#but i swerve out of the bike lane and nearly all the way into the passing cars

[sunsburns]

four or five moments (ii.)

pairing: wade wilson/deadpool x fem!assassin!reader

summary: you're literally just trying to do your job, and it's going great so far, you've killed trask, all you have left is to stop that truck from leaving new york. few problems: deadpool can't stay dead, you're having a moral dilemma and why is that car getting closer? oh shit-!

—or: deadpool literally hits you with a car

word count: 4k+

warnings: fem reader, wade being nasty, flirting, sex jokes, canon violence, there isn't too much plot, blood, strange conversations about morality, wade being annoying, he also breaks the fourth wall a few times, i did not pre-read this pls bare with spelling mistakes

notes: i was peer pressured to write this. it literally strays off from the og plot so bad you get whiplash!!

part one

All you really need is four or five moments.

Four or five moments to prove that you're better than them, that you wouldn't stoop as low, to prove that an eye for an eye will only leave two people blind. No blood will bring mercy. No. But it might get you some peace of mind knowing that they can't hurt you anymore, knowing that there's one less asshole on the earth that's trying to hurt you and the people you care about. It is heartless, you're well aware, but you are not trained to have much of a heart, much less to care.

You remind yourself of that fact as lights blur into neon streaks and speeding vehicles race by. Your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline sharpening your senses, and the stab wound on your leg becomes a distant throb.

You leap onto a motorcycle conveniently left unattended by a fleeing warehouse worker, hot-wiring it with practiced ease. The engine roars to life, and you peel out onto the road, weaving through traffic. The bike vibrates beneath you, a sleek, powerful beast responding to your every command.

Behind you, Deadpool is a persistent shadow. You catch glimpses of his red suit and mask as he commandeers a car, recklessly swerving through lanes to catch up to you. His determination is infuriating, but you can't afford to be distracted. You grit your teeth, focusing on the chase.

Your earpiece crackles to life, and a familiar voice comes through. "I've got eyes on your tracker," your handler says. "They're heading towards the docks. Be careful; we don't know if it's a set-up."

"Understood," you reply, voice steady despite the chaos.

As you near the docks, the industrial landscape looms ahead, a labyrinth of shipping containers and cranes casting long shadows in the dim light. The truck is just ahead, its taillights glowing like beacons.

You accelerate closer, and with one hand, you grab an energy gun, in a quick movement, you shoot at the truck doors, immediately regaining your grip on the handle afterwards. The doors fly open, revealing giant metal scraps and wooden crates.

You nearly curse, swerving out of the way when a pipe tumbles out from the back of the truck, crashing onto the road. The clang of metal on asphalt echoes in your ears. You slow down by the truck's blind spot, knowing you'd have to stop it, especially now that the cargo was confirmed to be in it.

You stay ready with your gun, pulling it from the holster on your thigh. You wait a beat, then another, and as the truck starts to pick up speed, you make your move and roll up to the driver's window, shooting through the glass. The bullet flies through the driver's head, causing him to slump forward, pressing on the horn. The blaring sound drowns out your second shot, which takes down the man in the passenger seat before he can shoot you.

The truck starts to slow, veering erratically before it crashes into a building with a deafening crunch of metal and shattering glass. The impact takes down a few light posts and parked cars, sending debris flying. Broken electrical wires dance and crackle around the wreck, their sparks reflected in the spray of a burst fire hydrant.

"Great job," your handler's voice crackles through your comms. "Dispose of the truck. No witnesses—"

The connection cuts off as you are violently hit from the side by a black car. The force of the impact sends you flying off your bike, tumbling across the rough asphalt. Your suit and helmet take most of the fall, tearing and cracking under the friction. Your visor shatters, the protective plastic lining breaking at the base.

You feel the sting and burn of broken skin on your arms and legs, grime and dirt mixing with the blood seeping from your cuts. Your vision is blurred, and a high-pitched ringing fills your ears. Every breath you take is shallow and painful, your ribs protesting with each inhale. Biting the inside of your cheek, you push yourself to pull off your broken helmet, tossing it aside. You blink hard, trying to focus your vision and spot a figure approaching.

Through the haze of pain and confusion, you recognize the distinctive red and black suit. Deadpool. He strides towards you with casual confidence, katana in hand, his eyes hidden behind the mask but undoubtedly filled with a mix of amusement and determination. The streetlights cast eerie shadows on his suit, highlighting the dried blood and grime.

"Please, don't be mad, honeybuns." Deadpool's irritating voice is the first thing you can hear when the ringing stops. He's standing before you, gloved hands out for you to take.

You don't move, heaving, "What the fuck, Wade?"

"Oh, are we on a first-name basis now? I think I like it." Wade Wilson hums, and when you still don't take his hands, he kneels before you. The smell of sweat and gunpowder wafts off him, mingling with the metallic scent of blood. "I know this all seems a little confusing—"

"You hit me with a fucking car, you dick!" you belt out, eyes wide with rage. The pain and exhaustion make your voice hoarse, every word a struggle.

"Well, yes. But it's only fair—"

"Fuck you."

"Listen to me." He says a little desperately, and you're glaring at him through your tears. Wade doesn't let it get to him, instead, he calls out your name, barely above a whisper as he looks at you. "You are getting innocent people killed." He tells you. "Look around. This might not be a cul-de-sac, but there are civilians, and they're hurt. We need to leave. You need to call it."

You glance over his shoulder, tired eyes scanning the area. He was right. Dock workers are running around, shouting and helping people out of the old building the truck had crashed into. It's late at night, but not late enough for the place to be deserted; people are still at work, still trying to get by.

You wince as you watch a pregnant woman being led out of a crashed car by her husband, a gash on her head. The smell of gasoline and burning rubber fills the air, mixing with the acrid scent of smoke from the crashed truck.

"Killing shitty people is one thing," Deadpool tells you, and you hate the way his voice is almost earnest. His tone is different, more serious, a stark contrast to his usual unserious demeanour. "But I'm familiar with your no-witnesses rule. This would just be mass murder if I let you keep going. Not exactly my piece of cake. Just..."

He stops, letting his head hang for a moment as if he were too repulsed to say it. You can see his shoulders slump slightly, a rare show of genuine emotion. "Oh god, I can't believe I'm about to say this," he grumbles, "Four or five moments. That's all it takes. Just stop and think. It's all it takes to be a hero."

You grit your teeth, hating that Wade Wilson is your voice of reason. The biggest asshole in New York, and here he is lecturing you on morality.

Hairs are falling out of your braid and sticking to your forehead, yet you don't care. Sweat mixes with blood, creating a sticky mess on your skin. You can only glare at him. "You're the last fucking person who should be telling me how to be a hero."

Wade sighs, loud and obnoxious, his mask wrinkling around his eyes as he scrunches up his face. "I'm sorry I hit you with a car. You kinda deserved it after killing Trask. He was my last chance at becoming pretty again. Now I have to stalk another crazy scientist." He taps his chin thoughtfully, "I always figured I'd end up chasing a mad scientist again, but not under these circumstances."

It's when you can no longer hold yourself up with your arms that Wade takes in the gravity of your injuries. He winces, watching you crumble to the ground before him. "Oh, wow, that's a lot of blood," he notes, his voice suddenly devoid of humour. The sight of your blood pooling on the asphalt seems to pull him back to reality. "Should I take you to a hospital? How many fingers am I holding up?"

He doesn't give you a chance to answer.

"Three? No. Two? Yikes. It's worse than I thought." Wade stands, and the worry in his voice is poorly masked by his usual sarcasm. "Here we go. Up, up!" When he moves to pick you up, you start turning away, your body protesting every movement.

"Wade, wait—" you rasp, trying to stop him from touching you. Your voice is weak, barely above a whisper.

But it's too late. When he reaches for you, your body phases, a faint white glow surrounding you as his hands and arms fall through your body as if you're a ghost. He recoils, jumping back while a squeamish sound escapes his lips. He stares at you, then his hands, then back at you on the ground as you try to sit up again, confusion and amazement written all over his masked face.

"Oh. My. Motherfucking. Fuckballs." Wade gasped, eyes wide behind his mask. "Did my hand just go through you or is all that cocaine finally kicking in?"

You ignore him, holding onto your side as it throbs with pain. Every movement sends sharp, agonizing waves through your body. "Fuck."

"No way, you're a fucking mutant?" His tone is a mix of awe and excitement, like a kid discovering a new toy.

It's not like you kept it a secret. You used your abilities whenever you needed to, and sure, it was useful at times, especially in your line of work when you needed to get through locked doors and hidden rooms or just for the element of surprise. But it's draining. Leaves you winded after only a matter of seconds. You've always had a hard time controlling it when you're slightly delusional though. You must've hit your head really hard. Maybe that's why you haven't shot Deadpool, yet.

"Shut up, Wade."

"Hey, no need to be ashamed of it." He reassures you while trying to pick you up again. This time, he is more cautious, his movements slower and more deliberate. When he succeeds, you can tell he's grinning like a child underneath the mask.

He carries you back to the same fuckass car he hit you with, holding you with one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. There's a faint skip to his step as if you're not on the verge of losing consciousness. While kicking open the back door, Wade continues his chatter, and you really wish he'd killed you on impact.

"Being a mutant is great! Plus, it's not the early two thousands anymore, or whatever timeline Stewart was in. Man, they sure did hate mutants in that trilogy."

He sets you down in the back seat gently, his hands surprisingly delicate. "You know, I always knew you were different. You hit me harder than regular people. I just figured you really hated me."

"I do." you mutter.

"Oh, my little sweet buns, I'm sure you do." To your annoyance, he pokes your nose playfully. "But you can't hate me too much right now, I'm literally your knight in shining armor. See, I can be nice, especially to my fellow mercs. You'd bleed to death if I left you there."

"Only because you hit me with a fucking car," you snap, the pain and frustration boiling over.

"Good to know you're still harboring great anger towards that. Means you're still conscious. Keep being mean to me, baby, that's how I'll know you're okay." He pauses before shutting the door, looking at you lying on the backseat, bleeding and all the glory that comes from it. "And it also turns me on a little bit. God, I can't believe your suit is torn and not one bit of extra cleavage is exposed. What will it take for a guy to get some rated R nudity over here?"

And with that, he slams the door shut, the car shaking with the force of it. The sound makes the ringing return to your ears, and you bite back the urge to curse him. He takes a seat in the driver's seat, starting the engine and rushing out of the scene before first responders arrive. The car roars to life, and as he speeds away, you feel your consciousness slipping, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you.

The two of you sit in silence for the most part, only the sounds of the engine running and Wade humming the tune of a song you think is from The Greatest Showman soundtrack. You force yourself to stay awake. Mostly because you don't trust him, but it's also because you fear that if you let your eyes close you won't wake up again. Yeah, it's mostly because you don't trust Wade Wilson.

"Where are you taking me?" you finally ask, and you hate the way your voice sounds weak, barely above a whisper.

"Just a little safe house I know." He tells you, glancing back at you for a quick moment. "Very homey, trust me."

"What about the shipment?" you murmur, your mind struggling to stay focused.

"What?"

"The truck," you repeat, fighting to keep your eyes open.

"Oh, don't worry. That's no longer our problem." He says, "We're about to enter a whole new setting. That truck is forgotten plot."

Wade takes a sharp turn, and you wince as your body shifts uncomfortably in the back seat. The pain is getting worse, each bump in the road sending jolts of agony through your body. You grit your teeth, trying to stay conscious, but it's a losing battle.

After what feels like an eternity, the car finally comes to a stop. Wade gets out and you hear his footsteps crunching on gravel as he walks around to your door. He opens it carefully this time, his usual wiseass demeanour replaced by a rare show of genuine concern. He scoops you up gently, and you're too weak to protest.

The last thing you remember, before everything goes black, is the sight of a grand mansion looming ahead, its imposing silhouette framed by the moonlight. The large iron gates creak open as Wade carries you through them, the gravel path crunching under his boots. The mansion, with its towering spires and Gothic architecture, looks like something out of a fairy tale, a stark contrast to the violence and chaos you just escaped from.

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is the softness of the bed beneath you. The second thing you notice is the smell of lavender and the faint hum of medical equipment. You try to sit up, but a sharp pain in your side makes you gasp.

"Whoa, easy there," a deep, accented voice says from beside you. You turn your head slowly, the motion making your vision swim. A towering, metal-skinned mutant sits by your bed, his imposing figure softened by a look of genuine concern. "You need to rest. You are badly injured."

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you rasp, "Where am I?"

"The X-Mansion," he replies in a soothing tone, the accent heavy but comforting. "Wade brought you here. You’re safe now. I am Colossus."

You try to take in your surroundings, your head feeling heavy as you look around. The room is vast and elegant, with high ceilings that seem to reach the heavens. The walls are adorned with rich tapestries and framed paintings, depicting serene landscapes and grand historical scenes.

Large windows let in the soft, golden glow of morning light, casting gentle shadows that dance across the floor. It’s a far cry from the dingy, rundown places you’re used to, especially that old apartment with its creaky floors and peeling wallpaper.

Your eyes finally land on Wade, who is slouched in a chair in the corner. He’s flipping through a Playboy magazine with exaggerated interest, still in his dirty suit from the night before.

When he sees you stir, he grins and waves a hand in your direction. "Morning, sunshine," he says cheerfully, his voice carrying an unnerving mix of sincerity and teasing. "You gave us quite a scare. But, I've got to say, that hospital gown is doing wonders for your figure. I love the blue. Great contrast to that black you're always wearing."

You roll your eyes, too exhausted to respond properly. The gown feels scratchy against your skin, and every movement sends sharp pangs of pain through your body.

Colossus, noticing your discomfort, shifts slightly. "How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice deep and steady.

"Like I got hit by a truck," you mutter, sending a glare in Wade's direction.

Colossus chuckles, the sound deep and resonant, like rolling thunder. "Do not worry about him. We will take care of you."

Despite the throbbing pain and overwhelming fatigue, a wave of relief washes over you. For the first time in a long while, you're surrounded by people who genuinely want to help. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the softness of the bed. "Thank you," you whisper, the words feeling strangely comforting. For once, you don’t feel the need to be constantly on guard.

Wade's grin widens as he leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out and adjusting his mask. "Anytime, honeybuns. Anytime."

As you drift in and out of consciousness, you feel the cool, soothing touch of a wet cloth on your forehead. The gentle pressure is a welcome contrast to the persistent throbbing pain.

The sound of soft murmurs and quiet footsteps fills the room, creating a cocoon of calm around you. At some point, you notice Colossus's massive hands, surprisingly gentle, as he carefully tends to your wounds, applying bandages with precision.

