#and it was all like humming below the radar of my brain

[peacereturnedtothevalley]

really want to talk to someone but like . How do I talk about this

going to ramble in the tags but don’t read if you’re having a good day (I am not actively suffering in a material way that will require peoples concern and and active help) (I repeat keep scrolling if you’re just chillin)

[your-highnessmarvel]

Insatiable

AN: No one asked for this but the Butcher brain rot is crazy and i can't stop myself. Alas, I couldn't resist so welcome to the madness. Anyway, I went insane and absolutely wrote a devoted piece to this man. Jesus help me.

Warnings: dub-con (use of sex pollen-ish mind control), smut, fingering, language, and Butcher is a warning in and of itself.

MINORS DNI Below the cut

"I'm not wearing any underwear."

The admonition echoed in the habitat of Butcher's Cadillac like a bird's call. Even the sound of leather on leather, as the man sitting beside you slowly turned to examine you, wasn't loud enough to get the stupid ringing out of your head.

This had all started off like a bad scab you thought was healed but wasn't, and now it was bleeding all over your favorite pink pull.

Hughie and MM had uncovered a rightful piece of Temp V hideout; a Supe's mansion on the Upper East Side who, just happened, to be throwing one of his renowned "XXXchange" parties for Supes and their pets (this was how it was described on the e-vite MM hacked).

This Supe, still unknown to everyone because he kept the mansion under a random woman's name, was supposedly a Seven-in-the-making, as Hughie put it. If he could prove himself, he was next in line for a comfy beige seat in the Tower. So hence, him keeping and distributing Temp V to teens and young adults who didn't know any better.

So what had been Hughie's grand ol' plan? Bring you in. As the newest Supe member of The Boys, no one had yet seen your face. No one even knew of you. You were a low-level "barely considerable" Supe...as Butcher had put it the first time he blew the hinges off your front door.

Your power wasn't really a - well, a power at all. It was mostly an advancement, an intellectual add-on, or a sixth sense. You could read lies. More coherently, because someone with a beard and a giant stick up his ass didn't understand correctly--you could tell when someone was lying.

You weren't really an attribute to the team when it came to brute force. You left that up to Annie and Kimiko. But you had your perks, and since you were still under Vought's radar, you could slip through the cracks and get intel for the Boys.

Now why was Butcher with you, the most notorious Boys' member? Well, one might say he was eager to see your 2-hour fight training in practice, but really, it was because he "didn't trust a dumb twat with highly sensitive information and tech". His words.

So he'd garnished a Tommy Bahama blouse with pink flamingoes and palm trees and a matching set of swim shorts, sunglasses, and a stupid bright pink bucket hat that was way too small for his big ass head.

And now here both of y'all were, headed to the Upper East Side, dressed like a hooker and a pimp. Annie had insisted on this get up, a tiny, tiny pink skirt, a white bikini top, and a pink cover up with flip flops to finish off this fucking look. Because apparently, no one would let you in if you weren't A) a Supe and B) not dressed like a House Bunny.

"So you're tellin' me," Butcher drawled as the New York skyline darkened, "that your bare pussy is suction-cupping my leather seats?"

You crossed your arms. "I'm sitting at an angle."

Butcher slapped the wheel. "You should've told me earlier!" he laughed. You frowned in return when he swivelled that giant head of his towards you. "Come now, if you're not wearing panties, why should I, eh?"

"You wear panties?"

He hummed, regaining control of the road as the car slipped passed the last townhouse to enter Mansion Ville.

"I like you, little Truthteller," he mumbled to himself. "Thought you were a bit worthless at first, but you might just prove yourself tonight!"

You didn't dare answer the last bit, instead focusing on the details Annie and Hughie gave you before you flip-flopped your way into Butcher's passenger seat (and did absolutely not suction-cup his leather seats).

The idea was to go in and place a few bugs in and around the mansion in key locations. You could try to figure out who the Supe was or even find out where he stashed his V, but it didn't matter. The Boys would find out over the bugs.

The mansion Butcher parked the Caddie in front of was like a cookie-cutter version of the 90s PlayBoy mansion.

"Alright, love," Butcher sighed, killing the engine and stepping out, rounding the nose of the car to open the door for you. "Give 'em a nice peek of that minge, eh?"

You blushed from head to toe, a torment of fire assaulting your skin until Butcher caught on and chuckled low in his chest, helping you step out the car with his hand.

You still hadn't gotten used to the crass words that could tumble out of his mouth like vomit.

He guided you to the entrance, where a man dressed in black boxers and a black neck tie asked for your invite number, which you recited from the one Hughie gave you.

Then he asked, "And which is Supe and which is pet?"

You blushed even hotter. "Um." Your throat got sticky and dry all at once. "I'm the Supe and he's my... um, he's my-"

"Her pet," Butcher interrupted with a wide smile, the sunglasses hiding the glint in his eye that was surely showing. That ridiculous bucket hat made him look almost two heads taller than you as he bent down to whisper in your ear, "bark, bark."

You groaned inwardly as you lead him into the foyer, where a sprawling staircase lead to a mezzanine and a mahogany banister and a wide archway gave way to a mess of bodies in the living room.

"Oh my God," you mumbled, turning away from the onslaught of legs and arms and slithering bodies like a pile of snakes.

"Oh, nuh-uh," Butcher chuckled, grabbing you by the shoulders, steering you right into the mass of party-goers, moaning and groaning and thrusting into one another or bouncing on top of each other like mad dogs. "If you want to play the part, you have to look the part." His mouth was right next to your ear, and for some reason, the breath caressing your skin sent a slowly gliding shiver down your spine.

Why was this happening?

You felt the flesh melt where his fingers lay, clutching at your shoulders, pulling your coverup off of you.

"Butcher," you said, stopping his hand.

He shook his head. "Show them what you got, mama," he whispered again, the rough of his beard tracing against your cheek. He scooped the coverup off your shoulders and threw it across the room, leaving you in your bikini top.

Butcher had never seen you so exposed before. You'd always worn pants and t-shirts around the safe house, so watching all that bare skin available to his hungry eyes flipped a switch in his head.

A woman, tall and elegant, cream skin and sultry black eyes, approached you before Butcher could do something stupid. He straightened up, lifting the sunglasses from his nose.

"Miss, look at you," he cooed.

Miss was naked. Someone had left a bite mark on her right breast, just above her peaked nipple. She was so long-limbed and beautiful, and the sight of her naked body made you turn away instinctively.

"I like you," she said, voice low and husky, like a purr.

"I like you too, sweetheart," Butcher answered, the heat of his body completely leaving you as he zeroed in all his attention on the naked, wanting lady before you.

She huffed. "You're great too," she answered, and when you turned, her lascivious brown eyes were settled on you. "But it's her that I want."

Butcher gasped and then erupted in laughter, taking the bucket hat off his head and putting it to his heart. "Woah, I never imagined I'd see this in my lifetime."

The other woman smiled slowly and you gulped. She was pretty, but she was also not part of the mission.

So you back-peddled.

You put a delicate hand to Butcher's arm, digging your nails into his skin, and put on a lovely, sweet smile for the offering girl. "That's nice of you," you said, voice sultry like a wet candy cane. "But we're more interested in watching." As you said this, you dropped into your act as best you could, mustering up the strength not to blush but to play the part of the sex-obsessed Supe.

She brightened up at this, gesturing to Butcher. "Well I could fuck him while you watch," she suggested.

Butcher's body tensed up against you and he turned to you. "Please say yes," he mumbled.

You smiled, throwing him a glance. "Both of us are watchers," you corrected, watching as she bowed her head, a lustrous gleam in her eye.

"It would've been a pleasure," she said before walking away.

When she was climbing onto another woman's lap, Butcher grabbed your bicep and brought you into a corner, sheltered in the dim lighting of the room, smothered under the moans and groans and the sloppy sounds of...intercourse.

"You were this close to fulfilling a fantasy of mine," he groaned, and when you looked up, he looked more angry than turned on.

"We're not here so I can watch you have sex with a woman, asshole!" you gritted between your teeth. ''We're here to plant bugs and find some V."

He huffed, rearranging his Tommy Bahama. "I'm obeying just because you're wearing this outfit," he grumbled, following you as you led them into the next room.

A kitchen, stock full with boxes of canned beverages and food platters.

"Okay, here." You pointed to the dinner table in the adjacent room, a teakwood marvel that surely housed a few meetings or two.

Butcher expertly placed a bug under the table.

You meandered safely through the house, planting bugs in various living rooms, meeting rooms, and spare bedrooms. Whenever some couple or lone masturbator dedicated their attention to you both, you pretended to watch, Butcher enlacing you in his arms.

It's only then you noticed how tall, how big this man was. He was easily dwarfing you by just standing there, your head against his chest, his fingers drawing lazy circles against your exposed spine.

When the onlookers would pass, he'd chuckle as you pushed him away like he was a booger wall.

But the more you traveled in the house, the more people seemed to stare, wanting, questioning. So you ended up holding Butcher's hand, at his command: "Wouldn't want the lovely ladies stealing you away, eh?"

And hand holding turned into his arm around your shoulders, the tip of his very long fingers ghosting your breast.

"Let's go upstairs," he whispered in your ear once he'd bugged up the toilet.

"Ew, no."

He sucked his teeth. "I mean," he gritted, pushing you up against a wall when a man with a considerably large strap on made his way towards you. Butcher bent down, squeezing the breath from your lungs as he grazed his mouth on your bare shoulder. He pressed a featherlight kiss, all while observing the passing man, dragging his lips up to your ear. "We should go bug up the rooms, eh? Maybe see if we can find this cunt's V supply?"

You nodded, a wicked shiver pebbling your flesh.

Butcher blew cold breath onto the thin line of saliva he'd left on your skin. "Cold?"

You swallowed hard. "Let's just go."

He chuckled as you grabebd his hand and led him back to the stairs, galloping up to the second floor.

Truth is, you'd never imagined Butcher like this. He was so arrogant and he loved to make people jump out of their skins by how uncomfortable they were with him, but you'd chopped it up to the old chip on the block; Butcher pushing people away to keep himself safe.

So when the Boys had initiated you, you'd figured it'd be best to steer clear from this tyrant of a man. He was way older than you anyway, and he was always calling you every name in the book except your government given one. And he was always dismissing your ideas, so you'd always assumed he had an image of an immature little girl in his head.

But he'd dreamed of you more times than he cared to count. The messed up parts of his brain, where most of it was left behind in his old life, conjured up hauntings of you every night. Of those soft, plump lips whenever you'd eat cherries. Of your legs in your pajama shorts and your giggle when Kimiko signed something stupid. Of that perfect little body of yours.

"Okay, in here." You interrupted his chain of thought, the one that was going to crash into a puddle brains that would eventually leak out of his ear.

You lead him into a room, which turned out to be some kind of antechamber with a hearth and a giant portrait of a small, bald man.

"He looks like a mouse," you muttered.

But Butcher froze, tearing his hand away from yours. "Oh, fuck me," he groaned, putting his sunglasses and hat onto the low table. "That's the fucking Seducer."

Your skin crawled. You turned, examined Butcher's expression as he leaned against the far wall. "This cum guzzler is the one trafficking V?" he thought to himself, just as you asked, "who's the Seducer?"

Butcher turned to examine you across the room, lit by a few lights in the sconces. "He's the world's number 1 date raper," he answered, frowning. "This guy can intoxicate the female species into a mad heat, like dogs."

"What?" You frowned.

Butcher walked a bit closer, turning his head to watch you out of one eye, like a bird. "Yeah, he secrets this hormone on a whim and boom, bitches go mad for his dick."

"Oh." You swallowed, turned to push the handle of another door, leading to a darkened room fit for a king. "I think this is his room."

Butcher muttered behind you, "Lucky guy if you ask me."

"Trouble getting women, Butcher?" you asked absentmindedly as you entered the dark room, lights from the lawn outside filtering milky-white through the windows, illuminating your path like a trail of snow.

Butcher followed, closing the door behind you. "Not really," he answered, immediately pulling cubbards and drawers open. "The ladies love me."

"Oh, yeah I bet," you muttered, pulling open the wardrobe. A loose floorboard creaked loudly and you froze, turning to meet Butcher's eye.

He scrambled to where you stood, pressing on the floor and repeating the awful creaking sound.

"Pants jizzer must be keeping the V under his floor," he mumbled, pressing until at least 6 floorboards rose from the ground on one end, a whole door to the underside of the Seducer's floor.

"Bingo," you giggled, helping Butcher pull the damn thing open. But there was nothing there, only an empty black space that could've fit maybe two people, gaping at you like a dark maw. "He must have transfered them," you whispered.

"Or he's trafficking other things," Butcher replied darkly.

Just as you were about to close the floorboards, a loud thud rang out in the antechamber. You froze, listening, until a feminine giggle made you and Butcher lock eyes.

"Get in," he whispered, motioning to the black pit under your knees.

"In here!?" you whispered tightly.

Whoever was on the other side was making their way towards the room, painstakingly, and this was not the place you and Butcher needed to be found.

"Yes, fuck, get in," he insisted, and your heart thudded so loudly, so harshly against your throat you thought it would burst right out through your chest.

Shaking, you got into the little space, falling onto your back because you couldn't see where this thing ended. As soon as you got your hair out of your eyes, Butcher was tumbling onto you, closing the floorboards a millisecond before the bedroom door burst open.

Sound was immediately muffled, like being underwater, and the only thing you could hear was your breathing. Butcher's breathing over you. Your heart in your throat, nauseating you, the adrenaline rushing like a flood in your veins.

Butcher's chest heaving against yours, the entire length of him pressed up on you like a heavy blanket.

"Get off," you whispered, feeling the heat of his forearm next to your head.

"There's no space," he grumbled, his voice catching on your cheek, your neck, as he tried to maneuver himself every which way that meant he wasn't pressed up on you, but he was just so damn big, like hiding with a grizzly bear, that whenever he tried to move, he just ended up being half on and half off you.

"Fuck it," he grumbled, pressing one hand under your thigh, wrenching a gasp from your throat as he placed himself comfortably between your legs.

The pressure of him on your bare bottom half made you freeze, heart hammering like an angry drum against your ribcage. The way you were positioned, thighs wide open, knees bent each side of his waist, made the skimpy little skirt bundle up onto your tummy, leaving you completely bare.

"Hush up, little thing," Butcher whispered in your ear, holding himself up on his forearms as not to crush the breath out of you. But his voice was wretched, pulled and tight, no doubt reacting to the heat he could feel through the thin fabric of his swim shorts.

The noise overhead intensified; a moan, a few garbled words, thudding.

"They're going to do it while he lie here," you whispered, hands balled up by your sides.

Butcher chuckled silently, breath fanning your neck. "So we really are voyeurs."

You smiled, holding back a giggle until a heavy thud caught your attention and the voices suddenly got a bit clearer. They were right over you.

A woman's voice floated through. "How ever I can serve you, Seducer."

The last word made your insides coil in fear. It looked like this woman was answering a command from the Seducer himself, the man who owned this house, who trafficked all the V and worked with Vought.

"Fuck," Butcher muttered. "This is worse than I thought."

"Why?" you asked silently, your fingers trembling against your thighs.

You felt him bend forward, his body tight like a rod. "This is going to hurt, love."

And just as you were about to ask what he was about to do, a soft pang echoed in your lower belly, like someone had tied a rope to your bellybutton and pulled. You squirmed, the thudding overhead leading back to the bed.

The pulling again, making you heave in a breath, squeeze your eyes shut. "No, no, no," you muttered, feeling an ache build between your legs, a force pull through your veins like molten honey.

The Seducer was using his power. And it wasn't just affecting the woman he was with... it was starting to affect you.

You felt yourself clench on nothing but air when the ache throbbed against your clit, like an invisible vacuum seal had closed over it, and you lifted your hips off the floor slightly.

Butcher immediately grabbed your hip, bringing you back down forcibly, sending a new wave of heat, of ache, of hurt through your body just at the touch of his bare fingers on your bare hip.

"Don't," he breathed, his word clipped. "Don't do that."

He could feel the heat of you through his shorts, just how impossibly hot you were, probably dripping from the Seducer's power, and the little control he exhibited around you was pulling quite taut.

"It hurts, Butcher," you gritted through your teeth, hands settling on his shoulders for support as another wave of need, of painful, painful need, throbbed through your body like a pulsing nuclear explosion. Your legs tightened around his waist, nails digging into the fabric of his Tommy Bahama. "Make it stop," you pleaded, heaving, throwing your head back, bucking your hips to get the pain to stop. Just stop.

Butcher huffed, cradling your face, his insides in turmoil with his brain. God had given him such a gift right now, a chance to take you, mark you as his, finally fuck that perfect little body--and he didn't know if he was man enough to stop himself.

You groaned in pain, subconsciously grinding your bare pussy against his thigh, searching for any kind of friction, of relief. Your skin was so hot, sweat beading your forehead as you braced through another wave of this unknown ache, throbbing relentlessly against your clit, deep inside you, just grazing your g-spot.

Your fingers balled into fists against his shirt, your face finding his chest, and you sobbed, "Make it stop, Butcher, please, it hurts."

You weren't aware that your hips had started grinding against his thigh, the knee he'd placed between your legs for leverage. And just the fact that he could feel his shorts getting soaked had him straining against the stitches of his sanity.

"There's only one way," he breathed against your ear. You sobbed, heaving, breathing raggedly, grinding so hard on his knee it was almost pathetic. "Are you sure you want to try?" he asked, voice trembling.

You sniffed, hung onto his neck for dear life. "Please, anything, this is--ah--this is unbearable."

He bent his head, mumbled for God to forgive him, and then pressed a deep, hard kiss on your lips, pressing you back into the floor completely. Somewhere above him, he heard a woman moan loudly, but the only thing that registered to him was the way you clung to him like a pawing animal.

A strangled moan, quiet and restrained, left your throat, caught behind your teeth as he ravaged your mouth.

