked up from his desk, the giant stack of paper work towering high next to him.

“Ah, Mammon. To what do I owe the pleasure of your abrupt company?”

Mammon walked straight to the front of Lucifer’s desk, wasting no time, he got right to the point.

“I need to go to the human world.”

“Absolutely not.” Lucifer replied, without looking up from his work.

“Why not?”

“You know as well as I do that you cannot be trusted to go there by yourself.”

“Then come with me.” Mammon offered.

Lucifer glanced at his brother.

“I cannot. As you can see,” he gestured to the large stack of papers, “I am very busy. Besides, what business do you have in the human world?” He inquired.

Mammon put his hands in his pockets, and looked away from Lucifer nervously. He knew he wasn’t going to like his answer.

“I need to check on MC.” He confessed sheepishly.

Lucifer sighed, and put his pen down. Leaning back in his chair, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Mammon, you know the rules. MC is a human. Human lives are much shorter than ours. Taking up too much of MC’s time can be damaging.” He explained.

“I know, Lucifer. But, just listen- ” 

“No, Mammon. You listen.” Lucifer began. His hands were flat on his desk as he stood from his chair, giving his brother a stern look.

“I would like to see MC as well. We all would. However, unless Lord Diavolo says otherwise, we are not to interfere with MC’s life, aside from calling and texting. It may not seem fair, but it is what’s best for MC.”

A lump was building in Mammon’s throat. Why wouldn’t he just listen to him? MC could be in danger. He didn’t really have proof though, just a hunch...but still. He didn’t care about some dumb rule. He just needed to see for himself that you were okay, then he’d come home.

But, if you really were in danger..

He didn’t want to even consider something happening to you. Just the thought of it alone could all but crush him.

Mammon huffed and shook his head. “Ya know, there isn’t anythin’ MC wouldn’t do for any of us. Why are ya worried about interfering now? How many times did ya try to kill MC, huh? And what about Belphie?”

Lucifer was in shock. Mammon never talks to him in such a way. But before he could question his brother’s sudden bravery, Mammon stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

Mammon wasn't without options. Lucifer's help was preferred, but not needed. He was going to the human world, to you, no matter the cost.

After leaving Lucifer's office, Mammon went straight to his room, looking for anything he could use as a trade or payment but couldn't find anything she would want. He would just have to make another deal.. He would worry about the repercussions of that decision later.

He pulled out his wallet and dug out the picture he secretly kept stashed away. He took it when you all went on a retreat to the Demon Lord's castle and got to tour the royal gardens. You were the most mesmerizing thing in that garden. The way your face lit up and your eyes sparkled. You talked non stop about how beautiful all the flowers were, but they all paled in comparison to you.

A small smile spread across his lips before tucking the photo safely back in it's place.

His smile was quickly replaced with a groan when he realized the next step of this little adventure was going to be less than fun.

If there was one thing Mammon hated (and was terrified of), it was witches. Especially the scary ones. And this one was indeed scary, but she was also the only witch left that would still make deals with the Avatar of Greed.

-

"I guess this is the right place?" He asked himself quietly, standing on the sidewalk in front of a quaint little house.

The witch had indeed agreed to make the deal and send him to the human world on the condition that he would retrieve a rare item for her, as she was currently stuck at her creepy cottage that was nestled deeply in the Dark Forest and could not leave.

'Bring me the heart of a mammal, not of our world, that thrives on malice and sadism. If you cannot fulfill your end of the deal, I will place a curse on you until the ends of eternity that will make everything of value you come in contact with turn to ash.'

He shuddered at what she had said. He wasn't sure how he'd find something like that, but decided to worry about it later.

‘When you are ready to return, go to the spot I told you about and say the incantation. The portal will open and bring you back here. I expect to receive the heart upon your return.’ 

He climbed the steps leading onto the porch and approached the front door. He knocked a few times before taking a step back, rocking back and forth on his heels while he waited.

No answer.

Maybe MC ain't home.. He thought.

Just as he was about to knock again, he noticed the curtain in the window pull to the side, followed immediately by what sounded like several locks being unlocked. The door flung open, revealing the occupant of the house. But, there’s no way it could be you. ..Right?

But it was you.

Deep purple bags sat underneath eyes that no longer sparkled. Your cheeks were sunken in a little and your face had no color. It looked as if you hadn't slept in days. You looked from side to side several times, like you were paranoid about being in the open.

Mammon was frozen in place, a lump forming in his throat.

"MC...?" He asked quietly.

Tears quickly filled your eyes, falling in fat drops. You launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his middle and burying your face into his chest where you began to sob loudly.

Without missing a beat, he scooped you up bridal style and took you back inside the house. He kicked the door shut, taking note of the five locks on the door, and made his way over to the couch.

Why so many locks? This don't look like a bad neighborhood..

He laid down, gently pulling you on top of him as sobs continued to wrack through you. He rubbed soothing circles on your back, trying to help calm you down. He took in the state of his surroundings.

From his spot on the couch he could see the back door, which also had several locks on it. The windows behind the couch had pieces of wood shoved in them to prevent them from being opened. A blinking light on the bookshelf caught his eye. It was one of those live feed security cameras.

What the fuck is goin' on?

By now you had calmed down enough to try and sit up. Mammon moved you off of him and sat you down on the couch, giving you a concerned look.

"I'm sorry," you began, wiping your tears away with your sleeve, trying to stifle a hiccup, "I didn't expect to see you and I kinda got overwhelmed."

He paused for a moment, looking at everything he had noticed that was off about the room.

"MC...is everythin' ok?" He asked.

He saw something flash across your face, before you hid it away, replacing it with a fake half smile.

"Huh? Yeah, of course. I missed you. You know I'm a cry baby."

He scooted a little closer, leaning down slightly to look you in the eye. His face was more serious that you'd ever seen it.

"No, MC. Somethin' weird is going on that you're not tellin' me." He said, gesturing with his hands at the room around him.

The fake “I’m okay” face you plastered on had fallen. You sighed heavily and got up from the couch, gesturing for Mammon to stay where he was.

You went down the hallway and disappeared into one of the rooms. You returned a couple minutes later with a box about twice the size of a shoe box.

You sat the box on the coffee table in front of the couch and handed him a piece of paper and what looked to be a newspaper clipping. You returned to where you had been sitting and gestured at the box, tears filling your eyes once again.

“This is why I’ve been so distant from everyone. And why all of this-” you gestured at the room and yourself, “looks the way that it does.” You wiped away a tear that had fallen. “Start with the letter I handed you, then the box.” You instructed.

His heart rate accelerated, and he gave you a confused look. As per your instructions, he started reading the letter.

Then read it again.

He opened the box in a frenzy and froze in his place when he saw the contents. Dozens of letters, and countless pictures of.. you? His heart dropped into his stomach.

With a handful of pictures, he turned toward where you sat, you were already watching him. Tears pricked his eyes.

You were being... stalked?

Someone was threatening you.. harassing you..

“MC, wha-” He started to speak, but didn’t know what to say. He began pacing.

“It started a little over a month ago,” you began to explain, “that was the first one I got from them.”

That’s around the same time Asmo said MC seemed flustered by some hate mail they got..

“They started showing up more and more frequently. I was getting them at work and school too.” 

Mammon’s head was spinning.

“Why? Why didn’t ya tell me?” He asked quietly, stopping to look at you, tear streaks staining his face.

“They threatened my family.. I couldn’t let anything bad happen to them.”

“We coulda talked to Lucifer and Lord Diavolo. They would’ve protected them.”

You shook your head, “I couldn’t take that chance, Mammon.” You stood up and walked over to him, once again wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your cheek on his chest. He held you close, his wings wrapping around you protectively.

He wasn’t quite sure when he’d shifted into demon form and It was very unlike him. Out of all his brothers, he was the most level headed one, believe it or not. He was the least likely to lose his temper, or to unknowingly shift into his demon form. Sure, he got into his fair share of trouble being the Avatar of Greed, but none of those resulted in him losing his grip on his temper. Perhaps that’s why Lucifer chose him to look after you upon your arrival in the Devildom. He knew that out of all of them, Mammon was patient and almost never lost control. He knew he’d be the one who could keep you safe.

None of that mattered now, because he in the end, he didn’t keep you safe..

He couldn’t believe it. His human had been in danger all this time and he never knew.. 

He thought you were seeing someone else, all the while some sicko was watching you. Threatening you.

He was livid.

He broke the embrace and looked down at you.

“I’m gonna go call Lucifer and fill him in on what’s been goin’ on.” He said quietly.

“What about my family? Who knows if or when the stalker will find out you’re here. They’re in danger, Mammon.” 

“I’ll make sure they’re safe, okay?” You paused for a moment, and nodded. You absolutely trusted Mammon. You had no doubt that he’d protect them and you. Now that he was here, you felt safe for the first time in weeks.

Mammon never left your side. He sat with you, after he insisted you eat something, and also stayed with you while you showered. You already seemed to feel better. Color was coming back to your cheeks, and the light in your eyes wasn’t so dull.

When you got sleepy, he laid with you, holding you as close as he could, never wanting to let go. The last time he let you go, this is how things ended up..

He stayed there still as a statue, silently kicking himself for letting you down, when he felt your breathing slow. Your hand still on his chest where you had been drawing random shapes. You always looked so beautiful while you slept.

He carefully untangled himself from you and got out of the bed, pulling the covers over you. You squirmed for a minute and snuggled into the spot he had been laying in, letting out a content sigh. By the looks of it, this was the first time you’d slept so peacefully in quite some time. The thought made his stomach churn.

He quietly left the room, pulling the door behind him, leaving it slightly cracked. He checked all the doors and locks one more time, then went into the living room. He pulled his phone out, bringing up the all too familiar number. He began pacing around the room when it started to ring. It was late now, but he would definitely still be awake.

-

“Well, if it isn’t the runaway.”

Mammon rolled his eyes, “You’re s’posed to say ‘Hello?’ when you answer the phone.”

A dark, stifled laugh came through the other end. Even from this far away, he could be intimidating.

“Do you have any idea, what you’ve done? What am I to tell Lord Diavolo, hmm?”

“Lucifer, listen..” Mammon began, but was cut off.

“I am going to string you upside down from the rafters for the next two centuries, at least. That is, after you’ve received official punishment from Diavolo of course.”

“Luci-”

“You have no business.. no. You have no right to interfere in MC’s life. To run off to the human world, with the help of witches nonetheless, without thinking about the consequen-”

“MC is being stalked!” Mammon shouted, slapping a hand over his mouth afterward and looking down the hallway, hoping he hadn’t woke you up. He let his hand drop when he heard your quiet breathing coming from the bedroom.

The line was quiet for a moment.

“...What?” Lucifer asked, his tone now quiet, laced with concern rather than malice.

“MC is being stalked.” He repeated, pacing the floor.

Silence again.

“You’re sure?”

Mammon stopped momentarily and glanced at the box on the coffee table, “Yeah, I’m sure. The sicko has been sending ‘em hate mail everyday for weeks now. They also send pictures, Lucifer.. of MC. At the store, when they’re at work, and even some of MC outside their house.” He gritted his teeth. His throat burned, feeling as if it had been burned with fire. The things he wanted to do to this freak..

“Why didn’t MC contact the police, or us?” Lucifer asked quietly. Mammon could detect the faint hint of sadness in his older brother’s voice.

“They’ve been danglin’ MC’s family over their head. Said if MC told anyone, they’d kill ‘em.” He explained.

He heard a sigh on the other end. Lucifer knew you all to well, just like the rest of them did. He knew you were willing to put yourself in harm’s way for the people you cared about. You had done the very same for him and his brothers numerous times. You weren’t concerned by your own self-preservation if it meant protecting someone you love.

“What is their end goal then?” Lucifer asked.

“Not too sure, but a lot of the letters said that they were gonna ‘cleanse’ MC. Maybe trying to ‘save’ them? The stalker seems kinda churchy and they’re targeting MC because of us and Lord Diavolo’s plan to unite the realms.”

The other end of the phone was silent again for a moment, then he heard the shuffling of papers and what sounded like footsteps.

“Mammon, listen carefully. For now, stay with MC and don’t leave the house. This stalker may not know you’re there yet. We need to keep it that way if we intend to protect MC’s family. I need to consult with Lord Diavolo. I will call you when I know more.” With that, the call was abruptly ended. He shoved the phone in his pocket.

He quietly crept back to the bedroom where you were still sound asleep and watched over your sleeping form for a moment. His heart started to ache. The thought of someone putting you through all of this, tormenting you for weeks on end..

You were definitely the strongest human he knew, you proved that more times than he could count. To see you like this, so broken, a ghost of your former self, filled him with pure rage.

He crawled into the bed, the slight movement waking you up.  

“Shh, s’okay. Go back to sleep.” He whispered, pulling to snugly against him. You  laid your head on his chest, your arms wrapped around him and gave a small squeeze before he felt your body relax again, having fallen back asleep.

He missed these moments. The cute, sleepy cuddles in the middle of the night. Feeling the warmth of your body next to his and your quiet breathing. He missed walking to RAD together, hatching schemes, and running from Lucifer. Convincing his brothers to trade him so he always had kitchen duty with you, the way your hair smells, or how perfect you look under the moon of the Devildom. He missed you.

He used to have such a hard time expressing things, thinking it made him look weak. He’s one of the seven rulers of the underworld, after all. As if he’d ever care about a human. He can’t let lesser demons think he’s gone soft, so he masked his feelings, or tried to anyway. It didn’t last long.

You were so different, exciting, even for a human. You were always nice and never called him names like everyone else. You even stood up for him against his brothers and actually wanted to be around him. You weren’t like anyone he’d ever known. He couldn’t help but be drawn to you, which terrified him.

He is a demon after all, and with that comes some responsibilities, so to speak. Being the Avatar of Greed, he would never be able to escape his sin. It’s part of who he is. 

But he found himself trying to get better control of it. He still got himself in sticky situations, but for the most part he was going straight, taking on more modeling gigs and other legitimate ways to make Grimm instead of stealing stuff and hatching ‘get rich quick’ schemes. He was even trying harder at RAD. He desperately wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t all the things everyone said he was, prove that he was someone worthy of your kindness and warmth.