Eventually, a teenager with short hair and a no-nonsense expression enters the room. You learn her name is Negasonic Teenage Warhead. She carries a phone in one hand, handing Colossus a stack of clean bandages with the other. The faint scent of antiseptic and medicinal herbs fills the air, mixing with the crispness of the freshly laundered bed linens.

Hours pass, or maybe it's days—it's difficult to gauge. When you next wake, the room is dimly lit, the golden light replaced by the softer hues of early evening. The pain has dulled to a manageable throb, and the heaviness in your limbs is slightly alleviated. Wade is still there, his previous outfit swapped for sweatpants and a dark green sweater, though he keeps his red and black mask on. He lounges in the chair beside your bed, now engrossed in an iPad, giggling softly to himself.

"Oh, man. Instagram reels are crazy," he snorts, shaking his head as he scrolls through the screen.

He looks up and hums when he sees you're awake again. "You're tougher than you look," he comments, turning off the iPad with a flick of his wrist. "Most people would have keeled over by now."

"You wish."

"Oh, trust me, I do." Wade nods vigorously, his mask bobbing with the motion. "I tried injecting poison into your IV, but your body rejected it."

"Don't worry. My handler will kill me for you."

Wade groans, dramatically rolling his eyes as he gets up from the chair. "You’re still worried about that? I already told you, the truck and all that shit is past plot. We’re in the sequel now, babe. There are new rules. Who knows, maybe this is your redemption arc where you join the X-Men. Though, I will miss your assassin era. You were so sexy in that suit."

You make a face, "Fuck off."

Just then, the door opens with a soft creak, and Colossus enters with a tray in hand. He’s followed closely by Negasonic, who carries a stack of fresh bandages. Colossus places the tray on a small table beside your bed with practiced ease. The tray is filled with a bowl of steaming soup and a couple of slices of crusty bread, the aroma wafting up and making your stomach rumble.

"How are you feeling?" Colossus asks, his voice calm and reassuring as he sets the tray down.

"Better," you admit, managing a small smile. "Thanks to you guys."

Negasonic shrugs nonchalantly, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her usual scowl. "Don’t mention it. Just doing our job."

Wade groans, clearly troubled by the kindness. "Oh great, now you’re all buddy-buddy. What am I, chopped liver?"

Colossus chuckles, the sound of a comforting rumble. "You must eat something. It will help you regain your strength."

You nod gratefully, and with Colossus’s help, you manage to sit up enough to sip the warm, comforting soup. The broth is rich and flavorful, and the bread is soft and fresh. As you eat, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of belonging. Despite the pain and the chaos, you’re surrounded by people who care, and for now, that’s enough.

Wade, not one to be left out, scoots his chair closer, setting it right next to your bed. He stretches out, propping his elbows on his knees as he leans in. "So, what do you think of the X-Mansion? Pretty swanky, right? Lots of rooms, big kitchen, danger room for training... and other things."

Negasonic scoffs, her eyes narrowing. "Gross."

You finish your meal, feeling a bit stronger. As Colossus helps you settle back into the bed, you glance at Wade. "Why did you bring me here?"

Wade’s expression shifts, becoming uncharacteristically serious. He looks at you with sincerity. "Because you’re one of us. And because... well, everyone deserves a second chance."

You blink, surprised by the depth of his words. Before you can respond, he’s back to his usual self, grinning and turning on his iPad. "Plus, it’s not every day I get to play hero. I gotta milk it for all it’s worth. And no, Colossus, I will not join your boy band, thank you very much."

The metal man grunts, waving a hand dismissively before walking out, Negasonic following right behind him. Wade stays seated next to you, his lips curled into a wide, amused grin that seems to stretch just a bit too far was he watches you.

"You're never gonna take that off?" you ask him.

Wade's laughter is a low, rumbling sound that feels almost too bright for the quiet room. "Oh, no fucking way," he says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m ugly under this. Trust me. You’d be repulsed. Like, horror movie-level repulsed."

You give him a look, your eyebrow arched in disbelief. "I doubt it."

Wade leans in closer, the grin on his face widening. He taps his chin thoughtfully with a gloved finger, the gesture oddly contemplative. "Maybe next time I’ll take it off for you," he says, a taunting tone in his voice as he raises his brows. "Maybe that and a little more."

"There's a next time?"

"I mean, as the famous words of Natasha Bedingfield say: the rest is still underwritten."

"God, you’re fucking ridiculous," you mutter, the words coming out with a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement. "I can’t wait to get out of here and never see you again."

Wade's shoulders slump, the white eyes of his mask narrow at you, "What, that's it? No steamy sex? No heavy petting? Is this how it ends? Not even a kiss?"

"Fuck no. Get out."

reblog to support your writers!

© sunsburns.tumblr 2024. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[cambria-writes]

hello! i am alive!

i know it's been a long time coming and i'm genuinely sorry that this doesn't even make the 3k word cut, but i was running out metaphorical breath. and i really wanted to give you a true sunday update!

i'm currently on sick leave which is p much the only reason i was able to muster the energy to sit down and write. im hoping to have the next chapter ready for next week; we're almost done, so i'm gonna try to sprint to the finishing line!

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader rating: T-M warning: swearing, mentions of wounds, nausea, hopper's cabin feels like it needs a warning word count: 2,565

Previous Next Masterlist

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖎𝖝𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: 𝔈𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔮𝔲𝔞𝔨𝔢

It’s foggy, after that.

Dustin finally appears, apparently having had to adjust the bike chain five separate times on his way. He and Eddie help you to your feet and practically carry you over to Carver’s car. The strange feeling at the back of your neck feels like it’s spreading down to your shoulders. Whatever was flowing out of Max’s face has stopped, and the most you can think about is hope. Hope that she’s not cursed anymore and that your hazy mind and sluggish body mean that something worked.

You’re sat shotgun and, when everyone’s slammed the doors shut, Eddie hits the pedal to the floor. You think you hear Erica tell him to go back to his trailer. He’s even more reckless than usual; he swerves in and out of the lane and nearly manages to run a sign over. When you turn your head to try to focus on his face, Eddie’s brows are furrowed so low his eyes look nearly shut.

You swallow down the guilt. You had no idea how borrowing... what, energy? From people? How that worked. But if Eddie’s also tired, surely Max can’t still be cursed right?

The ground rumbles violently as you enter Forest Hills. It shocks Eddie enough for him to drive the car straight into a fencepost. The car’s barely still before Erica and Lucas are jumping out and running for Munson trailer. Next to you, Eddie sighs deeply and lets himself fall back against the driver’s seat. He takes a second longer to unclench his fingers from the steering wheel, hands falling limp in his lap.

With what little strength you can muster, you reach over to pat his knee.

“Never going shotgun with you ever again,” you breathe out. Eddie snorts and turns his head to look over at you.

“It’s fine, it’s Carver’s car. I treat what’s mine with the respect it deserves.”

The low and sure tone of his voice catches you off guard, and you just... stare at him. Eddie’s face seems to crumple a little after a second before he clears his throat and sits up straight, facing forward.

“Wait, Ed—”

“Right, sorry,” he cuts you off, giving the steering wheel one more squeeze before he’s opening the door to step out. “I’ll go see if they need help.”

You try to move to reach over the console to grab at his sleeves, but you nearly jump out of your skin when you hear the trailer door slam open. Lucas appears first, running right up to Eddie to ask if the car can still run. While Eddie confirms, uncertainly, that Carver’s shiny toy car can probably handle another run, it definitely can’t accommodate three more people.

The ground rumbles again, and you hear shouting from the trailer even several yards away. You’ve made your mind to try to get up when the ground rumbles again, worse this time. You can see a fault appear under the trailer just as the door slams open. Dustin and Erica come bolting out first.

You barely hear Eddie when he tells you that he’s going to go hotwire another car. The ringing in your ears is almost too loud to hear through, and your vision’s starting to swim. Your skin feels too tight, suddenly, and the air around you feels too hot.

There’s shouting, you think, closing your eyes against the blooming headache. It feels like the flu hit you out of nowhere all at once. The car’s moving, swerving out of Forest Hills. You feel another earthquake, but this one feels different.

The ringing in your ears in so loud.

There’s a hand grabbing roughly at your shoulder, one feeling your forehead. You do your best to shrug them away. You’re trying so hard to focus on anything than the cacophony in your ears. Your ankles still sting and itch from the heat of the exploding can.

And then you exhale, and everything is quiet. The throbbing behind your eyes is gone, the breeze from the open windows feels soothing, and you feel like you can breathe.

You also, somehow, can feel that something is missing. You’re about to speak up when the ground shakes again. Erica, Max and Robin shout in the back to go faster, and when you get yourself to look up in the rearview, you nearly choke. You twist yourself around as much as you can to stare out of the rear windshield, and you almost wish you hadn’t.

The ground is splitting open down the road, like it’s doing its best to swallow you all whole.

“Holy shit—”

“Oh god are you okay—”

“We thought you were dying—”

You throw yourself back in your seat and stare ahead.

“Steve, what the fuck is that?”

“Fucked if I know!”

“It’s the gate at Eddie’s trailer,” Max says, rushed, leaning forward between the front seats to talk to you. “It started growing—”

You gently shove her back to look at Steve.

“You didn’t kill him?!”

“We did!” Steve shouts, slamming the steering wheel. He doesn’t warn anyone when he jerks the car off the road to the right, down a winding dirt pathway. “He literally turned into like, ash in front of us! We don’t know what’s going on!”

“Where are we going?”

There’s beat of silence.

“Ch-Chief Hopper’s cabin,” Max says, shooting Steve a glance before looking back at you. “If El’s on her way, that’s where she’d go first.” You nod and swallow thickly.

Now that you’re practically navigating through the woods, the rumbling and cracking ground can’t be seen, but it still makes everything shake.

It stops with a loud, cavernous groan that sounds like it’s coming from everywhere. If you really force it, you think you can hear a few car alarms and sirens. You don’t try to see through the trees if there’s smoke.

Eddie’s already leaning up against the other car you assume he hotwired, the others hard at work behind him trying to pry off the wooden broads. Nancy’s the first one who manages to free and open the door. Everyone is quiet and seems tense—you can’t blame them.

You remember what happened here, too.

Eddie rushes over to you when you shove the passenger door open. When your legs give in under you as soon as you try to put any weight on them, Steve hurries out and over to help prop you up and take you inside.

The dust is horrendous, everything is in disarray, but... at least the kids seem like they’re having some modicum of fun trying to unfuck everything. Better for it; you’re not sure either you, Steve, Nancy or Robin are good for anything too terribly physical. The latter three all look like they’re a soft breeze away from toppling over.

When you’re installed on the dusty couch—after a very concerning plume of dust rushed out to greet you—Steve and Eddie join you. You almost laugh at how coordinated their sigh is when they sink into the old cushions.

“You guys good if I take a nap..?” You ask hesitantly, but almost immediately Eddie’s arm comes around your shoulder and pulls you into his side, before his hand gently guides your head down on his shoulder.

“Nap sounds nice” Steve says quietly, and when you crane your neck to see him around Eddie, he seems like he’s already halfway asleep.

“He needs to get actual bandages,” you mutter, but Eddie tightens his grip on you. You get the message.

You fall asleep to the sound of Max and Lucas arguing about the best way to patch the gaping holes in the roof.

You’re alone on the couch when you wake up, and it’s significantly less breezy. It doesn’t feel like too much time has passed, but looking around, there’s the distinct glow of almost-morning. The holes in the roof definitely aren’t patched up yet, but there are various fabrics covering windows, the boards that were pried off from the outside had haphazardly been used to cover faults on the inside.

Given that only one of you is legally allowed to drink—you think?—and that none of you have probably gotten a decent meal in literally days, it’s not bad work.

Well, it’s shit work, honestly. Any other time but now you’d sigh and redo it yourself.

You scooch yourself forward on the couch and find that standing up, though unpleasant, is finally possible on your own. Which is just as well; everyone else seems to have huddled together in a giant mass on what you assume is the living room floor. In font of you. You grit your teeth and do your best to navigate through everyone without falling or stepping on someone.

You’re pretty sure part of your shoe gets caught in Nancy’s hair, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

Once you’ve reached what’s left of the front door, you find Eddie sitting at the top of the stairs. A plume of smoke drifts away. Then another, before you decide to drop down next to him and hold your hand out.

“Sleep alright?” Eddie asks quietly, casting a sidelong glance at you.

You shrug, take a drag of the cigarette before returning it  to Eddie. You hold the smoke for a second to feel the burn in your throat before slowly exhaling.

“How long was I out?” You ask instead.

Eddie makes a show of pulling his arm in front of him and squinting at the watch before looking at you with a deadpan expression.

“Right,” you snort, grabbing the smoke back from him after he’s taken a drag. “Waterlogged, my bad.”

“Two hours probably,” Eddie answers anyway, pulling a leg up on the porch. “Steve told me you had an episode in the car.”

“In my defense,” you start, as hurriedly as your sleepy brain can manage. “I didn’t do anything. It’s like I experienced a week of a really bad flu in the span of a few minutes.”

Eddie hums to let you know he’s heard, and perhaps cursorily believes you, but otherwise stays silent. You don’t interrupt him, either; he’s got that face on like he’s trying to connect two dots but isn’t sure how. You vaguely gesture for another cigarette; his is almost down to the butt and honestly, you could use the distraction.

“What if,” Eddie starts, handing you a pack of matches he must’ve found and pilfered from the cabin. “What if your whole... cleric thing.” He huffs and shakes a hand through his hair. “No, wait.”

You frown for a second before you think you catch on. “Ah—like, you think it’s some weird kind of like, hive mind virus?”

“Something like that, but,” Eddie continues, twisting around to look at you. “Like something leaked out of the Upside Down and Got to you.”

You shake your head. “I never got close to any of the gates before.”

You’re about to tell Eddie to nevermind, that you’re pretty sure you still have some funky powers left over, but both of you clamber to your feet when you hear the distinct rumbling of a car engine. You stumble back towards the door and drag Eddie with you with a hand grabbing at his shoulder.

“Go, go wake everyone up,” you whisper harshly, running in after him. There are disgruntled groans that slowly turn into concern and panic while you tear through the cabin trying to find something—

Nancy calls out for you, and before you’re quite ready, tosses a rifle at you.

It’s you, Nancy and Steve on the front porch when you see... what is possibly the most confusing looking van you have ever seen in your life.

“Is that... a pizza delivery van?” Steve asks quietly, and though he and Nancy still have their respective weapons up and ready, you get the overwhelming sense that you’re fine.