"N-no," you mumbled. "No."

He pulled away, kissing your jaw, your neck until your were humping his thigh like a woman gone mad.

"This the only way, little Truthteller," he murmured in your ear, dragging his knee away and feeling your entire body go stiff against him.

A whine, like delicious music, lifted to his ear and he groaned inwardly. He had to convince himself he was doing it for you, but half of him was delighted at the idea of finally having you. Like a meal he'd been mouth-watering over for some time, and now it was fresh and warm right in front of him.

"I need," you muttered, groaning through another wave of the Seducer's power, your hips bucking into nothing. "I need..."

"You need to cum, little dove," Butcher whispered, caressing the side of your face and you shook your head.

"No."

"Yes, love," he muttered, tracing the line of your neck, down your chest until he softly cupped your breast.

A quiet moan rippled along your throat like a symphony to his ears. He played with your hard nipple through the fabric until he pushed it aside and replaced his thumb with the warmth of his mouth.

"Fuck," you whispered, pushing against his shoulders. "This is wrong." Your voice was so thin.

Butcher lapped at your nipple like an ice cream cone. "Want me to do this to your pretty little pussy?" he mumbled, and the crass words sent a hot wave of need pulsing painfully between your legs.

His other hand skimmed down your side, over the swell of your hip, and down to where you needed him most.

When he swiped a slow finger across your soaked folds, the grunt that left him was purely predatory. "You're so fucking wet," he whispered, to the accompanying sound of your panting. He brushed his thumb across your clit, holding you down as you jolted, flicking his tongue against your nipple.

"Butcher, please," you begged.

"Billy, love," he whispered, raising his head to kiss the corner of your mouth, brushing his thumb against your clit once more to capture your gasp in his kiss. "Call me Billy."

You gripped onto his shoulders, feeling the wide, powerful muscle of his right hand playing with you.

He pressed three fingers flat against you and you bucked, searching for more, as he circled slowly, starting you off.

"Say it," he commanded quietly, circling your clit faster.

"Billy," it came out as a whine and he groaned lowly, capturing your lips and kissing down your throat. The way his fingers played you like a harp wrenched a pornographic moan from your throat and immediately, Billy put a hand over your mouth, the skin between his thumb and forefinger snug under your nose.

"Quiet for me, little Truthteller," he whispered.

He moved his fingers to your entrance and slipped one in so easily it was almost embarrassing. He cooed at you, gliding his finger in and out so slowly it was almost arrogant. "So fucking wet, this perfect little hole."

You keened, squeezing your eyes shut at his crude words, searching for more friction until the heel of his hand pressed snuggly against your clit.

Your hips moved on their own, bucking against his hand as he pumped his finger, faster and faster until your pants turned into hyperventilating and your legs started to close around his hips.

"Got my whole hand drenched, pretty love," he whispered. "That perfect little cunt can handle another finger?"

You preened against his hand, your sounds muffled against his large, meaty palm and he chuckled at you.

The second finger was a tighter fit, his thick digits spreading you and squelching into you slowly.

"Ah, there's my girl," he moaned in your ear. "Fucking my fingers like a good girl."

You wanted to tell him to quit teasing, to bring you to orgasm as quickly as possible because the heat stirring under your skin was insatiable, but you didn't understand how much Billy was enjoying himself. He didn't know when he'd get a chance to have you so willingly spread open for him again, or if he'd ever get the chance again. So he savored this moment like a dying man's last meal.

He let you adjust to his fingers, fucking them into you, palming your clit before he thrust in another finger, opening you wide to him. You gurgled against his hand, muffled moans and pleas stuck behind his palm.

He didn't miss just how tight you were around his fingers, how snug and warm. "So tight, my little love," he cooed, thrusting his fingers in and out slowly, enjoying the way your hips bucked.

The sloppy sounds of your cunt sucking on his fingers drove you mad and a hot, painful knot formed in your belly, pulling and tugging at your insides.

He felt you trembling, your orgasm on the horizon, and he lifted his hand off your mouth, capturing your lips in a warm, sloppy kiss.

"Want you to cum with my name in your mouth," he mumbled, almost incoherent in his chase for your climax. He pressed his thumb to your mouth, opening it, listening to your panting, your quiet moans as he fucked his fingers into your cunt, pressing down on your clit, rubbing it with his palm.

"Billy," you breathed. "Billy. Billy." Like a mantra, a prayer.

"That's it, my pretty girl," he whispered, thumb on your tongue, fingers fucking your pussy until that knot in your bely tightened impossibly and your legs went numb. "Cum my pretty dove, gush all over my hand, come on now."

He grunted against you, and somehow, that guttural, manly sound made stars explode in your belly and you came, shuddering his name quietly, over and over and over until the pleasure had seeped out of your veins and you crumbled back to the floor. You felt his fingers slip out of you, his wet hand pull your knee apart, press against the meat of your thigh, spreading you wide, wide open.

He slithered down your body like a snake, pushing you up against the confines of this box until you felt the warm breath of him against your clit. When he lapped at you, humming around your hole like a satiated man, you mumbled his name, searching with your hands until you grabbed onto the thick strands of his hair. Panting, you mumbled his name again.

"Just having a taste, love," he mumbled, sucking on your over-sensitive clit until the heat came blasting through you again, all over, like you were under the Seducer's spell again.

"Fuck," you gritted, biting your lip, caging in the awfully loud, guttural moan that wanted to spring free.

Billy grabbed onto your hips, holding them down, his forearm over your belly like an anchor.

"One more, little Truthteller," he mumbled, flicking your clit with his tongue, his beard scraping on the inside of your sensitive thighs.

"Billy, please," you whined softly.

"Always wanted a taste," he said. Not a lie. "Always wanted to tongue-fuck this perfect hole." Not a lie.

He pressed his tongue flat to your clit, sucked and nibbled on it until he pressed his tongue right into your cunt, fucking you with his tongue like he'd promised. The mix of his hot breath, his tongue inside your walls, his thumb working on your clit made all your senses flush full of adrenaline. Bucking against his face, you rode his mouth until another flash burst through you and you came all over his face, grinding down on his nose until the last waves of your orgasm had left you.

When he climbed back over, kissing your belly, your nipple, covering you with his warmth, you were just a numb shell of the girl you were when you walked in here.

Billy kissed your jaw, your neck, stroking your hair as you regained your senses.

Whoever had been overhead had gone. It was completely silent. And it left you wondering if that last wave of need had been the Seducer's spell or Billy's.

"We should go, love," he whispered. "Before I stuff you full of my cock and have you cumming on it for the third time."

His filthy mouth brought you back to your body, cold and sweaty and oh so comfortable with two orgasm singing in your veins.

"Yeah," you whispered as Billy pushed the trap door open, peaking out to make sure the coast was clear, and then hopping out. He helped you out with his hand, gentle and calm, smoothing down your hair, covering your nipple, patting down your two-inch skirt.

"I've made a real good mess of you, love, eh?" he chuckled, standing and taking your hand. "Was I a good pet?"

[satashiiwrites]

Tagged by @rosieposiepuddingnpie for a wip wednesday and thought I’d give a little first draft preview of this year’s spooky season fic. We’re not doing creature feature or ghost story this year for buddie but more Hitchcock thriller—or my buddie version of Rear Window.

Tagging with no pressure @monsterrae1 @alyxmastershipper @tkwritesdumbassassins @westernlarch @missanniewhimsy @whimsyswastry @outtoshatter or anyone else who wants to play along.

Title: Alley with a View

Fandom: 911

Pairings: Buddie

Fic summary: Laid up, Buck picks up people watching from his balcony out of boredom because his leg is encased in a cast for another three weeks. His neighbors are varied, from the composer to the dancer to the newlyweds and the not-so-newlyweds.   One night, he witnesses something he isn’t supposed to. With Eddie’s help and a slight assist from Carla and Athena, they take on a murder mystery and connect the clues to solve a crime.

Tags/warnings: first draft territory. This is a get-together fic set in a murder mystery. Buck’s got some voyeristic tendencies out of boredom. Set post truck-bombing (no lawsuit or tsunami in this one)

It started innocently enough out of sheer boredom.

Stuck in his apartment with strict instructions to keep his leg elevated for hours there was only so much a previously healthy and active male could do to keep himself busy and Buck wasn’t much of a tv watcher at the best of times and… well other activities were considered too “vigorous”. 

Normally he’d be out and about. 

Instead he was stuck at home in his new ultra modern apartment, bum leg propped up and bored out of his mind. Even him and Wikipedia were on a break at the moment as he’d overdid it just a bit too much reading about crush injuries and types of bone fractures.

So while he was staring in boredom out the windows of his apartment he noticed a few things that normally would have been completely off his radar.  For instance, one of his upstairs neighbors across the street must be some sort of composer.  He had a large baby grand piano that took up way too much space but he liked to play for hours at a time stringing together bits of melody that eventually became halfway decent theme songs that stuck in your brain on repeat so good that Buck found himself humming along. Buck nicknamed that guy Gershwin after George Gershwin the famous film composer. 

Down and to the right of Gershwin was the apartment of a woman that Buck was debating sending an anonymous message to if he could figure out how to do it without coming off as a total douchebag and peeping tom.  She was younger than him, slender, and had the habit of practicing dance routines in nothing but her lacy underwear and a set of ballet shoes with the blinds and curtains open.   Watching her lithe body twist and twirl about her studio made him blush, but also he was kinda amazed by her flexibility and maybe a tiny bit jealous. 

He really wanted to get back to working out and actually missed yoga now.  By the time he got this cast off he’d have lost so much ground it would feel like starting all over again like when he’d gotten in shape for the Seals and it was going to suck balls and not in the fun way. 

He’d nicknamed her Tiny Dancer because she seemed to like Elton John as a few of the songs she listened to loud enough for him to hear he’d looked up were by him.  The ribbing Chim had given him for not recognizing Elton John’s music had sent him down another rabbit hole on Spotify and he now had a few of those songs on his regular playlists. 

Below Tiny Dancer was a couple’s apartment.  The woman was home a lot and her husband appeared to be a traveling salesman of some sort as they were constantly getting deliveries of boxes with the same logo that the man would then take smaller boxes out of and put in a wheeled luggage carrier that he took with him every day when he left.  The wife didn’t appear to work, having some sort of infirmity that kept her mostly apartment bound and she spent most of her day in the bedroom with the curtains drawn and lights off. 

The garden apartment is occupied by a woman Buck judges to be in her early forties that he’s dubbed Miss Lonely Heart because she has a string of dates that she cooks for—never the same man. He notices that she has a repeating pattern where she’ll go out for several nights a week and then invite the man back so she can show off her cooking skills.  

Buck can always tell when she has a date that night because she spends hours in her kitchen preparing a fantastic feast for the man of the night, which he’s never seen one after their first appearance.  They’re all generic guys that, in his opinion, seem to be after one thing and make him think twice-divorced or secretly married on sight.  Miss Lonely Heart willingly goes into her bedroom with them but they all sneak out and it hurts her every time when she wakes up alone, listening to sad blues music that reminds him of New Orleans.  

He’s proud of her that she doesn’t keep inviting them back.  If they’re stupid enough to sneak out on her then they’re not worthy of her cooking.  Sooner or later, Buck thinks she’ll find a keeper. 

[dealgemeneverwarring]

De Algemene Verwarring #110 - 15 April 2024

Episode one hundred and ten of De Algemene Verwarring was broadcast on Monday, April 15, 2024, and you can listen to it by clicking on the link below that will take you directly to the Mixcloud page:

Pictured below is Claire Mahoney, the woman behind the project Thistle Group, who has just recently collaborated with P. Wits to release a 7" on the I Dischi Del Barone label from Sweden. The 49th release on the label that only releases singles. Both artists are from New-Zealand. Thistle Group until now only released a cassette on 20 copies and a 7" on the Soft Abuse label. P. Wits might be a bit more known thanks to the 7" release on Belgian label Knotwilg Records. And it's an excellent single, maybe one of the highlights in the IDDB catalog. But contrary to what I said in the radio show, the most recent releases on the label were not less interesting to me when I look at the list now. I was under the impression that the last few releases were less appealing to me, but there's releases from Troth, from Eyes Of The Amaryllis, 番長 Taste, and the very last one was the harsh noise banger from Zwangsbeglucktertum, so what the hell was I thinking, seriously. Excellent label, excellent series of singles, buy them all if you can find them. Also, IDDB50 might be the last one, not sure about that, and I would be extremely sad if the label stops, but knowing that in the beginning they were 8 euro and now they are already 12 euro I can understand why it's not exactly rewarding to release singles... You really have to be a total freak like me for buying them and an even more total freak to put your money in such releases. Anyway, it's been quite a ride, so thanks to Matthias for all these wonderful releases.

Other music in this episode comes from surf rockers Krontjong Devils, ukulele expert Fabian, Les Yss Boys, Plexi Stad, The Drin, Honey Radar, Magazine, Desenterradas, Myriam Gendron, Brainman, AUS, Théorème, Juho Toivonen, and more! And beneath the photo you can find the playlist for the show. Enjoy!

Playlist:

Krontjong Devils: Malibu Run (7” “Romp Out!” On Hillsdale Records, 1996)

The Iss Boys/Les YSS Boys: Qu’est-ce Qui Ne Tourne Pas Rond (7” Indicatif” on Cameleon Records, 2020)

Fabian: Skull Of Elvis (LP V/A “Shut The Gate, Suzy, And Don't Let Me In" From The Vaults Of Demolition Derby” on Nitro!, 1996)

Plexi Stad: Probation Baby (7” “Probation Baby” on Alas! Records & Belly Button Records, 2023)

The Ex & Fendika: Lale Guma (7” “Lale Guma/Addis Hum” on Ex Records, 2015)

Cadeau De Marriage (The Wedding Present): Pourquoi Es Tu Devenu Si Raisonnable? (7” “Pourquoi Es Tu Devenu Si Raisonnable?” On Reception, 1988)

Honey Radar: Telephone Betty’s Aneurysm (LP “Sing The Snow Away: The Chunklet Years” on Chunklet Industries, 2023)

Midnight Mines: Insect People (LP “Since My Baby Left Me” on Minimum Table Stacks, reissue 2024, originally released on cassette on The Loki Label, 2017)

The Drin: Five And Dime Conjurers (LP “Today My Friend You Drunk The Venom” on Drunken Sailor Records, 2023)

Magazine: Sweetheart Contract (7” “Sweetheart Contract” on Virgin Records, 1980)

Desenterradas: Tumbas (LP “Danzando En El Caos” on Symphony Of Destruction & Metadona Records, 2021)

AUS: Zugvögel (7” “Der Schöne Schein” on Static Age, 2024)

Théorème: Punk Vortex (LP “L’Appel Du Midi A Midi Pile” on Bruit Direct Disques, 2016)

Thistle Group & P. Wits: Fog On My Brain (7” “Fog On My Brain/Figure It Out” on I Dischi Del Barone, 2024)

Brainman: Kilonovo (LP V/A “A Short Illness From Which He Never Recovered” on Blackest Ever Black, 2019)

Myriam Gendron: Ballade Of A Great Weariness (LP “Not So Deep As A Well” on Feeding tube Records, reissue 2023, originally released in 2014)

B.F. Shelton: Pretty Polly (LP V/A “A Short Life Of Trouble - Popular American Ballads 1927-1943” on Mississippi Records, 2013)

Juho Toivonen: Enne (LP “Sisarusten Toistuva Uni” on Discreet Music, 2024)

[superworldunkown]

“Daddy, did you die?”

AN: While I wait patiently for all of the ‘Bakugou wakes up from a hospital bed and rushes to Deku’s side’ fanfics to be populated and/or reposed  from when we all thought this was a headcanon, plz enjoy my Domestic Daddy Bakugou x Daughter Kiara spin on the matter.

Summary: Being a hero is hard. Being a hero and a dad...why wasn’t this taught at U.A? Bakugou x Kiara 

(Lol sometimes I pretend he waking up in the below image and the first thing he see is me and I’m like “Shush BB, your melanin queen is here.”) 

Ouch.

Bakugou had awoken in hospitals with no recollection of how he got there before, but this one carried an extra special ouch with it. Villains were getting stronger and stronger it seemed, and now with the widespread availability of quirk enhancing and suppressing drugs on the market, it made the old ‘Win To Save, Save to Win’ mantra quite the challenge. Also, anything with Deku made things 100 times more complicated.

 It was supposed to be a simple rescue mission - they all seem to start out that way, but as always, something catastrophic had to happen and Deku just HAD to jump in and put his life on the line for everyone. And, of course, as his partner, Bakugou just HAD to blast on in after him. Who else was going to keep the damn nerd with the most incredibly powerful and incredibly secret quirk alive?

Speaking of, where was that damn nerd anyways? 

Taking a rather large breath, Bakugou pulled the oxygen mask away from his mouth and pushed his sore body into a resting position. The machines he was connected to hummed in their disapproval, rattling his already irritated brain. But it was no matter to Bakugou, he had things to do, and no machine designated to keep him alive as going to stop him, damnit.

He could see beneath his hospital gown his torso and chest covered in white medical tape - that’s right! The hit to the shoulder he took in battle. Great, another scar to add to his growing collection. His mind was already thinking of how he was going to explain this scar to you when you explicitly expressed that he didn’t come home with another one. You too knew that missions with Deku always tended to go heroic vs under the radar.

 As Bakguou began to move his legs towards the side of the bed his eyes caught a white piece of paper that was folded at the end of the bed slip to his side. The words ‘Read Me Kacchan’ written in an oh so familiar handwriting. 

‘Hey Kacchan, 

As you requested, as of 7:37am this morning, I am alive and checking in on the rest of the rescue team. Incase you are curious, I have all my vitals on the back of this paper. Please stay in bed and rest.  - Deku’

Bakugou let out a huff while he refolded the note and stuck it in his pant pocket. Since his graduation from U.A he had gained rather irritating nicknames among his former classmates turned hero partners. 