But when he held your lifeless body in his arms, too fragile to withstand Belphie’s attack, screaming your name between sobs and begging you to open you eyes even just a little, he was made painfully aware of the truth he hid away in his heart. 

All he could think of was how he never got to tell you that you weren’t just some annoying human that made his life harder and drove him crazy. You were his best friend, the only person that’s ever understood him, like a little ray of sunlight cast into his darkness, warm and bright. You’re the only person he’s ever loved..

Thanks to Barbatos, everything worked out and he promised himself he’d be different, he wouldn’t hide his feelings anymore. He didn’t care if how he felt for you made him weak, because honestly, he was. When it came to you, he was the softest demon the Devildom had. He wouldn’t deny it any longer.

He had waited centuries for someone to come along and willingly give him the love he so craved. Someone who could see that he was more than just a Grimm hungry scumbag like everyone said. And you did just that.

Blame his greed if you will, but you were his human. He thought he had lost you once, and he wasn’t going to sit by quietly and let someone come in and take you away, or cause you harm.

For you, his precious human, he was more than willing to go to the ends of the three realms, if to only be able to show you a fraction of the gratitude and love he had in his heart for you. For choosing him. For changing him and his brothers for the better

His arms tightened around you protectively.

“I’ll never leave ya again.” He silently swore, placing a kiss on top of your head. “Never.”

-

Mammon was awakened by his phone ringing. Still in his pocket, he tried his best to fish it out without disturbing you, as you slept soundly on his chest.

“Hello?” He answered groggily, voice rough from sleep.

“Shouldn’t you already be awake? It’s nearly noon there.” Even in a different realm, Lucifer still found time to scold him. Mammon ignored it for now as there were more important things to worry about.

“Did ya talk to Lord Diavolo?”

“Yes, I did. He decided that it’d be best to bring MC back to the Devildom for the time being, until the stalker is dealt with.”

“And their family? What about them?”

“Lord Diavolo is sending in a team of highly trained guards. MC’s family will be under constant protection until this is solved.”

“Okay. Oh, uh, Lucifer? Could ya maybe tell their family some other reason they’re gettin’ the bodyguards, without mentioning the stalker? I don’t think MC wants to worry them..”

“Yes. I’ll make sure the guards know as well.”

Mammon sighed with relief. It looked like everything was going to be okay. 

Even if he and his brothers didn’t get along the best, he knew he could always count on them.

-

“Man, ya got nothin’ in here, MC.” Mammon complained. You watched from where you sat on the couch, as most of his upper body disappeared inside the refrigerator.

“Yeah, I’ve been too paranoid to go food shopping lately. I usually just eat at work.”

That hurt his heart. No wonder you felt lighter. You worked at a small coffee shop, it’s not like they had much other than muffins and scones.

Mammon shut the fridge door and padded into the living room, leaning on the doorway.

“Well, I’m starving. I’m sure you are too. So, c’mon, let’s go.” He said, motioning for you to follow him as he walked toward the front door, looking for his shoes.

“Lucifer said not to leave the house.” You reminded him.

“Oh, right. Hmm.” He put a finger to his chin, snapping his fingers when he thought of a solution, “We could get delivery.”

You nodded, “Yeah, ok. There was no rule against that.”

You placed an order at your favorite take out place, the one you used to get delivery from a couple times a week before all of this started. You were such a regular that you and the delivery guy on your route were pretty well acquainted now.

“Alex should be here soon.” You said to Mammon, setting your phone on the coffee table. 

He had been watching a video on his phone, slumped into the couch next to you, but something you said caught his attention.

“Huh? Who’s Alex?” He asked, abandoning his video to look at you.

“Oh, he’s the delivery guy on this route. Every time I order from this place he’s always the one that comes so we kinda know each other now I guess.” You explained.

“Ah.” He said nodding his head, turning back to his video.

“When he gets here, you’ll have to hide in the other room, though.”

Mammon nearly dropped his phone he was so flustered. He quickly sat up, his face turning red.

“Huh?! Just how close are ya with this “Alex”, MC?” He screeched, making air quotes around the guy’s name. His reaction confused you. Then it clicked. You could see how he interpreted it that way.

“What? Mammon, no.” You tried to hide a giggle. “It’s not like that. The stalker could be nearby watching the house. If you open the door or something they’ll see you and know that I most likely told you everything. Diavolo’s guards aren’t here yet, so it’s best if you remain hidden.” You explained.

He immediately deflated. “Oh r-right. Yeah, I knew that.” 

You walked over to him and got on your tip toes, placing a quick peck on his cheek. “You’ll always be my first man, Mammon.” A smile spread across his face.

He quickly wrapped you up in a hug and pulled you close, letting out a sigh.

“The Devildom ain’t been the same without ya. It doesn’t feel like home no more.”

You squirmed in his arms until you could look up at him.

“I missed you too.” You replied, knowing that that’s essentially what he was trying to say. He’d definitely improved on telling you hw he felt, but could still be emotionally constipated sometimes.

He was quiet for a moment, then you felt him tense.

“MC, I’m sorry I didn’t keep you saf-”

“Stop right there.” You said, pulling out of his embrace enough that he could see your face. 

“This is not your fault, or anyone else’s. This person is sick and lashing out because their personal prejudices aren’t enough to stop change. No matter what you’re trying to change, there will always be someone against it.”

His expression softened a little bit, relieved that you didn’t blame him.

“No matter how much people may hate me or try to hurt me, I will never regret my time in the Devildom. I may be human, but the Devildom is my home now too.” You returned to his embrace, squeezing him tightly.

You felt him relax, resting his cheek on top of your head.

“I love ya, MC.” He said quietly. With your head on his chest, you could hear his heart start beating faster. You smiled into his shirt.

“I love you, too.”

You stayed like that, wrapped up safe in each others arms, for what seemed like forever and not nearly long enough at the same time. The doorbell being the only reason you separated.

“Mammon, the food.” You said, trying to squirm out of his arms.

“No.” 

“Mammon?”

He grunted.

“Mammonnn, I’m starving!” You whined, still fighting to free yourself.

He dropped his arms, grumbling out a “Fine.”

“Go in the bedroom.” You said, pushing him forward. You put a finger to your lips when he turned to face you as if to “Shh” him. He made a face at you, but still complied.

You made your way back to the living room, and after checking the peephole, opened the door.

“Hey, Alex.” You greeted.

“MC, long time no see. How have you been?” He inquired, handing you the bag of food.

“Busy, as usual.” You replied, stepping back inside to set the food on the small table next to the door, grabbing the money.

When you turned back, you noticed his gaze on something just inside the door, next to your feet. You glanced down to see Mammon’s shoes where he had kicked them off after first arriving yesterday.

His expression had changed suddenly. He almost looked...angry?

You brushed it off, assuming he was having a rough day or something. Sticking out your arm, you handed him cash for the food and his tip, but he made no move to reach for it. His eyes still fixated on the shoes.

“Are you alone?” He asked quietly.

“I’m sorry?” You asked. You were sure you’d heard him right, you just didn’t know why he’d ask you something like that. You’d only ever exchanged small talk about work and the weather, so it’s not like you were close enough for him to inquire about something so personal.

His turned his gaze back to you, eyes now visibly cold.

“Is there someone in there with you? Someone not from around here maybe?”

The hair on the back of your neck was standing up. The way he asked the last question.. Something wasn’t right.

He leaned in slightly, “I thought I told you not to tell anyone?”

You felt the color drain from your face, your heart dropped into your stomach.

It’s him..

A sickening smile spread across his face at the realization of you figuring everything out.

“Not so tough now are ya, demon whore?”

Mammon can’t see the front door from the bedroom.. Think, MC. Think!

You quickly took a deep breath, filling your chest.

Mammon is right there in the other room, all you have to do is scream.

Sensing what you were planning to do, Alex grabbed you, holding you with your back against his chest, his hand clamped down hard over your mouth. You started to squirm and fight, trying to break free.

“Shhh. We wouldn’t want to make a scene now, do we?” He whispered into your ear. You felt something sharp poke your side and assumed it was a knife.

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes.

He’s going to kill me..

“You’re coming with me.” Keeping the knife in your ribs so you’d do as he said, he quickly led you to his car where he opened the trunk and shoved you inside.

“I hadn’t planned on doing your cleansing this early, but oh well. The sooner the better.” He said, laughing, shutting the trunk lid. As soon as it latched you checked for the trunk release that should be on the inside, but this car was much older and didn’t have one. You were stuck.

You wondered why no one had seen what was happening, but it all happened so quickly that unless you were purposefully watching, you wouldn’t have noticed anything.

This was it. Whatever this sicko had planned was how it ended for you. 

You just wanted one more hug. One more kiss. One more chance to love him before it all got taken away.

You curled up into the fetal position, keeping his face at the front of your mind. Your tears now falling freely.

Mammon, I love you... I’m sorry..

| part three |

[wanderinginksplot]

Hello! Um, how about Wrecker with a s/o who has severe childhood trauma, and has a hard time opening up to people other than him?

Hello! First off, thank you so much for this request! It was a good challenge. Secondly, I am so sorry this took as long as it has. I had a pretty uneventful childhood, so I ended up doing a lot of research to write this right, and then I rewrote it about a dozen times... anyway, trauma is only minimally mentioned (at least directly), but I hope you like it!

Wrecker + Traumatized Reader

How did it go today, cyare?" Wrecker asked, dropping a kiss on your cheek. He had just gotten home from a shorter mission with his squad and began stripping off his armor while he waited for your answer.

You always felt silly complaining to him. The things that troopers saw and had to deal with on a daily basis were so much worse than you saw - especially since you were permanently stationed on Coruscant. Still, from the expectant look he sent over his shoulder, Wrecker was waiting for an answer.

"Well…" you started slowly, not sure how much information he wanted, "I think it went okay? The board seemed to like the presentation. The Head Commander said the lack of internal life support in the Phase II armor is an issue they've been looking at for some time. I’m supposed to work on a follow-up. I might throw together some preliminary schematics for a Phase III armor set…"

“Sounds like it went great!” Wrecker encouraged, interrupting you before you could get too lost in your engineering thoughts. You had been known not to emerge for days once you got started. “You've been practicing this presentation forever."

You grinned at him. "Thanks again for being my test audience. I know it isn't something you're really interested in. You guys don’t even wear the Phase II."

"No, but I like listening to you talk," Wrecker told you unabashedly. 

You shook your head a bit at that. "You're such a sweetheart. How did I get so lucky?"

"There's a group of Seppies in the Guard's cells who didn't think I was sweet at all," he told you, sounding mystified. "If it wasn't for Cross, I wouldn't have gotten outta there at all."

You tensed a bit at that, and not only from the reminder of how dangerous his job could be. You knew what was coming. It was only a matter of time… 

"Have you thought any more about it?" Kriff. There it was. You wanted to snap at him, remind him that he was pushing a very firm boundary, but Wrecker sounded so hopeful…

"I- I just don't know, Wreck," you admitted miserably. "I know they're your brothers and I want to meet them, but… it's a lot."

"That's okay," Wrecker said comfortingly. He was doing his best to reassure you, but you could hear the clear note of disappointment in his voice.

Your heart plummeted to your toes. Why couldn't you do this for him? Wrecker was the best, most considerate boyfriend in the galaxy. He was willing to sacrifice himself for the safety of the galaxy, for your safety.

"Okay, let's do it," you agreed abruptly. "When do you want to have me meet them?"

"Really?" Wrecker asked, a smile like dawn warming his face.

You nodded and forced an answering smile. You weren't sure how you would handle the pressure of meeting the other members of the Bad Batch, but for Wrecker? You would figure it out.

He ran off to contact the others and your smile faded instantly. From everything Wrecker had told you, Tech was nice and Hunter was quiet, but Crosshair was rarely anything other than abrasive and rude. And that was to his brothers.

You fought a shudder. Being snipped at always reminded you of growing up - and not in a good way. Sarcastic comments were always the first step, then objective-sounding remarks, and then… You didn’t want to think about what had always come next.

But still, this was important to Wrecker, and you were determined to try.

---

The next day, you were anxiously fiddling with your sleeve as you walked to the GAR with Wrecker beside you. The height difference between you always made you feel like a child being escorted around by an adult, but Wrecker normally took your teasing complaints as the jokes that they were. 

You weren’t saying anything at all that day.

“Hey,” Wrecker said gently, grabbing your hand and stilling the fingers that were slowly unraveling your sleeve. “Are you okay?”

You blinked up at him. “What if they don’t like me?”

Wrecker made a strangled sound, like he had started to laugh but thought better of it. “Of course they’re going to like you! Why wouldn’t they like you? And even if they hated you, I like you. And I’m the important one here.”

You wanted to laugh at his exaggerated pout, but the corners of your mouth felt like they were attached to weights as you gave a tight nod and refocused on walking. Wrecker, however, wasn’t having it. Using the light grip he still had on your hands, he tugged you to a stop, forcing the rest of the foot traffic to part around his broad figure as he bent to talk to you.

“Say the word, cyare, and we’ll go home right now.”

“What? No!” you denied immediately. “I said I would meet your brothers, and I meant it. Why? Have you decided you don’t want them to meet me?”

“Of course I want you to meet them!” Wrecker told you. He brushed a hand against your face, smoothing the frown line you could feel forming between your eyebrows. “But I don’t like seeing you this way. If it’s too much, we don’t have to do this. I meant what I said: we can go home right now.”

You searched his face and found only heartwarming sincerity. He meant it. If you said you weren't up for this, he wouldn't be upset or hurt. He wouldn't sulk or find ways to punish you. Nothing would change between you. 

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," you assured him.

Wrecker was your safe space - the exact opposite of everything you had dealt with growing up. He pushed your boundaries, but he made you stronger. As you tripped through the crowd by his side, the idea soothed you more and more until you couldn't stand it.

"Wrecker, wait," you pled, pulling on his arm. 

It was a surprise he had even felt the pull, honestly, but he was so attuned to you that he stopped immediately. He looked down at you with open concern. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I love you," you blurted, and your face grew hot so quickly that you felt a little dizzy.

"You love me?" Wrecker asked, sounding stunned.

"…yeah…" you said slowly. You weren't really sure why you had needed to say it right that moment, but you knew that you meant it. Wrecker was everything to you, and it had been enough to prompt an admission of feelings that you had never thought you would be able to verbalize.