When the van finally stops, you toss the gun behind you, much to Steve’s very loud displeasure. You carefully go down the steps one by one, pass by the driver, round back, and pull open the doors.

A very stunned Mike greets you, clearly having been a second away from opening the doors himself.

“Uh. Hey?”

You don’t reply, just scoff and step out of the way. First out is Mike, but when Will hops out, you barely recognize him. Wasn’t he supposed to be like, a foot shorter?

When El hops out, she looks about as worse for wear as you are. You can’t help but reach a hand out to her head.“

“Shame,” you whisper. El gives you a tentative smile and shrugs.

“It grows back,” she says lightly, before you pull her into a hug.

Someone clears their throat, still in the van, and you hurriedly step away from El and let her rush up to the cabin. Jonathan Byers climbs out last, and you already know from the glassy look in his eyes that he’s... a little blazed.

“Hey, you—you’re the one—” Jonathan starts, but you cut him off.

“From econ a few years ago, yeah.”

“No—I mean, yeah, but, no,” Jonathan tries to correct, shaking his head. “When Will was in the hospital, when we found him again, weren’t you in the cafeteria?”

You frown and open your mouth to try and find an answer, but a booming voice comes from beyond the cabin.

“What is up my dudes! This place looks like it got bombed.”

“That, he’s Argyle, uh,” Jonathan starts, and you step away to let him go introduce his loud and apparently equally blitzed friend to everyone else.

You give yourself a moment of alone time and sit on the edge of the van. You can hear everyone chatting excitedly, mostly on the front porch. Something about a helicopter makes it to you, and something about using a deep freezer as a bathtub?

Eleven reappears, but this time, though she does genuinely seem happy to see her friends right now, there’s something solemn about the way she holds herself. She hops up to sit on the edge of the van with you, hands in her lap.

“All good?” You ask, bumping your shoulder to hers.

“Mm, all good,” she replies, looking over at you. “He’s gone. Henry. Did you feel it?”

You shrug. “I mean there were earthquakes, but—”

“No,” El shakes her head, and gestures vaguely at... all of you? “Did you feel it?”

“I...” you start, clearing your throat and looking away. “I mean... I didn’t feel anything when the other where still in the Upside Down, but I did—when Steve was driving us here, I felt really sick, like...”

“Like something was leaving?” El hazards, and you nod slowly.

“Yeah, I guess. Like something was finally making its way out.”

It’s her turn to nod sagely. You’re about to ask if she happens to know what that means for you now, but something suddenly registers for you.

Will, Mike, El, Jonathan and Argyle all showed up in a pizza delivery van—of all things—and there’s been no trace or mention of Joyce at all. It’s been a while, so there’s clearly not another car coming, and you somehow doubt that Joyce would’ve willingly and knowingly let her kids be ferried around by someone who’s about as stoned as you are clinically depressed.

“Hey, uh, El, where’s Joyce?”

“Work trip in Alaska,” she says easily, and a little too solidly.

“...Alasaka, huh.”

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

@bramblequill @alovesongshewrote @averagestudent03 @doratheignora @storiesbyrhi

please let me know if you want to be tagged for the next update!

[kimbobbp]

so today was day three of re-learning how to ride a bike after 3-4 years

[haledamage]

“We can share the bed. If that’s not weird.” For your choice, bc it’s good for too many of them

Marii and Theron ended up claiming this one 😁 before Rishi but after the Forged Alliances stuff, during the nebulous “looking for more information” portion in between. Marii desperately wanted to have some proper Spy Jedi shenanigans, so what should have been a thousand words of awkward pre-ship yearning instead became a whole Thing

---

Theron Shan was not a Jedi.

This was an indisputable fact, one that had in many ways defined the man he’d become. It had shaped the trajectory of his life, for good or ill.

That didn’t stop him from driving like one.

Marii had been told several times that she, and most other Jedi, drove like they took the “there is no death” line from the Code as a personal challenge. Theron drove the same way, heedless of both the speed and the danger, as if he could sense trouble coming before it arrived and had the reflexes to avoid it, if only narrowly. He barely even watched where he was going, attention split between the traffic they were weaving through, his wrist comm, and shooting back at their pursuers.

He took a sharp right, his speeder drifting around the corner hard enough to make the stabilizers whine in protest and missing the side of a building by millimeters before they shot off in their new direction. Marii barely reacted beyond steadying herself on the back of the seat she was kneeling in; her focus was on the four speeders chasing them, redirecting the steady hail of blaster bolts directed at them to keep them from hitting their mark - or hitting any of the nearby commuters.

“This would be a lot easier if you knew how to use a blaster,” Theron yelled to be heard over the wind rushing past them.

“I told you to let me drive!” It would be a hot day on Hoth before he let anyone else drive his speeder, no matter how much more sense it would’ve made; it was one of the first things Marii had learned about him, and also something she and Kira teased him about endlessly. “How do you want to do this?”

“Quiet didn’t work.” He aimed his blaster over his shoulder, firing blindly. There was a crack of shattering glass as the bolt hit the windshield of one of the speeders chasing them. It swerved wildly, nearly taking out the one next to it before righting itself. “Let’s go loud.”

That’s exactly what she’d been hoping he would say, and her wild grin told him as much. “Get me an empty lane. I can’t do anything with so many people around us.”

“Might want to hold on to something.” That was the only warning Theron gave before they dropped out of the sky.

Marii grabbed the edge of the seat, trying to ignore the thrill of temporary weightlessness and keep an eye on their pursuers.

They’d miscounted. There were six, not four. Two speeder bikes joined the others as they followed their descent at a little more sedate pace.

“Theron.”

“I see them.” He hit a few buttons on the dashboard, and they somehow picked up even more speed.

It still wasn’t enough to outrun blaster bolts. One slipped past her guard and grazed the driver’s side mirror, sending a shower of sparks at Theron.

“Marii!”

“On it.”

As soon as they leveled out, Marii climbed out of her seat, trusting in the Force - and Theron’s driving - to keep her feet planted to the back of the speeder as she drew her lightsabers. They activated with a hiss, the twin white blades making her a very obvious target in the neon-lit dusk of Nar Shaddaa. Predictably, the incoming blasterfire all started targeting her exclusively; none of it could get past her blades.

Now that they didn't have to worry about hurting civilians, their job was a lot easier. The first speeder was neatly bisected by a thrown lightsaber. With Marii there to shield him, Theron could take a few extra seconds to aim, and a well-placed shot sent one bike careening into the other, taking them both out. The fourth took a turn too wide and ended up embedded in an office building. The fifth one…

"Is that a rocket launcher?"

Theron dropped his blaster to the passenger-side floorboards and grabbed Marii’s ankle instead, keeping her from losing her balance as she deflected the first rocket that headed their way. She managed to knock the second one away too, barely; it exploded close enough to send the speeder veering off course. 

A third rocket didn’t come immediately, but it was probably only a matter of time. They wouldn’t be able to dodge them forever, no matter how good of a pilot he was.

On some unspoken signal, Theron released her ankle and slammed on the brakes, letting the remaining pursuers close the gap. As soon as they were close enough, Marii leapt toward the speeder with the rocket launcher. She landed hard on the hood, making it drop a couple meters before it righted itself. Three people stared back at her with identical expressions of confused shock at her sudden arrival.

The last remaining speeder zipped past them, heading straight for Theron, and Marii had to push away the worry that shivered up her spine. He was a grown man, and one who’d been doing this even longer than she had. He didn’t need a Jedi playing righteous defender; he could protect himself. She trusted him to do so, and kept her eyes on the rocket man.

He lifted the launcher, intending to blow her up at point blank range. Stupid for many reasons, but most of all because he was well within range of her lightsabers. She cut the launcher in half, the pieces of it - and the live and whole rockets inside them - falling into the back seat. Rocket Man swore and reached for the blaster at his hip.

One of the other two passengers grabbed Marii’s arm, attempting to either throw her off the side or grapple her long enough for Rocket Man to shoot her. A flourish of her blade removed the offending grip, as well as the offending hand, and a quick push with the Force knocked both her attacker and his partner out of the speeder. She turned back to Rocket Man and dispatched him with an almost careless swing of her sword.

And then there was only her, in a pilotless vehicle full of rockets.

Marii leapt from the wayward speeder as it careened toward an intersection, dragging one saber through the fuel tank as she fell past it. Better to blow it up now than let it wander off and injure someone. 

She scanned the buildings on either side as she descended, looking for a place to land. She’d probably survive a fall all the way to the planet’s surface - she’d survived worse, certainly, and the Force had always been her ally in this way specifically - but it would still hurt like hell.

She was saved the trouble as a familiar speeder swooped up underneath her and scooped her out of the air. She landed with an oof, half in Theron’s lap and half in the seat next to him. Her saber hilts joined his blaster on the floor as she slumped against him in relief.

Theron looked unbearably smug, but he deserved to be. “Need a lift?”

She let out a breathless laugh and pressed her face to his shoulder in silent gratitude. Thank the stars that she’d found the only spy in SIS as stupidly reckless as she was. “Well, that’s one way to pick up women.”

“It may not be subtle, but it has a hundred percent success rate.” He wound his arm around her waist, sort of a hug and sort of just making sure she stayed in place while he drove around a corner into a labyrinth of narrow alleyways. “You okay?”

She nodded. “A little banged up, but nothing serious, thanks to you. How’re you?”

“Just bruises,” he shrugged. “That could’ve gone a lot worse. Did we get what we needed?”

Marii activated her earpiece while she scrambled back into her seat. “Kira, what’s your status?”

“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Kira kept talking without waiting for an answer. “Good news is, your distraction worked. Teeseven got your bug planted and it’s already transmitting. Bad news, your nest of Revanites is on high alert, and they’re on the lookout for two people who look a lot like you and spy boy.”

“Of course they are,” Marii said dryly.

“Still glad you took this job, boss?”

She glanced over at Theron, only to find he was already looking her way. He gave her a lopsided smile, the one he used when he was trying to look disarming. It didn't really work, but she still found it distractingly attractive, even with a split lip and rapidly darkening black eye - gifts from his fight with the last speeder, presumably. "Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to," she muttered to her former padawan.

“You two might wanna lay low for a little while and let this blow over,” Kira continued like Marii hadn’t said anything, but she could hear the smirk in her voice. “Take the rest of the night off, order in, maybe watch a movie. Find somewhere safe until morning and we’ll meet up then.”

"Kira…" It wouldn’t be the first time Kira had tried some convoluted scheme to get Marii and Theron to spend some time together outside of work, though a high-speed chase across Nar Shaddaa was a little much even for her. 

"What? No ulterior motives this time, I swear," she replied, as sweetly as she could. "See you at breakfast."

The call ended and Marii sighed.

“Let me guess.” They emerged from the alleyway and back into busy streets, merging into the flow of traffic and slowing to match the speed of everyone around them. “Our favorite cultists are sending more people our way?”

“More or less.”

He was quiet for a few minutes while he thought, before finally announcing, “We should probably find a hotel for the night or something. Wouldn't want to lead them back to the safehouse if they manage to track us down.”

By the stars, Marii hated when Kira was right. She could almost feel her gloating from across the city. “Okay. I’ll follow your lead. I’m a little out of my depth.”

“You’re doing great,” he told her sincerely. “Really.”

It was a struggle to stifle the proud grin that his casual praise brought about, and she wasn’t entirely successful. Something about the offhand compliments Theron liked to give her made her feel the same thrill that racing across the city at top speed had, the same kind of weightless joy.

The city flew past in a stream of gold and neon. It wasn’t an area Marii was familiar with from her admittedly limited experiences on Nar Shaddaa, but Theron seemed as confident as ever, so she let herself sit back and enjoy the ride. Now that the fight was over, pain and exhaustion started to settle in, and the idea of a bed - even an unfamiliar one in some cheap hotel - was sounding better every minute.

She stayed quiet as Theron gave the receptionist a fake name, an even faker story, and a charming enough smile and large enough pile of credits that they wouldn’t ask questions. They took the lift in companionable silence.

They both stopped in the doorway of their room and stared. The room was so gaudy it would make a Hutt palace look understated. It looked like a fabric store had exploded, but only the velvet and silk departments had landed here. It looked like someone had tried to build a circus tent out of burgundy velvet and was storing it here for the winter. The bed was massive and completely circular, directly in the middle of the room, and off to one corner was something that looked an awful lot like a jacuzzi tub.

Marii regretted not listening closer when Theron was booking the room. What cover had he given that had landed them in the honeymoon suite?

Oh well. At least it was clean, and big enough for two people as tall as they were to move around comfortably. She shrugged and stepped inside, heading to the bathroom. She considered the giant clawfoot tub, wondering how much he’d judge her for taking advantage of the circumstances, but ultimately decided to just hop into the refresher to wash off the worst of the soot and dirt from their day.

When she came back out, Theron was on his datapad, sitting on an ostentatious, overstuffed loveseat in front of the holo-fireplace. It didn’t surprise her in the slightest; in the months they’d been working together like this, she’d gotten used to his work habits. She was fairly certain at least one of his implants was so he could keep working while he slept--but he slept so rarely that she couldn’t say for sure.

Force help her, she thought it was cute. Frustrating on occasion, but cute.

She sat down next to him and carefully touched the bruise over his eye, making sure nothing was broken underneath it. His eyes drifted closed at her touch, work temporarily forgotten. “How’s your head?”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed with some painkillers and a good night’s sleep.” He winced when she touched a sensitive spot and she pulled her hand away. “Too bad we won’t find either of those here.”

“I don’t think this room is meant for… sleep.” She cringed, but it just made him laugh. “You should take the bed. A bad night’s sleep is better than none at all.”

“No way,” he said immediately. “I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor.”

“I’m a Jedi. I’ll meditate or something.” It still wouldn’t be the worst sleep she’d ever gotten, but she didn’t say as much. “It’ll be fine.”

“Or… we could share the bed. If that wouldn’t be weird.” He stood up from the loveseat and paced across the room, as if he couldn’t look at her while making the suggestion. “It would be weird, wouldn’t it? Forget I said anything. Next time I’ll make sure to get a double room.”

“Maybe we should work on our cover,” she teased, kneeling on the loveseat so she could turn around and watch him pace. “Find one that doesn't land us in the honeymoon suite. Or at least in a better honeymoon suite.”

“Sorry, I panicked.” He rubbed the back of his neck and gave her that crooked boyish grin again. Her traitorous heart skipped a beat. “I’m still not used to this whole teamwork thing.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” she assured. “The cover story or sharing the bed.”

“Oh.” That got him to stop pacing, at least. He finally came back over to the loveseat, propping a hip against the back of it so they were relatively close to eye-to-eye. “Okay. Good.”