“Damn, working with Bakugou can be such a pain sometimes. Sheesh, you can’t even get a papercut under his watch.” Sero would groan.

“Hey, he’s just being a manly captain that’s all.” Kirishima would chime in, “Always looking out for us! And besides, he was a lot worse at U.A.” 

“Yeah,” Mina rolled her eyes, “From Lone Wolf to Mother Hen, quite the upgrade.”

Bastards. All of them.

After a rather nasty battle Bakguou would be the first to roam around the hospital, busting doors down to check in on the status of the team, only to rip them a new one for being reckless and careless. There was an unspoken rule on when teaming up with this hero, don’t even think about dying on his watch. If you do, he’ll murder you. And it goes without saying that no one has broken that rule in his 5 years of professional hero work. Excuse him for keeping everyone fucking safe! 

Pushing the rather annoying memories into the back of his brain, he toyed with the idea of getting up for his usual rounds of ‘Who the hell got hurt?!’ duty. However, the moment he let out a slight exhale of relief his ears were filled with a rather disturbing sound. It was faint, perhaps a few rooms down and barely auditable, but there was no way he could not hear it. 

Why was there a child crying? And why did it sound like Kiara? 

Instantly, his body jerked into action. Was she hurt? Why was she here? Where were you? Don’t tell him that you were in that mess from earlier with the villains. Even worse, did you go into labor already and he wasn’t there?!

 Damnit. 

Damnit. 

Damnit! 

The machines let out a dangerous whine as Bakugou began to pull everything off of him to get to the door. His legs gave out the moment he took two steps. Why the hell was he so weak?! Crawling wasn’t beneath him, if it got him closer to his daughter, so be it. Sweat began to form at the tip of his brow, running down his neck and soaking through is bandages. 

“No it’s okay i’ll go check on-Kacchan?!” Deku paused as he opened the door to Bakugou’s hospital room, only to rush to his side, “Didn’t you get my note?!” 

Bakugou was shaking at this point, grabbing at Deku’s shoulder only to use him as a weight to further push himself closer to the door. He could still hear his daughters cries, “Shut up...you damn nerd. If you’re not going to help-” 

Deku tried his best to reason with him, “You need to stop moving, you were hit with some kind of quirk suppression drug, its like poison and you’re only agitating it.”

“Where is she?” Bakugou managed to get out before his head collapsed on to the cool tile of the hospital floor, “Where’s my kid?” 

He could still hear the mixture of his daughters cries and Deku’s anguish as his vision went completely dark.

***

Ouch. Double Fucking Ouch.

Waking up for a second time in the hospital hurts even worse than the first. Bakugou found himself back in his bed, reconnected to the machines, twice as sore and twice as pissed off. Forget the rules, when he sees Deku again he’s going to -

“Daddy?” 

Bakugou jerked his head to the side to meet a pair of tiny, puffy red eyes. Kiara sat on her mother’s lap, her lip quivering and arms shaking.

Luckily for Bakugou his hospital bed was reclined slightly upright, giving him the perfect positioning to catch his daughter as she leaped into his arms.

“Kiara be careful baby!” You called.

Kiara ignored your chastising and buried herself into her father’s chest, tears flowing freely. Bakugou ignored the pain, wrapping his arms around her to pull her even closer. The relief of her safety was worth all the pain. His arms gripped around her a bit tighter as if Kiara would slip away from him again. Kiara never cried like this before, even during her worst temper tantrums (which she 100% inherited from Bakugou’s side of the family), she never acted like this. 

Bakugou turned his head towards you, his cheek brushing against the top of Kiara’s head as he looked for some clarification to Kiara’s behavior. 

“She’s scared Katsuki.” You answered simply. Seeing your husband’s confusion you elaborated further, “You were unconscious for a whole day before you woke up the first time. We tried visiting you but when she saw you lying there she started crying, and really hasn’t stopped since.”

“But I’m fine.” 

“I know that.” You reassured him, “But, this is the first time she’s seeing you get a little beat up and that’s scary. She’s not a baby anymore Katsuki, she’s understanding how dangerous hero work can be.” 

It dawned on him; the same, gut twisted feeling that brewed in his stomach anytime Deku or a member of his team got hurt was now being manifested in his 3 year old daughter. His eyes moved down to his daughters head, watching her continue to cry into his chest. Damn, he was hopping she inherited his quirk and not his dangerously high levels of panic and anxiety. He then moved his gaze over the the bump in your stomach. Was this going to happen to them too? What the hell should he do!

He felt the gentle nudge on his bruised shoulder, you mouth silently forming the command to say something to soothe small girl crying in his arms.

“Oi,” he tried to make his usually ear piercing, gravely voice as smooth as possible.

Kiara poked her head up, her ruby eyes staring deeply into her fathers, “Daddy, did you die?”

“Huh? Hell no. You think some lame ass villain can kill me?! You think I’m weak?”

You ran your hand across your already tired face, you wouldn’t expect a Bakugou style father/daughter talk to go any different, but seriously?

Kiara shook her head violently, small tears flying from her eyelashes. Katsuki was beaming, despite the pain, “That’s right kid. Being a hero means we have to do scary things sometimes. I know today was scary but I never lose, got that? I’m a Bakugou, and so are you. We always win and we always kick ass.” His large callous hands drew to his daughters face, wiping away any remaining tears.

“And it’s okay to be scared sweetie.” You chimed in while leaning closer to your daughter, “But Daddy and everyone we love is okay today. And we can be happy about that, right?” 

Kiara nodded, sniffling “Mr. Deku is okay too?” 

“Pfft,” Katsuki huffed while shifting Kiara off his lap to lay by his side, “The damn nerd is just peachy.” 

“Daddy, why do...why do you call Mr. Deku a, a damn-?” 

“That’s a fun name Daddy calls Mr. Deku that only Daddy can say and that’s all you need to know about that.” You chimed in quickly, careful not to let Bakguou destroy your precious daughters mind any further. Kiara shrugged her shoulders and curled at her fathers side; the three of them a happy, but rather dysfunctional family.

[pxppet]

(not me spitballing the wackiest pair I can think of lol) How about "false" with Schneeplestein/GoogleIRL?

Another illegal gig, another boring day. Not that Henrik minds doing solids for his friends, but airlifting an entire android over to the UK seems incredibly drastic to him. Here he stands though, having agreed to it, watching Dr. Iplier roll a stretcher into his small clinic, tucked away in an alley. 

“Goddamnit, Edward, why so late like this? I have jobs I could take from criminals that will pay me much higher than your Darkness does.” Henrik crosses his arms, taps his fingers, suspiciously eyeing the tarp-covered body. 

“I know, Schneep, I know, you can chew my ass off later. You’re the only doctor who would do it without reporting him to the magician police. Look, he’s basically a human, but technimagic like his would get reported, and the Darkness wants us below the government’s radar.”

“You think I give assfuck about why he’s here? Nein. Just set him up in the surgery room. What wounds do I look for?”

“Well, he’s got a missing eye and several bullet wounds. Here, we’ve got the whole of him on this hard drive.” Edward holds out a thick hard drive, but snatches it away as Henrik tries to grab it. “You’re sure you know what you’re doing here? Sure you have the parts and sure you won’t secretly fuck us over?”

Henrik stares at him over his glasses disapprovingly. “Iplier, you know that I am worth your money. Who fixed up Silver last time he nearly got his head chop off, hum?” Edward rolls his eyes, sighing, and rolls Google’s body into the surgery room, going about setting up the lights and laying out doctor’s tools with clean, gloved hands. He won’t be helping with the surgery, but doctorly procedure is of utmost importance to him. 

Henrik swings open the doors with his hips, holding up freshly washed hands covered by sticky white gloves. He peers down at the android, now with the tarp off of him. The android is shirtless, and a small white G glows faintly on his chest, blinking, blinking, blinking. Green blood seeps out of three bullet wounds like battery acid. Henrik runs a finger over his missing eye, coaxing it open so he can see how damaged the wires are. He finds them in a horrible state of disrepair, tutting at the Iplier ego’s clumsiness. Edward, meanwhile, exits the room to smoke off the stress. 

Henrik picks up a line of copper and silver wires, preparing to attach a fresh eye module. His eyes keep drawing back to the glowing letter imbedded in his chest. Technimagic. Powerful and humming like the fan of a computer. He runs his hands down it softly, tracing the letter. The surface nearly burns him. Hm, the android must be fighting very hard to stay active. 

Henrik ties the wires of Google’s eye together, assuring for proper conduction of signals, and leaving breathing room so Google doesn’t feel any discomfort. He lets out a satisfied sigh as the new eye piece slides in, (a blue one rather than brown, but it’s all he has for the moment), and moves to pop open the android’s head pieces. His skull splits in three slated parts, sliding to the side to expose the synthetic human brain within. 

In a few moments time, Henrik has hooked up Google’s damaged brain module to his computer, and is downloading the hard drive to his repaired organ. In the mean time, he sets about suturing and cleaning the bullet wounds, humming songs to himself. He is so engrossed in his work and distracted by his own humming, that he doesn’t notice the android’s mismatched eyes blink open as the hard drive finishes downloading. 

“He-e-e-ello,” glitches out a voice, startling Henrik so hard he screeches, his hand grasping his chest. 

“Goddamnit! Warn me next time, android!” 

“My-y-y-y name is not a-a-a-android.” The stutter sounds more like glitching, wavering and deep. 

“Yes, yes, whatever...” Henrik trails off as he cuts the string of the last suture, huffing and sitting back at his computer. He points at Google, raising his eyebrows. “Need you answer questions. Confirmed?”

Google’s eyes glaze over at the simple commands, his face scowling. “C-c-confirmed,” he glitches out. “Call m-m-m-me Google. Call me G-g-g-gabe. Silver calls me Gabe.” Google is glaring, sitting as still as a mannequin, his eyes closed as memories come rushing into his mind. 

“Fine. Gabe,” Henrik sighs, “Answer these questions for me. How old are you?”

“Fifteen.” 

“No, I mean your actual age, not day he made you.”

“Fa-a-a-alse. I am fifteen.” 

Henrik grumbles curses under his breath. “Fine. When is your birthday?”

“October 13, 2014.”

“Who is your owner?” 

“Matthias. No. No, Dark. Dark is my owner.” A smile takes over Google’s lips, pridefully puffing up his chest. 

“Hm. You like being Dark’s?” Henrik questions. 

“Affirmative.”

Henrik marks down the decrease in vocal glitching on his chart. He can’t imagine it himself. Being owned, possessed, entitled to someone. It would be a living hell, surely. Hell, Google was so devoted to the Darkness that he took four bullet wounds to the abdomen on Dark’s command. Google would throw down his life that easily if it meant being a good little soldier. Henrik’s mouth fills with a sour taste, and he bites back bile, getting on with the questioning. 

“What country are you in?” 

“Britain.”

“What is the date today?”

“April fourth, 2029.” 

“What is your registered name?” Henrik’s tone has glazed over with boredom, his eyes lazily flicking around his computer screen. 

“Fa-a-a-alse.”

“What?”

“False. I have no registered name. I chose my name. Silver ca-a-a-alls me Gabe.” 

“Alright, taken your point, alright,” Henrik huffs. He feels the rush of embarrassment flushing through his body, his hands quivering minutely. “Why are you so free-happy with your name even though you say you like belonging to Dark? How does he let you be so free? How does- Is it good for him to let you off the reigns so well?” Henrik taps the desk with his pen rapidly, staring at the floor, his face twisted. 

“He did not let you have your name.”

Henrik startles, turning his gaze to meet Google’s mismatched eyes. 

“The Anti took you-u-u-ur name from you. When you belonged to him.” Google is staring straight ahead, but his gaze is calm, nearly sympathetic. Henrik scoffs, turning away again. 

“This does not matter, Gabe. All that matter is you having been fixed.” Henrik unplugs the hard drive as it finishes downloading, getting up to start disconnecting wires from Google’s brain. Google shuts his eyes, and waits patiently while Henrik works, his chest blinking light softly. “Now go get Edward, I need it in cash.” 

“You can belong to somebody while still belonging to yourself.” 

Henrik stops short on his mad dash to leave the awkward conversation. His eyes scrunch shut, gripping his hands into fists. 

“It can be healthy to belong to somebody. It can be nice to serve a purpose. The Anti was not a healthy person. He abused you.” 

Henrik barks out a laugh, his face going pink at Google’s bluntness. He shakes his head, gripping his fists harder together. 

“Well... Good for you you have such a kind and caring demon to own you. Some of us are not so lucky.” Henrik swings open the door to the washroom, immediately going to the sink and splashing water on his face. 

The android is right. Henrik knows he is. It’s been 7 years, why can he still not accept it? He stares at his reflection. Pale and covered in scars, a tattoo of an eye stick-n-poked into his neck by Anti so long ago. 

Good for the machine that is get such a loving owner. Good for him. Henrik was not so lucky. Henrik will never be so lucky, as far as he’s concerned. Criminal doctoring and sleeping around is all that is left for him. So without much more fuss, he accepts his cash and calls it a night, Google glancing at him knowingly the entire time the Ipliers are leaving. 

Good for him. Good for him to be owned in such a beautiful way. Anti is not so beautiful. Henrik is not so beautiful. Good for him. Good for him... 

[pricetagofficial]

Ghost -Part Eighteen

Warnings: Language, violence, angst, fear, panic, mentions of death

Masterlist

Word Count: 3K

Tag List: @kishony-the-geek @idkmanicantenglish @unknowntoanyone @subtleappreciation @catxsnow @nightwcngs @woahjaybird @screennamealreadyused @river-bottom-nightmare​ @bikoncon​ @arestorationofbalance​ 

A/N: Oops??

The days passed slowly, but Rory was growing more comfortable in her position with the Titans. No one but Tim knew that she was Ghost, and the other four were asked to keep it on the down-low that Rory was even with them. The story that Rory and Tim gave the rest of the team was that the League of Assassins was after her, trying to get her to join so Rory ditched the hero gig and went into hiding.

That was the story that everyone was supposed to give if anyone outside the team found out that she was there, and considering that the story was mostly the truth, they weren't asking too much of their friends. It gave them plausible deniability, and Rory an out just in case it came to it.

It also helped that they were all scared of her in some shape or form. Even from her Arrowette days, Rory had a reputation of being good at what she did. She was smart, resourceful, and was skilled in multiple forms of combat. After revealing that she took down Superman in a spar twice, they seemed to tiptoe around her. Rory didn't mind it that much, she wasn't there to make friends. She was there to hide and get answers.

It had been two weeks since she arrived and the Titans often went out on patrol without her while Rory played guy-in-the-chair for them while they were out. She was smart enough that it benefitted all of them, and it gave her the chance to talk to people she enjoyed speaking with.

"So, is it just me, or are things really fucking slow lately?" Duke asked, his voice coming from the speaker to Rory's right.

She glanced between monitors while she watched Tim and the others walk around Jump City. "What, did I take all the excitement with me?" she chuckled, checking her phone.

"I don't want to jump to conclusions, but it really looks like it. Not one peep out of assassins here and a few of the rouges have been awfully quiet too. Ivy and Scarecrow were active for a couple of days but fell off our radar again. Bruce and the others are waiting on more activity from her before acting." he explained.

Rory froze at the mention of Poison Ivy. It had been a long time since she had seen the supervillain, considering that she was in Arkham until after Rory had left Gotham. She was willing to put down good money on the fact that she had a grudge against Rory still, amongst other things.

"She doesn't know that I was back in town does she?"

"Why would that be important? Is there anything we are missing?" he asked immediately.

Rory scolded herself for mentioning it. Of course, Bruce and the others were keeping tabs on Ivy considering her past with her. It was embarrassing enough the first time when she learned what had happened, but now it just hurt. That was the night she first kissed Tim and even thinking about it brought up memories that she wanted to forget.

"Rory? Is everything okay? Did Ivy do something to you that we don't know about?"

Rory snapped out of her thought and shook her head. "No, I just have a let's say colorful past with Ivy. Bruce knows about it, but I'm sure she probably wants to kick my ass for-"

She should have been watching the screens more carefully, how could Rory have been so careless about it? If she hadn't have been lost in her own world, Rory would have noticed it sooner. There was no way she could mistake what she just saw, that shade of orange was ingrained into her brain.

"Rory? You there? Why would Ivy want to kick your ass?" The tone of his voice sounded panicked, probably close to how Rory looked.

"Duke, I have to go. Call you later." she quickly hung up before pressing the coms button to link herself with Tim.

"Tim! Get out of there now and get back to the tower as soon as you can!" she cried.

Tim froze in his tracks and turned, the camera turning with his body. "What are you talking about, there is no one here?" he asked.

"There is no time to argue! You and the others need to get back here now!" she snapped slamming her hands on the table.

Now that she thought about it, the other four were quiet as well all of a sudden. Their cams seemed to be normal, but something felt off. They were all stationary for way longer than they should have been.

Rory listened as he contacted the others, only for there to be no reply. This set her on edge even more, which was not a good sign. There was no way in hell that he had found her that fast and took out the other four Titans without her or Tim noticing.

With that last thought, the realization dawned on her. It wasn't the others he was truly after, the target was Tim.

As if it was confirmation of her thoughts, Tim's camera lost signal completely and she stared at a static screen in horror. Tim was in trouble and the others were most likely unable to help him. She was the only one who could.

Without a second thought, Rory dashed to her room and pulled on her Ghost suit, and grabbed her swords and handguns. She was not about to walk into this situation unprepared. Jumping out of her window, Rory grappled across the rooftops as she chased the small red blip that was supposed to be Tim. It was still active so that meant that Tim was alive, but not for much longer if she took her time.

The names of the streets blurred as she ran across the city, the red blip getting closer and closer. She had to get there in time, to save Tim. Just because they weren't together didn't mean that he deserved to die for her mistakes.