He was still staring at you and you were getting nervous. "Anyway, we should probably get to the GAR," you told him, striving for a casual tone.

"Forget the GAR! You love me!" The next thing you knew, Wrecker had lifted you up and spun in a quick circle that left you dizzy for sure this time. "I love you, too! We need to go celebrate!"

He set you down and had started down the street in the direction you had come from, dragging you along by your hand as you alternated between laughing and trying to get him to stop.

"Wreck, we can't just not show up to meet your brothers," you protested. "They're waiting for us!"

Wrecker paused, glanced back at you, and heaved a deep sigh. "Fine," he grumbled, walking back toward your original destination. "They get twenty minutes, then I need you all to myself."

The dark-eyed look he sent your way made your mouth go dry. "Fifteen minutes."

He laid a searing kiss on your lips. "Deal."

---

To your shock, the Bad Batch was less intimidating than you had thought they would be. Hunter even made an effort to talk to you.

“So, what is it you do for the GAR?” he asked, dark eyes startling in his half-tattooed face.

“I- uh, I’m an engineer,” you explained. “I helped design the updates implemented in the Phase II trooper armor. Joint Kamino-Coruscant effort and all of that. I didn’t have anything to do with commando armor, though.”

Hunter shrugged. “Still, I’ve heard good things about the Phase II. You did nice work.”

“Thanks!” you said, only slightly too loud. “There are a few things that got lost in translation due to budgetary issues. One of my ideas was to add in a new scope for the larger rifles, one that would acclimate to counter visual disruptions. Brightness, direct sunlight, reflections, and so on. It had a couple other features that were popular with the ARCs and commandos who tested it. Alpha-17 on Kamino said he was keeping his, even though it was just a prototype.”

“Wish I coulda seen that,” Crosshair muttered, his first contribution to the conversation.

“You kind of can,” you offered. “I have a few prototypes left. I brought one along in case you wanted to give me any feedback. I still have hopes for the Phase III…”

Crosshair eyed the scope you were holding out to him, face full of suspicion even as he accepted it from you. He examined it closely for several minutes, dialing in and out of various features as you watched. Eventually, he nodded and you breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Looks good,” he reluctantly praised, handing the scope back.

You didn’t take it from him. “Actually, that’s a tactical prototype. If you were interested, I would love for you to use it in the field as long as you let me know how it holds up.”

Crosshair’s eyebrows shot up and he chewed his toothpick thoughtfully as he stared at the scope. You weren’t above a little bribery, and had made a few tweaks based on Crosshair’s preferences. Granted, those preferences had been relayed by Wrecker, a man whose go-to weapon was bare hands… 

To distract yourself, you looked to Tech. He had been quiet, almost silent, for most of the meeting. From everything you had been told, that was unusual. 

“Tech, Wrecker tells me that you’ve been analyzing statistical data about your squad to maximize your effectiveness. What kind of variance are you looking at?”

Tech stared at you for a long moment. “A difficult question to answer, as the variance has increased significantly since you and Wrecker met.”

“Excuse me?” you asked politely, taken aback by his implication.

“The frequency at which Wrecker is injured has increased by roughly 2.7% since the two of you started your relationship.”

“Tech,” Hunter reprimanded sharply.

“Ease off,” Crosshair said, voice low.

You glanced at Wrecker, sitting tensely beside you. “You didn’t tell me you were getting hurt on your missions.”

“Just a little,” he admitted, glaring at Tech.

“By my calculations, this places his risk of a fatal accident at 9% and growing,” Tech finished, unbothered by Wrecker’s glare or his brothers’ words of warning. “Added to the fact that Wrecker wears less armor than a trooper of his size should, he is highly at risk.”

“What is this about your armor?” you asked Wrecker, pinching his side when he avoided looking your way.

“Hey! That hurt!” he complained, finally looking down at you.

“Not as bad as a piece of shrapnel would!” you lectured him. “As soon as we get home, I’m going to start working on a better set of armor for you. I have some leftover plates from the commando armor comparison. I can use that as a basis…”

“What about your Phase III?” Wrecker asked, a bit desperately.

“That doesn’t matter!” you snapped. “If I can’t keep you safe, none of it matters! I’m designing heavy-duty armor for you, you’ll participate in extra drills with your team until you get used to it, and I want a report on every injury, minor or not!”

“Told you,” Hunter said, sounding satisfied.

“Five credits,” Crosshair sighed.

“The deal was twenty,” Tech argued, then allowed himself a small smile. “I like them.”

“Yeah,” Hunter agreed.

Crosshair, studying his new scope, just nodded. You caught only bits of their conversation, though, since you were still semi-arguing with Wrecker.

“C’mon, let’s go back to your place,” Wrecker pled.

“So I can get started on your armor right away?” you asked. “Good idea!”

“But… you love me,” Wrecker pouted.

You softened and leaned up to plant a kiss on his lips, ignoring the scoffs and smothered chuckles from his brothers. “I do, Wrecker. I love you so much that I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt. Now let’s go.”

Wrecker sighed heavily, but clambered to his feet and waved goodbye to his brothers as he followed you out.

---

A/N - I don’t actually know if the Bad Batch wears Phase II clone trooper armor or Katarn-class commando armor, so I just went with commando armor and modified helmets.

Thanks for reading! You can see other works like it here or feel free to request something of your own!

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (06)

word count; 11,884

summary; after a startling experience, you seek and receive comfort from the last person you would’ve expected to turn to.

notes; I will literally be taking the stairs for the rest of my life.

warnings; reference to injury, reference to panic attacks.

Placing your foot up on the dashboard, your body swerved to the side as Newt flung around a corner, and you cursed loudly, turning to look at him as you held onto the laces of your shoes. “You know, for an ambulance driver, you drive like you’re trying to kill me.”

“I would never.” He gasped falsely, and you continued trying to tie up your laces, before swapping over to the other foot, and doing that one too. “I promise, I would never hurt you.”

The tone in his voice made you groan, rolling your eyes at the snickering boy beside you as he chuckled away to himself, and you reached out to flick at him roughly on his side. He yelped, swerving a little as he drove, before he was chastising you for your behaviour and following the bright red fire trucks ahead of you.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re seriously going to keep pretending like something wasn’t happening there?”

“I’m not pretending, because nothing was happening!” You huffed your words out a little, placing your foot back onto the ground of the van and adjusting yourself in the seat. The inner city was beginning to grow around you, shorter buildings that formed houses growing in size and stature, towering over you now in a concrete jungle as you approached the large city building you’d been called to.

“I know my best friend, okay? And I like to think that I’m getting to know you, too.” His words held a slightly teasing air to them, woven into his tone subtly, and you sighed at him.

“You’ve been saying this for a week now, but nothing happened!” He shot you a look, taking his eyes off of the road for only a second, but one of his brows was raised, and there was a smirk on his face that made your head fall back into your seat, and you realised you were fighting a losing battle. “We were talking about the argument, and agreeing to start over, without bitching at one another, I thought you’d be happy about it!”

“So, where did holding hands factor into that equation?”

“We weren’t holding hands! We were shaking hands!” A laugh left him, disbelieving and unconvinced and he began to slow down, pulling up in front of a very professional looking building, a large logo printed across the glass of the lower few floors, all of which were blacked out and reflected the light of the sun brightly. “It was just some stupid thing we did. Like, reintroducing ourselves, or whatever. Starting again.”

“And you just happened to be backed up into the kitchen counter, huh? I have a pair of eyes in my damn head, love, I saw those longing glances and the whispered conversation, and the holding of hands between you both.” He scoffed, pulling the truck up into park, and turning to look at you for only a second, speaking his next words before hopping out of the van; “Shaking hands, my arse.”

Hopping down front heaven yourself, Newt grabbed his go-bag, swinging it onto his shoulders and so you left yours where it was, simply grabbing your jacket and pulling it up your shoulders as it got a little cooler. Taking place beside him on the pavement, you nudged Newt with your elbow, before crossing your arms. “The only things you were seeing is what you’ve made up inside your head.”

He hummed under his breath, seeming to accept the statement for now, and you watched as the teams both began to unload from the fire trucks. They grouped on the pavements, staring up at the building, not bothering with any equipment except for their coats themselves, names printed across the bottoms as you all stared up at the height of the skyscraper.

The call had stated a broken elevator shaft, three people trapped inside, and in need of rescue, and so you and Newt weren’t facing much of a task. It was simply a challenge to the teams, you and Newt would patch up a few cuts on bumped heads and be there to check for concussions, but you didn’t face much of a task.

Glancing over the group, you caught honey-brown eyes, offering the man a smile in return when his lips flicked up at the sides for you, his head tipping as he offered you a soft nod of acknowledgement. The stare lingering for only a moment longer, before he was turning to check over his team, and you turned back to your partner. Newt was already staring at you, a single brow arched and a smirk on his face. “Oh, yeah, I’m totally seeing things.”

“It was just a smile. Will you drop it? We’re friends.” You scoffed, and he shook his head but let it go for now, and you set off to follow the firemen as they headed into the building. Following them inside, there was already a  group of people beginning to gather, the elevator doors being pried open and pinned that way with a chair, the purpose of which, you weren’t exactly sure, because if the elevator was on the ground floor, it wasn’t exactly an emergency, and you really hoped nobody was stupid enough to stick their head inside and take a look.

As you approached, a man came forwards, an older gentleman with a receding hairline that was shining with a layer of sweat, stress you presumed, and you made a mental note to check over him as his hand trembled while he came forwards, a hand pressed over his heart, and Newt shuffled beside you, tugging his bag a little further up on his shoulder.

“Oh, God, I’m so glad you’re here.” He sighed, voice more like a wheeze, and you winced, taking another scan around the crowd and relaxing just how angry they all looked, minorly put out of their way as they were forced to take the stairs or be turned away, and there was an angry group of less formally dressed citizens around the reception desk, the phone to the room echoing front he marble floors and glass walls, and you realised they must all be being turned away for appointments.

The elevator on the other side of the lobby seemed to be working perfectly, the sign above signalling for staff only, and there was a scanner beside the door, flashing from red to green as you watched a woman in a smart pencil skirt and matching blazer swipe her ID across it, before stepping inside.

“The elevator itself is stuck at the twelfth floor.”

“It’s not a problem, we can just pry the door open and bring everyone out.” Thomas shrugged, and the man let out a sigh, shaking his head a little, and wiping a hand over his forehead, and you glanced over at your partner, your brow raising a little as you subtly dipped your head towards the panicked man who’d greeted you all, and he nodded in response, agreeing that he could do with taking a quick time out to catch his breath and take his heart rate back down. “That’s the problem, you can’t get at the elevator from the twelfth floor.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“This is a block of private offices. Only certain floors are open to the public, you have to have an ID for the elevator to get to the others, that elevator only stops and opens at certain floors.” He looked like he might collapse at any moment, and you wandered away from the group, searching for a chair around the room, and finding a row of neatly set, leather-lined seats on the opposite wall, a coffee table with magazines stacked on in a makeshift waiting room, and you picked one up.

As you made your way back over, to him, placing the chair down behind him, the firefighters were grouped up, and Newt was knelt on one knee before the man, checking over him carefully, with two fingers recessed over his wrist and the other two to his neck.

“What’s happening?”

The blond looked up at you, a frown on his lips, and he rolled them together, considering his words carefully, and glancing at the manager who was practising deep breaths and counting along upon your partner’s instructions to bring his heart rate back down. “The elevator is trapped on the twelfth floor, but the closest entrance to it is the twenty-fifth?”

“Did you just say the twenty-fifth floor?” A strike of cold fear ran through you, the math being done in your mind within an instance, and you swallowed thickly. “How far did it drop from?”

“It got stuck around about the fifteenth floor and dropped about three floors, not too bad, coulda’ been worse. The brakes kicked in, but they’re not holding up so good.” Newt stood to his feet, brushing dust from his knees, and tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The firemen you worked with were already beginning to separate into groups, and Thomas was twirling an ID card in his hand anxiously,  a hand rubbing over his jaw as he continued to divide up the squad team, Gally already having headed back outside to start finding equipment.  “We should head outside, we probably want to grab some emergency stuff, a board, maybe, the stretcher for sure. Three neck braces, and a monitor.”

“We can call it in while we’re out there, just in case they need to head over to Med.”

“Okay.” You rubbed a hand over your forehead, your mind spinning a little as you hung on the situation, and you let out a sigh, shaking your mind clear and nodding. “Yeah. You’re right. Boards, stretcher, all that, let’s go.”

His eyes narrowed on you for a second, before you were following after him, trailing back out to the ambulance, and you were biting on your lower lip until it was raw once again, finding yourself getting lost in a spiral of your own thoughts once again.

Gally passed you by, a lazy wink to tease you with as he held up the ropes slung over his shoulder, and your stomach churned a little as you looked at it, knowing that he was trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t help at all. Newt opened the back of the van, the ramp folding down and clanging against the road as he unclipped the bolts on the wheels, rolling the stretcher down towards you for you to receive, and you positioned it in front of you, turning it longways and beginning to undo the straps that held the cushioned padding down, to be able to thread on the blackboard for security too.

“Seriously, what’s up with you?”

You turned to look at your partner, realising you’d drifted again, grabbing onto the solid yellow plastic board he was holding to you, balancing it on the stretcher to create a table to place everything else on top of. “Nothing, just a bit apprehensive, I suppose.”

“For what?”

You pulled a face at him, moving to grab your own go-bag and pull it up your shoulders, making sure it was comfortably settled onto both arms this time, and beginning to unload equipment with him as you forced your mind to be occupied. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the abseiling down into the abyss of an elevator shaft that’s freaking me out.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to do it then, huh?” You paused, turning to look up at him, confusion evident on his features, and he hopped down onto the tarmac before you, hair flopping into his face for a second, before he was blowing it away, and reaching for the ramp once again. “It’s my turn, right? You took the plunge last time, so it’s only fair I go this time.”

His tone was light, making a joke out of the situation you were both looking at, but the truth was resting strong between you in a thick layer of tension as he locked up the van, hands locking on either side of the head at the top of the stretcher, ready to push it along, and waiting for you to take the feet, but you placed a hand on his forearm gently, bringing his attention back to yours. His gaze was curious, sparkling a little as he stared at you, before the gaze was softening, flickering between remorse and pity, before finally settling on acceptance.