“Just… do me a favor?”

“Anything,” Theron vowed without hesitation.

Oh. Oh. Marii had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep a ridiculous smile off her face. “Don't tell Kira. I'll never hear the end of it.”

He scoffed a laugh. “Trust me, I’m already learning that the less she knows the better.”

Getting ready for bed was somehow both more and less awkward than Marii would have expected. She was very aware of Theron’s presence in the room, but that wasn’t altogether new. They’d been spending a lot of time together, early mornings and late nights and hours at a console sharing a pot of caf and speaking in half-formed thoughts. Familiarity had only made her more conscious of him.

But at the safehouse, they all had their own rooms (except Teeseven and Teethree, who chose to be roommates), and the knowledge that they were sharing this room made even the act of removing her gloves and boots feel salacious. Watching Theron remove his jacket felt even moreso, though she couldn’t put a finger on why; she’d seen him without it plenty of times.

Marii laid down on her back, as far away from Theron as the weird circular bed allowed. Her own face stared down at her from the ceiling, where a gilded-framed mirror hung. It must’ve been concealed by all the draped fabric, because she hadn’t noticed it until she was directly under it.

“This is karking ridiculous,” Theron grumbled. “What the hell kind of people stay in a room like this deliberately?”

“Are you telling me you didn’t plan this, Agent Shan?” She couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice, but she tried to keep a straight face. “I’m disappointed.”

“Hey.” He managed to sound genuinely offended, but the corner of his mouth twitched with the effort to conceal a smile. “Give me a little credit.”

When she met his eyes in his reflection in the mirror, she couldn’t hold back anymore and dissolved into giggles. She had to roll over to muffle her laughter in her pillow, on the off chance that the walls were thin enough that her amusement would wake the rest of the hotel. But then Theron joined her and she stopped caring; she could draw the wrath of everyone in the building and it would be worth it.

When they’d finally calmed down, Marii’s sides and cheeks ached in the best way, and the air was clear of the awkwardness that had tried so hard to settle over them. Theron laid much closer now, only a handful of centimeters of ludicrous red silk sheets between them, his head propped up on one hand as he stared down at her with amusement still dancing in his eyes.

“Anything I should know?” he asked in a loud whisper, like they were at risk of being caught up past curfew. “Do you snore? Talk in your sleep?”

“I’ve never had any complaints.” Granted, the only sources she would’ve had were her bunkmates as a youngling and Kira in the early days on the Wayfaring Stranger when the ship felt too empty with just them and Teeseven. Semantics. “You?”

“I hog the blankets.”

She poked him lightly in the chest, pushing just enough to make him lean slightly on his one-armed perch. “I’d like to see you try, spy boy.”

He rocked back toward her, a tiny bit closer than before, and all the humor abruptly drained from his face. Her first instinct was that she'd accidentally hurt him, or that he simply didn't want to be touched. She started to apologize, but the words died on her lips at the look he gave her as soon as she opened her mouth.

It wasn’t the first time he’d looked at her like that, quiet and intense with something akin to hunger darkening his eyes. No doubt her expression was similar. It didn’t happen often enough that she’d gotten up the nerve to address it, but often enough that it was clearly more than incidental. That it meant something.

Normally this was when Kira would call, or an urgent message from Lana or Major Jorgan would arrive. But they weren’t here now to interrupt.

And, it turned out, they didn’t have to be. Among Theron’s many talents, one of them was apparently self-sabotage. Marii could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard, then he forced a smile and leaned back to put a little distance between them. It didn’t really help. “We should, uh, we should probably get some sleep. Before the next disaster arrives.”

We don’t have to. The words wouldn’t make it past the lump in her throat. There was a line there, the width of a lightsaber and shaped suspiciously like his family name, that she wasn’t ready to cross. Yet. Instead, she said, “I guess so.” She was thankful her disappointment wasn’t audible in her voice. “Good night, Theron.”

“Good night, Marii.”

The bed was still too big and too soft, the silk sheets clinging to her clothes, but Marii felt safe here, somehow. That, combined with the exhaustion of the day, dragged her into unconsciousness faster than she would’ve normally expected. She slept deep and dreamless, and awoke the next morning a few minutes before their alarm went off.

Theron hadn’t stolen the blankets in the night, but he had stolen half of her pillow, sprawled carelessly across the bed while somehow managing not to crowd her. His hair was a mess, spiked up at odd angles, and in the morning light (such as it was on Nar Shaddaa) the bruise over his eye was the same burgundy as the sheets.

Her stomach did a funny little flip at the sight. He was without a doubt the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, even like this. Maybe especially like this.

A shrill beep from Theron’s datapad signaled that it was time to get up. He groaned and fumbled with his wrist comm until the noise stopped, then buried his face in the pillow. Marii watched with undisguised amusement as it slowly dawned on him where he was and that he wasn’t alone.

He finally rolled over enough to look her way, squinting as if the bit of light they had was still too bright. He gave her a lazy grin. “Hey.”

“Good morning.”

He groaned again and rolled over onto his back. “How’s my hair?” he asked, as if there wasn’t a mirror directly overhead that he could consult about it.

“Never better.” She brushed her hand over the remnants of his mohawk, attempting to either flatten it the rest of the way or tidy it up. It refused to do either. “No, really. It’s cute.”

“I don’t believe you, but I’ll take it.”

As quickly as possible, they got dressed and snuck out of the hotel. They didn’t talk much on the drive back, keeping a wary eye out for anyone following them. It looked like they’d managed to escape reinforcements, at least for now.

They parted ways as soon as they stepped into the familiar confines of the safehouse, Theron heading for the workstation to check on their Revanite trackers and Marii heading to the kitchen to scrounge up something for breakfast. 

She started the caf pot with a wave of her hand, then dug through the fridge to find something she could eat. Doc must’ve stopped by and dropped off groceries - a passive-aggressive effort to make them all stop only eating junk food and takeout - so she grabbed the carton of eggs and an armful of vegetables that wouldn’t require too much chopping and took them over to the counter.

Kira leaned against the cabinets next to her, a knowing smirk on her face as she watched her muddle her way through cooking. “How was the honeymoon suite, boss?” 

Marii tried to stifle her reaction, but she knew it was futile; her partner would be able to feel her alarm through their bond. She chose not to say anything and just scowled at her half-cooked omelet.

Kira’s face lit with a delighted grin. “Are you serious? That’s a smoother move than I would’ve expected from him. Good on you, spy boy.” Theron was thankfully both too far away and too distracted by work to hear her.

Marii glanced over her shoulder anyway, just in case he’d moved into the kitchen and she hadn’t noticed. “Nothing happened,” she muttered.

“His loss.” Kira stared toward the living room where Theron was having a conversation with the droids - or possibly being yelled at by them, if the indignant beeping was any indication. “Want me to get some more Revanites to chase you around town? Maybe second time’s the charm.”

“I feel like there’s got to be an easier way.” Like talking to him about it, but thankfully that wasn’t the kind of suggestion Kira would make. Too obvious, and she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to eavesdrop. “But thanks for the support.”

She shrugged. “What’re friends for?” 

Kira didn’t say anything else as Marii finished cooking, but she could tell she wanted to. Only when the omelets were done (a little brown in places, but serviceable) and plated did she grab her by the elbow and pull her down closer to her height so she could talk quietly. “As a fellow Jedi, I’m required to remind you that romantic attachment is against the rules. But as your friend…” she glanced over Marii’s shoulder pointedly, and there was no doubt who she was looking at, “don’t let him get away, Mar.”

Theron stepped into the kitchen before she could reply, closing a holocall on his wrist comm as he approached them.

“Hey.” He looked like he was about to say more, but he stopped, glancing back and forth between the two Jedi suspiciously. “What’d I miss?”

Kira just laughed and walked away with her breakfast.

Marii handed him a cup of caf and an omelet. She nudged his shoulder with hers as she walked past him to the dining table. “I’ll tell you later.”

[lesbianrobin]

hi bestie can u rank the st characters most to least likely to commit vehicular manslaughter

hey bestie i love u <3 here u go!!

1. nancy. i feel this needs no explanation. nancy’s hit the same exact pole in the hawkins high parking lot three times and still doesn’t understand why steve wouldn’t let her drive his car while they were dating. jonathan doesn’t let her drive his car either and she’s like what the fuck it’s already a piece of shit what am i gonna do to it and he’s like nancy if you wreck it i Literally can’t afford to fix it and she’s like well i’m NOT GONNA WRECK IT and then the next day she borrows her mom’s car to go to barnes and noble and she hits a weird speed bump while going 70 in a 45 and later when she sees a story about a hit and run on the news she’s like wow that’s so terrible!!! can’t believe people these days smh 🙄

2. hopper. he drives drunk and we all think we’re doing him a favor by turning a blind eye but actually we’re just enabling him and one day he’s gonna do something he can’t take back and we’ll all be personally responsible for the tragedy because we didn’t have the balls to say something. we’ll face our judgment in hell.

3. joyce. she can barely even see over the wheel. she also regularly applies mascara while drinking coffee and eating a burrito and adjusting the radio all at once. she does this while going like 80 mph. hopper would cover it up for her though <3

4. erica. she Definitely can’t see over the wheel and she would still try to drive anyway. steve would take the fall for her but his daddy’s money would keep him out of jail so she wouldn’t even feel too guilty about it.

5. dustin. prone to panic. probably closes his eyes whenever he makes a risky turn. definitely turned onto an offramp one time and just screamed about it before pulling an insane u-turn that nearly caused a ten-car pileup. once again steve would take the fall except dustin would feel INCREDIBLY guilty about it and probably blow the whole thing by telling the truth and then steve would get tried for perjury rather than vehicular manslaughter.

6. will. we all know gay people can’t drive. i think will specifically is too confident in his driving for his actual degree of ability like he wholeheartedly thinks he’s a good driver even though he tailgates people all the time and gets like five speeding tickets within a year of getting his license and has to go to a safe driving course at the community college so his license won’t get confiscated. however i think he’s probably more likely to rear-end people and get into small fender benders that drive up his insurance payments than he is to commit vehicular manslaughter.

7. mike. he seems like he’d be a pretty average driver tbh and i don’t think he’d ever drive drunk or anything so he’s pretty unlikely to commit vehicular manslaughter. shit happens though!! i also think he’d be one of those bitches who gets a little Too into his music while he’s driving and he prioritizes acting out the music video in his head over checking his mirrors. unlikely to commit vehicular manslaughter though he just sometimes Almost kills himself and everyone in the car but he catches it just in time and then for the next ten minutes he drives with both hands on the wheel and his jaw clenched in silence while his music continues to blare so loud that he can barely even hear the engine.

8.  steve. he’s the designated chauffeur for all of his friends and i think he’s probably been driving since he was like twelve. i just get that vibe like he has an uncle or something who owns a lot of empty land so he grew up driving around way before he was legally allowed to do so. he’s a pretty good driver. however he DID hit somebody with a car on purpose because the situation called for it and while i don’t think he’d drive under the influence he might drive with a head injury which leaves a narrow possibility for vehicular manslaughter.

9.  lucas. pretty low odds on vehicular manslaughter. he seems like he’d be a responsible driver although he might sometimes speed or fuck around with the wheel and swerve a bit on purpose to mess with whoever’s riding with him. he only does this on empty country roads. he might hit somebody with a car on purpose if the situation called for it though because that’s what heroes do.

10. jonathan. he’ll be damned if he has to stop his car to be polite to a cop and then pay them money afterward. he’d rather go 30 in a 45 than get a ticket and beyond that he drives will around all the time and it’s very important to him that he’s a good influence so he tries not to play chicken with yellow lights even though he wants to. extremely low odds of vehicular manslaughter.

11. max. this is going to be controversial but i think that despite being a speed demon and probably being one of those bitches who slides across four lanes at once she’s genuinely a good driver once she’s like tall enough to reach the pedals. like she’s VERY confident and cocky in her driving ability but it’s earned. she can parallel park in one smooth movement and not even break a sweat. everyone who ever rides with her is afraid for their life at Some point but she never actually gets close to getting into an accident.

12. robin. okay i KNOW she’d be a godawful driver but hear me out: you can’t commit vehicular manslaughter if you never drive. if she can’t make steve drive her somewhere, she just bikes instead. one time he tries to help her get over her driving anxiety by practicing in a parking lot and driving through downtown hawkins but she gets scared once they go over 30mph and slams on the breaks and steve hits his head on the dash and he says it’s fine and they can try again but she refuses. 

13. el. i will not take any criticism on this. when she kills it’s on purpose. el would never be caught dead committing vehicular manslaughter.

[lokicat5]

Adventures in Jedi-Sitting

Okay guys, look, I’m sorry about this.

This is my first original post, so I hope you like it! This was supposed to be a response to a star wars post about a slice-of-life show (that I know I’ve reblogged before), but Tumblr just wouldn’t reblog it. And besides, it was long enough anyway, so, I made it into my own post! This is like the first thing I’ve properly, actually, physically written, so I’m sorry (and I’d really appreciate some feedback on it)! I just got into a flow, and I really think an “Adventures in Babysitting” episode would be awesome, because, who doesn’t need to see Cody and Rex dying inside over watching a bunch of little Jedi kids? It’s not very refined, and I haven’t worked out EVERY detail yet, so if you have any ideas for one of the things I’ve left vague or not really explained, feel free to comment or reblog (or message me, I don’t know how Tumblr works lol). Anyway, I hope you like it, this took me like 3-4 hours to write :) 

 Warning: It’s kinda long-ish. That’s it. Enjoy! :D

Okay, so it starts like this...

Anakin or Obi-wan have been assigned to look after younglings for a day, and are taking them on a “field trip” of some kind, possibly an educational one. I’m kinda thinking they’ll stay near/on Coruscant maybe? Idk. And like for some reason they bring Cody and Rex, maybe just as a safeguard or something, or as an extra pair of adults so that the two MatureTM Jedi aren’t outnumbered vastly by smol Jedi.

But then something comes up, and Anakin and Obi-wan are needed somewhere because of an emergency. They don’t want to leave the kids, but they don’t have enough time to bring the kids back to the temple. Then Cody proposes, “We could watch them, sirs.” and Obi-wan looks skeptical, as does Anakin, but Rex agrees with Cody and says, “oh go on sirs, we’ll be fine, they’re just a bunch of kids.” And Obi-wan and Anakin share a dubious look because “just a bunch of kids” with Force powers could be more of an issue than even the two most capable clones people they know can handle. And these kids are pretty young, too, but still really powerful, and there’s no back up, just the two of them. But they reassure the Jedi that they’ll be fine and it’ll be a good experience. At one point Rex is like, “Really, we’ve got this. I mean, we’ve had enough experience looking after the two of you,” and they finally get the two to give in (it was an emergency after all, so time is of the essence).