Soon Rory was on the same rooftop, but there was no one around. The tracker was activated by organic material and was placed in Tim's arm. if Slade removed the tracker, it would have shut down. It had to still be in him and he had to be alive.

With a sound of air rushing past her, Rory jumped back and saw a white arrow there in front of her with a note attached.

If you want him back alive and unharmed, go to the old abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. You have one hour or he will die.

Below the arrow was a pigeon struggling for breath and had a large incision on its side. Taking a deep breath, Rory dug her fingers in and let out a shaky breath at what she was holding. It was the tracker from Tim's arm. She watched as it quit sending a signal and the red dot disappeared from her radar.

He must have done something to the others for them to not respond immediately, and Rory was scared to find out what it was. What were her better options, go and save Tim alone or try and find at least one of the others and risk wasting time and Tim dies as a consequence?

Rory let out a cry of rage and kicked the now dead pigeon across the rooftop, he knew just how to manipulate her into these impossible positions. She was playing his game once again, but if she could win last time then Rory can sure as hell beat him again and again until he finally quit and left those she cared about alone.

This would be the last time Slade Wilson interfered with her life, Rory was going to make sure of it.

Shoving the note in her pocket, she tried once more to reach one of the others. It took a couple of minutes but she managed to get responses from both Superboy and Magician. "Is anyone there? I need a response sooner than later." she snapped.

"I'm here sunshine, what the hell happened? I feel like I got hit by a bus and that's saying something." Superboy groaned through his com.

"One second I was keeping an eye on downtown and the next I was dragged from the roof and was knocked out. I'm guessing the same happened to the others?" Magician asked.

Rory let out a huff. "If only it were that simple, Tim's in trouble. He took the four of you out so I would be lured out into the open. Safe to say that it worked." She took a look around the city and then at her clock. She was wasting time by playing catch up, when Slade made a promise he made sure he fulfilled it, and if he said that Tim would die if she didn't show within the hour, then it was going to happen.

"What do you mean he is in trouble?! Who is this he!? Sunshine, you better start explaining fast." Superboy snapped.

"Deathstroke, he has him. He did this to drag me out of the tower. If I don't show up in the next hour, he'll kill him." she explained. "I just wanted to make sure the rest of you were okay before I left."

"Rory, that is the stupidest idea I have ever heard out of you. You really think that you will make it out of there alive?" Superboy growled before he let out a groan. Whatever it was that Slade did to him, it was still affecting his body.

"You need to get back to the tower, I'm not sure what he did to all of you but I can hear your groans of pain. Magician can check you over back at the tower. If Wonder Girl and Impulse are okay, have them on stand by in just in case I need a quick getaway."

Rory could hear Superboy start to argue her point, but then he let out another groan and there was a thud from his side of the link. Slade had to have used something on him, Superboy was their hard hitter outside of Wonder Girl and made sure that they were out for the count.

"Magician, take him back to the tower," she ordered. "I'll radio once I'm close."

There was a hum of agreement and Rory heard Magician mutter a series of spells before there was nothing.

"Who the hell put you in charge Sunshine?" Superboy asked, trying to breathe through the pain.

"I'm the only one who wasn't knocked on their ass. Besides Wonder Boy, I have years more experience than the rest of you including our fearless leader. Now shut up and get the help you need." With that, Rory signed off and took off across the city towards the address on the note.

It didn't even take her that long to find the warehouse, no more than twenty minutes. Slade had given her a full hour, so what was the catch? Was she at the right place, or was he planning something specifically for her once she arrived?

Taking a deep breath, Rory jumped down and swung through the nearest window shattering it as she landed in a roll. Bracing herself with her hand, Rory took a quick look around. The warehouse was dead silent, no sign of any living thing not even a groan from a captive Tim.

Narrowing her eyes, Rory scanned the area before she went further into the building. Whatever it was, something was messing with the video in her mask. The screen was glitching every few seconds and she couldn't get a full reading of the building.

"Of course," she muttered and removed her mask before tossing it to the floor. Slade had to have brought her to a building that knocked out her mask's sensors. It wasn't something Rory needed it was more of a precaution, but she knew that Slade probably had some dramatic reasoning for it.

Slowly she rose to her feet and walked across the flooring, she stayed silent as the night listening for a sign of anyone or anything closing in on her. Floor by floor, Rory ignored the slow-growing headache as she checked every room for something she could be missing that could give her a clue to where Tim was being held.

She could feel her body getting more and more sluggish by the minute, but brushed it off as typical exhaustion. It wasn't until she got to the ground floor that Rory figured out that Slade was holding Tim captive in the basement. Looking at her clock, she had at least half an hour to find Tim-

Rory shook her head, that couldn't have been right. Not even three minutes ago, the clock she had just under 35 minutes and now she was down to five. The lingering headache that had been growing in the back of her head suddenly became stronger and her heart rate began to pick up.

She continued to take deep breaths and hurried her way down the basement steps, halfway down she tripped over her own foot and tumbled down the rest of them. Something was very wrong, she was never this clumsy even when she was drunk Rory was not clumsy.

There was only one door at the bottom of the steps, Rory's vision blurred as she tried over and over to reach the handle only for her hand to phase through it. Quickly she got angrier and angrier, why couldn't she just grab the fucking handle?!

She was covered in a thin layer of sweat now, and it seemed that her suit was choking her. Tugging at her collar, Rory finally managed to get a hold of the handle and pushed it open. The only thing was, there wasn't a basement on the other side.

In fact, it was daylight where she was now. Turning back to find the door, Rory saw that it was gone, and left in its wake was a familiar collapsed building. Rory swallowed the lump forming in her throat, she knew exactly where she was.

Rory was back in Star City the day that Slade killed her parents. Deep down Rory knew that they were not good people, but the version of her parents she knew could not be tainted by the knowledge that they were assassins, no different than she was anymore.

Hearing a cry behind her, Rory turned on her heel only to be met with a younger version of herself sobbing over the lifeless forms of her parents. Only this time, there was no Oliver and Dinah there to comfort her. Instead, they were dead next to Michael and Clara Sonnet with Roy at their feet.

Seeing them like that broke something in Rory, she let out a choked gasp as she pushed her younger self out of the way and tried to shake Oli, Roy, and Dinah awake.

"Please, Oli come on! Please! You promised you wouldn't leave me! I can't lose you too!" she sobbed before trying to shake Roy awake.

"This is all your fault." a voice spoke from behind her.

Rory snarled, ready to maim whoever it was that said that only to see that it was her younger self there staring at her with innocent eyes.

"Their deaths are on your hands, just like theirs are." Little Rory pointed behind the older one once more.

Taking a shaky breath, Rory slowly turned on her heel and the sight she saw was devastating. Instead of a crumpled building now, Rory was in Gotham again. There sprawled across the steps of Wayne Manor were the lifeless figures of Alfred, Cass, Duke, and Damian. '

"No no no no no!" she cried diving for them, trying to feel for a pulse. Her eyes met the lifeless gaze of Damian and she grew hysterical. He was so young, he didn't deserve this fate!

Her headache began to grow worse, and before her eyes Rory watched the scene morph into the Batcave. Across the floor of the cave were the last residents of Wayne Manor. Dick, Barbara, Stephanie, Jason, and Bruce were lying dead on the floor with gold daggers sticking out of their chest and a single feather resting on the keyboard of the bat computer.

She couldn't stand this any longer, Rory gripped her hair as she fell to her knees. It was becoming too much, every single one of them died because of her. Her body began to shake from the sobs she was trying to hide, even though she was the only one there.

A hand fell on her shoulder and Rory jumped to see Jesse's animated corpse staring down at her. Letting out a scream, Rory dove backward and away from her dead friend. This had to be a trick, Jesse was dead. She was there when they buried his body in Star City in the Queen family mortuary. That was the last time she ever saw him.

A long skinny finger reached out and pointed at her as Rory laid there in fear. "You did this to me, it's all your fault Twinkle Toes. You're a plague, a curse on those around you," he grumbled, Rory watched in horror as his hair fell out and his face became more sullen and maggots crawled out of the holes that once held his eyes.

Rory was close to vomiting at the sight, her heart rate was erratic and she was barely able to keep herself up. Her throat was sore as if she had been screaming and her hands and hair hurt like she had been pulling it this entire time.

"It's your fault Tim was taken and it's your fault that he died."

Those words struck fear in her heart. Her eyes went wide as everything faded away leaving just herself and a lone figure out in the distance, a figure she knew by heart. Rory ran as fast as her feet could carry her, she stumbled every few steps trying to get to him but it seemed that every step she got closer he would get farther away.

After what seemed like hours, Rory reached his body and rolled him onto his back. Tim Drake laid dead in front of her with a hole through his chest. Rory choked back a sob, Tim was dead and she wasn't there to stop it. She cupped his face letting the tears fall freely from her eyes as she begged and pleaded for him to wake up. This was the last thing Rory wanted, everything she did was to keep him safe, and here she was crying over his dead body.

"Tim, I'm so sorry." she sobbed. "I wasn't good enough..."

Pulling his upper body into her arms, Rory cradled his lifeless form burying her face into his shoulder as she held his body with a grip that could rival death.

[jjba-hell]

Revoked

Still late for day 2 but I am enjoying the hell out of these prompts. (Today’s prompt was sci-fi)

Trigger warnings for the death of the ice cream gays but lemme know if I missed anything else.

Summary: a weird mismatched team of busted up aliens and half-blood humans just dealing with some shit.

For the lovely: @lasquadraweek2021

“You should really just transfer to a new body Pros. Humans aren’t supposed to live this long, babe.”

You grumble probably more to yourself than to the man whose forearm you were tinkering in. Well... maybe tinkering wasn’t the word either. He needed another repair and honestly you can’t help but feel like Risotto only offered you the air-mattress in the ship because so many of these psychos have bio-tech they can’t afford to upkeep.

“Sure, I can’t afford a rewire but I can surely afford getting my brain transplanted in a new body.”

“Human bodies are so easy to grow though.” You peer up at him over your magnify glasses with a wriggle of eyebrows. “Fully grown in a quarter rotation? Come on I still have to wait another half rotation to buy a swimsuit let alone grow a body.”

Prosciutto flexed the hand you were working on to spite you but all you did was strap the wrist down and switch off the impulse circuit before getting up and walking toward the exit of the ship where the others were sprawled out in the soft baby blue grass of the planet you were hiding out at.

Melone’s gaze shot from laptop up as you kicked your untied boots from your feet and slid into the grass, barely hearing him as he asked “Any luck with Pros’s arm?”

“I can’t keep mending the same two wires that keep popping off. Its best we find a place that can handle Babyface’s software and get a new one.”

“Still not budging for just replacing the whole thing?” Formaggio asked from somewhere across the clearing.

Like he was one to talk- Akils like him grew back heads and limbs, there wasn’t exactly a need to know anything about biotech.

“Nope. Are all humans this stubborn?”

“I think its the half Megnu in him.” Illuso was the one to chirp in this time.

“That’s still not confirmed.” You sat back on your feet to try and spot your teammates.

“Well he won’t let me analyze.” Melone sighed- continuing to worry away at the clear glass screen that held all his designs.

Melone truly was a bit of a madman to you- he designed the entirety of his body on that simple glass tablet and yet couldn’t finish his face in time before the feds were on him for unethical medical practice- ironic considering he was only putting himself through the strain of fitting his brain into a piece of machinery. What his official titles were in his old field were beyond you.

“Pesci’s not all Scud and he’s not half as stubborn.” You commented and with a soft hum the team fell back into silence.

“Where’s Ris?”

“He’s in bed- that last jump took a toll on him.” Illuso finally rose up from the grass himself heading a bit further away from the clearing, probably wandering after Ghiacchio who was asked to take a lap after he froze off Formaggio’s finger.

You clambered up a few steps to find your captain with the old-fashioned two-way radio in his hand as he lay passed out on couch of the shared living room.

Risotto would rather be caught dead than caught like this so, with intent, you stepped up to take the radio out of his hand. He seemed to gently wake at your fingers prying the piece or equipment from his hand.

“Shit.” He grumbled. “How long-?”

“Ghiacchio’s not even back from his lap- don’t worry. Just head off before they catch you.”

And with a slight groan he rolled up and disappeared down the hallways to his bunk which sounded with an ungraceful “clunk” as he fell into the bed.

Your name got hollered with the slightest tone of desperation from Prosciutto and with that you were back doing your part in the team behind the scene.

“You’re a purebred?” Prosciutto had eventually asked after a few minutes of boredom at watching you weld wires back to the motherboard.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “What am I? A dog?”

He seemed to swallow his words.

“Where do you think I’m from?” You tried to smooth it over.

“Caestea- at least your appearance would have you look like that.”

Another laugh. “I’m from Earth, Pros.”

His eyes widened. “Impossible.”

“Oh yeah. My parents weren’t exactly refugees but they are most certainly not human. Fuck knows what my genetic makeup looks like but thankfully I certainly age like a Caestean. You are all human, huh?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Not that there are many of us left.”

In a sense you felt bad for him. You’d seen photos of Earth long before it started to mimic its brother planet Mars but you rarely thought of how wickedly the planet must have lost its life before intergalactic intervention. Humans were strangely scared and selfish creatures but no one deserved to die because there was no clean water to drink.

You shook off the macabre though before closing up Pros’s arm and putting away the tools. “That should do for now but we really do need to think of a replacement in the near future.”

“Thanks.”

It was a half-assed thank you but it surely caught your attention. Pros was a little too prideful to give just anyone a thanks but nonetheless you returned the sentiment. “No problem.”

Outside the boys were fighting again- or rather Ghiacchio was arguing as Formaggio was pushing his buttons while Pesci grilled a rather obscenely colorful fish over the fire-in-tin.

“Oh just the person we needed to see.”

Getting clasped with two arms over the neck was bad enough but from Sorbet and Gelato, now that was trouble waiting to start.

“Oh gods, what do I have to offer this time.”

“Don’t be so serious!” Sorbet cooed darkly.

“We were just hoping you could help us out with the next target.” His boyfriend added.

If you could just roll your eyes back far enough.

“Wandering off from our captain’s orders doesn’t sound like something I’d want to get myself involved in.”

“Not even for a bionic manufacturer?”

“Or a healing bay, for the ship? Surely you could install those things no problem.”

Honestly it was hard not to fall for the stereotype that all Makzi’s do is play dirty and haggle like merchants but here you were, stuck between them and being tempted into breaking formation with them.

“And what would I have to lose?”

“Nothing much-“

“Maybe some face with Risotto.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “You want me to convince him?”

“Exactly- he might actually consider something if it came out of your pretty mouth.”

“Or rather, if he could come in it.”

You took one step back and bowed out of the hold between the two of them. “Fucking sleezes. Your shit’s gonna get you killed, mark my words.”

“So its a no?”

“Its a fuck no, Sorbet. Vile comments aside, that shit is expensive, even dent-jobs sell for millions... that kind of money is too big a job for us to handle right now and stealing one even more. Get your heads out of your asses before you come up to me with more dumb shit, next time.”

And with that you slipped back beside Illuso as Pesci was grilling up the third fish for the night. Looking back at what you had said was not untrue. That night you were restless in your bunker above Formaggio- Illuso peering behind the sliding divider across the little hallway that ran between the bed bunks.

“Something on your conscience?”

“No.”

“You sure?” You nearly leapt out of skin as Formaggio’s forehead popped up just below your chin outside your divider. “You’ve turned and kicked like 10 times, babe.”

“Please don’t babe me.” You frown at him but you answered the gnawing feeling by asking. “Where are Sorbet and Gelato?”

“Probably in their bed.” Illuso answered as if there wasn’t a more logical answer.

“Wanna put money on it?” Your eyebrow raised.

“And catch them in the act? Daaamn you’re dirtier than I thought.”

“Come on then, 10 drinks at the next stop they’re not in their bunk.”

“Shit, I can’t miss on that opportunity.” Formaggio’s divider slid open all the way to allow him to plop with bare feet to the double bunks at the end of the hallway.” You and Illuso watched in trepidation as he knelt down and knocked. There was no answer save for Risotto’s stern frown behind the top divider making an appearance. “What do you want?”

“Are Sorbet and Gelato in there?” You piped up first.

The angry frown turned into concern as he slid out of his bunk to replace where Formaggio was. He slid the door open to reveal one big empty bed.

What you’d have given to be wrong. But instead the panic bit you all and soon you were messily slipping on boots and running around the ship to find the missing lovers.

Pesci checked the engine compartments he might have accidentally left open, Pros checked the storage while Risotto was seeing if he could track them on the radar. It was only when you were hoisted onto the roof by Formaggio that the dread set into your bones.

“Tell Ris to switch on the overhead console lights.”

You called back down below you. Part of you wished you didn’t... since all it did was put them on display.

It was a vile thing that made Risotto’s eyes grow darker than they already were and once dawn broke, you and Melone quietly put the bodies into the best makeshift body bags you could manage. The lake a few paces away was where you last saw those body bags.

After you left that pit stop you sat in silence in the communal meeting area, your legs flung over one of the armrests in your seat- staring blankly at the coffee table you’d nipped from a market not too long ago.

“So... what’s the plan?”

You asked at anyone who would listen.

“Do we go on as usual? Find their families?”

“Revenge?”

Your head turned to Prosciutto as he was enjoying one last drag of his cigarette.

“You’re brave.” You huffed a bit of laughter at the thought. The big boss and his cronies- the only real reason none of you strayed from Risotto’s orders was way up on a station so far up the intergalactic alliance ladder that you’d have a better shot at killing the king of Gnomia B908 and getting away with it.

“Why not?” Illuso was the one to back it. “Surely we could track the sick fucks that did it.”

“You’re thinking too simply.” Risotto grumbled over his fist. “They didn’t get themselves killed by accident. This was deliberate- a display not to challenge the higher ups.”

“Any idea what they were planning?” You sat up, propping your elbows onto your knees.