“It’s my turn.”

He whispered the words, and you shook your head a little, your gaze flicking down, the toes of his shoes touching against yours as he turned to face you a little more, and his shoulders slumped as he looked back up. “We both know I’m the one going down there.”

“It’s not fair, it shouldn’t have to be you. My physiotherapist cleared me; I can do it.” He sighed, flexing the knee of his injured leg subconsciously, and you chuckled a little, squeezing his arm softly.

“Just because you can do it, doesn't mean you should have to. I know that it makes your leg ache when you hold heavyweights for too long, and just because you can take the pain, you shouldn't have to. I wouldn't be a very good partner, if I let you do that, would I?”

He sighed, staring at you for a moment longer, before the edges of his lips were flicking up in a smile, and he gave in, something like disappointment making itself known on his face as he tried to hide it. “You know I love you, right?”

“You’ve known me for, like, four months.”

“Ouch, the harsh sting of rejection.” He gasped, holding a hand over his heart as he faked a wound, before stepping forwards and knocking the trolley into action, prompting you to take the foot of it and guide the way. You stepped ahead of him, a hand finding the cool metal and beginning to lift it up and over the curb to the sidewalk, heading back inside of the building. There was an ache on the inside of your cheek, your teeth biting down to contain your smile, the affection shown to you by your coworker making you heart race a little, and you glanced back at him over your shoulder.

You didn’t have to say it back, you hoped it was evident simply in the actions you took, the texts you shared and the jokes that were given in hushed laughter between you both, that you did love him too. You weren’t ready to say that to anyone yet, even if it was just a friend.

Jeff was holding the door open for you both in the staff elevator, helping you to gather everything inside, and as soon as the door clicked shut, you swallowed thickly, the numbers on the panel above the door beginning to click up. It felt wrong, to be riding in a contraption that on the other side of the building was broken, and endangering the lives of three people. Your fingers messed nervously with the straps of your backpack, listening to the men behind you shuffle as they sorted through the belongings on the stretcher, and as the box dinged and the doors laid open, you were walking through them and onto solid flooring one again, a somewhat relieved breath slipping from you.

Glancing around the scene, it had all already been commandeered, and you barely had time to process it all over the noise that was being made by the bustling teams. Gally was anchoring weights into the ground, the marble flooring cracking a little as the metal was drilled into place, before he was pushing his feet against it to test the weight, and ropes were being threaded around the beams of the upper ceiling. It was impressive, it truly was, but none of it was making you feel any better.

A collection of harnesses was laid out on the floor, an even more complex pair abandoned on the floor by the doors that were being held open by a thick rod of metal, denting from the clams wrapped around them, and you sighed, nails digging into your palms from the fists you were holding just to contain the shaking of your hands.

Staring down at the straps and bondings on the floor, you were completely lost, nudging it a little with the toe of your sneakers as you took it all in, and a deep chuckle sounded in your ear, making you jump, before you were watching a familiar head of dark brown hair dip down, picking up one of the harnesses, and picking it up, showing it to you.

“You’re gonna’ want to lose the backpack, for now, we’re wearing full-body harnesses.”

It made more sense, there hadn't been nearly this many clips and straps on the one you'd worn last time, and you let your bag slide down your arms clattering on the floor loudly. Picking it up and mimicking the way the lieutenant before you was holding it, he crouched won, spreading it out on the ground before himself, waiting for you to mimic the actions, and it began to look less like a pile of fabric scars and more like something slightly reassuring the more you adjusted it.

Four circles became evident, adjustable straps on them, and a belt that would clip around your waist with a set of match straps that would all connect elsewhere over your body. He stepped into the first two, and you took a deep breath, every action taking you closer into literally throwing yourself down into an elevator shaft with nothing but a rope to keep you alive.

Matching him, you placed your feet inside of the circles, before reaching down to the ground behind yourself to find the other two circles, holding onto them tightly and beginning to inch the contraception up your body The gem of your trousers caught for a second, and you shook your leg, adjusting it all back down comfortably, before you were hooking your first arm through the strap, the band on your right coming up to sit on your shoulder, and the buttons of your shirt were catching on the fabric, stiff and uncomfortable work shirt, and you cursed a little under your breath at the restriction of movement that ti wall offered you.

Dropping the edge of the harness, it hung loosely at your waist, and you were thankful that you’d chosen to wear more than just a tank top under your shirt today, the chill in your apartment having promoted a long sleeve shirt, and you undid the buttons on your uniform shirt, dropping the crisp material to the ground, and trying again to adjust the harness on your arms.

Once it was on both, it was hanging limply on your body, unadjusted and unfastened, but the thick strap of material running up your back and pressed between your shoulder blades did feel strong, and make you feel a little more secure, and you tried to let your worries go, watching Thomas’ fingers fly smoothly over his front as he did up all of the clips and straps, no struggle as he was trained to do the equipment up, and you lifted each side of the belt, clipping it over your stomach, and struggling to tug the loose material through to tighten it around your waist to hold tight and secure.

“Struggling a little, there?”

“Just a bit.” You mumbled, and he grinned, lifting a hand up to take a hold of the straps on your shoulders, adjusting it better on your arms to sit comfortably and not dig into you, yet holding snugly to your skin as he fastened it all up, fingers flying over the bolts to tighten them. Hands smoothed down over your sides, checking each point of weakness, and your breath hitched a little in your throat as he did, before the backs of his fingers were smoothing over your hips, downs the fronts of your thighs, and he took a hold of each strap, the final material sitting loosely.

Gripping one in each hand, he tugged harshly, your body jerking forwards a little closer to him, a gasp as you did, before the material was tight along your thighs, and he smirked a little, eyes finding yours as his gaze trailed along the harness to make sure it was all done up correctly. “Tight enough?”

“Mhm..” You swallowed thickly, head nodding on a second’s delay, and he grinned, taking a step away from you as he reached away for the first rope. Looping or through both of the hooks on the front of your body, sealed over your ribs as he brought it all together, hooking it into the carabiner and screwing the clip up tightly. Giving it a test tug for security, you huffed a little as your body was jerked forwards towards him again, and you glared up at him weakly as he simply grinned in response to you tripping over your feet, a cheeky look on his features. “You did that on purpose.”

“What can I say? You’re just falling for me already.”

“I think I want to go back to hating you.” You grouched, and he laughed a little, doing up his own ropes, and firemen around you were putting their kit on. You knew he was distracting you, and you appreciated it, but as he pulled on a piece of headgear and adjusted the torch on top, it only made it all a little more real. Nearing the edge of the elevator shaft, you peered inside, unable to even see the box that had fallen, it was so far down, and you let out a shaky breath. “I’m not feeling so good about this whole height thing.”

“You’ve already down this once, you’ve got it this time, too.”

It was supposed to be reassuring, and you felt him come up to stand beside you, but you only scoffed, shaking your head. “Thomas, that was, like, fifteen feet down. This is more like one hundred feet.”

“It’s one hundred and thirty, actually.” You turned to look at him, a grimace passing over his features as pale skin over his cheeks turned a little pink, and he shook his head at himself. “I don’t know why I said that, it didn’t help, at all.

“No, it didn’t.”

“I admire you, though.” He turns you around, the two of you standing only a couple of metres away from the gap, backs to the gap as you watched the team finally be prepared, and while you knew only a few minutes had passed in this whole amount of time, with your stress, it somehow managed to feel like both seconds and hours all in one. “I know you’re scared, and you’re doing this for Newt to save him the pain. I think that’s really brave.”

“I suppose so..” Your words were whispered, and he nodded his head, adjusting your hands on the rope attached to your waist as it no longer lay slack on the ground. Brenda was anchored to the ground before you, holding onto your rope as she wore her own harness, feet pressing to the metal on the ground as she took a seat. Behind her was Gally the two offering you and Thomas a nod, and Minho and Fry took up place on his side, the signal telling you that it was time to go. You grabbed your bag, lifting it onto your shoulder as Thomas pulled on his backpack, and with that, you were holding the breath your lungs as nerves took over.

“They won’t let anything happen to you, alright?” Your attention was drawn back to Thomas, and as you looked up at him, he offered a smile. “Just keep your eyes on me, alright? We’re just going to walk backwards slowly, keep your eyes on me, and as we go over the edge, keep your feet on the ground.”

You nodded your head, nothing but honesty and compassion in his eyes as he made you a silent promise to keep you safe, and your hand twitched a little as you felt fingers smooth over your palm. His hand took yours, squeezing tightly as his fingers wrapped over the back of your hand, and you held onto him tightly, before following his guidance, and taking a step back.

You did as told, keeping your eyes locked with his, slow and cautious steps, and your breathing only picked up in rent as the feeling dragging your body down changed.

Your feet were teetering on the precipice of the shaft, wobbling a little, and you snapped back to look at Brenda, everything suddenly feeling unsafe again, and you froze up. “Hey, hey, c’mon! Look at me, eyes on me, remember?”

You choked up, feeling the squeezing around our hand, and you looked down, fingers wrapped warmly around your hand, and you wondered if he could feel how hard your blood was pumping through your veins and how fast your heart was racing right now. Looking back up to him, honey-coloured eyes were fixed on you, and he squeezed again, nodding his head.

“Just look at me, okay? You’ve got this.”

His brows raised a little, and you force yourself to take a breath, following after him and lifting one foot, placing it at an unusual angle as your leg bent, foot pressing flat to the wall on the inside of the elevator shaft, and as your other followed, you let out a soft sound, something between fear and relief at taking the first step.

“You’re doing so good.” His words were whispered, a few more steps being taken as you began to inch your way down into the darkness, slowly gaining a pace as you began to gain confidence in your movements.

The further down you got, the darker it got, surrounding you as you began to lose your vision. Slowly, it all faded away, until you could barely even see the rope in front of your face, and you couldn't hold the gaze of the man beside you anymore, the darkness shrouded around you. The elevator shaft above you that was the only thing that now connected you to everyone else was simply a sliver of light, and the temperature had dropped rapidly within the cold metal tunnel, making you shiver a little as only your undershirt remained on your body.

The hand wrapped around yours loosened, and you held on for a second, before he was tugging it back, your movements coming to a halt for a second as you hesitated, before releasing him, and your hands fumbled to find the rope in front of your body, wobbling a little bit as you searched for something else to hold onto, your breath hitching in your throat as your food scraped a little against the wall, and you fell forward.

Catching yourself against the wall before you smashed into it too solidly, you grunted, a slight spark of pain running along your wrist, and you winced as bright light filled your vision, Thomas messing with the head torch on his forehead, lighting up the small bubble of air around the two of you.

“Whoa, whoa, relax. It’s alright, just needed some light.” The radio on his shoulder crackled, checking whether he was okay as the two ropes stopped lowering you both down, and he looked below himself, the metal of the elevator reflecting back to you, only thirty feet or so from you now, and he looked back up, raising his brows. “Look how close we are, you’ve come so far, look at that.”

You swallowed thickly, not daring to look down, shaking your head adamantly as you hung in the air, gripping onto the rope, lips pursed and blood running cold. The radio crackled again, and he lifted his hand, pressing the button on the side to continue lowering you down slowly, and you opened your mouth to protest, fear washing over your once again as the ropes jerked, but you were being shushed slowly.

“Do you remember what you said to me the day you ran into that burning building?”

“Not really. I remember a lot of yelling, that's about it.” You mumbled, a tremor in your voice, and Thomas chuckled, his hands finding your ankles and lifting them up, placing your feet flat against the wall, and forcing you to take the proper stance once again.

“Well, I remember. I was yelling at you, being scary, and you told me that we saved a life. You didn't take any of my shit, and then you called me out on it all, but you made me look past our actions to the life we saved. Sometimes I forget to do that, and you made me realise.” You huffed, the joke he’d slipped in there making you roll your eyes, and you took a step with one foot, regaining your momentum again as one of his hands smoothed over your clasped palms, holding onto your hands tightly as he used one on his own rope. “We’re going to go and save some lives, you’re going to save some lives, and I’m just here to help you. You need to be brave for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, the sparkle in his eyes coming back as you dared to look up at him, catching his gaze in the brought light for only a second, before he was nodding his head. “When we get down there, it’s going to be a little scary again, alright? I need you to stand on the top of the box while I open the hatch, and I’ll go down first. I’ll help you inside, but the rope is going to go slack, because they’re going to give you enough space to move around. You think you can handle that?”

“I can do it. I’ll be okay.” You took a deep breath, not quite having faith in yourself yet, but forcing your heart rate to calm down with every deep breath to steady your nerves, before you were finally beginning to trust yourself. The elevator became clearer, the staining on the wall of an old set of numbers, a faded ‘12’ on the wall, before you were stretching your legs out underneath yourself and finding the metal of the elevator to land on.

Just as Thomas promised, he gave your hands a final squeeze, before he was stepping back and tugging on the rope to let them know that you’d both landed. Just like that, the pressure of the pull holding you up went slack, extra rope pooling around your feet, and it only looked to be around ten foot worth of material.

“Not a lot to work with.”

He glanced up, looking at the rope that had gone spare as you were suddenly dependent on your own two feet without support, and he indeed his head. “Ropes are one hundred and fifty feet, but they need at least ten foot of rope to work with up there, and we’re close to a hundred and fifty feet down.”

You shuddered a little, that fact along bringing panic surging back, and your arms wrapped around yourself. The torchlight was overwhelmed by the flickering light on the inside of the elevator when the hatch came loose, the panicked crying of a young girl and the shushing from her mother sounding out, before Thomas was switching off his headlight.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s alright. We’re going to get you out of here, okay?” You watched, the ay her face peeled back form recessed into her mother’s shoulder, tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, but the badge on Thomas’ uniform and the smile on his face made her trust him, the soft nod she gave him being enough to get them to step back towards the edges as he lowered his feet inside.

The cage shook as he landed, a sharp intake of breath that made your head spin as you panicked for just a second, before Thomas was calling out to you, and you were taking tentative steps over to the edge of the hatch. The lieutenant was staring up at you, nodding his head, and reaching up to tap at the edge of the hatch.

“Legs first, I’ve got you, just drop down.”

Choking down the lump in your throat, you tried to blink away the thin line of tears you held, knowing you needed to be brave for the people on the inside of the elevator. This was your job, you were saving lives, you were inspiring a young girl, and you were damn well going to be proud of yourself for it.