And once the Jedi are gone, the chaos fun begins.

It starts of smoothly enough, but then they can’t find one of the kids when they go to give them healthy snacks (provided by the Temple), and it all goes downhill from there. Chaos ensues, and one of the kids lifts Rex and Cody into the air, who watch helplessly as the kids start grabbing all the sugary snacks they can find and escape. Cody’s like “We... should probably call the Generals” but Rex is like “No! We can do this, besides, they’re busy.” They eventually get dropped once the kids are far enough away, and now they’re frantically looking for a little group of extremely small, Force-sensitive children, and Cody’s just like “can we call them NOW!?” and Rex is like “No! And see, there they are!” and they have to get the kids out of some tight spot, but while defending the kids they run off again and steal a speeder, and they’re all working together to drive it. They nearly get away, but Rex and Cody realize they’re gone - “Hey, where’d they go NOW?” - and manage to catch them, almost getting run over then dropped off the speeder in the process.

*cut to a battle scene with Obi-wan and Anakin fighting some droids side by side* 

O: Do you think Rex and Cody are doing all right with the kids?

A: I’m sure they’re fine.

*cut back to Rex and Cody, screaming and holding onto the back of the speeder for dear life, trying not to fall off, while the kids are driving too fast the wrong way, head on into rush-hour traffic*

Cody’s like “WE SHOULD HAVE CALLED THE GENERALS!!!” and Rex is like “THIS WAS YOUR IDEA CODY! AND BESIDES, WE’RE FINE! THE GENERALS TRUSTED US SO WE HAVE TO DO THIS OURSELVES!” and Cody’s all like “THIS IS SOOO NOT FINE” but they manage to get back into the speeder. Unfortunately, Anakin picks this perfect moment to check in on Rex to see how they’re doing. Rex and Cody are panicking because “We can’t answer that NOW!” but they also can’t not answer it either, so Rex just kinda motions for Cody to take the steering away from the kids and he answers the comm.

And Anakin’s like “Hey Rex, how’s it going with the kids?” And Rex is watching Cody trying to wrestle with the steering as one of the more stubborn kids uses the Force to keep driving, and he’s like “Everything’s going great, sir.” Anakin’s like “They aren’t giving you too much trouble are they? Those ones were supposed to be a particularly rowdy bunch.” Rex nearly drops the comm while lunging to grab a kid who, now bored, is trying to climb out the sides of the speeder, and he’s like “No sir, no trouble. They’re practically perfect little angels.” Personally, Rex decides this is more stressful than some battles he’s been in, though Cody swerving the vehicle while trying to get back to the right side of traffic feels familiar enough. Anakin’s voice comes back over the comm. “Well, Obi-wan and I are just about finished here, so we’ll be on our way back as soon as we notify the locals that their Separatist problem has been dealt with.” Rex has a fresh wave of panic wash over him, but he manages a “Very good sir, can’t wait to see you.” That’s partly true, as he’s very ready to return custody of the kids to Anakin. But just as he’s responding, Cody swerves to avoid another vehicle, which honks loudly, and the kids all laugh and cheer. Anakin sounds suspicious when he asks “Rex... what was that?” And Rex just dies. “U-uh, nothing sir. Just playing a game with them sir. Uh, got another call coming in sir, sorry sir, glad the mission went, well, can’t wait to see you!” Anakin’s like “Rex-” but Rex keys off the comm and turns to Cody, who’s gotten them back in the right lane at last. “Cody, the Generals are coming back and we have NO IDEA WHAT WE”RE DOING!” Cody’s like “I TOLD you we should’ve called someone!” And Rex gets an idea. He swoops to grab another kid, then keys back on the comm and makes the call.

When they get the speeder back to wherever their starting place had been, Ahsoka’s already there, waiting by her speeder-bike. She may not be part of the Order anymore, but Rex still calls her for advice every once in a while, and even just to say hi. They park the speeder and she walks over, shaking her head. Cody’s like, “Thank you for coming to help, General,” and she can see he really means it. The kids are still in the speeder, mostly piled on Rex, who looks at her and mouths “HELP”. She grins and says, “Rex sounded desperate, and by the looks of it, you definitely needed some help. How did you two even get in this mess?” She picks up two of the kids, and Cody picks up two more, unburying Rex enough to get out to help the last three. Rex sighs and says “It’s a long story...”

So they explain to Ahsoka what they did while she shakes her head at some parts, and she helps them set the kids back in the main area of the compound where they started. “You really let them eat (insert alternative to candy here)? That’s your first mistake.” and Rex (indignantly) says “We didn’t LET them do anything! They picked us up and floated us to the ceiling and then took the stuff themselves!” and Ahsoka’s laughing, but so are Rex and Cody and they’re watching the kids playing together and they realize they seriously like these kids.

By the time they’ve finished their tale (”...then we were back here, and, well, you know the rest.”), the kids are all tired out, and Ahsoka helps tuck them into their little rest nooks in the compound’s wall. Rex is just like, “how do you do this?” and she’s like “First: I’ve dealt with younglings before, and second: they’re just kids. There IS more to life than the war. When it’s over, life’ll go back to normal.” She grins at him, and says “It’ll be fine Rex. Besides, it’ll get easier as they get older. They lose most of this chaotic energy eventually.” Rex grins back and says, “What, like you?” and they’re laughing again, but quietly because the kids are still sleeping. Rex thinks of Cut’s family, and finds himself wondering about after the war, and if he could babysit Cut’s kids... Ahsoka walks to the door and stops, looking back as Cody and Rex follow her. “I should probably get out of here before Anakin and Obi-wan get back, and besides, the owner of this speeder will probably be wanting it back. We don’t want you two getting arrested, after all.” They both thank her as she takes the speeder back to its owner, her bike attached to the side, and they both wave as she disappears from sight.

About a minute later, they hear the sounds of a small ship landing outside, and are greeted momentarily by Obi-wan and Anakin. Obi-wan looks skeptical as he enters, glancing around the main room suspiciously. “The two of you survived!” Anakin says, grinning. “We did sir,” Rex says tiredly. It’s been a very long day. “The children weren’t too much trouble, I hope?” Obi-wan asks. “Oh no sir, they were fine,” Cody replies. “They were downright peaceful, for kids. Or Jedi for that matter. Easier than taking out a row of clankers.” Obi-wan and Anakin trade a dubious look, but they thankfully don’t mention the sounds they heard over Rex’s comm. “Well, I’m glad to hear that Cody. But, um...” he trails off, and the two clones feel their hopes sinking. Here it comes, they both think. “It’s very quiet in here, and I daresay a little too quiet. Where are the children?” Obi-wan asks. He sounds a little worried, and Anakin’s grin slips a little as he realizes the same thing. Rex and Cody both relax though. Relieved, Cody replies .“They’re sleeping sir.” Obi-wan’s eyebrows go up. “Sleeping?” Cody points down the hall behind them to the room with the sleeping nooks, and the two Jedi go and poke their heads in to find 7 little Jedi, tucked in and fast asleep. Obi-wan’s smiling as he walks back to them, and he says “I don’t know how you did it, but I’m very impressed, you two.” Both Rex and Cody practically glow with that, and they both say “Thank you sir” in unison, then smile at each other. “Wow,” Anakin remarks, “you both look really worn out though.” Cody can only nod, while Rex manages a “Yes sir.” Obi-wan and Anakin look at each other, then come to a silent agreement. “Sleepover!” Anakin yells, pumping his fist. They all shush him, and he looks apologetic as he whisper-shouts “Sleepover!” Both clones fall asleep where they’re sitting within two minutes, a small “Thank you sirs” coming from both of them. They look like they’re guarding the children, and Obi-wan and Anakin think it’s a very heartwarming sight. The two Jedi bring in extra blankets and pillows from the ship, and they make their friends comfortable before falling asleep themselves, the kids still snoring in the other room.

As they disembark from the ship the next morning, tiny Jedi troublemakers swarming around their legs, Cody and Rex feel a mix of relief and regret. Relief, because they won’t have to chase them all over Coruscant anymore, having panic attacks of every kind while trying to cause as little damage as possible and protect their tiny fragile lives. Regret, because they’ll miss the little troublemakers (no matter how hard they try to convince themselves they won’t). While their Generals are speaking to the Jedi usually in charge of the children, Rex thinks about how the last 24 hours compares to following Anakin with the rest of the 501st. He was struck by how similar their adventure was to an average day with the older Jedi, following them into dangerous situations, protecting them and doing as little damage as possible, as well as cleaning up the mess afterwards. Even calling in reinforcements was a familiar move, and he found himself smiling at the thought of these tiny Jedi leading a group of clones into battle. He also found himself fervently hoping that the war was over before they had to face that, but he swore that he’d follow them into battle himself if it meant he could protect them. They all swarmed him and Cody for hugs, and they once again found themselves buried in a pile of kids, before they ran off back to the adults, calling out “Bye! Bye!” as they ran. Obi-wan and Anakin walked back towards them and boarded the ship, having finished their conversation, and Rex and Cody followed them. Rex paused at the top of the ramp though, and turned to look back. The kids were still calling out their goodbyes as they disappeared into the temple, and they waved to him. He waved back to them, and heard Anakin call “Rex!” 

And as the ramp closed behind him, he knew that they would turn out to be amazing Jedi indeed.

[silverhallow]

In your Wildest Dreams AU, Ben rides a motorcycle (apologies if this gets too sad but for some reason my brain just went there) - is Sophie ever involved in an accident/get hurt while on the bike?

haha it's fine, don't worry about it, my brain regularly goes there.

I had considered writing this but as the Motorbikes are a connection to Ben's father, and the thing he used to do with him in the garage when they weren't outside, I didn't want to ruin it for them.

there was a close call when if it wasn't for Ben's quick thinking and reactions, they would have ended up in the back of a tractor on the way to My Cottage when a bloke decided to just pull out in front of them from a country lane without stopping.

Benedict's never heard Sophie swear as much in his life...

(oh look, a little drabble at less than 1000 words hahaha)

It had been a really easy journey, it was just a weekend away and Sophie had begged him to take the motorbike, they had clothes and they had everything they needed at their cottage and in the end it didn't take much begging... he wanted a weekend away as much as she did.

So when Sophie finished work on the Friday lunchtime (the perks of being the boss), she changed into her motorcycle gear, made her way through the Bridgerton Enterprise's offices and met her fiancée at the front steps, his helmet resting in his lap as he sat on the bike, his hair floppy from the helmet, contacts on and looking like a modern day prince charming "Hey beautiful" he said, completely unaware of the women, and men, staring at him.

His smile wide and radiant as Sophie practically skipped down the steps and reached the bike, tiptoeing up to give him a searing kiss. "Hey yourself" she grinned

"ready to go?” he asked her with a lopsided smile.

“Always” she grinned, jamming her helmet onto her head with an eagerness that made Benedict chuckle, wondering if she would ever get over the excitement of being on the motorbike. He hoped not.

He held his hand out and Sophie climbed onto the bike, wrapping her arms around his waist, and holding on as the Motorbike roared into life and they were away.

London on a Motorbike was easy, he was able to drive directly down the middle of the traffic and soon they were out of the smog and the polluted air and both instantly felt relaxed.

The country did that to them.

They were country people at heart but they loved their family, they wanted to be close to their family and their jobs were based in London and so London is where they would stay.

As they moved further away from the urban surroundings and closer to the green and picturesque setting of their country escape, it was like all their troubles and problems and stresses melted away.

It had been an easy journey and they were but two miles away from their Cottage, just a left turn…

“FUCK” Benedict cried as he gave the bike a sudden jerking movement, thankfully he was the most careful driver out of all the Bridgerton’s, his years on a motorbike had meant he had learned to read the road better than any of his siblings and sensed danger…

He had slowed down, thankfully, as they came towards a bend with an enclosed entrance and he had never been so pleased he had, as the moment they rounded the corner, a tractor pulled out of the cut.

Completely ignoring the GIVE WAY sign at the entrance and had come straight over their side of the road and if he hadn’t have slowed down and swerved, nearly upending the bike into the hedgerow, they would have plowed straight into it and that was a fight that they would not have walked away from.

His heart in his mouth he pulled the bike to a stop, not after tooting the horn on his bike, flashing the lights, swearing with his fingers and verbally but he had to stop, he was shaking too much and he turned around and all he could hear was a stream of invectives coming from his petite and usually polite fiancée that would have made a sailor blush as she pulled her helmet off.

Fury like he had never seen it before in her eyes, her face flush with red hot anger “what the fuck was he doing, what an absolute fucking wanker! He could have killed us!” she screeched, her own body shaking.

“Soph…” Benedict said pulling his own helmet off but she was off on a rant and tangent about road safety, about responsible drivers, about how he needed glasses “SOPH” he said putting his hands on her arms and shaking her. “Are you alright??”

“What… yes, i’m furious but i’m fine… are you alright?” she said, looking at him, his slightly pale face

“Yeah that was just… a bit…”

“Too close for comfort?” she added.

Benedict swallowed and Sophie leaned forward and kissed him softly. “Thanks to your quick thinking we are fine… now, we shall sit for a moment or two then we will head to our cottage, we are but a few minutes away are we not? We shall not let that tosser ruin our weekend…” she said, her head turning to look at the sign at the farm

“Soph… you are not going to go to the farm and shout at the farmer” he said

“Well I can’t at this very moment, he is not at home…” she said

“You are not going to later on…” he said

“I could…” she said

“I assure you darling, you are going to be far too busy to do that… and i plan on making us both forget this incident as soon as we get to the cottage”

Sophie smirked wickedly “promises, promises”

“Promises I fully intend on delivering” he said, his own eyes devilish and wicked.

Promises he did deliver on and as they drove back that way on Sunday afternoon, Sophie had quite forgotten she wanted to go give that farmer a piece of her mind.

[randomstupidchaos]

So I’m tipsy and was watching true crime stuff for a while there and there was an episode about Mickey Shunick and it’s giving me flashbacks of something that happened to me 5 years ago.

So Mickey Shunick was biking home at night. She had a light on her bike. She was aware of her surroundings. She had taken this route many times before. This guy in a truck saw her and decided to stalk her. He hit her bike with his truck, grabbed her, then later killed her.

I only got my license in 2015, and didn’t get a car until 2016. For about 5 years a bike was my primary means of commuting to and from work, which meant I was riding a bike in all weather at all times of day.

I was TERRIFIED of cars while I was biking. 