Risotto kindly pulled up their hidden plans- your name encircled in red a few times. They seemed to have had their eye on a biotech printer and medbay that was once used by the Boss himself.

“What’s the relevance of an old medbay?” Pros posed the question to you- Melone was up front with Formaggio.

“Medbays need to keep track of any irregularities in DNA to avoid any incompatibility issues. Its one of the few things that can’t be wiped because its burned into the drive. They were trying to expose the Boss’s identity.”

“And they were planning on risking us all in the process?”

You pointed at a little arrow shooting off your name once more. “They figured I could remove and replace the hard drive before anyone noticed.”

Your throat felt dry as you realized what that meant. Whoever this person was... if they could follow something as irrelevant as a used medbay to keep their tracks clean... chances are you were all, at best, being watched.

The thought must have been shared as Risotto didn’t breathe a word as he moved to the front of the ship and changed course to an unaffiliated vector you know damn well you’d probably be searched and cleansed for.

To no one’s surprise the pristine white towers blinded and no sooner than two seconds of coming into orbit of one of the bigger planets you were requested to land.

You stood beside you captain as the ship docked and you waited with your hands behind your head to greet the haz-mat team. “You must be pretty serious about this if you’re willing to get sit in their prison.”

He gazed down at you and with a deadpan tone simply said: “You’ve escaped, I’m certain you could do it again.”

[undeadsnorlax]

Can Anybody Tell Me Why I’m Lonely Like a Satellite?

heyyy my first fic for @badthingshappenbingo​. starting things off with my favourite space boy

Ao3 link

Prompt: Loneliness

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (TV Series)

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, angsty as hell

Wordcount: 2603

A day in the life of Luther on the moon.

***

Wakey-wakey.

“Urgh…” Five more minutes…

Come on. You need to get up.

Luther groaned, rolling onto his back and squinting up at the blank metal ceiling. It took him a few more minutes to open his eyes properly, and a couple more to roll over and check the clock with another groan. 22:47.

“It’s early,” he mumbled, swinging his legs around and rubbing his face down. Well, early in his sense, at least.

Fifteen minutes won’t kill you. Means you could go to bed earlier later tonight, technically.

Luther considered this and nodded, slowly getting to his feet and walking toward the door-

Thunk!

“Every time!” he cried, rubbing his forehead. He’d learn to duck eventually.

He stretched his arms until his fingers brushed the ceiling, then placed a hand at the bottom of his back and arched it, grunting at the dull crunch his spine made.

With a few more stretches, he dragged his feet over to the counter, smiling at the small potted umbrella plant there.

“Evenin’ Ben,” he said softly, large fingers stroking the leaves before picking up the tiny watering can.

Hey Luther.

Luther let out a sigh, tapping one of the radars beeping away on the workstation below the plant.

Something wrong?

“Nah, nothing.”

He shrugged and went about doing his other ‘morning’ chores. Checking the base’s oxygen levels, collecting any trash, seeing if there was any response from home.

Nothing. Of course.

Luther dressed in his space suit, taking the bag of trash out and dumping it with the rest.

He allowed himself a moment of freedom, pure gleeful joy as he bounced light as air across the moon’s surface. He’d been up here two and a half years and this part still never got old. He was in space!

He pushed off from the ground hard, floating a foot higher before landing with a weightless thud. Grinning behind his helmet, he tilted his head to look up at the Earth in front of him.

It was awesome, thinking about how one planet could contain so many billions of people going about, living their lives.

Including four of the ones he’d grown up with. What would they be doing right now? Vanya would definitely be going to bed, and maybe Allison was doing a late night movie shoot. Klaus would probably be partying and Diego doing...whatever he did.

Luther let out a heavy sigh, his grin fading. No use in wondering like that. Just reminded him of how everything fell apart.

He was brought back into focus by his stomach rumbling. He clasped at it for a moment, staring blankly at the stars, before trudging back to base to eat.

Running low on those.

Luther narrowed his eyes as he opened a packet of soy paste, slumping down heavily on the nearest chair.

“I know,” he said quietly, squeezing every last drop into his mouth ravenously.

He also knew this would do nothing but numb his hunger for only a few hours, knew this wouldn’t have been enough food for him even before his accident. For as little as he did physically up here, his body still craved energy, and this shit just didn’t cut it.

You asked Dad for more, right?

“Every time.” Luther glared at the plant. “I’m due more soon, okay? Today or tomorrow…”

He drummed his fingers against his thigh, staring at the empty packet. Reluctantly, he went to the box and got another, pretending it was something more elaborate instead. One of Grace’s amazing dinners, a rich beef casserole in a thick red wine sauce, with potatoes and vegetables, maybe some kind of pie for dessert, with ice cream-

He groaned, swallowing the mouthful of saliva he’d formed at the mere thought.

Not helping?

“I miss real food.” He rubbed his middle, feeling at least a little more full, enough to concentrate on work.

Have you checked your bandages?

Luther licked his lips, before shaking his head, looking away like a naughty schoolboy getting a scolding.

Do that. Please? It’s been a few days.

“Okay, okay.”

He went to the cramped bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror first. He looked rough.

Dismissing that observation, he slowly zipped down his top, careful to not get it stuck on his body hair.

How’s it look?

“Better. Honest.”

The bandage itself, on his right side just above the ribs, looked a little grubby, dried dark brown stains having seeped through. Carefully, he picked at the medical tape keeping it in place, wincing every time it caught a stray hair, but managed to rip it off and inspect the wound underneath.

A laceration done in such a way there was a small chunk of flesh missing, but it was healing nicely.

Luther reached for his first aid kit, pouring out some antiseptic onto a cloth and pressing it down. He winced again, gritting his teeth, but knew it was all worth it to help it get better.

As he prepared clean bandages to patch it up again, Ben chimed in.

It was scary when you did that. You were so scared.

Luther’s gut churned with unease, remembering the frantic, near manic state he went into a few days prior. It wasn’t the first time it had happened either. A sudden burst of wild emotion overwhelmed him, forcing him to his knees as he tried to let it pass, but the feeling inside him just got worse and worse.

Are you okay now?

“I don’t know.”

He bandaged himself up again, before he traced along a similar mark on his stomach, healed now into a bright pink scar.

His fingers curled into a fist, zipping up his top again before he could do more damage to himself. Ignoring the urge hadn’t done much good the last few times, but maybe this time he’d figure out a way to not hurt himself again.

Doubt it…

He went back to sit at a console, rummaging through the mess of paper cluttering the table.

What’re you doing today?

“Going through these.” Luther scratched his chin as he thought, eyes skipping down the page. “Need to arrange them in order, rewrite them neater...pretty boring, right?”

What work isn’t?

Luther chuckled, splitting the paper into small piles. “Got that right.”

And then silence. Luther became engrossed in his work, only moving to either stretch his back or use the bathroom, and even that wasn’t often.

Sure, it was boring but...it was his kind of boring. One of his earliest memories was pouring over a book on the solar system, using it to try and figure out the constellations he could see from his bedroom window. Him and Five raced to have their hand up first during their physics classes.

It became a one man race after he vanished.

Luther tapped his pen against his temple, chewing the inside of his cheek. His mind was drifting, thinking of his siblings again.

He tried not to think of Five too often, but he still wondered what the hell could have happened to him. Sometimes he wondered if his brother had just settled somewhere. Gotten taken in by a nice family who looked after him.

He didn’t like the alternative. The portrait that hung in the living room reminded him every day for over a decade of the alternative.

That’s how he tried to feel about Ben. He was in a better place. He was at peace. Happier, maybe.

Again. Better than any alternative.

He wasn’t even sure he believed in an afterlife.

With a heavy sigh, Luther pressed his head down against the desk, closing his eyes for a second...

Luther…?

He jolted to sit up again, muscles tensing for a moment before he relaxed, picking the piece of paper that had stuck to his forehead. “Wha’?”

Drifted off bud. Not long.

“Ah. Right.”

You have been working hard for a while.

“It’s not that long-“

Luther cut off upon seeing the time. Eight hours had passed since he started. “Oh. Dang.”

You deserve a break.

“No, I’m...I’m nearly done, it’s fine.”

Luther…

“It’s fine.”

He didn’t mean to snap. He flinched the moment he did, putting his head in his hands.

Look, I get it.

“No you don’t. You’re a plant.”

Luther turned on his seat to face said plant, scowling at the thing. “You’re a voice in my head.”

Helps though, doesn’t it?

Luther wrinkled his nose a little, turning away and tapping a finger against the desk.

Helps to have someone to talk to.

“Crazy Luther Hargreeves, all alone on the moon with a plant that sounds like the brother he let die,” he muttered.

You know that’s not true.

“It’s true enough.”

He suddenly became aware of another console that had been letting out several beeps. Luther gritted his teeth and made his way over, reading the screen.

DELIVERY INCOMING

ESTIMATED ARRIVAL 0823

“Told you more food was coming,” he said, going to suit up once more. He’d missed it landing with his quick nap by about ten minutes.

Out on the moon’s surface, Luther tilted his head back, taking a slow deep breath. He could see the pod the package came in at the usual spot, but he desperately needed some quiet.

Inside his base, there was always some kind of noise. Little things, the consoles and monitors gently humming away in the background, the soft drip of a tap he might have left on. Constant.

Even back home in the mansion after everyone left, he grew used to the creak of floorboards, the structure settling around him. Every opening door making him perk up and hope someone was walking through, coming back.

Outside, on the surface, it was silent. It was like he could hear his body working, every thump of his heart that sent blood coursing through his veins.

In space no one can hear you scream…

So he did. He bent his knees, and took a deep breath and screamed at the top of his lungs. Everything contained within his helmet.

Straightening up, he screamed again, a rush of catharsis overwhelming his brain. It felt good to scream. He should do this more often. Better than hurting himself.

His chest ached a little as he caught his breath once more, staring dazed at the ink black sky above him.

So much...nothing. The night skies were never this clear back on Earth and maybe now he was glad because being confronted with such a sheer vast nothingness every day was sure getting to him. Would explain why his plant was talking.

Luther scrunched his eyes tight, and went to get the delivery. He dragged it inside, changing from his suit once more and tearing the box open.

Anything good?

He glanced up, narrowing his eyes, before getting out smaller boxes of soy paste. He sighed, inspecting the writing. They always said they were different flavours, but he mostly got the same soggy muesli or stale bread taste with every packet he consumed.

That…doesn’t look like a lot.

“Shut up, I know…”

Luther set one aside and put the rest in his food cupboard. He didn’t take a chair this time, just slumped down on the floor and gently squeezed the contents through the packet, huffing heavily.

Luther, that’s not going to last.

“I’ll make it last,” he mumbled, unscrewing the top and sucking gently, trying to savour it, “I have to…”

He tried to focus on the gentle hum of the base instead, closing his eyes to help. He wasn’t sure what had happened in recent months that his food packages were becoming less frequent, and less in amount, but it didn’t help anyone to dwell on that. Dad was busy, he had stuff to do…

C’mon big guy. You know that’s bullshit.

Luther glared up at the ceiling. That was new. Hearing Ben’s voice had happened surprisingly quickly, the moment he decided to name his plant after him. He never heard anyone else’s voice, but having Diego’s growling in his brain was almost a welcome change.

Almost.

You really think he’s that concerned for you up here?

“Shut up…”

Should’ve gotten out when you had the chance.

“Shut up!”

Luther slammed his head back against the console, grunting from the quick hit of pain. When Diego’s voice didn’t go away, kept taunting the same message of should have gotten out when you had the chance, he did it again...and again.

Until there was silence.

Too much silence.

Using the counter for support, he got to his feet and went back to his desk, staring at the piles of paper in front of him.

“This mission is of the utmost importance, Number One.”

That’s what his father had told him after explaining he was going to the moon. He’d blankly affirmed, not pointed out how pointless it was to refer to him by his number when it was just him left (because look what happened last time he said that), and gone along with it.

His whole life, Luther had been raised to lead a team and save the world. His team had left one way or another, and the ‘world saving’ work he did was mostly thankless.

But here he was. On the moon. Part of the mission. Everything was part of this lifelong mission. All the data he was collecting, the experiments he ran, they were important for...something.

Luther stared at his hand, the greyed skin and dark fur that kept making him forget it was his hand. This was all part of it too, somehow. It had to be.

Otherwise…

He finished his work. Filed away the pages neatly and made plans to send them out tomorrow.

For a moment, he hesitated by the umbrella plant, reaching to touch it’s delicate leaves.

“...Ben?” he said softly.

Nothing. Of course not.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself back to his bedroom, grabbing his personal notebook from the side table. He flicked through the pages until he landed on the poem he’d been struggling with for the last week, tapping his pen against the words.

Constellations are families, each star has their purpose, their name and position.

They work together as something bigger, part of the galaxy’s nightly exhibition.

There must be times where they can do nothing but fight,

When it grows so tiring to always be shining so bright.

Luther clicked his tongue, frowning at the words. Of all the hobbies he could have taken to pass time up here, he never anticipated poetry, but he was really getting into it, having filled pages already, some of which he’d sent back...just in case Dad was curious.

He could just see his plant on the counter through the door. He went to call Ben’s name again, but he cut himself off and shut his eyes, focusing on the hum of the base once more instead.

The voice in his head was never Ben. Ben was dead. Five had gone long ago. Allison, Diego, Klaus and Vanya were back on Earth living their lives. Had been living their lives quite easily without him.

He’d managed by himself. He was exactly where he wanted.

In space. On the moon. Just him.

Number One.

By himself.

Like it had been for years now.

Tomorrow he’d wake up and go through this again. The self-doubt and the spiralling and the focusing on work so hard to forget what was really happening. Maybe his plant would start talking to him again.

But really they know that no matter how much they argue and moan,

Being a family at odds is far better than being one star all alone.

[divineecelestial]

Out of Your League — Four

PAIRINGS — BUCKY BARNES X READER

SERIES SUMMARY — IN WHICH BUCKY BARNES GAINS A CRUSH ON A WOMAN SO OUT OF HIS LEAGUE.

CHAPTER THREE 

CHAPTER FOUR — a simple date night

Your hand was interlocked with his, your manicured nails glittered with a milky iridescence as you pulled him from the balcony and he wordlessly complied. The compound was dim, lifeless as your sleek shoes clicked across the marble tiles. There wasn’t any indication that anyone was awake, the building was unusually serene and placid, the only source of sounds were the hushed hum of cars below. You emerged from the bleak darkness with an item sparkling in your hand; Tony’s car keys. With a devilish smirk, the keys jingled as you twirled them around your index finger. “Are you sure about this,” Bucky asked, his voice thick with apprehension.

You seemed enthralled with the possibility your mischievous schemes could be discovered and he couldn’t find himself capable of telling you anything other than compliance. Without another word, you continued pulling him through the shadows of the compound and inside the elevator. You pressed the glowing button and pressed your exposed back against the elevator’s stainless wall. Bucky mimicked you on the other side and his eyes remained situated on the floor. The walls vibrated as you both descended the building in a pleasing silence. As the elevator dinged, you grabbed his hand once again and pulled towards the collection of foreign cars. You pressed the small button on the keys and searched for the glossy vehicle that honked in response. In the distance, a McLaren’s headlights flickered and you weaved your way through the arrays of vehicles that glimmered in the fluorescent lights. 

As Bucky carefully maneuvered through the room, you strode in-between the lustrous vehicles, peering over your shoulder to give a small glance at his mesmerized expression. You smiled as he hesitantly caressed the luxurious interior leather. In one fluid motion, you were inside the car and inserted the keys inside the ignition, a bellowing roar from the engine echoed through the garage. “You gonna get in or you gonna keep standing there and looking pretty?” You asked, your immaculate hands wrapped around the wheel. He shook his head from his daze and stepped inside beside you. Within seconds, you both were outside the garage and the chilly air crashed against your skin as you drove through the clamored streets with flowing ease.    

Bucky couldn’t acknowledge the aesthetics of New York with you beside him. Your brilliant distinction against the multi-colored neon lights coloring your smooth face enhanced the splendor of the spectacle that was you. The wind collided through your hair, strands erratically flowed with the harsh breeze as you weaved through the streets. Your glossed lips twinkled as you smiled, entirely enjoying the spontaneity. There was something breathtaking about the blurred haze of neon lights from Time Square, your messy hair tangling and your smile that outshined all the sparkling lights that illuminated the night. You made an abrupt change in lanes, laughing as Bucky jerked in his seat. “Destination number one,” You said over the wind. You parked the car behind a small building and locked the doors with a single button. As you both stepped outside the car, things were much quieter and still, just as they had been on the balcony. “Get ready to have the best pizza you’ve ever had.”

You gently grabbed his hand and he was still getting used to the tenderness of your touch. You made those gestures absentmindedly like they were so simple and harmless, but they meant everything to him. Nothing you did was insignificant to him and sometimes it drove him crazy. He never could brush you off or focus on anything else when you were with him. So as you opened the back door to the small pizzeria with your fingers tangled in his, he could barely concentrate on where you were leading him because your hand was so soft and warm. That’s why he was slightly confused when you finally released him and wrapped your arms around an older man, and that’s when he realized you were both inside the pizzeria’s back kitchen. He could smell the variety of spices and savory cuisines as the older man pressed a chaste kiss on your cheek. What the fuck. You whirled back to face an unpleasantly confused and slightly jealous Bucky. “James Buchanan Barnes, meet our lovely chef for the night, Giovanni.”   

Bucky politely nodded his head. Everyone in the back restaurant seemed to know you, he deducted upon noticing everyone’s disregard for your presence or the occasional wave you received from other cooks. “I’ve already prepared your table for you,” Giovanni said, returning back to the platter he was decorating. “Go and enjoy yourselves.” You happily obliged and motioned for him to follow. Instead of entering the actual dining area, you suddenly changed directions and pushed open a door further down a narrow hall, disappearing behind the closing door. And when he continued trailing after you like a wide-eyed puppy, you ascended a rusty spiral staircase. 