Taking a seat carefully, your legs swung over the edge, shuffling a little until your hands were pressed to the opposite side, and his hands were wrapping gently around your calves, stopping your legs from the swinging motions they’d been taking. You focused on that, on the touch of his fingertips into your muscle instead, the way he was holding onto you tightly, reassurance, instead of the way you were risking dropping down into a metal deathtrap over a hundred feet down from where you were being held up by just two people and a metal anchor.

Inching forwards again, you lowered yourself over as the metal under yourself slipped away, those same hands smoothing a little further up your body, until you were lowering yourself down by your upper arms. Smoothing over your hips, his hands found your waist, burning hot through the thin material of your shirt, and lowering you down until your feet found the ground, a small sigh slipping from you as you took a minute to control your fears.

“I told you, I got you.”

Your eyes cracked open, looking up to find honey-brown eyes fixed on you, and you offered him a small smile, taking a deep and calming breath, before turning to face the family before you, and his touch fell away. “Okay, let's get you all checked out, huh?”

The little girl nodded, and you peeled your backpack from your arms, placing it down and crouching beside it to open it up, watching as the child, who couldn't be any older than ten sank to her knees before you. As she did, the front of the mother was relieved to you, large and swollen, a pregnancy that was early third trimester or late second, and your actions paused as you tried to assess the next course of action.

Thomas had brought spare harnesses, and yet there were no spare ropes, you could hear him behind you as he worked, setting up the next set to be equipped, but there was no way that you would be able to carry a woman that far along in a tandem harness without posing a risk to the child. Turning back to look at him as you snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, his brows raised at you, pausing what he was doing for a second to look over, and his jaw dropped a little, the anticipated addition clearly bringing his mind to a short-circuited halt.

Your focus went back to the young girl, the mother now with a hand resting over her stomach, and the father was sitting in the corner, popped up against the wall, eyes a little half-lidded and a cut on his forehead, but he was lucid, and so you knew he’d be alright to wait until his family was checked out.

“Okay, this light is going to be a little bright okay, I just need you to follow it with your eyes for me, can you do that?” She nodded, and you put on the best smile that you could, before clicking the light on the end of the torch and lifting it up. Dragging it slowly from left to right across her vision, you monitored the speed at which her pupils flexed, and how capable she was of tracking the source. Returning it the other way, you watched for the same signs. Up, and down, she was alright, and you ran your fingers gently over her head for signs of bleeding or bruising, feeling under her hair for swelling. “You’re doing so good! You’re even braver than I am!”

“I cried a lot, I’m not brave.”

She sighed sadly, her mother reaching out to place a comforting hand on her head and brush her hair out of her face gently, and you leaned in a little closer, offering her a smile. “That’s okay, I wanted to cry on the way down here, too. But, you see the firefighter behind me?” She glanced over your shoulder, her eyes flicking over him for a second, before she nodded. “He’s great at this, he’s the bravest, and he’s going to get you back up to the top, okay? He’ll help you put a harness on, and then you’re going to do some climbing, think you can do that?”

She hesitated, before a look of determination was passing over her face, and she stood on weak and unsteady legs, before rounding to him. His voice faded into the background, deep and soothing as he began to get the young girl roped up, and she would undoubtedly be fastened to his chest, so that he could climb back up with her, brushing your knees off a little as you stood to talk to the mother.

“How are you feeling? Any unusual headaches, blurred vision, whiplash?” She shook her head whispering her ‘no’ on a hoarse through, and you felt awful for what she’d had to endure today, the rhythmic pattern of her hand rubbing circles over her stomach, soothing you both, and she traced the flashlight with her eyes just as commanded, and there was no delayed reaction in her responses either, all showing up with a good sign. “How about the baby, anything you want to ask?”

“No, I know my little one is alright.” She cracked a smile now, and you raised a brow at her, the hand on her stomach leaving her bump to take your wrist, pushing her cardigan out of the way until just a cotton t-shirt was covering her, and she placed your palm flat over her skin. You waited for a second, before a sharp jolt pressed to your palm, and she winced a little, the hard kick from within making you chuckle. “He’s doing just fine. If anything, he’s mad he didn’t get his lunch yet, we had reservations that we’ve missed.”

“Well, you’ve got a little fighter in there, huh?”

“You can say that again.” She teased, wrapping herself back up warmly, and you did a quick scan over what of her you could see.

“My boy is going to be a football star with energy like that.” The father grinned, wheezing a little on his words as he pushed himself up to sit a little straighter, and your attention turned to him. Before you could move onto him, though, a hand was wrapping around your forearm, tugging you back slightly, and you turned to face Thomas. He pulled you aside, to the edge of the elevator, as much privacy as you were going to get, but his back was to the family, leaning down low, and voice barely a whisper;

“We’re not going to be able to get her in a harness. You’re going to have to climb back up on your own with the mother and the girl, and come back to me with the harnesses.”

It was a reasonable decision, but the longer you waited, the more at risk of a concussion the father was growing to, the cut on his had needing attending to as blood beaded along his hairline and dripped in a single steady path along his skin, a red trail left in its wake before it was sliding down his neck and into the fabric of his shirt, his head leaning a little to the side.

“No, I think you have to be the one to go.”

He shook his head, a frown taking over his lips. “No, no, absolutely not. I can’t leave you down here witho-” Your hand found his wrist, wrapping around it delicately and squeezing a little, bringing him to silence as he glanced down, before his eyes were searching through yours as he tried to understand. “You’re terrified, though.”

“I know, but I’m saving lives, remember?” The edges of his lips flicked up a little, a sigh through his nose as his jaw clenched, before he was looking over his shoulder to the father as you nodded your head a little. “He needs medical attention, and you need to take the girl and the mother back up. I’ll wait right here, and you just get back to me as soon as you can.”

“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine, I swear.” He didn’t look convinced, watching as your hands went to the straps of your harness, beginning to undo them as you looked down, trying to work them all out. He sighed, his own hands moving to begin undoing the clips and seals quickly, helping you to loosen the safety equipment, until it could drop down your arms and pool at the floor. Stepping out of it, you gave a final squeeze to his arm, nodding your head. “I got this.”

“I know you do, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

You grinned a little, stepping away from him, and the mother looked between you both, worry in her eyes, and you let Thomas do the explaining once again, as he loosened all of the straps and adjusted the harness to be able to take her weight securely without harming the baby she was growing.

As soon as she was fastened into it, he was pulling on her rope, fastening his hands and crouching down to be able to give her a boost, lifting her up to be able to climb out from the hatch and onto the roof of the elevator. Her footsteps were loud and clanging for a moment, before they were gone, and she was clearly on her way of climbing up back to safety, taking your only escape route with her, and you felt like you were going to suffocate on your fears.

Thomas’ gaze caught yours, worried and unsure, his jaw dropping, but there was nothing he could say, knowing that this was the best way to go about it, and instead, he dropped his head in a single nod.

“I’ll be back for you real soon, alright?”

You gave him the most convincing smile you could muster, before he was telling the little girl to jump up, lifting her until she could sit on the edge of the box, and he followed as soon as she was clear, her legs out of the way. As he jumped, the box creaked a little, the force of his movements making it shake, and your eyes went wide, body tensing up, fear once again surging through your system, before Thomas was disappearing too.

The pair lingered for an extra few moments, and you knew that he was making sure the girl was properly attached to him, all secures done up tightly, before their footsteps faded too, and you were left alone, nobody to catch you this time.

Taking a seat on the floor beside the father, his eyes studied you for a tense moment, before he was offering you a supportive smile. “Don’t worry, kiddo, I’m just as scared as you are.”

You offered him the most reassuring look you could, trying to use it for your own relaxation too, and you started by running your hand gently along the back of his neck, a hiss leaving his lips as you did, and you paused all movements.

“Sorry, your hands are cold.”

“You’re lethal, do you know that?” You mumbled, lips quirking up at the sides, and you shook your head, your fingers twitching against his neck as you got back to work, and he let out a weak chuckle. “No more noises like that unless you’re in pain, or you know something wrong, alright?”

He closed his eyes, head barely moving in a nod, but it was enough to secure his confirmation, and you began the movement of your fingers along his neck once again. He didn’t make those sounds, keeping his promise, but he did wince and pull the occasional faces as you moved, the swelling frowning around the tissue and the tense feeling under the tips of your fingers being slightly concerning, but not enough to be an immediate concern. When you were finished, you placed a palm on the back of his neck, cupping carefully and lifting your thumb to press into the back of his head.

Pulling his head forwards, you placed the softly cushioned support of the neck brace behind his head, the plastic holding strong as you lay his head back into it and as you released him, finding it holding secure, you brought the front around carefully. The straps hung loose, and you adjusted it under his chin, holding his head up at the correct angle, and just like it always did with patients, a small sigh of relief left him he was no longer tasked with holding up the weight of his own head.

Placing it over his shoulders, you tightened the straps, fastening them correctly, and letting out a little sigh as one job was checked off of your list. You moved onto testing his reactions next, and bringing up the flashlight to look into his eyes, studying him. His reactions were slower than you would have liked, his pupils dilating with a paused reaction and it was sluggish in his movements, but he was able to clearly react to the light, tracing it in all dimensions, and to read the title of the notice on the other side of the elevator clearly, no blurring present.

Lifting your gaze to the cut across his forehead, you pushed back the slightly blood-matted hair of his fringe, dirty-blonde hair going a murky red-brown at the tips, and you lifted it out of the way, tucking it back in hopes that it would stay, the strands sticking up unevenly.

Pressing around the edges, and watching the consistency and speed of the blood flow, it wasn’t too bad, slow and somewhat clotted as it tried to repair itself, darker in colour as the fresh blood under the surface began to flow the way it should, and it was simply a laceration.

“Skin wound, nothing too serious. I’ll get it cleaned up for you, won’t even need stitches. Looks way worse than it is.”

“Stings like a bitch, though.”

“Well, you’re not going to like this, then.” You warned him, holding up the small foil packet with an antiseptic wipe sealed inside of it, and tearing it open. Letting the wrapper flutter away to the floor, a loud groan left his lips, ones that tails of into a whiny noise as you wiped over his skin, his hands becoming fists by his sides, before he bit down on his tongue to try and contain the noises, lips sealing shut, and a grunt rounding it out. “I’m sorry, Mr, uh..”

“You can just call me Clint.”

“I’m sorry, Clint. It’s not all that fun, but it’s a hell of a lot worse than a skin infection, that’s for sure. You’d hate it if this thing got gross and had to be scraped clean.” He grimaced a little at the idea, and you knew the feeling. On more than one occasion, you’d been called out to a call for a person who hadn't called for an original injury, and were now at risk of collapsing, passing out and omitting and sometimes even spasming when the infection got too bad. You hated those trips, when you arrived and tried to work out what was wrong, only to find a finger on one hand completely discoloured and flowing with pus from a simple cooking accident, or a scratch from a pet that hadn't been cared for and was now oozing and bruised. “All done, now, okay?”

You cleared down along his skin, doing the best you could to wipe the dried blood away from his skin and help him to feel a little bit cleaner, and he mumbled a ‘thanks’ as you did. Putting down the wipe and searching through the small plastic box on the floor that you had open, you found the half-empty and folded tube of cream to apply to it, squeezing some onto the tip of your finger, and warming it by rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger to warm it, before smoothing the healing solution over his skin.

Just as you were screwing the top back on, you flinched, pausing for a second as you tried to listen out to see whether you’d heard correctly, and much more clearly this time, your name was bouncing from the walls of the elevator shaft.

Peeling your gloves from your hands and dropping them down to the floor in a ball, you studio up, brushing the dust staining your pants away from your knees, and moving to stand underneath the hatch in the elevator roof.

“Thomas?”

“Yep, that’s me.” You squinted as bright light flashed in your eyes, the light swinging a little from side to side as Thomas moved, but as you peered out into the darkness, you couldn't see anything except for the swinging little spot of the torch. “How’s he lookin’ in there? He going to be able to get in a harness?”

“It’s not ideal, but I think if we climb carefully, we’ll be just fine.” Your voice cracked a little with the sudden shout, but you offered the man a small smile, turning to look at him. “We’re good, right. Clint?”

“We’re great, kiddo.” He mumbled, holding up a weak hand with a thumb stuck up, and you grinned, a reassuring nod for both of you.

“Glad to hear it.” The torch disappeared from your sight once again, and you figured he was looking up, back to the elevator shaft entrance that was obscured from your view, and you twisted your head away as he looked back, the light catching your eyes again, stinging at your retinas. “You’ve both done real good today, we’re almost through with it all. I just need you to come out and grab the harness that Brenda is lowering down beside me, so you can drop it through the hatch.”

“Uh, come out as in on top of the elevator?”

“Can you handle that? I’m only two or three floors away, but if you can get yourself roped up first, it’ll save a lot of time.” It made sense, it was logical, and you didn’t want to be down here any longer than necessary, because, despite the bravery taking you over, you were still in a broken metal box that was hanging precariously at thirteen floors above where it should be, with no safety measures in operation.

“I can do it.”

He gave some kind of reply, something you didn’t catch as you stared up at the entrance of the hatch, the sighs around you becoming clearer as you began to notice the grungy grey walls that were coming into clarity as Thomas’ silhouette got closer and closer to you. Lifting your hands up, you were only a few inches shy of the roof, and pushing off of the floor, the elevator creaked a little in a way that made your stomach twist, but you gripped onto the edge, and you were able to hold on.

As you swung in the air, it wasn’t too much to handle, but your arms trembled as you tried to pull yourself up, not having enough strength to do so, and you dropped back down, the box around you rattling as you did, a grunt leaving your lips as a shock ran along your leg, a jolt of pain at landing on it awkwardly, a flash of heat following it.

“What did you just do?”

“I tried to climb out?” You shouted back, not understanding the rushed sound to his voice, before there was a loud screeching sounding out, and the ground beneath you moved by a few inches, before coming to another solid stop, your arms flying out around you in a panic.

“Don’t move, okay? Don’t move even a step!”

“I’m not! I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to at this point!” There was a shake in your voice, nausea filling you once again and your entire body was tensed painfully tight, fear taking over again. “What’s happening?”