You do not know how many times people swerved toward me, or were unaware of wtf was going on. I was almost hit by inattentive drivers at least 4 times. I was very, very much aware of the fragility of my bike and myself compared to cars, so I was hyper aware of my surroundings at all times. My bike had 3 reflectors, my helmet had two, my pannier had 2, and my bike had 4 different lights on it to alert drivers to my presence.

I need you to know this because what happened that night happened in spite of everything I did to protect myself.

So when I moved to NY I worked at a local Panera, and often worked the closing shift. This meant I was usually at the store at 11:30PM or later. Despite this, I was wary of cars so I mapped out the safest way for me to go home. My route took me across a well-lit and monitored grocery store parking lot, through a large car dealership (lots of cameras, well-lit, no through-traffic), past said dealership again, then only a short bike past multiple homes and businesses to my apartment. Despite all this, I was still always on edge when I went home.

So.

I’m biking home on this night. It is roughly 11:45PM. I leave work through the back door where my bike is (there is a camera; I move quickly because there are no people there and it is dark), and travel through the grocery store parking lot. 

A red truck drives by while I cross from the grocery store to the car dealership.  The road between the car dealership and the grocery store is a straight shot to a main thoroughfare, so my route is out of the way but ends up at the same place. It takes me about 3 minutes to bike from the entryway of the dealership to the exit at the other end of that road. 

About 3/4 of the way through the dealership, I hear a vehicle come up behind me so I move all the way to the right so I will not be hit. 

The red truck goes blaring by, revving its engine, with three guys inside. This, naturally, scares the shit out of me. The truck turns left at the light and and turns right onto the main thoroughfare and I am shaken but more irritated than afraid because the truck left, right?

I’m nearly at the end of my ride through the dealership. I hear a vehicle behind me. An engine revs. The same red truck comes up behind me. There are three men inside. They rev their engine, catcall me, and keep pace with my biking. The truck moves ahead and swerves into my lane. I slow down to give the truck room and am wracking my brain trying to think of what I have on hand that I can use as a fucking weapon right now. 

The truck speeds off through the red light and I bike the rest of the way home absolutely terrified. 

These bastards went OUT OF THEIR WAY to scare me that night. I often wonder what might have happened if I had not been in such a well-monitored area. I changed my route after that, and I did not feel safe again until I got my car later that year. 

There’s... not really a point to this post. I just wanted to tell this story that has been lurking in my brain for so long. I love biking. I ride my father’s bike because it makes me feel closer to him. This incident has stuck with me for so many years because it was utterly terrifying, and I don’t even think it sticks in those bastards’ brains at all. 

[ericsonclan]

Last Minute Date

Summary: Minnie panics as she tries to get ready for a last minute date.

Read on AO3:

Minnie could feel the stiffness in her neck. With a small yawn she slung her guitar case over her shoulder. Her gig at Ericson’s Diner was finished which meant she could just go back and fall back into her bed and let all the stresses of the day melt away. Minnie pushed open the front door of the diner and stretched out her arms when all of a sudden the sound of something sliding across the pavement drew the redhead’s attention.

There roller skating through the parking lot was Renata, humming happily when suddenly she looked over at Minnie. Her eyes instantly brightened up. Without warning Renata started to skate faster, her skates zooming across the pavement with ease while she pulled something out of her pocket. Not stopping for a second, Renata rolled by, tossing a note towards her girlfriend. A playful smile was on her face as she gave a flirtatious wink.

Minnie took a step back in shock, her hands fumbling around to catch the note. When she had successfully unfolded it she saw the words Your place, dinner, 8 PM written in Renata’s pretty handwriting. A smile pulled on the corners of the redhead’s lips when a thought entered her mind.“Wait! Renata! Am I cooking dinner?” Minnie called out to her girlfriend but she was already too far away, hopping slightly to help her turn a corner with a happy giggle. Minnie shook her head good-naturedly.

Life was never boring with Renata. I’m not the best at cooking, Minnie stared at the spot where Renata had disappeared. But maybe if I have enough time I could make something good. Minnie glanced down at her phone, a small pit of anxiety forming in her stomach. It was already a quarter to seven. Was there even anything in the fridge that she could use for dinner? What the hell was she going to cook?

“Hey, Minnie!” Sophie’s voice appeared behind Minnie, causing her to nearly jump.

“Shit. Oh, it’s just you Sophie,” Minnie held a hand to her chest.

“Yeah, it’s just me. Sorry,” Sophie fidgeted with her hat, an apologetic smile on her face. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What are you doing? Doesn’t your shift end at eight?” Minnie glanced over at Sophie who swung her arms to stretch and bring some life to them.

“Not on Fridays. My shift ends around six thirty. Snuck into the kitchen and Omar was kind enough to spare a burger,” Sophie rubbed her belly, a serene smile on her face at the memory of the burger she had eaten only minutes ago. “So I’m set for dinner. Since Mom and Dad are away for the next couple days and Tenn’s having a sleepover with Willy and AJ at Clem’s house, I guess that leaves you to find dinner for yourself.” Sophie gave a sympathetic pat to her twin’s back.

“Oh fuck! Dinner,” Minnie let out a sad groan. She had been so distracted by her sister’s sudden presence that the last minute dinner date with Renata had slipped her mind.

“What’s wrong?” Sophie leaned forward and caught the worry in her sister’s eyes.

“It’s just,” Minnie sighed, “Renata threw this at me,” She held the piece of paper in between two of her fingers.

Sophie snatched it and quickly read it then glanced down at her watch. “If we take your car, we can grab a few quick ingredients at the store and still be able to make dinner.” Sophie jogged over to the bike rack and picked her bike up, lifting it up and toting it over towards the car. Minnie ran over and opened the car, placing her guitar gently in the backseat before opening the back of the car for Sophie to chuck her bike in. Sophie slammed the back of the car shut and jumped into the shotgun seat, slamming on her seatbelt. “Alright, to the store!” Sophie pointed forward with a big smile. Minnie nodded and put the key in the ignition, turning it and bringing her car to life.

Luckily the store wasn’t too far from the diner and soon the twins were pushing along a shopping cart that had a squeaky wheel. “So, what are you confident about cooking?” Sophie’s eyes wandered the many aisles of the store.

“Shit, ummm...” Minnie’s mind wandered; she didn’t want to halfass dinner, but she also knew that she couldn't cook something special with the limited time. “How about… spaghetti?”

“Sounds good. First let’s move towards aisle five. It has the pasta.” Sophie swerved the cart and directed the way towards the spaghetti noodles. Once they had grabbed those they moved to grab some sauce, parmesan cheese, garlic, onions and ground beef. When all the essentials were gathered the twins moved towards the checkout.

“Wait,” Sophie let go off the cart and darted towards a stand, sliding to a stop and snatching up the last of the garlic bread. Jogging over she threw it into the cart. “Alrighty! All set?”

Minnie’s eyes looked at the cart then back at the different aisles. “I’m gonna grab a few drinks.” She ran over towards aisle seven and stopped by the brand of Jamaica soda that she knew Renata loved. Grabbing a container of six she ran back to the cart. They didn’t have much more time. As soon as she got back they moved to the express lane and checked out within minutes. Sophie grabbed all the bags while Minnie carefully carried the container of drinks. Her hand rummaged for the key. After hearing the soft beeping sound of her car unlocking and getting safely into the car they were off.

“I’ll get the water for the pasta going,” Sophie disappeared into the kitchen with the groceries. The sisters worked well together, getting the kitchen set in minutes. Soon the pasta was thrown into the boiling water and the meat was cooking. It seemed like everything would work. Sophie felt her phone buzz against her pocket. She looked to see that it was Marlon and in one fluid movement answered it and walked out of the kitchen.

“Hey, babe,” Sophie’s tone sounded even happier than usual whenever she talked with Marlon. She paced back and forth, her hand playing with a strand of hair as she listened to her boyfriend talk. “Yeah, I’m free tomorrow.” Her smile grew as the conversation continued. “Sure, laser tag sounds fun. We’re totally gonna kick Mitch and Brody’s asses! They’d better watch out!” A confident smirk appeared on the redhead’ lips. All of a sudden she heard Minnie swearing frantically in the kitchen. “Gotta go, babe, love you.”

Sophie hung up and shoved her phone in her back pocket, dashing over to the kitchen. Her eyes grew large as she saw the water for the pasta boiling over and splashing against the stove. The flames crackled each time the water hit. But Minnie’s attention was drawn elsewhere - to the pan that held the sauce and meat which was fuming with burnt pieces of meat. A thin grey trail of smoke travelled up to the overhead fans that were trying their best to dispel it. “Minnie, what-” Sophie asked, noticing the panic in her twin’s eyes.

“I don’t know! I just… something went wrong!!” Minnie glanced over towards Sophie before turning off the burners on the stove, putting on oven mitts and draining the pasta water.

“Yeah,” Sophie waved the air in front of her face. “That much is clear.” She saw Minnie’s face fall at those words. “But I’m sure it’s still tasty. In fact,” Sophie opened a cupboard and pulled out a small plate, piling on a hearty serving of the spaghetti. Twirling her fork in the meal, she pulled up a large forkful of spaghetti and shoved it in her mouth.

Sophie’s bright optimistic smile faltered as soon as she bit down on the food. The noodles were beyond mushy, tasting almost like paste while the sauce had a strong burnt taste to it. The cindered meat bits within the sauce only worsened the taste. Her face turned somewhat sour as she swallowed the bite before returning to its usual chill state. “Wow,” Sophie covered her mouth with her hand. “So good,” She lied through her teeth. “I’m gonna go finish this in the bathroom.” Sophie held up the plate and didn’t wait for Minnie’s response before disappearing down the hall.

“Fuck,” Minnie placed her hands on the kitchen counter and glared at the food she had just massacred. There was no way in hell she could serve this to Renata. But what was she going to do? How much time did she have? Minnie’s eyes wandered over to the clock that hung over the dining room table. Her eyes widened in horror as she watched the big clock hand land on the twelve as the small hand stood on the eight. It was too late. Any minute now Renata would be skipping towards the front door, excited for a dinner date. Only to be surprised with a shitty, inedible dinner.

Minnie wondered if she could quickly fry up something else when the doorbell rang, causing her heart to fall to her feet. She saw out of one of the front windows that Renata was at the front door, excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet. She had a cute bright yellow top on, a pink flower tucked behind her ear and jeans that seemed to add to her attractiveness. Minnie glanced down at her white t-shirt and ripped jeans. The thought of dressing up for the date hadn’t even crossed her mind. Fuck, she was going to give Renata a bad date… maybe even food poisoning with how fast Sophie had ran off after eating her food. Minnie opened the door with a forced smile, trying to push down the nerves in her body.

“Hey, Ren.”

“Minnie!” Renata got up on her tiptoes and captured the redhead’s lips in a short kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through Minnie’s body. When they pulled apart, Renata had a playful smile on her face. “Ready for the date?”

“Yeah,” Minnie answered, her mind in a bit of a haze as she moved back to let Renata in. It wasn’t until her girlfriend was on her way towards the kitchen that Minnie snapped out of her haze. “Shit. Wait,” Minnie ran after Renata who smelled the air with curiosity.

“Hmm, were you cooking something, Min? It smells interesting,” Renata flashed a smile back at her girlfriend.

“Don’t eat it,” Minnie ran forward, covering her failure of spaghetti from her girlfriend. But hiding it away only made Renata seem more interested in it.

“Why not?”

“It’s bad. Like really bad.”

“Oh, come on,” Renata sneaked past her girlfriend and snagged up some spaghetti on one of the plates that was set out. “It can’t be that bad,” Renata bit down with a “num” sound only to immediately spit it out with a long bleh.

“I knew it. I was just trying to make dinner and I totally fucked up.”

“Well it wasn’t good, but we can just make dinner together,” Renata smiled up at Minnie. “That was the original plan anyway.”

“Wait? It was? That wasn’t clear in your note.” Minnie looked over at Renata who had her head in the fridge.

“Well,” Renata popped her head out from behind the fridge door. “We can still salvage dinner. So how about it?”

“Yeah,” Minnie smiled and moved over to the fridge. She stopped behind Renata and leaned forward to grab some ingredients. “There should still be stuff left to try to make spaghetti again.” Her mouth hovered by Renata’s ear, tickling it with her warm breath and causing a shiver to run down Renata’s spine.

“Hee, that tickles,” Renata’s giggle made Minnie move back, a light blush on her face.

“Sorry,”

“No, I liked it,” Renata grabbed Minnie’s hand and pulled her towards the stove. “Now let’s get to cooking!” Soon the couple had chosen the different tasks to complete. Minnie was in charge of the sauce while Renata kept a close eye on the noodles.

Renata hummed happily to herself, her hips swaying gently back and forth as she navigated the kitchen. Minnie felt her face heating up, becoming overwhelmed by her girlfriend’s presence. She decided to put her focus on making sure she didn’t mess up on the sauce again when she heard her girlfriend’s cheery voice.

“Minnie, can you taste if this is done?”

“Sure,” Minnie didn’t look away from the sauce and moved her head over towards where Renata stood. Her mouth grabbed the noodle and absentmindedly nibbled on it when all of a sudden she felt the warmth on Renata’s lips on hers. Minnie pulled back, nearly choking on the food in her mouth as she felt her heartbeat skyrocket.

----

Renata watched in playful amusement at her girlfriend’s flustered reaction. She always loved seeing how flustered Minnie could get. How red her face would be whenever Renata did the simplest teasing or flirting. Her eyes looked over at Minnie’s outfit. It was a simple look, yet somehow she made a plain t-shirt look like the hottest thing ever. Renata pulled herself away from her thought and glanced over at the stove. “Well, it seems like the pasta is done!” she declared before straining the pasta water from the pot.

Minnie quickly moved to turn off the heat on the sauce and after a few minutes of setting the table they were ready for dinner. As soon as she sat down Renata grabbed the container of Parmesan cheese, shaking it wildly and piling it up high on her plate.

“You sure do love parmesan cheese,” Minnie’s voice drew Renata’s attention, who smiled at her girlfriend.

“It’s what makes the spaghetti so good.” Renata then proceeded to twirl around the noodles on her fork and devour the food. The two continue to talk and eat as they enjoyed their meal when Minnie’s eyes grew large as she dropped her fork.

“I also forgot about the garlic bread!”

“There’s garlic bread?” Renata looked up with excitement. “Well, it’s never too late to throw it in.” She hopped up from her spot and was soon followed by Minnie who helped prepare the garlic bread for the oven. The two talked here and there, sharing small kisses in between the minutes while they waited for the bread to be done. As soon as the timer dinged Renata ran over and pulled out the garlic bread, completing the meal.