From where he was, he could almost see the teasing lace fabric of your underwear peeking from beneath your dress. Your hips moved in a sultry, deliberate manner. You were definitely aware of your actions but Bucky couldn’t bring himself to be bothered or irritated by your lack of subtlety. And within seconds, you opened another door and welcomed him with the decorated rooftop that oversaw the quieter side of New York. There were rustic lightbulbs dangling from wire that outlined the roof, illuminating the table in warm light. There on the circular table was a single pizza box and soda poured inside plastic wine glasses. “Giovanni’s rooftop is one of the only places that I haven’t shared with anyone, so consider yourself lucky.” He didn’t understand why something as simple as a pizzeria rooftop was considered special or private, but he didn’t question you. There was a fondness in your eyes as you stood beside the table, eyes scanning the glittering lights of the city. This place meant something to you and regardless of how ordinary it was to him, he was grateful you decided to share it with him. 

You seemed out of place with your designer satin dress that resembled liquid moonlight in a dingy rooftop with cheap chairs and food, but you seemed comfortable, at ease with the ambiance. You opened the cardboard box and placed a large, singular pizza slice on his plate, wordlessly urging him to take a bite. He raised the slice to his mouth and bit into the melted cheese and fluffy dough, eyes closing as he released an unintentional, but pleased, moan. “Giovanni’s a genius.” Was all Bucky could muffle through a stuffed mouth. You laughed but didn’t appear surprised by his reaction. 

With a ghostly smile, your pristine hand curled around the plastic wine glass, raising the glass across the table. “To friends,” You said, but there was nothing friendly about the way you were looking at him. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to being looked at the way you were at that moment; like he was desirable, needed and wanted. 

Bucky mimicked you and clinked his glass against yours. “To friends.” He repeated, but his voice lacked conviction. He knew he wasn’t going to last as being just your friend.

<<>>

“So, how did SHIELD recruit you,” Bucky questioned, his eyes concentrated on the multi-colored blur outside the car window. You raised the car roof and he could finally hear your voice clearly over the chaotic noise of the roads. Your hand tightened on the steering wheel for a brief second before you eased your muscles. 

You were returning back to the compound and didn’t seem uncomfortable speaking on the matter, which he was relieved. He didn’t want to discuss something you couldn’t talk about, that was the last thing he wanted. “I have abilities,” You answered apprehensively. “I was raised within wealth. I was the spoiled, little girl who had everything she wanted and it wasn’t long before I found out that if I wanted something, all I had to was ask. For a while, I thought it was because I was a pretty teenager with a charming smile, but the things I could make people do was because more than a pretty face.” You made a smooth turn at a corner. “Tony and Banner call it Mental Manipulation; the ability to control brain functions. In simpler terms, I can control minds and it’s a very complex ability—an ability I took advantage of and put me on SHIELD’s radar.”

Bucky listened to each word that fell from your beautiful mouth intently but he didn’t question you any further. He wasn’t afraid or discouraged from the revelation, but was more amazed by your candor. “What can you do?”

You chuckled as his eagerness. “Plenty of horrible and amazing things,” You answered, “But I have to be touching you for my abilities to work.” You winked as soon as the words escaped your plump lips. 

Bucky shifted in his seat, facing his body towards you. “Do something to me.”

“James Buchanan Barnes, we agreed on no sex,” You teased, “What would Steve think?”

He rolled his eyes but was clearly amused by your antics. “You know what I mean.”

You pondered for a moment, before smirking. “Remembered you asked for it,” Your open palm grasped his forearm. “Sleep.” 

Within seconds, Bucky’s eyes rolled back and he carelessly slumped back onto his seat, his head banging against the window. He was unresponsive and looked absolutely adorable. You chuckled and tightened your grip on him, forcefully waking him from his unintentional slumber. He gasped as he jolted upward, his eyes wide and confused as he tried to understand how the hell you managed to put the Winter Soldier to sleep like it was nothing. “What the fuck.” He muttered to himself as you laughed beside him.

As you pulled into the compound’s garage, you carefully parked the car back in its original space. And soon you two were both back inside the small, compact elevator once again. “Thank you for tonight,” He said, shattering the serene silence. “I’m gonna say something and I’m probably going to regret it.”

You quirked an eyebrow, entirely intrigued. “By all means, continue. My curiosity is peaked.”

“I’ve spent almost an entire century brain-washed and frozen, there wasn’t much of actual life to be living, but you make me feel alive. For the first time in a long time, I feel like  I can breathe again. And for that, I need to thank you.” 

Bucky wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but he could’ve sworn your cheeks tinted in a faint blush. “You’re going to be the death of me, James Buchanan Barnes.”

TAGLIST —

@mielfromvenus

@rynabarnesrogers

@buckybarnes-xyou

@furiousladyking

[saluzozette]

TAG rewatch : Episode 3

Ok, so this week, it’s Alan’s turn to be hurt, and John has front seat to watch. Sorry not sorry ^^

Space Race

Alan’s POV:

“John, what's going on? Is that number coming or not?”

I must admit, I’m starting to be kind of worried about my well-being, here. I don’t want to die just yet! I’m only sixteen, I’m way too young! I can’t die until… Hmm, yeah, at least seventy years from now. So there is no way those are my last moments. But… Time is running out and my brother doesn’t seem to be as calm as he was fifteen minutes ago. It doesn’t help me.

“I don't know!” John barks into the radio, failing to hide his fear. “I've lost contact with Lady Penelope and Parker.”

Great. Just great. I really do like Lady P and Parker, they’re family for as far as I’m concerned. But they tend to always wait the last second to save the day, and right now, I am not enjoying it at all.

“Well, we only got two minutes before this thing explodes.” I say on an angry tone. “We're just gonna have to pick a number.”

“Alan, it's too risky.” John answers, deadly serious and deadly worried at the same time. “You only got a one in ten chance. Let's just give them a little more time.”

Hum, hello! I don’t have a little more time! Do not think I’m stupid, John, I totally heard your hesitation. You doubt Lady P and Parker just as much as I do!

Suddenly, Thunderbird Three’s alarm stars to ring. I narrow my focus back on what I’m doing and a cold shiver runs along my back.

“Oh, great, more vessels ahead.” I moan.

I’m not in the mood for jokes anymore. I need to get past this Armada, and fast, if I don’t want it to be damaged by the bomb. Unfortunately, there is too many spacecraft. I just have time to notice the bomb has stopped before it changes direction and heads for a huge vessel below me.

“Oh, no. It's retargeted again.”

I have no time anymore. If I follow it with Thunderbird Three, I won’t be able to insert the kill code in time, and I can’t let that happen. I can’t let those spacemen down. They’re astronauts, just like me! I can’t allow their lives to be put in jeopardy because of a damn bomb I happened to have reactivated!

It takes me less than half a second to make up my mind. If Death must strike today, no one is going to die but me. I may not have time to reach the bomb with my ‘bird, but with my spaceboard, everything is possible. I might even be able to reach it and make the bomb explodes before the spacecraft enter the blast zone.

Let’s go then! I’m already half way to the mine when I hear a gasp into my radio. My plan has kicked in my brother’s brain.

“Alan, what are you doing?” He asks with a cracking voice. “Have you lost your mind?!”

Ok, so now he’s losing it. John is a great astronaut, but he doesn’t know Thunderbird Three as well as I do. He doesn’t know everything I can or cannot do with it. That’s why he doesn’t understand why I put my life on the line like that. Oh, and also because I’m his little brother. To him, I can’t be able to choose to die if I’m in my right mind.

“It's too late, John.” I tell him, trying not to sound too scared. “We're gonna have to take a gambler on that last number.”

He doesn’t like that at all. Neither do I. And I know he must be thinking of some arguments he could say to make me change my mind, but he won’t find any. Because there is none, and because even if there were, I wouldn’t turn away. I can’t let that bomb take more than one live.

I’m catching up with it. A few more meters and I will be able to enter the code.

“Oh, that one was close.” I mutter when I almost ram into one of the garbage things I have hooked to the bomb’s tail. “Almost there...”

I eventually end up in front of the monster. I have less than half a minute now.

“Ok, I'm here.” I call through my radio. “What's the code?”

“The kill code is three-zero-zero-five-two-zero-one...” John’s voice dies and I can guess he’s even more stress than I am. How can he manage that? Telling us were to go every day without being sure we’re going to come back? Without being sure he’s not sending us to our deaths? I’ve never envied him. I’ve never wanted to be where he is. Not being able to do anything more than scream when a dear one is in danger must be terrifying! Being able to stand it no matter what is impressive. John is impressive. I’ve always thought so.

“I got it.” I say when I’ve entered the code. “Just that last one.”

“Time to pick our lucky number.” I hear my brother mumble.

“Seven is lucky. Right?”

This is my last chance to survive. One in ten chance. Unless lady P chooses to call now?... Unlikely.

“Here is open.” John says in a desperate attempt to joke. And then much more serious: “Ten seconds.”

“Ok. Here goes nothing.”

Seven it is, then.

OoOoO

John looked as the blast made Thunderbird Three and the spacecraft drift away from their previous positions. Fortunately, none of them was damage too badly. Unfortunately, the young astronaut couldn’t have cared less. His hands were on his face, his fingers just apart enough to let him see the control panel.

They sometimes failed in rescuing people. It wasn’t frequent, but it happened. And when it happened, John usually felt guilty, not sick. How could he? He never saw the victims in real. But right now… Right now it was his youngest brother’s signal that had just disappear from his radars.

John couldn’t breathe properly anymore. He couldn’t comprehend what has just happened either. When Lady Penelope’s phone call came in, he just stared at it. How could she call now? How dared she? Alan was dead. She was way too late.

[vios-rockland-corner]

Life in Rockland 2

[Life in Rockland is a creative writing project utilizing a specific OC in place of the MC for the “Rumors of Rockland” series.  I do not own any part of the Rockland universe, only my OC.  Fair warning, creative writing is not my forte.  This is a means of practice and a fun way to enjoy the content further].

Sasha’s in a much better mood than a few hours ago.  As she settles in for the night though, she’s faced with a small predicament that grows into a much deeper pondering about the day’s events.

Setting: After game events

Play: Rumors of Rockland- Article 2

[Spoilers below for RoR Article 2]

Sasha’s Choices:

[Get Help]

[I get the impression people can get away with a lot around here]

“Speaking”

Thinking

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

The sound of tapping filled the room.

Sasha wasn’t typing, just lightly tapping on the top of her laptop while sitting at her desk.

I would have called or texted him by now.  Well I mean it’s late, won’t hurt if it’s not today.  God I wanted to talk about everything though, but…

She sighed and pushed her laptop to the side.  She shifted her chair over to the other side of the desk and reached over to pull a small pot close to her.  

“Hello Hydra~ You’re always a good listener.  Mind hearing me out?  I got a little problem.  It’s supposed to be good to talk to your plants anyway,” she chuckled.

It was a small venus flytrap.  Nothing extravagant, but she loved the bright green stalks and red mouths.  All wide open with the exception of one.

“Oh look at that. Looks like you already found yourself some dinner.  You’re the best bug repellent a girl could ask for.”

She gently petted the closed mouth.

“So see, this town is definitely small.  Pierce wasn’t kidding about running into people again.  I just didn’t expect THIS kind of situation to happen so soon.”

“So let’s run over the details again.  I told Pierce there was a raging alcoholic last time I went to this place.  He said dude was probably being emotional and just blowing smoke, but I should probably keep my distance from wild cards like him anyway.  Yet I ended up having a pretty good time with Avery and Callum tonight.  So I’d like to say bad first impression that led to a misunderstanding and all’s good now.  At least…that’s what I’d LIKE to say.”

Sasha sighed.

Fuck I feel awful even having these thoughts after Avery and Callum were nice enough to get me more familiar with people.

“It’s the middle part that’s killing me a bit here.  I guess I just kind of pushed it to the back of my brain while settling down in the bar.”

“Okay first of all, I don’t regret my actions.  I would hate myself if I hadn’t done SOMETHING.  Callum’s such a sweet guy, and I really feel like he was about to get beaten up.  No offense to him, but he doesn’t exactly look like a fighter.  It was also 2-on-1 anyway.  God, what if they would have killed him out of prejudice?!  Am I overreacting? Maybe, but I don’t know.”  

“But hey, it’s not like I would have made the odds any better if I had joined in myself.  I don’t really have any fighting skills, and something tells me two grown men aren’t going to be that intimidated by 5’4” woman. Not to mention, I don’t sound intimidating at all.  If I had at least SOMEONE else with me, maybe…did that once with Pierce.”

Sasha started reminiscing.

“There actually was one time where Pierce and I came across someone being hassled near a bar.  But Pierce and I approached pretending to be the dude’s friends.  We just made our voices VERY loud about how were happy to see the guy and then said something along the lines of ‘Dude come on, you’re so late.  Everyone’s been waiting, stop holding things up.’  Think we were pretending to be in a hurry.  Pierce literally just cut by the jerks, grabbed the guy’s arm and we just all walked together to the bar while continuing our conversation about our very made up plans.  I was dead afraid those guys were going to jump us from behind, but it never happened. The dude we pulled out of there was definitely grateful.  I thought it was cool, but Pierce told me later that method won’t always work for everyone.  We just got lucky that the guys we came across were the type that didn’t like attention being drawn to their shitty attitudes.  Pierce said some people won’t give a damn though about who sees their nasty side.  So with that in mind and the fact I can’t really act as smoothly as Pierce can anyway…yeah no way I could have jumped in to help Callum without backup.”

That’s a VERY different approach than the one Avery took too…

“Look I don’t know why I didn’t think to just call the police.  I either wasn’t thinking, or I just thought they’d blow me off for it just being drunken bar nonsense that wasn’t even happening in the establishment.”

Now it doesn’t sound like people call the cops much anyway in Rockland.

“I didn’t know Whesker wasn’t there.  I just saw Avery and well…things turned out okay.  But how was I supposed to know he was going to nearly beat the two drunks to death tonight.  It’s not like I care for garbage like that, I just think personally playing executioner to some folks without attempting to even dissolve the situation peacefully first is just…”  Sasha groaned.

“Okay, calm down Sasha. Maybe you’re just overexaggerating the situation.  Just because you heard…bones cracking, doesn’t necessarily mean he would have gone all the way, right?  People can sometimes just be fragile.”  

He said he wanted to snap someone’s neck last week.  He’s not all bark and no bite.

“Fuck, stop Sasha!” She muttered to herself and placed her head in her hands.

“Avery was protecting his friend.  The drunks were homophobic and might have hurt Callum.  Maybe they would have even killed him!  Not like they didn’t earn at least a punch in the face.  Callum’s safe now, and both Avery and Callum treated me so well tonight.  Why the hell am I being so judgmental?”

Because I almost watched two men get murdered in front of me?

“Ridiculous.”

Sounded like stuff like this happens under the radar a lot.

Sasha got up from her desk and heading towards the bathroom. She turned the sink on and started splashing water on her face.  She took a few deep breaths and looked in the mirror.

“Hey, you’re new. Feeling a little jittery is all. You’ve never really known much anywhere other than your own home for most of your life.  It’s a lot of new experiences at once.  …Why the hell am I talking in second person?”

Sasha left the bathroom and sat back in front of Hydra again.

“I’m the new person here. Everyone else has been here for a long time.  I’m more like a guest or intruder at this point.  Sounds like things will only go south for me if I get too nosy or mess with the wrong people.  When have EITHER of those ever been a problem for me?  Hell, I never even drank underage.  Pierce calls me too boring at times too,”  She chuckled.

“Worst crime I feel like I’ve ever done is jaywalking.  And yeah, I know if there’s ever trouble, I’m the type to go to the proper authorities for help.  Whether it was work, school or town life.  But I’m an adult, and if this place is more of a ‘you take care of your own business’ type of deal, I need to respect that and take responsibility for myself.  MOST of the people I’ve come across have been nothing but friendly towards me.  Maybe I need to stop jumping to conclusions. There’s no way that I’m going to be scared off back home by stuff like this.”

I won’t lie, it’ll hurt my pride a little if I move back home just because I didn’t try to fit in.

“Well I’m not sure if I’m being open minded here or too lenient out of naivety.  I AM sure that Pierce would raise an eyebrow though. There’s no way I could explain away how I knew to call out to Avery in the bar.  I didn’t say his name last week, but he’ll remember the alcoholic I mentioned.  Now if this was in our town, Pierce would probably make some kind of weird joke about this.  But I think…he wouldn’t admit it but I think he’s been a little anxious lately that he’s not here with me to watch my back.”

She pet one of Hydra’s heads.

“When we’re together, he likes to poke fun at me and take me to my places that sometimes aren’t in my comfort zone.  But that’s only if he’s confident enough himself that he can get us out of a tight bind we might get into.  He never took to me to anyplace extremely dangerous or introduced me to people he didn’t trust.  He doesn’t know anyone in Rockland.  I’m sure telling him how the possible alcoholic can possibly beat people to death would put him on edge.  Especially since I’ve run into Avery twice now.  Pierce would be nervous about that proximity.”

So I’m fighting between relying on my hometown friend’s judgement and giving new people a chance.  Not to mention putting my own judgement skills to the test here.

Sasha leaned back and hummed to herself.

“So here’s the story. Callum was getting hassled in the alleyway.  I called out to his friend from last week who was having a bad time.  Out of necessity of course.  He came and knocked the drunks away and then Callum, Avery and I had a good time going over the different citizens in town.  There we go.  Short and simple.  Not even a lie.  Why was I even overthinking all this?  If Pierce presses, I’ll just say Avery can look scary.  Dude IS pretty tall too, probably can stare off a lot of people with just a glare.”

Definitely believe he’s not to be messed with.