“It shifted. The movements made it come loose, but it's alright.” He was closer, voice no longer needing to shout as much as he near you, and you could now pick out the colours on the logo of his shirt, and the outlines of his features, close enough now that you could speak without shouting. “Just stay real still, and it’s going to be just fine.”

“Okay.” You took a shaky breath, running your breathing routines in your head as you tried to calm yourself down, and you turned on your spot, slowly and carefully to face your patient. “We’re okay. We’ll be fine.”

“Yes, we will.” He sounded just as scared as you, but the fatherly-instinct within him was prompting him to calm you, even though that was what you should be doing for him, and you hummed.

What couldn't have been anything longer than a minute passed you by, before the box you were in was creaking again, a shudder running under your feet that travelled along your spine, chilling your blood instantly in your veins, and your head snapped up. “Thomas?”

“It’s moving again, I’m ri-”

The box shifted, dropping once again, and you felt bile rise in your throat as your feet left the ground for a moment, feeling the air whipping around you.

There was no sound, you couldn't even muster a scream, the entire event happening so quickly that you barely even had time to process it as the fear in your body made you feel like you were blacking out. Your grip on everything slipped away, the lights inside of the box flashing, and then, just like that, you were finding gravity once again.

You collided with the floor roughly, the side of your body aching as you hit against it, the side of your head throbbing angrily only a split second later, and your vision was spotting. It was like a weight sitting on your chest, unable to breathe, fingertips digging into the floor as you tried to support yourself, and push yourself up to sitting up. Your ears were ringing a little, your hand coming up to smack at the side of your head as you knocked yourself back to consciousness and forced your senses to realign, shaking off the dizziness to look around.

Clint had keeled over, eyes wide as he now lay on the floor, his eyes searching for yours, and a groan left you as you rolled over onto your hands and knees, gasping and spluttering for breath as your head spun, an array of different aches raising along your body, and you made your way over to him. Kneeling back and sitting on your heels, you adjusted him carefully, laying him on his back and thank your earlier self that you’d already applied a neck brace to the man, keeping him safe there, and he lay out, staring up at the dimly flickering lights.

“Thomas?” Words came out croaky, your throat sore and dry, the pain of holding in tears as you tried to be the strong one making it painful to talk, and you cleared your throat, trying again to call out to him. “Lieutenant?”

“Oh, thank fucking God. Are you okay?” There was a panicked rush to his voice, and you patted yourself down a little, running your gaze over the man before you, and licking at dry lips to stop them from cracking.

“We’re both still in one piece.” He was far away once again, the light dimmer and his voice more distant, and it only scared you more, making you feel alone, and like you were sitting on a ticking time bomb. “How far did we drop?”

“Uh..” He paused, the lights flashing around the tunnel for a moment, before it was disappearing again. “You’re somewhere between the sixth and seventh floor.”

“Okay, how long until you get to us?”

“I can’t.” The silence was thick between you, the tone in his voice conveying exactly how he felt, and it matched your own mood exactly. Helpless, scared, alone, frustrated, the list could go on, and you pressed down roughly with your nails into your palms, hands shaking as you tried to hold it together. “The ropes can’t get that far down. “Minho and Fry are going to pull me back up, Newt is on his way to the sixth floor, and so are the rest of the truck and squad team. We’re going to have to pull down the wall, okay? They’re already on their way.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Just hold on, and be brave. Can you do that? For me?” You absolutely could not, everything inside of you was rattled and terrified, and you were barely holding it together, but you didn’t want him panicking either, and so you held the trembling in your body off long enough to give him a smooth response;

“Yeah. I’ll manage. Just hurry, okay?”

There was a soft chuckle, empty and weak but it was there, and he agreed, the sound barely reaching your ears as it made its way down the dark elevator shaft. “I’m already on my way to come and get you, I promise.”

Looking back down and around you, the possessions from your bag were scattered around, and you lowered yourself down to the hands and knees, inching your way down slowly until you could reach out around yourself, scarcely crawling at all when you needed to, until you were beginning to gather up the possessions that belonged there. Packing away the kit, you sealed it all up, making sure you didn’t construct any sudden movements, and beginning to pack up your bag.

There were muffled voices on the other side of the wall, what you assumed would be loud shouts was almost a whisper through the layers of metal, concrete and scaffolding, but the cracking and splintering of drywall soon followed it, and you let out a sigh of relief. Packing away the various containers and boxes inside of your bag, you zipped it up, pushing it over to sit in the corner beside where the doors would open, and rocking back to sit with your legs folded before you, hands holding you up.

A hand felt out along the floor, a calloused palm patting the back of your hand gently, before settling over it to squeeze, and the dam inside of you broke. A sob left you, loud and freeing as the tears you’d been blinking away finally formed fully, and leaked along your cheeks in large droplets, a shake moving along your entire body as you did.

He squeezed once again, sitting with you quietly as you gasped for breath, letting out the terrifying mixture of emotions with you. He was shushing you quietly, and you wanted to laugh at how the roles had been reversed, how it as supposed to be you comforting and helping him, but you couldn't help him, breaking down with the overwhelming terror of the situation you were trapped in.

The sounds outside of the elevator were getting louder, voices becoming clearer, and you could hear the clattering made by chunks of the wall being ripped away and scattered across the tiled flooring of the executive building, but you didn’t care, because you had been keeping everything bottled up for so long that you were unable to hold it back any longer, and your body shook with the intensity of your emotions.

Your lungs were once again burning for breath, head spinning and heart racing and you took gasping intakes of air, swallowing down only to splutter and hiccup as you tried to exhale, and the man beside you never said a word, his hand rubbing soothingly over yours beside you on the floor as he tried to remain steady, much in the same way you were.

“I’m so sorry.” Your words were broken up and stuttered, and you tried to get a grip on yourself, wiping at your cheeks and hating how your eyes were stinging, throat raw, feeling like you’d swallowed a ball of fire from the burning within, and you felt like claustrophobia might be a fear you now had to add onto your list, the walls of the box seeming to get smaller and smaller.

Like some kind of blessed relief, there was banging against the doors of the elevator, a tap of a knock, and Chuck’s voice was ringing through to you loud and clear, asking if you were alright. Leaning forwards and pressing your hand to the cold metal, a chuckle of ecstatic relief was released.

“We’re okay, Chuck. You guys planning to get these doors open for us soon?”

There was no verbal response, but instead, a second later, the doors were cracking open, the slight humming of the set of spreaders as it was cracked open, a sliver of natural light piercing through from the lobby, and you caught sight of is flushed cheeks and darker brown curls, a worried face that was trying to ease you by smiling. “Soon enough for you?”

You nodded your head, before he was being pushed aside, blonde coming into view, and as the gap widened enough, you could make him out. His brows were furrowed, a guilty look on his face as he met your gaze, and you shook your head. “Don’t do that to yourself, Newt.”

You could see the cogs turning in his head, one of his hands slipping up to rest on the edge of the elevator, his head at the same height as yours when you leaned down, only the bottom third of the elevator actually making it onto the sixth floor, the rest still raised above. Reaching down and resting your hand over his, he frowned even further, the gap almost wide enough for you to get to work, but the elevator was shuddering a little again at the action, and you pushed Newt’s hand away, just in case, squeezing it before letting go.

“Just so you know, I love you, too. You’re the best friend, like, ever. Even if sometimes I hate it.” His lips flicked up at that, and he nodded his head, before you were glancing away just for a second, he whispered conversation only needing to be shared between the two of you. Grabbing your med-bag and pushing it through the door gap, he took it, accepting it and dropping or down. “I’m going to need the board, and you need to be ready to go. As soon as he’s out, get to the ambo’, okay?”

“You’ll call once you’re out too, right? So I know you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I will.” You swore it, and he backed away, preparing the blackboard to be slid up to you, holding it over his head as the gap finally became wide enough, and you backed out of the space to be able to receive it. As you rolled out of the way, the elevator creaked again, dropping a couple more centimetres, and you swallowed thickly, annoying the straps as quickly as you could.

There was so much commotion going on outside of the elevator, your mind spinning as you tried to focus, and you heard Brenda and Gally arriving, clearly having pulled out their anchor and received their ropes, and you laid the plastic board out carefully beside Clint.

“Okay, there’s normally two of us for this, so I’m going to need your help here, okay?” He hummed, his eyes finding yours, a look flashing through that told you he understood, and you placed a hand flat under his shoulder and hip. “I’m going to roll you, and I need you to tense up, hold it for as long as you can, and I’ll push the board under you, then, when you roll back, try to shuffle onto it, okay?”

He did as told, his body going tense, despite the pain it caused as he winced, and you rolled him over onto his side as much as you could alone. Freeing one hand from his body, you pushed the board under him, and as he rolled back down, he groaned, but the shuffle had worked, because he sat squarely in the middle of the bard where he should be, and you wasted no time.

Pulling the first strap over his waist tightly, you did it up, sealing him down, and moving to the one over his chest. Once there were secure, you wrapped one over the top of his head grinning a little as he stared up at you, holding his head still, before you were tracing along his feet and arms, doing up every fasten you could think of for his safety. “You ever been crowd surfing, Clint?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” Your joke was well-received, barely a second of silence before he was letting out a pained chuckle, and you looked back to the door. Gally and Winston were first, stood on either side and ready to receive the board, lifting him carefully above their heads to lower him down, and Newt had raised the trolley up as high as it could go in order to collect him.

You held in your grunt of pain at the exertion of sliding the board across the floor, hearing the scraping of the plastic along the ground, before the elevator was shaking again. Their hands sealed around the end, and the pressure was taken off of you as it began to inch out further and further again, letting them pull it as more bodied came to join, more hands stabilising the mix, and the movement at the end of the hall caught your attention.

The opposite elevator opened up, carrying the final three bodies; Minho, Frypan and Thomas. You could at least breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that the rest of your team were all safe, with their feet flat on the ground and not dangling precariously hundreds of feet off the ground. The former two raced forwards, each hooking onto the stretcher board and helping to pull it the rest of the way out, and then, he was disappearing from your sights, strapped to the stretcher and ready to be wheeled away.

A final glance from Newt, a nod of your head, and then honey-coloured eyes were filling your vision as Thomas popped up in front of you. The sudden change it weight and all the added movement was making it unstable once again, his jaw dropping, mind seemingly going blank, and you gripped onto the edges of the doors as it trembled, tipping a little to one side as metal ground against concrete, the ropes on one side of the elevator beginning to give way and snap, the subtle sounds of the metal fraying sounding in your ears as small cables began to tinker on the metal roof as they fell free.

“You need to get out, like, now.”

You could only nod, trying to adjust yourself on the tilted angle to swing your legs through the gap, and you got one out, before the lift was jerking again, dropping down to become even, and the metal was caving under its own weight. “Oh, fuck it.”

A large hand found your ankle, tugging you forwards, your body jerking at the motion and the lift moved too, but before it could drop away, another hand was finding your waist, tugging you free, and you tumbled forwards enough to stumble as you dropped down the gap, but you never landed on the ground. That same hand dragged along your body as he fell back a little from the impact, holding you up the hand from your calf found your back and the hand from your hip was circling under your arms to hold onto you tightly, staggering backwards and away from the danger.

When your feet found the floor again, your toes were brushing against it, before your entire body was sagging into Thomas’, knees going weak, and you were relying upon him to hold you up everything seemed to go numb all at once. Your head fell forwards, too heavy to even hold up as your eyes fluttered closed, and your forehead pressed into his shoulder as you let him support you entirely, legs buckling underneath you.

The arms around you only tightened, the one under your arms relaxing to simply hold you, fingers spreading as his hands sat between your shoulder blades, and he rubbed slowly, the hug unexpected, but exactly what you needed, and your hands moving around him too, bunching in the back of his shirt as you took a shuddering breath and held on for dear life.

“Told you I was coming to get you.”

You could only laugh, a pathetic sound that barely made itself known in response to the words he’d whispered in your ears, but it didn’t matter, because you were soon being pulled back, Thomas’ hold on your dropping down to simply having a hand settled on your lower back as Brenda cupped your cheeks, wiping away any residual wetness sphere with her thumbs, before shaking her head.

“You scared the shit outta’ me.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t all that fond of the experience, either.” You muttered, a wave of laughter going up around you, from the other team members, and you jumped a little at the creaking of metal once again, the box dropping a foot or so further down. Reaching behind your back, to the hand that was still rubbing motions that were barely detectable into your skin, you took his wrist, pulling it away from you as he paused upon the contact.

You couldn’t keep up with the conversation around you, questions and observations about it all being thrown at you, but you could focus on the way Thomas had been able to calm you down so well before, and how you needed a little more of that now. Taking his hand in your own, just like he had done when you’d still been in your harness, you breathed a sigh of relief as his fingers wrapped around your palm in welcome return.

There was still a lot to be done, the job here was far from over, but right now, you were taking a pause to let yourself calm down, and as Thomas squeezed your hand in comfort, you squeezed back.

[bluebeetle]

ooo those comic asks let's go 1, 2, 9, 12, 15, 23, 34, 42 sorry that's so much i just want your comic takes

answering this was difficult bc my cat decided she needed to walk all over me and my laptop the moment you sent this

1. How has DC/Marvel/publishing company wronged you, specifically?

oh god in many ways. For dc:

>making talia evil >making cass evil and then ignorable

>making jason suddenly an antihero with no development to go from villain to hero

>letting babs walk again

>the whole mess with wally west after the reboot and the two wallys. also he hasnt talked to pied piper YET ITS BEEN YEARS

>almost everything about the n52 reboot honestly

>countdowns existence but esp the plotpoint where they took my fave minor character pied piper and handcuffed him to trickster and then had trickster be homophobic to him for most of the 52 issues; this is not treated as a bad thing. also trickster has known pied piper for years and was never homophobic before i hate dan didio

for marvel:

>constantly making the comics more like the MCU pls fucking STOP i hat you so much

>trying to make loki evil again. die.