After a few minutes dinner was done and Renata got up, stretching her arms as she rose. “Well, I’d say we make a pretty good team. That spaghetti was tasty.”

“Yeah,” Minnie got up and started clearing the spots. “Way better than my first attempt.”

True,” Renata slid over to help carry over the dishes.

“You wash and I dry?” Renata looked back at her girlfriend with a smile.

“Oh, I can just do them myself,” Minnie scratched the back of her head with a smile.

Renata looked like she was considering the offer but Minnie already knew that she wouldn’t budge.

“Nah, come on,” Renata grabbed Minnie’s hands and guided her over to the sink. Minnie laughed while she was pulled along, a warm smile on her face. The two worked hard to get all the dishes done and within minutes they were finished.

“So,” Minnie dried her hands on a towel. “Would you like to stay for a movie?” Renata could see the nervous hope in her girlfriend’s eyes.

“I’d love to. In fact, I’ll get the popcorn started.” Renata skipped over to one of the cabinets.

“Alright, I’ll go get the back living room set up,” Minnie disappeared out of the kitchen and dashed to the back living room. It looked a bit worse for wear. Sophie wasn’t exactly the tidiest person and her influence seemed to reach the back living room. Minnie ran around grabbing trash and other random junk, kicking aside a spare bra into one of the bedrooms as she balanced the pile of trash. By time she finished cleaning up the living room and making sure her blanket that she got from Renata was back there, she heard the sound of the microwave beeping.

Within seconds Renata was sliding across the hardwood floor with a bowl of popcorn and the sixpack of Jamaica sodas. Minnie moved forward and helped carry the snack load. “Snacks are set. Saw that you had some of these bad boys,” Renata dangled the Jamaica sodas in her hand with an excited smile.

“Yeah, I picked some up just for you.”

“You’re the best,” Renata gave Minnie a quick kiss which Minnie leaned into, deepening it. Renata could feel her heart swell as the kiss turned into a longer one. The two were getting so caught up in the kiss they failed to notice their surroundings, causing Minnie to spill some of the popcorn on the floor when she backstepped too quickly. Minnie and Renata pulled away as the redhead struggled to balance the bowl in her hand.

“Oh shit,” Minnie cursed before regaining her balance.

“Five second rule,” Renata scooped up the few kernels that fell and tossed them in her mouth. “Now, what movie do you wanna watch?”

“Hmmm,” Minnie placed down the bowl in front of the spot she made for them on the couch. “I don’t know.”

“Well, got anything in your DVD player?” Renata set down the drink case and opened one, taking a large swig from it. Minnie turned on the player, pushing the eject button that revealed the hidden disc.

“Bambi.”

“Sounds good to me. Grab the remote and join me on the couch.” Renata jumped onto the couch with a happy sound. Minnie grabbed the remote and sat down on the spot that Renata was patting. As soon as Minnie sat down Renata moved closer, sitting in Minnie’s lap. Minnie seemed overwhelmed for a second but soon wrapped her arms around Renata and shifted to make sure that both of them were comfy. Minnie could smell the warm, comforting smell of cinnamon that made her heart fill with warmth. Renata moved away for a second, snatching the blanket that was on top of the couch and tossing it over them before returning to the warmth of Minnie’s embrace. There was no place quite as comfy as Minnie’s arms. Renata let out a happy sigh when her eyes wandered over to the remote that was out of both of their reaches.

“Min?”

“Hmm?”

“How are we gonna get the remote?”

Minnie looked over at the remote and was about to suggest that she just grab it before returning back to their comfortable spot when a loud belch emitted from the kitchen.

“Oh, banana.” Sophie groaned. “That tasted so nasty.”

“Sophie!” Renata’s cheery voice made Sophie poke her head out of the kitchen.

“Oh? Hi, Renata.” Sophie walked over and stood by the doorway that led into the living room. “Staying for a movie?” Sophie motioned to the TV that had the title screen to Bambi.

Yep! Wanna join us?” Renata looked up at Minnie who nodded in agreement.

“Sure,” Sophie had a chill smile on her face until she burped again, her face twisting in disgust at the taste.

“There’s a price though,” Renata had a mischievous smile on her face that made her best friend stop in her tracks. “Grab the remote and press play.”

“Sure,” Sophie picked up the remote and tapped the play button before falling down onto the other couch. The three watched in silence for the first part of the movie, enjoying all that it had to offer. Then Renata spoke up.

“I want popcorn.”

“Ok, I’ll get it,” Minnie moved forward and was about to unwrap her arms around Renata.

“No, wait,” Renata whispered. “Sophie, grab the popcorn and toss it at our faces.”

“Okay,” Sophie shrugged.

“You don’t have to-” Minnie stopped when a piece of popcorn ricocheted off her forehead and landed by Renata’s shoulder.

“Sorry, just gotta aim better,” Sophie held the next piece like she was preparing to shoot a basket and sent the popcorn flying and landing in Renata’s mouth. The two cheered happily and soon the three of them made a game of it. Some pieces landed easily while others were way off but it didn’t seem to take away from the enjoyment the trio was having.

Soon the popcorn was devoured and they had settled down, their attention back on the screen. Sophie began to doodle something on a spare piece of paper, caught up in it until she finished. When she looked over back at her sister and Renata she noticed that they had fallen asleep. Renata’s head was resting peacefully on Minnie’s collarbone, gently rising and failing with her girlfriend’s breathing. Minnie’s head rested on top of Renata’s, a happy smile on her face while they slept.

Sophie quietly grabbed another scrap of paper, careful not to wake up the sleeping couple. Sophie’s pencil scratched against the surface of the paper and after a while the small sketch of Minnie and Renata was complete. She knew both of them would love it. Sophie put the drawing by her side and returned to watching the movie as she tucked her hands behind her head. It seemed like the last minute date had turned out well after all.

[prolestariwrites]

Time To Go [2]: Dante Makes Hot Dogs And Doesn’t Get Laid

Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: M Characters: Nero, Dante, Vergil, Kyrie, Nico, Trish, Morrison Tags: Mystery, Humor, Missing Person, First Time, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Post-Canon Chapter: 2/9 Chapter [1]

Summary: When Kyrie goes missing, Nero goes on a desperate search to find her. Unfortunately, Dante and Vergil go too. Sparda boys shenanigans, fighting demons, a smattering of family drama, and male bonding (otherwise known as Nero’s worst nightmare). Please check it out below, or you can read on FFNet or AO3. Beta read by @copper-wasp.

Now posted! Chapter 2: Dante Makes Hot Dogs And Doesn't Get Laid, in which Dante and Nero get a clue to what happened to Kyrie.

━━━━━━━✧━━━━━━━

Dante can feel the tension radiating from Nero as he drives the van back towards Fortuna. The kid hadn’t said anything since Dante insisted on the keys, slouched instead in the passenger seat as he stared out the window. It had taken every last ounce of his wits to navigate the city streets—driving the van after being used to his bike felt like he might as well be driving a whale—but now that they are on the highway, he relaxes a bit and glances over.

“Still nothing?” he asks.

“The phone hasn’t rung, has it?” Nero bites back sarcastically.

Dante’s lips press together; the kid is just as sarcastic as Vergil, one of the hundred ways they are similar without meaning to be. Genes are a hell of a thing, he has come to realize, so he tries another approach. “Tell me what you did today—maybe I can help figure out what’s missing.”

Nero looks at him skeptically, but sits up a bit. “I woke up and Kyrie was gone. She uh… she slept in my room last night.” Dante glances over with his brows raised and spots the blush on Nero’s face before he turns back to the window. What was that about? “I figured she had a meeting or something, something to do. It was late enough that the kids had already left for school.

“I went downstairs and got breakfast, checked for messages, checked the mail. By lunchtime I hadn’t heard from her, so I called her cell, but she didn’t answer.”

“Was her phone in the house?”

“Huh?”

“What I said,” Dante replies. He switches lanes abruptly, sending the van rocking for a moment. “Did you check the house for her phone?”

Nero frowns. “No. But I didn’t hear it ring.”

“Could be dead. Or she doesn’t have it on her. But go on.”

Nero hesitates for a second, as if considering, and then continues, “Nico was in the garage. She said she hadn’t seen her either. I walked around a bit, went to the store, checked at the cafe she likes. Nobody saw her.”

“Nico didn’t hear her leave?”

Nero snorts. “Nico wouldn’t hear a dinosaur when she’s working in the garage.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. Would you keep your hands on the wheel?” Dante stops fixing the mirrors at Nero’s exasperated tone. “I called more people. No one had talked to her today. Then I got a phone call about somebody who needed help. It wasn’t the cops though, it was an anonymous tip. But when I got there, nobody was there.”

“That’s weird.”

Nero sighs and puts his foot up on the dashboard. “Happens sometimes. Somebody wants me to fight a demon but it clears off before I get there. When I got back home, the kids were there, but still no Kyrie. That’s when I got really worried.”

His phone rings, startling them both, and Nero nearly drops it out the window as he fumbles for it. “Yeah?” he says quickly, his shoulders tense. “No,” he growls, “we’re at least ten minutes away… No, he can’t have ice cream… For fuck’s sake, Nico, can you just handle it? Tell them to get their homework done and go to bed… I don’t know, make them sandwiches or something.”

He jabs at the screen angrily before rubbing his forehead. “God help us all if she ever becomes a mother.”

Dante snorts at that. “Yeah, she don’t seem the type.”

Nero goes back to staring out the window. He is quiet for a few minutes before he says, “If something’s happened to her—”

“She’s fine ,” Dante insists.

There is another brief silence, and Dante mulls over what to do. Nero is usually a fairly level-headed kid… at least as level-headed as a twenty-four-year-old half-devil can be. But he has a stubborn streak a mile wide and a blind spot the size of the Grand Canyon when it comes to Kyrie, so his main worry now is keeping him from doing something rash and getting his ass handed to him. He swerves a bit while deep in thought to avoid a pothole, but almost sideswipes a car in the next lane. The car blares its horn and Dante blows his own back, flipping them off as the car speeds by. “Watch where you’re going!” Nero yells.

“He almost ran into me!” he protests.

“Christ, just get us home in one piece,” mumbles Nero.

Dante huffs, putting the turn signal on to switch lanes. Soon their exit appears, and they arrive in Fortuna without further incident. When he parks in front of the house Nero leans over to yank the keys out of the ignition. “You are never driving my van again,” he announces as he jumps out of the passenger side.

“Whatever.” Dante walks around the vehicle and follows Nero into the garage. It is empty, and he glances curiously at the array of gadgets in various stages of building that lay scattered on the work table. Nero leads him through the door to the kitchen, where they find Nico. “Finally,” she sighs, hands on her hips.

“Where’s the note?” Nero asks.

“I’ll get it. Here.” She yanks a plate of steaming hot dogs out of the microwave and shoves it at Dante. “Go feed them.”

Dante frowns as she hurries out of the kitchen. “Come on,” Nero grumbles, leading him into the dining room.

Their place is almost as big as Dante’s building, but with nine people in the house it is cluttered with stuff. Bins of toys, shelves filled with books, shoes stacked by the front door, and the cartoons blaring on the television make the house feel much cozier. However, as he navigates the toy-strewn floor Dante decides he prefers his own place. This is especially true when they get through the family room to the dining room, where six faces turn when they enter, all talking excitedly.

Nero actually smiles a bit when they are so happy to see him, and Dante decides to get in on things. “Hey, kids!” he says with fake enthusiasm, lifting up the plate dramatically. “Uncle Dante made you some dogs!”

The entrance goes flat, the room silent as they gape at him. Nero sighs as Dante lays the plate on the table, moving to stand behind the head chair. “Listen, guys, you’re gonna be on your own tonight.” He nods to the oldest boy who looks about twelve or so. “Samuel, you’re in charge. I want you all to eat and get to bed.”

“Where’s Kyrie?” Samuel asks.

“She’s working tonight,” Nero says. “I’m gonna go pick her up, but it will be a while. Nico will be here if there’s an emergency.” He narrows his eyes and drops his voice a bit. “Everyone got it? We need everyone’s help for this team to work.”

The kids agree and Nero starts handing out the hot dogs, stopping when he is done to give Samuel a few quiet instructions. Dante waits with his arms folded until a hand tugs on his jacket.

“Are those real guns?” one of them asks, pointing to Dante’s hips.

“Uh…” He looks over at Nero, who isn’t paying attention. “Yeah, they are.”

“Can I have one?”

“No.”

“Can I touch it?”

He frowns down at the little boy, who is staring at him with an eager curiosity. “No!”

“Do you kill people with it?”

“Nero?” he shouts. “You ready?”

Nero glances over and nods, and after giving Samuel a firm pat on the shoulder, he leads him back out to the garage. Dante glances behind and frowns at the one who was questioning him, the kid nearly falling out of his chair leaning back to watch him leave, and shakes his head as they step through the doorway. “Kids are the worst,” he mutters.

That earns him a sideways glance as they walk over to Nico, who is standing in front of her work table. “Where’s the note?” Nero demands.

“Here.” She hands over an envelope and a folded piece of paper. “It was sealed when it arrived.”

Nero opens the note, reading it for a second before handing it to Dante. In a script that is too perfect to be handwritten, it reads: Don’t look. I’ll be in touch.

He frowns, trying to figure out what it means. “See?” Nero hisses. “Someone’s taken her.”

Dante doesn’t answer, handing the paper back to him. “Where do we start looking? Who would want to hurt you guys?”

He and Nico exchange a glance. “Plenty of people, actually,” Nico replies, and his brows raise. “Everybody knows Nero is the city’s demon hunter, so not only can the demons find him if they know what to look for, any sympathizers can figure it out too.”

“It has to be someone connected to the demon world,” he growls.

“I don’t know, Kyrie has her own set of people who would want her gone, too,” Nico says.

The two men look at her strangely and she shrugs. “I mean, she’s important, right? She’s one of the last survivors of the Order. Lots of people died, so if someone wanted revenge, Kyrie is an obvious choice. Plus now she’s a public figure. People hated the Order, and don’t want Fortuna to have anything to do with it. Other people hate the new charity, wanting the Order back in charge.” She gestures to the letter. “I’d say half of Fortuna could be a suspect. And that’s not even counting anyone who hates the Spardas.”

“I get it,” Dante groans, rubbing his face. “All right. What we need is a clue. We gotta narrow this down somehow.”

“How do we do that?” Nero asks.

He looks at his wrist before realizing he doesn’t wear a watch. “It’s not that late. I know an empath in a town not far from here. Let’s roll.”