“I missed the VERY beginning when Avery entered the alleyway anyway.  Callum may have sounded chipper, but who’s to say Avery hadn’t spotted one of the dudes trying to pull a knife or something.  If you’re gonna beat a knife and two guys with just fists, you BETTER act fast.”

Sasha nodded to herself.

“Everything’s fine.  Even the drunks at the end of the day will recover. Hopefully learned a lesson and become better people, but that’s up to them.”

She looked at the clock. It really WAS late.  Sasha stretched her arms and headed over to the closet, looking for some nightwear to change into.

“…but seriously, who the hell is Kinley?”

[moeruhoshi]

Princess x Dragon headcanon bc what else do I do with my life?

His father warned him of humans, beasts who would lure you in with their fake smiles and kind words if given a chance to do so. That their hugs were filled as an opportunity for them to stab an unsuspecting creature in the back. There were tales of the dark ages, when humans and dragons fought, allies with inherited magic turning their back on their masters to side with their native race. Gone into hiding after the Dragon King Festival had ended, their lives spent apart for over four hundred years.

Natsu liked to explore, away from home and from the prying eyes of his cousin, yearning to see the world outside of their marked coven. He snuck away whenever his parents had gone hunting, returning with just enough time left to seem as though he’d been brawling with Gajeel all day. He never went too far, flying quick and low into the neighboring woods, strolling in a similar but smaller dragon form. He liked the different scents floating in the air, finding flowers, not near his home, fruits he’d never tasted before, showing down a wolf to prove himself as the alpha. He was careful, never near a village, never near a path he knew the humans traveled. If there was ever any trouble, he was off in a flash, never daring to look back if there were humans who’d be out for his scales. Pelts of war, his father would say.

On this particular day, he made his way to a lake he had heard elders talking about, one that sparkled brighter than the sun under a full moon. It was risky to stay away from his home at night, but Igneel and Grandine had gone for elk beyond the mountains so it wouldn’t have been till the next weekend they’d come home. Natsu had an affinity for the more shiny things in life, he was a dragon, after all, his tail swishing just thinking about the glittered water. He flew, hidden above the clouds and down under the large treetops, no town or village close enough to be on his radar. He happily trotted through the empty woods, curling into a comfortable ball once he reached the water's edge. There was still time before the sun would set, the dragon letting his eyes flutter shut, napping while he waited for the wonder to appear.

It was light, the sound of her voice as she hummed, stirring his more than sensitive senses. He was cautious, opening one eye to see a girl on the other side of the lake. The clouds were now a mix of purples and oranges, sun almost out of sight. Her toes waded in the water, eyes glued to the rippling surface; she hadn’t noticed him yet. He stayed still, in the dark, probably looking like a rock to her. Women, his father told him, were the most vicious of their kind. They could fake a smile through any pain, used it to gain their wants and needs, to hide their malice as they took your life. Kindness so ripe only to bitter the tongue with their hidden lies if one was foolish enough to take a bite.

He was scared, sure, swore he wouldn’t take his eye off her. But he wouldn’t wait a month and risk coming back here just because a girl had found her way into these thick woods. It was strange seeing her, dressed in fine silk and embroidery, no guard by her side to acknowledge her status as a lady or royal. His ears tuned in to the forest around them; no one else around for miles.

She sat in a small patch of wildflowers, twisting them into a crown to wear, song still vibrating lightly as she placed it atop her head. She whispered for her mother as she looked towards the sky, the moon beginning its cycle. Her finger traced and connected the constellations, Natsu following her movements as she did so. He knew them well, was taught them by way of navigating his home below the mighty Draco if he ever got lost.

He flinched as she suddenly wept, unsure of how or why she would be, curious as to why such a beast seemed so frail. For a moment, he felt drawn to her side, to help her, because maybe she was lost. These were very dense woods that lacked any safe berry bushes to eat from, and territorial animals were only a wrong path away. He felt a whine build in his throat, unsure of what to do, instead choosing to merely watch as the moon came above the lake as his elders said it would. Its light reflected brightly against the surface of the water, almost blinding when it first appeared. It lit up whatever lied underneath, hidden crystals or bioluminescent algae, that made the water glow a truly auspicious hue. He smiled, for this was the wonder he was genuinely excited to see, reigning in his happiness before his tail began to wag.

She smiled as well as it lit up, gracefully wiping her tears with a handkerchief, stepping further into the shallow water to observe up close. He flinched as the sound of a twig breaking nearby stole his attention, eyes darting to the line of the trees northwest of his location. Eyes well adjusted for the dark landed on an older, mean looking wolf snarling upon sight of the girl. She didn’t notice, too busy humming and twirling on the shore, stuck momentarily in her own world. Panic rose in his chest as the wolf neared her, slowly stalking its prey, teeth sharp and certainly making an aim for the neck she displayed without much of a thought. He kept to his feet, breath rapid as he tried to hurry his decision. She was human, humans were evil, so he shouldn’t interfere with nature taking its course. But she was lovely. Even from afar he knew her beauty was one no dragon back on Tenrou could match. And she was sad, the tears that spilled from her eyes beckoned him to aid her, gripped his heart and forced him to his knees. The human had wormed her way inside him like an infection caught in the wind. The warnings his father gave him had been right, humans were dangerous beings.

He flashed into his more humanistic form, desperate to move as the wolf reared its pounce. She caught sight of the wild mutt, body still as a faint gasp left her lips. Fire boosted from his feet as he shot across the water, rearing his fist as it attempted its kill. He snarled as the animal fell to the ground, challenging it with a thick growl. Natsu’s scales and fire crawled up his skin, scaring the savage thing into submission with its tail between his legs.

The dragon huffed as he calmed his aura, cautious as the breath of the girl behind him pulled him away from his sudden anger. He was slow to face her, dread filling the pit of his stomach as he met her shaking eyes. Natsu watched her chest heave, hands clasped tightly as she held them close to her. He wanted to run, knew he should run away from the human who he was sure would try to kill him.

They stared at each other for quite some time, the lake illuminating each other’s features, either too scared to speak. The dragon felt clammy, feeling hot when he’d never so much as broken a sweat under the cape of his flames. Her eyes were doe and kind, full and a deep shade of brown. Her scent wafted in the wind, sweet, inviting, and warm. Natsu felt his scales bristle at his attraction for the human, Igneel’s words suddenly at the back of his mind.

“Thank you...” He gulped as she began crying again, the gravity of the situation quickly falling to her shoulders. His hands moved without thought, wiping the tears he so strangely despised.

“Go home, it’s not safe out here,” He mumbled, still holding her cheeks, impressed by their softness.

“But...the wolves...” She blushed as he toyed with her, serious eyes seemingly taking all that he could of her in.

“I’ll take care of them,” An instinct bubbled in his chest as he let her go, somehow sick at the idea of allowing her to leave.

Natsu paced in annoyingly rapid circles, his cousin near ready to knock him on his ass. It had been almost a week since his encounter with the human girl, his experience unlike the tales the ancestors had spun. He feared this is what they warned him of, their control powerful enough to fill his mind with constant thoughts of themselves. His nose tracked her faint scent, hundreds of miles away but it followed him like a ghost. Gajeel found himself a bit worried when the flame brain kept mumbling to himself and hadn’t bothered to fight him since the night he snuck off.

“Alright,” The metal dragon grunted as he dragged the shorter boy off into the woods. “The hell is going on with you?”

“I can’t say,” He frowned, ignoring the deep glare the other sported.

“I’ll go tell the others you sneak off the island all the time, so fess up Salamander. You’ve been driving me crazy with your annoying ass grumblin’.”

Natsu knew of the consequences if he dared to tell the truth, trusting his cousin better than the sure punishment of his adventures being leaked to the adults.

“I met a human,” He sighed, cringing as the color drained from Gajeel’s features. “She was about to get eaten by a wolf—I couldn’t just watch! I-I don’t know what happened...we only spoke for a minute...she’s all I can think about, all I can smell...I can’t stand being away from her!”

“You gotta go kill her,” He said seriously, gripping Natsu’s shoulders as he growled. “This is exactly what Metalicana and Igneel warned us about! She’s infected you with a curse!”

“A curse...” It made sense, ability humans were sure to possess to lure him in with obsession. “Can it be undone? I...I don’t know if I can hurt her.”

“That’s the curse talkin’, a human would never reverse their magic to save you. I say get her before she gets you. Leave before it gets any later, I’ll cover for you,”

Natsu was almost too eager to take off towards the setting sun, snout leading him in the direction of the human witch who was probably waiting for him to arrive. It stung, the thought of having to burn her to a crisp to save his sanity, thinking the girl too precious. More than anything he wanted to wrap her in his arms and coo her to sleep, protect her from outside dangers, hoard her and keep the blonde to himself. He shook his head of these crippling thoughts as he slowed his approach to her home. It was a lone tudor castle in the middle of the woods they had first met. It was old, practically falling apart, deserted if not for the girl locked away inside. He landed on her balcony, quickly shifting as he was unsure the structure could hold the entire weight of his dragon form.

He watched through the window, too nervous to attempt walking in uninvited. The maiden just emerged from her bath, fluffy towel falling to the floor as she stood in front of her armoire, slowly shuffling through her collection of nightgowns. His breath caught in his throat, eyes raking over the lithe curve of her body, uncomfortable as he continued to watch her in secret. 

“I...I can’t...” He whined, unable to follow through and confront her as his cousin suggested. Her curse was too strong and pulled at his heart, wanting to run away but couldn’t find it in him to leave again. He sat and waited in the shadows as he heard her clothes shuffle on, the creak of her bed as she ducked underneath the covers. The dragon anxiously chewed on his thumb as the change to speak to her slipped away, her breath steady and even as she fell asleep.

It had been hours until he forced himself inside her bedroom, instantly dropping to his knees as her aroma overcame his senses. The curse choked him, pulling him immediately to her side to smother his nose where it centered. He was grateful for her heavy sleeping habits, lost in himself as he practically climbed on top of her. He purred and nuzzled against her cheek, holding her close as he sat above her blankets, a whine thick in his throat. His sharp canine bit into his bottom lip, breath ragged as he stared intensely at her sleeping face. Gajeel’s words floated through his mind for a moment, and he saw his chance to rip away at her while she slept. His cheeks flushed as she mewled in her sleep, squirming underneath him as she adjusted herself. Her spell was too strong, he couldn’t even think about raising a hand against her, she was too precious. The dragon licked his lips, shaking as he dipped closer to meet her own. Eyes fluttered shut as he indulged in her flavor, heart beating wildly even with such a quick kiss.

“A dream...?” The girl woke up with flustered cheeks, clutching her blanket close to her chest as she slowly sat up, the room empty just as it had been before she fell asleep.

“Natsu, where have you been?” His mother scolded him as he came through the trees of his home, jumping as his parents glared at him.

“We got home last night, and you weren’t here, what’s going on?” His father said as he crossed his arms. Gajeel said you were on the other side of the island, we couldn’t find you.”

“Sorry, I was just explorin’,” The pink haired boy mumbled as he pushed past them, cringing as Grandine pulled him back.

“Your scent...” His face paled as she caught a whiff of his scent, Igneel curious to smell him as well. “Eh? Natsu, you’ve imprinted?”

[alongthoselineswrites]

#6 “I’m sorry” kiss AND #7 “I’ve missed you” kiss. 

I’m trying not to combine very many of these cause I want the practice writing, but these two fit so well together within the prompt, so I put them together

Post series. Pidge’s POV. ~2500 words. Angst with a happy ending. Background Kallura and Hunay. 

Pidge sat at the kitchen table, staring intently at the wall in front of her. She wishes she could say that she didn’t know how long she’d been there, but judging by the fact that the sunlight streaming through the window had moved from the floor to the top right corner of the wall, she would estimate it has been at least five hours.

Her stomach rumbles. She wishes she had thought to go out and eat before the cafeteria on the Garrison campus closed. Then she wouldn’t have to cook for herself.

She continues to stare at the wall. Despite her body’s signals, she doesn’t feel like eating.

Pidge wishes Lance was here.

Lance stood on the tarmac, laughing at something with Hunk and Shiro as Pidge approached. Lance turned and saw her, before scooping her up in his arms and twirling her around, a huge smile on his face as he put her down, keeping her in his hold. Pidge smiled back up at him, although less enthusiastically.

“Hey babe. How are you holding up?” Lance asked, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on her lips. Pidge felt her smile grow just a little bit wider.

“I’m holding up okay.” She reached up and kissed him again, “I wish you didn’t have to go, Lance.”

Lance’s expression fell slightly, and he brought a hand up to cup her face. Pidge loved the way the coolness of his ring contrasted with the warmth of his hand.

Pidge looked down at her own hand, silently admiring the way that the light glittered in the diamond placed daintily on her ring finger. She and Lance had been married for almost a year now. It hadn’t always been easy, but it had been worth every minute. She wouldn’t trade him for the world.

She shifted her gaze from the ring on her finger to the small stick lying on the table. She knew Lance would freak out if he knew she had placed it in the same place that they eat, but she couldn’t really bring herself to care. On one end of the stick was a piece of paper that kinda reminded Pidge of a pH test, although the purpose of this paper was slightly different. On the other end was a small screen embedded in the plastic. Two parallel lines were displayed in perfect clarity.

Pidge was pregnant.

“It’s only for two weeks, Pidge. Diplomatic meetings around a couple of neighboring galaxies, and then I’m back home before dinner. I promise.” Lance rationed with her.

“I know, but I wish that Hunk could go instead of you, or I could go instead of Keith, or something. You know Keith isn’t good at these things anyway.”

Lance laughed, “Yeah, but neither are you, my dear. Remember what happened on Yemurill?”

Pidge remembered perfectly well. After a wonderful meal and amicable negotiations thus far, the Yemurillan Prince had gotten a little too tipsy and tried to pull a line on Pidge. Next thing anyone knew, the poor prince was lodged into the wall above the dining room table, hanging upside down with two of his feet shoved in his mouth.

Pidge rolled her eyes, “He totally had that one coming.”

Lance laughed again, throwing his head back and making Pidge’s heart skip a beat. He leaned back in and placed his forehead on Pidge’s. “Fine, I’ll give you that one.” He placed a quick kiss on her nose, “Besides, Keith is the Black Paladin, he’s really kinda needed at these diplomatic meetings and such, which is why he needs his right-hand man to bail him out of all the sticky situations that Marmora blade gets him in.”

Keith called from the other side of the tarmac, “I have ears you know!”

“Stupid Galra ears!” Lance lifted his head and shouted back, since Keith was much too far away to have heard that with human hearing.

Pidge laughed, “Hey, Lance?”

He turned his attention back to her, humming and absentmindedly taking one of her hands in his and bringing it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles while she talked, “Don’t ever talk about Keith when we’re cuddling again.”

Lance paused for a second, before bursting out laughing again, “Alright, Pidge. Whatever you say.”

Unable to stare at the pregnancy test any longer, Pidge got up from the table, and finally began to assess the bodily functions that she had ignored since she took the test earlier this morning. After relieving herself and changing into some less sweaty clothes, she headed into the kitchen to try to find something to eat. She left the test on the kitchen table, and tried to leave it out of her mind.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy to be pregnant. Lance and her had talked extensively on how excited they were to have a family one day. Especially Lance; he was ecstatic about the thought of being a father. It was just the specific circumstances that made her anxious.

She put water on the stove to boil, pulling some linguini out of the pantry. She then hopped up onto the counter and stared at the wall some more. At least this time she had a fresh perspective.

“Take me with you, Lance. I don’t want to be away from you for so long.” Pidge pouted, pulling the puppy-dog eyes out of her box of tricks, knowing full well that after three and a half years of being together, he was mostly immune to them, especially knowing how important these diplomatic meetings were. She knew she was being dramatic and that it was only two weeks, but she couldn’t help it. 

“Pidge, you need to stay here. You’ve got to cover my classes for me, remember?” Lance reminded her jokingly.

“As if I could actually teach your classes, Lance. I’m no pilot. What business do I have teaching a piloting class? You should have asked Shiro.”

“You piloted a lion same as me, Pidge. Besides, everyone in my class is scared to death of you. You can just call any of them by any name off the top of your head and they’ll probably pee themselves.”

Pidge giggled softly, before growing serious again. She looked him in the eyes, gripping his shoulders hard, “Lance, I don’t want you to go. I know I’m supposed to be the rational one about this kind of thing, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

Lance cradled her face again, bringing his forehead to hers, obviously trying to bring her comfort in this, “I’m sorry, Pidge. I’ll be back in two weeks.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, telling her everything she needed to know through the kiss.

Pidge heard a hissing sound on the stove, bringing her back to the present. She turned and saw that her water was boiling over. She quickly jumped off of the counter, removing the pot and turning off the stove. She leaned heavily against the counter.

Perhaps she shouldn’t be cooking in this state.

Her goodbye with Lance had been almost three months ago. Four days into their mission, Keith and Lance’s radios had gone inexplicably silent, and they hadn’t come online since. Pidge and Allura had immediately flown out to their last known location, only to find empty space, with nothing in reach for lightyears.

Pidge felt tears start to well up in her eyes, but she refused to cry.

She had worked tirelessly towards tracing their last known signal, but she knew deep down that if they weren’t broadcasting, there was no signal to trace. She had originally thought that the stress of the two paladins going missing had been what had been causing her cycle to be late. But after the third month with nothing, she couldn’t deny the possibility of her being pregnant any longer. 

That is what led her to her current situation, sitting alone in her and Lance’s small apartment, alternating between failing at cooking and staring forlorn at the positive pregnancy test on the table. If she truly was pregnant, she’d be well over three months along at this point. She was almost finished with her first trimester and she hadn’t even known she was pregnant.

Even more important, Lance didn’t know she was pregnant. And on the twelfth week of a two-week mission, there was an 89% chance that he would never know she was pregnant.

It was that thought that made the tears fall.