>everything theyve done to wanda. everything. but esp making her not related to magneto again. or the incest thing in ultimates. ugh

2. What character death for the sake of drama was the worst?

dc: hmmmm most of the deaths i can think of i dont mind. i guess most ppls deaths in Heroes in Crisis, esp roy's. that was so dumb ugh. not big on them killing damian but the writing in batman and robin was rly good so it makes up for it. im sure theres someone im forgetting--oh WAIT

bart allens death in the flash it sucked so bad and one of his creators was so upset and died before bart allen was revived. that one definitely that one.

i blocked it from my mind

marvel: WANDA WANDA WANDA WANDA WANDA STOP KILLING ER OFF FOR DRAMA DEAR GODDDDDDDDDDDDD

9. What’s the worst plotline you’ve read?

oh boy. does all star batman and robin count its rly bad ghhgf i also didnt rly get checkmate (2021). also i guess theres a lot of talias bad writing that i went thru for damian ):

for marvel uhhhh i dont read enough marvel so i have nothing to say. maybe when i read house of M well say that one lol. i did read some of civil war in middle school?

12. Are there any comics you’ve read knowing they’re bad and why?

not many. all star batman and robin bc its so bad its funny. parts of rhato for that jason content but ive never finished it and i think rhato vol 2 isnt always bad.

for marvel, nah

15. Tell me about a plotline that could have been interesting if anyone else wrote it.

anything devon grayson does tbh like dealing with dicks stress over murder and guilt or him being romani (Tho him not knowing is dumb). it was so bad and racist ugh. other than that I think the spyral and ric grayson arcs coulda been good if they were like, combined maybe? and shorter. lmao

also the current robin 2021 run tbh... i think the idea of a tournment and damian grappling with guilt could be fun but the writer cares waaaaaay too much about his ocs to give damian real breathing room

speaking of damian: teen titans 2016 coulda been SO fun if they werent so racist and wanting to make damian a bad guy for caring about immigrants and people of colour lol. i rly loved what few good moments he had with wally, emiko, jackson, and the others.

for marvel... mybe trial of magneto coulda worked if the writers cared about magneto and wanda lol. or x-factor 2020 it had some good ideas but was ruined by the writers weirdness about akihiro and david... like just the racism combined with weird views of bi men lol

23. If you could erase one comic book from canon, what would it be?

oh this one is so hard.... either heroes in crisis (wally being a mass murderer) or batgirl 2011--no more abled babs she doesnt exist.

or countdown. i rly fucking hate countdown.

for marvel idk. can i just destroy the mcu instead

oh wait. ultimates avengers. pls i dont want to think about the ultimates universe maximoff twins ever AGAIN

34. Which retcon do you hate the most?

for DC, four come to mind:

>Parallax isn't Hal Jordans fault

so if u dont know hal jordan back in the 90s broke down after his city was destroyed by doomsday and he lost many loved ones. as a result he went full on villain (parallax) and ended up destroying most of the green lantern corps and caused the zero hour event

he then was killed and later came back as the hero spectre, basically being a ghost hero and trying to atone for his actions he did in the lowest point of his life

anyways later on geoff johns got the reins and revived Hal and said it wasn't hal's fult at all, he was just possessed by an evil space bug made of fear, the real Parallax.

aaaand i hate that. I hate taking away Hals role in everything and making him a victim. I dont mind the other retcons Geoff Johns did to GL lore--hell i prefer it because he really fleshed things out and added the other colours and explained the weakness to yellow even!--but I think it all could have been done without stripping Hal of any wrong doings or guilt. Its rly lame.

>Babs can walk again!

ok not rly a retcon bc she was still shot but i hate it i hate it so much die die die die die die die die

>Jason was actually a rly mean, stupid, and bad robin and no one liked him and his death was inevitable

He had his momentts of violence, yes but his anger had a trigger; he wasnt angry all the time, he was a sweet and intelligent kid who loved Bruce a lot and had a rocky relationship with Dick at first but they did eventually get along. He had a few friends, knew the titans, and was well liked by his family.

too many stories stress his violence and impulsiveness and make him out to be a bad person with at least trying to explore why he is that way and sympathsize with him.

not only that but the treating of his death as inevitable or his fault or anything like that frustrates me so fucking much bc the weight of death in the family, of its aftermath and a lonely place of dying, of under the red hood, really hinges on the fact that jasons death was a tragedy, one that shook Bruce like no other. because he lost his child who he loved!!!!!

wait fourth one

>theres two wally wests with the same powers

super lame. shoulda either made the black wally into bart allen with some explaination for the fake name or just kept the black wally and given him white wallys memories and stuff. maybe aged him up idk. it was such a cop out

for marvel. well we all kn ow what its gonna be

>WHY THE FUYCK IS MAGNETO NOT WANDA AND PIETROS DAD ANYMORE? WHAT THE FUCK? IT RUINS SO MANY STORIES AND ITS STUPID AND ITS JUST STUPID MCU BULLSHIT I HATE IT SO MUCH FUCKING UNDO IT

42. What’s a fandom trope you hate?

oh boy.

>Dick and/or Damian get rescued by the mean racists by Bruce and/or Tim and/or Jason. Cass and Duke are mysteriously absent.

>Bruce has all his kids with him! Who's Cassandra? (....who's duke?)

>Jason was manipulated by the big mean Talia into hating his dad. He has never done anything wrong in his life, its all Talia who hates Bruce so much she wants to marry him or something idk i never read a talia comic in my life

>Redhead jason. let it fucking DIE

>tim is the best robin ever and a lil uwu bean and damian and jason are just soooo mean and always wrong esp damian whos 10

>whats a woman

>did you guys know you make Dick hot without making him a '''''slut'''' esp since hes an SA victim.....

>im so tired of jokes about republican wally esp since none of these ppl have ever read his flash run or even know who linda park or hartley rathaway are

>making jack drake way more abusive than he actually is in canon (hes neglectful at times yes) for sad white boy points or making jason a victim of CSA for sad white boy points (also you guys know someone doesnt have to have been assaulted to hate sexual assault right????)

>making tim asian and jason latino. holy racist stereotypes batman

im sure theres WAY more i could do but theyve been blocked out of my mind for now

for marvel tbh i dont deal with the marvel fandom much so!

the most i could say is

>forgetting loki is bi and genderfluid bc they wanna fuck a white cishet boy

i did all of this and realised i only talked about dc and had to go back and add marvel btw jvfdhghfdhgfdh

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Pity in Short Supply (baon)

Summary:    In the aftermath of the kidnapping, Red has a few thoughts. There's a reason he's always called 'em liabilities.

Tags:  Kustard, Domestic, Established Relationship, Sans/Underfell Sans, Aftermath of a kidnapping, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus, Background Spicyhoney, A Touch of Lemon Goodness

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

By the time the sun was thinking about hopping over the horizon and getting started on its daily workout, the warehouse parking lot was starting to clear out. All the ambulances were long since gone, the only one of ‘em with a person in the back was the guy who was still stuck in that weird foam shit.

Red didn’t believe in karma; he’d spent much too long eating shit himself for that, but if there was any lingering threads of justice still clinging stubbornly in the air, it’d take a long, painful time to get that fucker loose.

Most of the Embassy Security teams were heading back with all the evidence stacked in their backseats and Red was standing in a shadowed corner away from the streetlights watching them pack it in. Some of ‘em would start working on interviewing the kidnappers who didn’t need a few hours to cut them loose from a little chemical warfare, along with the agents the FBI shipped their way. Some were gonna work on getting shit together for the inevitable interviews with the kidnappees sometime this afternoon. Red had some pull and plenty of strings to yank, but even he wasn’t gonna be able to hold back the tide of questions much longer than that.

There was probably gonna be a fit pitched somewhere along the line that he’d sent his trouble twins home to sleep before getting much info, but Red would have to hula that hoop when it rolled in. Wasn’t only about Stretch, it was about his bro; there was only so much the boss could take before he slammed face-first into his breaking point and he’d been skating a little too fucking close tonight for Red’s taste. Better to let him take his pretty little liability home, clean him up, spend a li’l time rubbing his scent all over him again like a dog in heat and wasn’t it a damn good thing none of ‘em could piss.

The last thing any of ‘em needed was his bro snapping and hauling his honey away like a shorter, skinnier, bald version fucking King Kong.

(and was the memory of his brother's bleak face as he sat there waiting for answers while Red lied out promises about getting his liability back in one piece gonna haunt his nightmares, fuck yes, 'course it was, gotta balance those books somehow, there was always a price, he'd learned that lesson fast while he was still carrying his baby bro on the streets. always a price, fucking always)

Red wasn’t too worried about losing any info, anyway. Wasn’t much chance of Stretch forgetting much, not with that eidetic memory of his. Not being able to forget was half of his fucking problems to begin with.

Out in the mostly deserted parking lot, the last couple agents were finished packing up their car, not even seeming to give him a second glance as they climbed in. ‘Seeming’ was the real shit there, to anyone who wasn’t used to watching. The driver, a deceptively slender deer Monster, their antlers cut stylishly down, paused just long enough for their eyes to flick his way. The subtlest of looks, but that was it. They didn’t make a show of asking if Red wanted a ride, didn’t play any ego trips over spotting him, just hopped into the car and sped off.

Good instincts. Red made a mental note to keep an eye on that one. Good, not great, ‘cause they didn’t notice the one standing further back behind him, the guy who took up the best shadows before Red even showed up.

He stepped up now, hands stuffed into his pockets as he shuffled his way to stand next to Red, untied shoelaces dragging on the damp asphalt. They stood there together while the first unbearable rim of sunlight crested and took the shadows with it, bathing them in painful, golden light.

Red pulled out a cigar and bit off the end, spitting it to the ground. He lit a match with a flick of his thumb and held the tip in the wavering flame. When the end was smoldering, he flicked the match into the puddle, the faint hiss of it extinguishing unheard as he asked in a cloud of exhaled smoke, “how’s it going, sansy?”

Red was looking at the empty parking lot, the puddles dotting it like a scattering of miniature lakes across a land of broken asphalt, so he didn’t see Sans shrug, but he could feel it, a ripple in the still air around them. “went like clockwork. we planned for this sort of shit, you know, planned it out for years. worked out possible sceneries with fuzzybuns, toriel, all the diplomats.” Sans’s ever-present smile widened humorousness, “even had a few for edge and stretch, guess we shoulda brainstormed on those ones a little more. don’t know if we coulda come up with that one, though. drugging him was always a contingency, but no one guessed they’d strip his ass down and lose every damn tracker on him.” Another tight shrug, one quick. cramped motion, “we’ll know better next time.”

The plume of smoke rising from Red’s cigar curled in the air, drifting like a mist in the dawn light. Red watched it and nothing else, letting his sockets fall half-closed as he followed the wispy path with his eye lights. “ain’t asking about the fucking ops. how’s it going, sansy.”

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the rough scrape of gravel shifting under Sans’s feet as he rocked on his heels. “you know, i took up with the security department for paps,” Sans said conversationally. “wanted to keep a close eye on him when he went traipsing around the big bad world to spread the good word. back underground, that whole sentry schtick was an excuse for a paycheck, i wasn’t guarding anything but my own g and a nap.”

“yeah?” Red stuck his cigar between his teeth and bit down, tasting the scatter of soggy, bitter tobacco on his tongue as the jagged tips tore through the fragile wrapper. “that so, sweetheart?”

“yeah, that’s so, dollface,” Sans chuckled mirthlessly. “little ironic, ain’t it, that it turns out i’m good at this shit. who would’ve thought.”

“yeah, never woulda guessed a judge might not be bad at the whole diggin’ up covert info,” Red shook his head sadly, “a shock, really, that ya could put that empty skull of yers to some good use.”

“sweet talker. gonna end up sleeping downstairs with the cat you keep that shit up.”

“fuck, don’t do that,” Red shuddered. “already worried if i don’t get up fast enough to feed that bitch, she’d gnaw off my pinky toe before i wake up.”

“that picky little shit wouldn’t eat you if you rolled yourself up like sushi and slathered on caviar.” Sans hesitated, then asked, softer, “how’s stretch doing?”

“like shit.” Red didn’t bother to cushion it; his pity came sparingly and Sans could take it. “he’s got his judge all cranked up to eleven. caught a helluva glimpse of me when i got here, thought he was gonna puke on my shoes.”

Sans let out a long, ragged exhale. “that’s my fault,” he said bleakly, “i got him to hit his on switch to look for that lost kid, should’ve known he’d have a hard time shutting it down again.”

“maybe.” Red wasn’t too concerned about it. If Stretch wanted to retire and shove all that down into the dark, wasn’t any dust off his ass, but the only way he’d lose it entirely would be if someone ripped it out of him by way of a dustpan. “if those fuckers hadn’t tried to pull a limburger baby on the kid, then it woulda died back down on its own.”

This time Sans chuckle was more real, a little honest humor creeping in. “don’t let stretch hear you call him kid, he’s already got his panties twisted halfway up his spine.”

Red scoffed, tapping away the ash gathering at the tip of his cigar. “honey bun might be the same age as us, but he ain’t as old as we are. don’t matter how the universe tried to age him up.”

The sound Sans made might’ve been a hum of agreement or the juicy, hawking prelude to spitting. The sun hadn’t had a chance to chase away the evening chill and Sans’s jacket was zipped up against it. Over the tab of his zipper, nearly concealed by neckline of his hood, Red could see the glossy rim of well-oiled dark leather, the slightest glint of metal. He let himself look at it for a long moment, take a sip of dark satisfaction at seeing his collar right where it was supposed to be. Then he looked away, back across the empty, crumbling parking lot.

Sans didn’t try to touch him, only shifted his stance until their fingers brushed in a way that could pretend to be accidental, bone lightly scraping bone.

“we should get going,” Red said. The sun was climbing higher, the stars giving way to gauzy, useless clouds. At least stars were interesting, a reminder there was another Aboveground than this one, another path upward that might someday be reached. “we got a lot of shit to do downtown.”

“we do,” Sans agreed. He tipped his head in Red’s direction, slanting him a glance out of the corner of his socket. His eye lights were tinted golden by the sunrise, sly and knowing in a way that had nothing to do with magic. “want me to blow you in the stairwell before we take off?”

Red didn’t wait for him to finish, tossing his half-burned cigar into a puddle, dousing it and sending a splash of ripples through the still water. “fuck, yes.”

He followed Sans into the warehouse and in moments he was braced against the rusty handrail with his shorts around his ankles in the dust, shuddering at the feel of that hot, wet mouth around him, worshiping his cock with lovingly sinful familiarity. Every inch of his focus was taken up by that and there wasn’t room to think about a single other thing. Not even the phantom sensation of metaphorically getting flayed alive by a wild orange gaze, the unexpected, needle-sharp feel of every one of his sins digging in their spidery claws as they crawled up his spine.

He didn’t think about it at all.

-fin

[remmushound]

Bay/rise 14! @errorfreak88 @brightlotusmoon

Leonardo explained everything as fast as he could manage without giving out any important details. He said that they had been attacked by Shredder, but said nothing of the situation leading up to it. He said nothing about what had happened to his city. He said nothing about Big Mama. He said nothing about why it was so important that they find his April fast. They told him about finding his brothers and what state they were in, and how they had found Leonardo and Michelangelo in the first place. That they had sights on his father and potentially his April too.

“Donnie,” Leo said, “Any update on the last mutant?”

Donnie hummed and clicked his wrists to bring up a transparent blue hologram. As he began to swipe away on the impressive device, both Michelangelo and Leonardo gawked in awe.

“Wow! You have mystic tech here too?”

“Mystic what—?” Donnie yelped as Michelangelo grabbed a sudden hold of Donnie’s shell and pulled himself up onto Donnie’s back. Donnie forgot his tech a moment and kept trying to turn around to see what the younger mutant was doing. “Hey— what are you doing back there?”

“Getting a better view!” Michelangelo pulled himself finally onto Donnie’s shoulder and hung over him. “Okay, go!”

Donne tried to look to Leonardo for assistance, but the turtle was far more enraptured by the shiny hologram than anything his brother was doing. Donnie cleared his throat and tried to ignore it while he got back to his work.

“Uh… the status of… um…” Donnie was starting to feel uneasy with just how intently Leonardo was staring at him, “Wait what was the question?”

“The last mutant?” Leo reminded slowly.

“Oh… right… status on the… last mutant.”

“Leoooo!”

Donnie flinched as the loud voice sounded right in his ear. 

“It looks like you’re staring at him! He doesn’t like it.”

“Huh?” Leonardo snapped back to reality and shook his head, though his eyes still kept glancing down the screen. “Oh— no— your tech is just cool! Did you make it yourself?”

Leonardo ducked under Donnie’s extended arm and popped behind it so it was almost like Donnie had his arm around the slider. He grabbed Donnie’s wrist and pulled it down so he could see the details of the screen closer.

“Uh, yeah?” Donnie answered with a slight laugh to combat just how uncomfortable he was.

“Dude, you sooo gotta show this to my Donnie when after we get pops and April. He’s gonna flip!”

“Well, that’s gonna have to wait.” Leonardo said firmly.

“Wait for what? An invitation? Dude— if we go now we can beat rush hour!”

“Or get caught in the middle of it and be exposed.” Leo retorted.

“Dude, you seriously need to take a chill pill.” Leonardo finally left Donnie alone in favor of approaching Leo. “Besides, it’s not exactly your decision, is it?”

“You think it's yours?”

Leonardo laughed, but it faded into a scoff when he realized his counterpart was being serious. “No. It’s his.” Leonardo nodded to the otherwise silent Raph.

“What?” Raph narrowed his eyes and tilted his head ever so slightly.

“What do you say, oh merciful leader.” Leonardo’s voice was leaking with sarcasm as he addressed Raph, “Can we go save my fam or not?”

“Wha— me?” Raph pointed at himself.

“I don’t see any other six foot tall, red-mask wearing mutant turtles.”

“Dude, you’re the leader?” Mikey was at Raph’s side in an instant appealing to him, “Why didn't tell me? We coulda been doing so many cool things!”

“I’m not, shell-for-brains.” Raph growled.

“No?” Leonardo was genuinely surprised. He spun on his heels to better take in the group of four as a whole. Raph was strong and tall like a brick wall, and at his side Mikey was touch-positive and bouncing in place through his excitement. Donnie was slouched slightly and adjusted his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, his eyes darting around to look at anything other than the anomalies in front of him. Leo was smug and confident, standing at the ready and straighter than the rest. Leonardo wanted to believe that it might be Donnie as the leader—second oldest, the tallest, it might make sense— but the stance and demeanor was totally off. Not Mikey either; he hardly seemed to be paying attention to anything that was going on unless it was funny or interesting. “Wait… no.” Leonardo finally turned his attention to Leo. “You?”

“Something wrong with that?” Leo almost seemed to challenge.

Leonardo was quick to throw his hands up in surrender. “Hey, why’s everything gotta be a fight with you?”

“Wait— were you meaning that… your Raph is the leader in your world?” Donnie asked slowly, his eyes finally starting to glisten with a shine all too familiar to Leonardo.

“Of course not, Don.” Leo answered for Leonardo, crossing his arms and giving a laugh, “Mister ‘Shrek looking ass bitch’ here is just trying to get under our skin.”

“One— I’m not even gonna deny that cause I totally was.” Leonardo laughed and so did the Mikey’s, “Two, he asked me, not the incredible hulk so you shut up.”

Leo winced at the audacity. This mutant, two heads shorter and a world weaker, was standing up against him like they were evenly matched. Leo couldn’t help but liken it to a Jack Russel challenging a Pitbull.

“And número tres!” Leonardo declared, “Yes. My Raph is, in fact, the leader in my world.” He started to advance on Leo, but the box turtle held his ground. Leonardo walked right up and prodded his finger against Leo’s chest. “And if you have a problem with that, then you can take it up with him because even though he just got shredded by Shred-Head, he could still knock your sorry ass on your shell!”

Donnie shoved himself between both Leo’s before the situation could escalate any further. “Guys, chill out! Here— look. Your Splinter still hasn’t moved— he’s down on Bay Parkway.”

Leonardo looked at the map on the mutants arm and hummed. “Okay. Come on Mikey.”

Leonardo grabbed his odachi from the floor and replaced it in its sheath before making his way to the window. Michelangelo scrambled off of Donnie and scurried after his brother.

“Woah woah woah, where do you think you’re going?” Leo quickly tried to intervene and block the window.

“Didn't you hear the guy? Bay Parkway. Now move.”

“Didn't you hear me when I said we’re not making any more moves until nightfall?” Leo growled a threat.

“That is my dad out there, my April, and every second your ugly face is in mine is another second that they could be in danger. I’m going.”

“No you’re not.” Leo stood steadily.

Leonardo moved faster than Leo could have imagined. Leo managed to get a grip on the smaller turtle's shell, but he slipped off as if the shell were made of ice. Leonardo jumped out the window and scrambled out of reach before he could be caught again. Leo didn't bother trying to stop Michelangelo from following.

“Great.” Leo sighed and slapped his hands against his sides.

“Leo, you can’t just leave them out there alone.” April said finally, approaching the frustrated turtle.

“I know.” Leo sighed, then turned to his brothers. “Donnie, find us a place where we can cut them off. We can’t just leave them free in the city.”

While Donnie worked on an intersection point, he tried to comfort April. He could see the worry etched on her features even if she tried to hide it for the benefit of the younger turtles.

“It’s okay April. We’ll get them back here and— and Casey’s not hurt.”

“It’s not that.” April shook her head.

“Then what is it?”

“If they could come through so easily then… couldn’t other things? Their Foot Clan— their Shredder.”

Donnie winced at the thought. “He— he said that it was Krang that brought them here so… I mean… If Krang wanted to, he could theoretically bring more through… but at the moment there’s nothing we can do to stop it. But we will stop it. We always do.” Donnie’s bracelet dinged and he checked the map for the intersection point. “Uh. Leo? We have a… slight issue.”

“What is it Donnie?”

“They’re already there.”

[original-socks-creations]

Day 3: Duel

(Prompt by @oc-growth-and-development )

The pub was not exactly Kaemon’s scene, but Rehks dragged her there with them to get the latest scoop about what had been happening within the city. Neither had been there in a month, and they each wanted to learn what they had missed for themselves.

It had only been ten minutes and…

“Rehks stop singing.” She hissed, pushing her back into her seat.

“Ah c’mon lighten up.” They laughed, “You really think we’ll get caught by just singin’ along?”

“Y’know what-.” There was a glint in Rehks’ eye.

“-don’t…” she whispered to herself, knowing Rehks’ had no desire to listen.

“Let’s take it one step further.”

She got up, pushed her chair near to the ground, and held out her hand.

“Dance with me.” They smirked, challenging Kaemon, daring her to.

“C’mon Kaemon, we won’t get any intel if we don’t even manage to make any friends.” She added under her breath.

By now the majority of the bar had turned their attention to the pair, and deciding that it would give them something to cheer for they began to do just that. The group began to chant a song, and pound their fists on the table or bang their steins against the wood, spilling alcohol all over.

“Fine.” Kaemon growled, half-smiling, unable to help it.

Rehks’ energy was simply contagious.

The two began to dance as the pub cheered, but a pair near the back did not appear amused.

Kaemon spun Rehks’.

The pair whispered to each other.

They grabbed each other’s hands and tapped back and forth, grinning.

One appeared as though they were about to leave but the other stopped them.

Rehks’ dipped Kaemon.

They appeared to be staring, but it was different from the rest of the bar’s occupants.

Kaemon, still mid-dance, noticed.

Her heart dropped, and she stopped smiling.

Rehks frowned, suspicious, “What’s wrong?” She said it just loud enough for Kaemon to hear.

“I-… don’t think this was a good idea.” She replied, “I think we’ve been recognized.”

Kaemon threw her head, as subtle as she was able, towards the pair at the back. Rehks glanced back and met Kaemon’s eyes. Her eyes seem to read “I’m sorry.”

“We should get out of here.” Kaemon whispered.

“What way should we go home?”

“Not sure, but we need to shake these guys.”

“We might just have ta’-….”

Kaemon’s eyes lowered in dread, “I know… I would prefer it if we didn’t have to.”

“Trust me, it’s not exactly my idea of a good time.” The two walked back to the table and gathered their satchels.

“You treat it like a theater production.”

“Ah, shut up.”

The two lifted their hoods and paced outside of the pub, occasionally looking over their shoulders for the guests they knew they’d have. They decided that the best way to lose the presumed bounty hunters was to walk through the synthetic lake on their way home.

The lake was a part of the overall synthetic field project, but was never completed given that there was never enough water to spare on a fake lake. It was a fairly deep hole, now all grasses and small flora. They figured if they went through the lake, they could at least fight the hunters without an audience and could retreat back to the cottage without much hindrance. If it even came to fighting. The lake had a fairly steep hill that was hard to get down and up, but both Kaemon and Rehks were used to the work and figured it would give them an advantage.

As they slid down the hill, not making a sound. They became aware that they had been followed. Their little stunt at the bar was enough to trigger the bounty hunters. Great.

“Kaemon I presume?” The two were calm, and positioned at the top of the hill.

“Ask again and we’ll find out.” She didn’t turn around.

“Gladly.” The other smirked, “I’d turn around now, Kaemon, we’re quite adept at throwing daggers.”

Rehklayask removed her hood, dagger in hand, “Hm. Well so am I!”

She threw the dagger and pinned the taller one’s boot to the hill. They shrieked in pain, Rehks had grazed their foot.

The shorter one took a look at their partner, frowned, and wound up to throw a dagger in return. It grazed Rehks’ hair, lightly knicking her ear. They cursed.

“Hey Kaemon, now’s probably a bad time, but I’m outta daggers.”

“Of course, you are.” She sighed.

“What’re we gonna do?” They dodged another knife.

“Well, what else can we do?” Kaemon masked the light panic in her voice, “We’ll wait it out until they have to face us down here.”

“They better only have five daggers.” They grumbled as the fifth one narrowly missed her shoulder.

Each ducked and dodged, but refused to leave. They wouldn’t let the hunters follow them home. After about what felt like an hour, but was probably only five minutes, they were still dodging. The other who had been pinned to the ground had finally dislodged their foot from the ground and was wincing with pain, but was also throwing daggers.

“Oh, c’mon!” Rehks shouted, “How many could you possibly have?!”

Kaemon pushed them to the ground, narrowly avoiding a knife to the head.

“Hey!” She saw the weapon, “Oh. Thanks.”

“Uh huh.” It appeared as though the hunters were out of ammo, “In coming.”

Kaemon helped them to her feet, and shoved a sword into their hand. Though, it appeared as though both hunters were rather apprehensive about close combat. Maybe they would finally have the upper hand.

The two rushed to meet the pair as they slid down the hill, swords in hand.

“Finally gonna face us, huh?” Rehks taunted, “Grew a spine perhaps?”

The uninjured hunter narrowed their brow, obviously angered, and swung their sword. Rehks dodged.

“You forget how good I’ve gotten at dodging.” They smirked, “Thanks for the practice earlier!”

The injured one collapsed at the bottom of the hill. Kaemon, who was not currently the target (Thank the spirits Rehks was the perfect distraction), helped the hunter to their feet.

“Thank you.” They mumbled, dazed.

“You’re welcome.” Kaemon grimaced.

They looked up, only to see Kaemon bringing the butt of her sword down upon their head. The hunter collapsed again in a heap, out cold.

With one taken care of, Kaemon joined the fight that was raging between Rehks and the other. The clanging of swords was barely heard, Rehks simply continued to dodge and taunt the hunter. They were so angry that they were making silly mistakes.

“Missed again!” They laughed, “This is too easy!”

The sword was swung heavily into the grass, the hunter struggled to pull it out.

“Are you drunk?” They continued to mock, “C’mon give me a challenge!”

Eyes practically red with rage, the bounty hunter ran forward, sword poised over to strike down with all the might they could muster. Rehks didn’t budge, they still grinned happily, knowing that the hunter made one final error: they paid no attention to their surroundings.

CLANG!

The butt of Kaemon’s sword came down in a whir on the hunter’s helmet. They fell to the ground in a heap, defeated.

“Well, that coulda been worse.” Rehks huffed, “Thanks for the save, K.”

“Uh huh.” Kaemon knelt by the hunter, “Wanna help me get these two back to the pub, or are you gonna dodge that too?”

“Ah, quit your complaining , I got it.” They lifted the hunter with ease and began to scale the hill.

Kaemon grabbed the other and hoisted them to the top. They dropped them both in a pile close to the pub entrance. Then, they ran back to the hill and back to the cottage. Nobody followed them this time.

“Thanks for the dance, Rehks.”

“Anytime.”