 A few days later, and Pidge still hadn’t removed the pregnancy test from the table. She can’t bring herself to touch it again; as if the act of acknowledging it will really make it true. Irrationally, she thought that if she ignored it, everything would go back to the way it was before.

Pidge was attempting once again to cook without burning the food, a task which she was currently having about 14% success after finding out about her pregnancy. She had dropped 21% from where she was after she had found out Lance was missing, which was already far below her usual 63%. Maybe she was just a bad cook.

The phone started ringing.

Knowing that in this frame of mind she wouldn’t have the brain power to cook and talk on the phone, she turned off the stove in order to answer the phone.

“Hello?” She answered, and it was at that point that she realized that she hadn’t spoken in three days. Only cried. Which made her voice thick, scratchy, and barely recognizable.

“Katelyn? Is that you?” Iverson’s voice rang through the receiver.

Pidge cleared her throat before trying again, “Sorry. Yeah, this is Katie.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, as if Iverson wasn’t quite sure what exactly he wanted to say.

“You’d better come on down to the Garrison for a bit, Hon.”

She waited for more explanation, but when none came, she forced herself to inquire further, “What’s wrong?”

Another pause, this one longer. “It’s Lance… We found them.”

Tears sprang to Pidge’s eyes, and she wasn’t sure yet if she should be relieved or devastated. She tried to ask if they were okay, but all that came out was a squeaky sort of sobbing sound that Pidge was sure she’d be mortified about later.

“They’re all right, Katie. Calm down. They just came onto our radar, and Hunk and Allura already flew out to escort them back. But you should be here.”

She nodded, before realizing that he couldn’t see her, and said, “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Pidge hastily scrambled to shove shoes onto her feet, before grabbing the first hoodie she could get her hands on, and rushing for the door. When she had turned the handle she stopped, spotting the positive test still lying on the table. On impulse, she decided to grab it, shoving it into her hoodie pocket and fleeing the apartment.

By the time she got to the tarmac, the lions were visible as they came in to land. I should have been here. She realizes when she views the lions coming in with a lack of green among them.

She only dwells on that for a moment however, when the red lion lands right in front of her. As soon as the lion’s head starts dipping towards the ground, Pidge is running. She meets Lance before he’s even gotten both feet on the ground, and almost knocks him off of his feet when she jumps into his arms, holding onto him like a baby koala.

Lance doesn’t comment, only sinks to his knees as Pidge cries in his arms, blubbering about how much she’s missed him and how worried she was, and don’t you ever do that to me ever again Lance McClain.

She felt more than heard Lance laugh, but it sounded watery, and he clung to her just as tightly.

Distantly she was aware of Hunk teasing them, before realizing how shook up they really were and transferring his teasing to Keith and Allura, who had had a similar (although less dramatic) meeting upon exiting their lions. When Keith made a rude gesture, Hunk gave up, going to greet Shay even though he’d only been gone for a matter of minutes. I guess he didn’t want to feel left out.

After not nearly enough time, Lance began to pull out just slightly, only so that he could get one his hands between them to cup her face and bring her eyes to his. Pidge probably looked like a complete wreck, between all the crying she had been doing and the general lack of self-care she had employed since Lance had gone missing.

Lance’s eyes were also red and puffy, and a nasty bruise framed his left temple, but he was here; he was alive.

“I missed you, Pidge. I missed you so much.” He swooped in for a kiss, one which Pidge returned heartily.

Her joy at seeing him again and holding him in her arms manifested itself into uncontrollable laughter, and she soon had to break the kiss and bury her face in his shoulder because she was laughing so hard. Unfortunately, because of her strange emotional spectrum due to the baby in her belly, her laughter still sounded like sobs.

Lance quickly became concerned, asking her what was wrong and if he did something. She started shaking her head, lifting it up to look him in the eyes, so that he could see that she was so unbearably happy. Lance started laughing with her.

When she was finally able to control her laughter, she remembered the test in her pocket. She caught Lance’s attention and pulled the stick out of her pocket, “I have a surprise for you.” She held it in front of his face for him to see.

Lance went slightly cross-eyed for a second, trying to understand what Pidge had whipped in front of his face. 

After a couple seconds, comprehension seemed to dawn on him, and he caught her eye.

“Is that…?” He asked hesitantly, not wanting to believe it.

“It is. I’m pregnant!” She exclaimed, catching the attention of the rest of the team nearby.

“When did you find out?” He asked, still wide-eyed in awe, and holding her just a little more cautiously now.

“I just found out a couple days ago, but I’m just over three months along.” By now most of the team had made their way over, wondering what all the commotion was about.

“What’s happening you two?” Shiro asked, and Pidge handed him the test from where she sat on the ground.

“Are you showing yet?” Lance asked softly, sounding like he missed the privacy of a few moments ago.

Pidge paused, realizing that she hadn’t even thought about whether or not she would be showing yet.

“Let’s find out.” She said, and reached down to pull her shirt and hoodie up to reveal her stomach. She could just begin to see the start of a bump forming.

Lance placed his hands reverently over her abdomen, before catching her eye and leaning in for another kiss, tears welling up in his eyes once again, “We’re having a baby, Pidge!”

Pidge looked around at the team surrounding them, and nodded. Yeah, They were having a baby.

[avengers-nextgen]

Moonlight Sonata

Scout's eyes flew open as he woke from his nightmare infested sleep. But, it wasn't his own dream that had woken him.

He’d always dreamt differently than everyone else. Scout’s intelligence went so far as effecting his sleep, and lucid - or at least semi lucid - dreams were the result. Of course, they were troubling, but not how the others’ were. In fact, Scout almost felt guilty, considering what everyone else was going through. Especially when he thought about Orion and poor, sweet Enzo.

Neither of them deserved what was happening. None of his friends deserved it.   

But the dream that had jolted Scout awake belonged to Orion - who was just on the other side of the wall. Scout could feel it, and the longer he sat in bed, the worse he felt. He knew Orion's dream was particularly intense that night, since he could feel it radiating through him - inside and out.

The boy ran a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh as he stood up, trying to navigate to the door in his pitch dark room without tripping and snapping his neck.   

— — —

Orion tossed in his bed. He was still asleep as the nightmare raced through his brain, tormenting him with images he’d tried to forget. “Engine fail. Engine fail. Exit craft.” The automated voice in his ship repeated non-stop. Lights flashed red around Orion as he tried to keep his ship in the sky. The air around him grew thicker - or at least it seemed to - making it near impossible for him to breathe. “Engine f-”  

 “I get it! I get it, my engine- is failing- I just need to concentrate!” Orion huffed, pulling every lever and pressing every button in an attempt to save the aircraft and more importantly himself.  

“Danger. Left wing has-”  

“Combusted! I fucking-” He choked out a sob, cutting off the all too calm automated voice. “I fucking know!”   

He wasn’t sure how it’d happened. He’d been flying lower than normal but his radar hadn’t scanned a threat. Not to mention his ship was particularly armored, mortal weaponry wasn’t likely to effect him. So how in the world did his left wing get blown out?

What’s worse, despite his years of flying he’d never been in a situation like the one he was currently in. He’d never had to save his ship or himself. Planes, jets, ships, they were all supposed to be safe. They were his safety zone, but now it was a metal coffin hurtling towards the waiting ground below.

Orion's dreams were so very vivid - both from his active imagination and alien brain-that he could never tell the difference between reality and illusion. It had been that way his entire life, and usually, it was quite fun.

For instance, when he was a child and he’d dreamt about his fictional pet, Dorsan. But now, Orion resented it. So much so that he'd refused to sleep. He found it more beneficial to stay awake with Piper, and drink coffee until Scout forced him to stop.  

 “Suggest exiting the craft immedi-”   “Immediately! I wish could, lady!” Orion laughed frustratedly, tears on his cheeks. There were people below. If he didn’t make a safe landing there was no telling how many people were going to die.

But, then, he heard something different come from the fuzzy speakers. It started as a soft hum, snapping him from his panic. Wait… was that…? Yes. The first movement of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Orion leaned back in the pilot’s chair, the red lights in his spaceship fading into blue.   

— — —

Scout had made his way into Orion's room, and the closer he got, the more he could feel Orion's fear. It hurt him, knowing the boy felt like that, especially in sleep - when people were supposed to feel safe. Scout sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed to place a gentle hand upon Orion’s back. A gentle red light radiated from his fingertips as a soft hum made its way past his lips.

Moonlight Sonata, one of his favorites. Scout loved the way it danced from one ear to another, like ripples in a pond. Soon, Orion's muscles relaxed beneath Scout’s hand. Smiling faintly, Scout moved rubbed small circles into his boyfriend’s back. The other boy didn't wake.

Scout didn’t mind it though, Orion was in desperate need of sleep. Dark circles had stuck to the under sides of his eyes like leeches. As he moved to stand and return to his own room, something told Scout not to leave.

He saw no reason to defy the instinct, and sitting back down he tied his wavy hair up into a small lazy bun. He turned his head, smiling fondly at his sleeping boyfriend. Scout shifted, laying on top of the blankets and pulling Orion to his chest.

“Goodnight.” Scout whispered, pressing a tender kiss to the nape of his neck. “Sweet dreams.”   

— — —

The next morning, Orion blinked his eyes open, squinting at the sunlight. It didn't take him long to realize that he was spooned against Scout, and he didn't mind one bit. It was just a tad unusual, considering Orion usually found himself initiating cuddles, but again, you wouldn't in a million years see him complaining. He tried not to move in an effort to let his peaceful boyfriend sleep. Orion sighed contentedly, he enjoyed seeing Scout like this; with his face so relaxed and nothing troublesome on his mind. But soon, he remembered the dream and quickly connected the dots in his head. It must've been Scout that hummed to him.

 “Thank you.” Orion whispered, brushing a strand of wavy brown hair out of Scout's face. “Co-Pilot.”

[strangerererthings]

peaches iii

Summary: What if Bob had an adopted daughter?  What happens now?

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Disclaimer: Don’t own the show or the characters.  Shocker, right?

Word Count: 1,759

part one/part two/part four/part five/part six/part seven/part eight/part nine/part ten/part eleven/epilogue

The next day found you in your usual place in the library.  There was a bay window overlooking the outdoor basketball courts towards the back of the stacks of books.  It was right next to the historical fiction.  You had your legs pulled up onto the window sill, a book resting on your knees as you read quietly to yourself.  Your mouth moved slightly as you read along.

Despite how cold it was, you could see that hour’s gym class heading outside to play on the court.  Instead of their usual short shorts, they sported sweats and t-shirts with jackets thrown over top.  That is, everyone except Billy Hargrove.

Billy, of course, was still going without a shirt despite the fact that it was forty degrees outside.  You could see him down below and you couldn’t help but scoff at his utter stupidity.  Steve also seemed to be thinking the exact same thing on the other side of the court.  He looked up just in time to catch your gaze and waved with a bright grin.  You returned it, covering your mouth to stop you from laughing.

You turned back to your book, missing Billy Hargrove look up and try to catch you eye.  You also didn’t see the way he kept trying to get your attention.  He scored double the amount of points he usually would’ve, much to the delight of the coach.

The night before had gone back to relative normality as soon as Billy had left.  The kids had all chosen their suits and dresses.  Max had insisted on hiding her outfit so no one could see, and El had quickly followed by example.

Dinner had been chaotic, with six kids, Joyce, Hopper, Steve, Jonathan, Nancy, and you.  Steve didn’t even seem that bothered that Jonathan and Nancy had shown up--or that they held hands all through dinner.  You felt as though his anger had just been because it was Hargrove of all people talking shit.  Something about Billy just pissed Steve off.

You hadn’t been able to fall asleep until almost four in the morning that night, tossing and turning, crying a little.  It seemed no matter what you did, you were constantly getting uprooted.  Life was never stable, never comfortable.  You were always left right on the edge of your seat, wondering what was going to happen next that would shake everything up.

Hopper had been talkative that morning.  He usually didn’t have to drive El to school--said she was homeschooled.  Despite you telling him you could walk, he insisted.  “You’ll catch your death in this weather,” he had chided.

That’s what had led you here.  You were ahead in all of your classes, leading your teachers to let you spend most of your time in the library.  You were even taking some general education classes through a local university.  You just had to read the book and do the assignments given to you.  Bob had made it possible, helping you apply for scholarships so that the classes were almost completely free.

“Hey, there, peaches.”

You jumped, almost falling off the window sill as you turned to see Hargrove standing there, still covered in sweat.  You could see the rest of the class still outside.  “Hargrove.  What are you doing here?” You asked, your chest heaving.  Your heart was pounding in your chest.

He chuckled, taking a step forward.  He leaned against the wall, effectively blocking you in.  “Just wanted to see your pretty face again, sweetheart.”  He reached out, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.  “Tell me, how have I not seen you around before?”

“Well, I’m not Carol or Tina, am I?”  You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly.  Turning back to your book, you continued, “I’m not a party girl, or a cheerleader.  And, I’m a junior.  Completely out of your radar.”

“And I’m guessing you spend most of your time cooped up in here, don’t you?”

You huffed, looking up at him once more as you shut your book.  “I wouldn’t say cooped up.  I like being here.  I like the quiet.  Which, by the way, you’re ruining.”

Billy leaned in closer, and you could smell smoke and cheap cologne.  “There’s that fire I thought I might find in you.”  His lips were curling into a smirk.  You backed away as much as you could, rolling your eyes.  “What do you say I take you out tonight?  Take a ride in my Camaro?  Park somewhere dark...”

“Don’t you need to get back to your game, Hargrove?” You snapped, utterly disgusted.

He sighed as he stood up straight again.  “You’re right.  They’ll be missing me.”  Billy winked playfully at you, blowing a mocking kiss.  “Until later, peaches.”

After he left, you let out a groan.  “Peaches?  What the hell?”  You tried to go back to reading your book, but you just couldn’t focus.  Your mind kept going back to how pissed off you were now and how you could now understand why Steve loathed him.  He made your skin crawl.

A minute later, you could see Billy run back out on the court, nodding at the coach.  He was immediately passed the ball and within seconds, made a three pointer.  Billy turned, catching your eyes through the window and winking obnoxiously.  You blushed a dark red and turned away.  Steve caught the exchange, his blood boiling as he redoubled his efforts to beat Billy at basketball.

After school, you had a shift at the record shop downtown.  The job was better than you could’ve hoped for--you had flexible hours, decent pay.  Not to mention the 50% discount and free coffee.

“Hey, Y/N, I have to run to the store.  I’ll be right back.”  The owner, Connie, was pulling on her coat.  “Do you want anything to eat?”

You shook your head, smiling warmly as you waved a goodbye to her.  “No, I’m good.  And I’ve got the store covered, don’t worry,” you reassured her.  You’d been working here almost a year now and Connie had become almost like another parent figure to you.  Or, at least an aunt-like figure.  She had no kids, had never married.  So she had taken you under her wing.  You had walked in for an application and she practically hired you on the spot.

You rummaged through the albums behind the counter that were there to be played on the store record player.  You finally picked out some Frank Sinatra, gently taking it out of it’s sleeve and putting it on.  You hummed softly along with the music as you pushed a cart around that was full of albums to be put on the shelves.  Vaguely, you were aware of the front door chiming as someone entered.  You began to sing softly as you wandered around the store.  You were a sucker for jazz.  “I get no kick from champagne... mere alcohol doesn’t thrill me at all.  So, tell me, why should it be true that I get a kick out of you?”

“I didn’t peg you for a jazz fan.”

You practically jumped out of your skin as you whirled around, knocking records everywhere.  “Billy.  You scared me.”

He smirked as he took a step forward.  “I can see that.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes as you bent down to start picking up records.  “You know, you could not try to scare the shit out of people.  That’d be a nice thing to do.”

“But then I wouldn’t get this lovely sight of you on your knees, now would I, peaches?”  Billy bent down in front of you so that when you looked up, his nose was almost touching yours.

“You’re absolutely disgusting.”  Your voice could curdle milk.  Your cheeks were dark red as you continued to pick up the records that were scattered everywhere, and it surprised you when Billy began to help you.  “Thanks,” you murmured, coughing to clear your throat as you stood back up and placed the records on the cart.

For some reason, his demeanor seemed different tonight.  Like, a chilled out version of Billy.  Sure, he was probably always going to be an asshole--his words earlier proved that.  But he seemed... softer?  More vulnerable?  Maybe it was just the dim lighting of the shop.  The smile that covered his face seemed genuine.  Of course, from yesterday with the shop attendant, it was obvious he was a good actor.  “Of course, little darling.  Anything for my baby.”

And he ruined it.  You scoffed as you crossed your arms over your chest.  “Excuse you?  Since when am I your baby?”

“Since I decided, peaches.”  He took a step towards you, almost like a challenge.

“And why the hell do you keep calling me peaches?!”  Your voice had raised up an octave as you got angrier and angrier.  “God, you infuriate me!”

Billy, however, seemed to think this was absolutely hilarious.  “You look like a peaches.  Sweet.  Like I could just...”  He leaned in, his warm breath fanning over your face.  “... take a bite of you.”

Your eyes were wide as you stood frozen in place for what felt like eternity.  Your brain was struggling to catch up, to try to find something to reply with.  “You... You...”

“Cat got your tongue?”

“You need to leave,” you suddenly managed to get out.  “I’m closing the store in ten minutes.”

Billy leaned against one of the stacks, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.  “And let me guess, you’re going to walk home in this weather?”

You rolled your eyes, placing more records back where they belonged on the shelves.  “You mean like you playing basketball shirtless despite it being almost freezing today?” You challenged.

“Fair enough.  But I’m still not going to just let you walk home in the dark by yourself.”

“I can take care of myself.”  You’d been walking everywhere by yourself for years now.  After all, it wasn’t like Bob had always been able to just drop everything to drive you where ever you needed to go.

Billy smiled cheekily at you as he stepped closer.  “Not changing my mind.  I’ll be waiting outside, peaches.”  With that, he left you standing in the store by yourself, completely baffled as to what was happening.