“Fine. I’ll drive.” Nero stuffs the letter in his jacket pocket and heads for the door.

“Want me to come?” Nico offers.

“No. Stay here and answer the phone. And don’t let the kids burn the house down.”

Nico makes a face, and Dante salutes her with a laugh before he follows him back out to the van. Both climb inside and shut the doors, and Nero pulls out into the street, heading for the freeway that will take them west.

Dante gives directions and then starts to fiddle with the radio. “This empath any good?” Nero asks.

“Yeah. She’s good.” He settles on a station and drums his fingers on the armrest.

“Has this ever happened to you?” Nero asks.

Dante looks over, his brows drawn in question. “Has what ever happened to me?”

“Demons coming after you like this?”

He thinks about all the times a demon came crashing into his shop or showing up where he was, the times a hoard had overrun a town he was staying in, all the way back to the day an army descended on his childhood home. “Yeah. It’s happened.”

“Fuck this,” Nero hisses. “Why’s it gotta be us? I didn’t ask for this life. I didn’t ask to be a demon hunter.”

“Yeah,” Dante agrees, sighing as he looks out the window. “None of us did.”

━━━━━━━✧━━━━━━━

Nero takes a moment to look at the little house before following Dante towards the front door. It looks completely normal, faded yellow paint on the shutters, a little picket fence, the front path neatly swept. It is nearly eight o’clock by the time they are on the porch, ringing the bell, but the lamps inside still give a glow through the windows and Nero can hear the television on the inside. It’s not until they are waiting that he notices a sign hanging over the front step that says: Psychic Readings, Walk-Ins Welcome.

A moment later the door opens. A young woman with long white hair wearing an oversized sweater and glasses looks up at them. “Can I help you?”

Nero clears his throat but Dante holds out his hands. “Lir! Long time no see!”

“You have got to be kidding me.” She scowls up at him, and it would be almost comical with her height that only goes to about Dante’s shoulder. But her look is fierce and her voice bitter as she snaps, “I can’t believe you have the nerve to show up here.”

“Don’t be like that, hon. Besides, I need your help.”

“Help?” she scoffs.

“Yeah. I’ll even pay you.”

She looks at him suspiciously before giving Nero a once-over. Then she steps back and waves them inside. “You have ten minutes.”

“Thanks, babe.” Nero follows him as they step into the foyer. The house is decorated simply, the walls and floors wood, and she leads them into a small parlor but does not offer them seats.

“Well?” Lir asks, folding her arms.

Dante clears his throat. “Kid’s got a note and don’t know who it’s from. Think you could tell us?”

Lir snorts. “You know my empathy doesn’t work that way.”

Nero’s heart sinks, but Dante moans, “Oh come on, can’t you try? Just see if you pick up something.”

She heaves a huge sigh and walks behind a desk in the corner. As she takes a seat in the desk chair, Nero and Dante move to take the two opposite. Nero leans forward eagerly, his elbows perched on his knees, as Dante sits back and crosses one leg over the other.

“So what is this note?” she asks.

Dante nudges him so Nero says, “My girlfriend has been kidnapped. This was delivered earlier.” He pulls it from his pocket and holds it out with the envelope, but Lir simply looks at it. “Some demon wrote this, but we don’t know who.”

Lir gives a huff of air. “It’s not from a demon, I can tell you that much by looking at it.”

“What do you mean?” Nero frowns. “You can’t just know that!”

“Sure I can.” She looks at Dante blankly. “Twenty dollars.”

“Please! Just—” Nero growls and shakes the note at her. “Just take it! Try something.”

The woman’s shoulders flex a bit as she leans forward, her hands planted on the desk and her voice no-nonsense. She looks intimidating despite her small frame and pretty face, and Nero feels his ears go pink. “You listen here,” she says in a low tone. “I’ve been reading people my whole life, so when I tell you that there’s no demon on that paper, then there’s no goddamn demon on that goddamn paper, you understand me?”

Fury bubbles over as Nero curses and jumps to his feet. “This is bullshit. You’re a hack.” He points an angry finger at Lir who shoots him a scowl. He tries to think of something else to say, but when nothing comes to mind he shouts, “Come on, Dante, let’s go.”

“Babe.” Dante sighs and leans forward, and Nero gapes at him as he props his elbow on the desk and his chin in his hand. “Don’t be too hard on the kid. He just lost the woman he loves. I mean, look at him.” They both glance at Nero, who frowns. “If I had someone to love like that, I’d be losing my shit too. Only…” He gives her a slow smile. “I don’t have somebody to love. I always wished I had a sweet, pretty thing, long white hair and dark lashes, lips full and pink and ready for me to—”

“Okay! Okay. Just… stop.” But she is laughing, and she shoots him a look as she holds her hand out to Nero. “Let me see it.”

He hesitates just a second before giving over the letter. Lir’s brows go up in surprise as soon as her hand closes around the paper. “Well. What do you know? There is a demon on this note.”

She frowns but Nero says, “I knew it! A demon sent this, didn’t they?”

“No,” she answers. “It’s just a trace. Probably from you handling it so much.”

Nero feels the blood drain from his face. “What do you mean? I’m not a—”

“I’m not stupid,” she huffs, looking at him sharply. “I know a half-breed when I see one.” She looks at Dante and rolls her eyes. “Where did you find this kid?”

“He’s my nephew,” Dante explains.

Lir lets out a huge laugh. “Should have known! Just like the rest of you Spardas. Stubborn and stupid.”

Nero slumps a bit in his chair as she goes back to concentrating. “There’s definitely a mix, but again, it’s hard to tell. Should have worn gloves or something at least,” she scolds him. Then her brow tenses. “It’s someone connected to you. Someone close.”

“What?” Nero leans forward, looking at the letter. “Who could it be?”

“Did Kyrie write this?” Dante asks.

He looks sharply at him, ready to argue, but Lir shakes her head. “No, I’m pretty sure it’s not connected like that. It’s a relative of yours.”

Nero feels his ears burn as something churns in his stomach. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.” He stands and looks at Dante, who is frowning up at him. “That bastard.”

“Wait a second,” Dante snaps.

“Fucking Vergil. I’m gonna kill him.” Nero grabs the note and heads for the door, but Dante is quicker. “Move,” he growls.

“You don’t know it’s him. Don’t be stupid.” Dante jerks his head up. “And you owe her twenty dollars.”

Furious now, Nero pulls out a wad of cash and tosses it at Dante, hitting him in the chest. Then he steps around him and storms out of the house, yanking open the door of the van.

Dante climbs in the passenger side as Nero starts the ignition. “You can come, but don’t try to stop me,” Nero warns.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dante replies, reaching down to lean the seat all the way back.

Nero glances over, not entirely sure if he’s telling the truth. Dante props his feet up on the dash and promptly begins to snore as Nero drives the van back towards the city. Up ahead the lights flicker on the horizon, and he narrows his eyes, knowing that Kyrie is there somewhere, waiting for him.

[lyssismagical]

string along my soul, dear, ‘til my breath feels useless

Whumptober Day Eight - Stab Wound 

Read on AO3

Tony had been having a relatively good day, all things considered.

Morgan had slept in more than she usually does. It’s the weekend, so they don’t have any responsibilities beyond the weekly tea party and swimming. (Tony doesn’t know how he’ll break it to Morgan that by the end of September, it’ll be too cold to go swimming in the lake. For now, he’ll let her swim to her heart’s desire, though.)

The only thing that really burdens him a little bit on this fine Saturday, is how much he misses two of the most important people in his life. Peter’s off at MIT, having the time of his life according to their call last night, and Pepper’s been busy upstate with the company for the past few days. Some big emergency they needed her for.

Tony’s more than capable of taking care of Morgan by himself, despite what lots of people believe. He doesn’t need Pepper or Peter to help him, he just enjoys it a little bit more when he doesn’t constantly have to be the responsible adult.

“Daddy?” Morgan says. She’s lying flat on her back on the carpet in the living room, coffee table pushed to the side so she can see through the skylight he added when building the house. (Mostly he was thinking about Peter’s love of space.)

“Yes?” Tony replies, turning his full attention on Morgan.

She turns to him, eyes big and sparkling in the sunlight. “Why is the sky blue?”

Tony smiles. “Because I said so.”

“That’s a lie,” Morgan replies, rolling her eyes. “Why is it actually?”

“Because Mom said so?” Tony tries. He could try to explain, and he’ll probably tell her for bedtime stories tonight, but she’s had too much energy this morning to really hear his explanations.

Morgan thinks about it for a long few moments, eyes squinted in concentration before she nods decisively. “Okay.”

“Why does Mom get to make the rules, but I don’t?” It’s meant to be a rhetorical question, but Morgan stares at him perplexed.

“Because Mommy is… She’s mommy. She makes all the rules.”

“And what? I’m just her servant? I don’t get to do anything?”

Morgan nods. “Obviously. Mommy’s the Queen, I’m the princess, Petey’s the prince, and you’re the horsey.”

“I’m the horse. Oh my god, child, why are you so mean to me?” Tony gasps, pretending to be offended by his daughter’s words.

Morgan sits up, rolling her eyes again. It makes her look so much like Pepper. “Can we go swimming?”

“It’s barely nine in the morning, piccola. You wanna help me make pancakes for breakfast?”

“Only if there’s chocola’e chips!”

*

It’s not surprising when he gets a call from Peter around noon that day.

He’s sitting out on the back deck, a glass of lemonade on the table beside him, a pair of sunglasses, for once being used for their purpose. Morgan’s playing by her tent, following all the rules of playing outside, Tony hasn’t had to remind her once.

“Hey, Pete. Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you for another couple hours. Thought you had that project you were working on with that new friend of yours,” Tony says peacefully.

But his peace is almost instantly broken.

“Tony?” Peter’s voice is too quiet, fear filling the short syllable to the very brim. He coughs, crackling in the phone.

“Pete?” Tony echoes, worry very suddenly coloring his voice. He sits up in his chair, keeping his eyes trained on Morgan. “Everything okay?”

“I- I-” There’s an awful choking noise and then static fills the phone.

“Fuck, jesus fuck- FRI, get it- fix the connection. Get Peter back on the line,” Tony demands. With the hand not holding the phone, he waves Morgan over urgently. He needs to get to Peter.

A parental instinct has filled his chest and all he knows is that he needs Peter. Now. And there’s no way in hell he’s letting Morgan be anywhere but at his side.

Morgan doesn’t say anything as she warily wanders over, somehow understanding her father’s fear and seriousness.

“Grab a backpack, honey. We’re going on a little trip, okay?” Tony tells his daughter, waiting anxiously for the phone call to reconnect. “Put your shoes on and wait at the front door for me, okay, piccola?”

“Wha’s wrong?” Morgan asks, eyes wide and scared. Tony hates it and he hates that he doesn’t even have the mind to fix the fear, he’s too busy focusing on his other kid. “Okay?”

“Yeah, it’s okay, little miss. Go get a backpack and your shoes on.”

This time, Morgan doesn’t try to ask any more questions, just races into the house. Almost as soon as she’s gone, the call finally reconnects.

“Peter? C’mon, kiddo, talk to me,” Tony begs, following his kid into the house on shaky legs. He needs to find car keys. One step at a time.

“M’ster S’ark?” Peter slurs through the phone, crackly and thick.

“Yeah, kid. I’m right here. I need you to talk to me. What’s going on?”

Peter makes a noise, somewhere between pleased and pained, if that’s even possible. “’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, Pete? What’s going on? Please, kid, I need to work with something here.” He pulls the phone away enough to speak to FRIDAY without Peter hearing. “FRI, hack into Peter’s watch or his phone or something and get me his vitals. And his location. Just because I live in a cabin does not mean I’m not Tony fucking Stark.”

“He is located in Massachusetts. A block away from his dorm building on campus,” FRIDAY informs. “I am unable to reach his watch or any accurate vitals from his phone.”

“Fuck, shit, jesus christ, Peter, what the fuck happened?” Tony knows he shouldn’t be swearing this much in front of both his kids, but he can’t help it. His stress levels are through the roof and he’s scared one of his children are dying, he thinks that warrants a little bit of cussing.

“Hurts, please,” Peter cries, sounding more like Morgan than himself with how whiny his voice has gotten. “Please, m’s’er s’ark, please.”

Tony finally finds his keys and shoves on a pair of shoes, keeping up a litany of reassurances and soothing words, getting to the car at the same time Morgan comes racing out of the house, an Elmo backpack bouncing on her back.

“Peter, I need you to listen to me, okay?” Tony says, starting up the car, and barely having the mind to check and make sure Morgan’s strapped into her seat, before he takes off down the street.

Peter makes a noise of affirmation.

“You know how long it takes to get to Massachusetts? We timed it, remember?”

“Mm,” Peter says, probably not coherent enough to remember any specific numbers. Three hours and forty-seven minutes, remember?” Tony says. He continues without waiting for a response. “Be honest with me, bambino, can you wait nearly four hours for me?”

Peter sobs in response, broken and hopeless. “Hurts, T’ny. Can’t- I can’t-”

“Okay, kiddie, okay,” Tony says, nearly crying himself, but he can’t afford to cry. If he cries, Morgan might freak, and that’ll make Peter feel worse, and Tony can’t possibly to deal with both of his kids at the same time.

“Petey okay?” Morgan says. She has her tablet in her hands, playing a game already, but the worry is still marring her innocent face.

“Yeah, it’s okay, honey,” Tony says quickly. He’s already on the verge of panicking, he needs to focus and drive. “Pete, kiddo, I love you, okay? But I have to get off the phone for just a second, okay? I have an idea. I’ll call you back in just a second.”

“Mmkay,” Peter slurs.

“Don’t fall asleep, kid, please. I’ll call you right back.”

He hangs up the phone as he merges onto the highway, speeding the car up to at least 1.5x the speed limit, trying his best to keep his eyes on the road as he dials a new number.

“Hey, Tony, I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you for at least-”

“Fuck, Steve, where are you?” Tony demands, jerking the wheel to stay in his lane. His kid sounds like he’s dying and he’s four hours away. Fuck everything. “Please tell me you’re near Massachusetts.”

Steve doesn’t respond for too long and Tony worries he’s going to need to pull over, tears blurring his vision.

“Sam and Bucky are in New Hampshire, Dover, if that helps,” Steve finally says, “I’m in Brooklyn. They had to go on Shield business.”

“Tell them to drop everything. And I mean everything and get their asses to MIT. Peter called me and he’s hurt and fuck- I’m too far and he needs help, Steve. Please.”

Morgan gasps in the back of the car. “You lied? Petey hurt?”

“Yeah, of course, Tony. They can be there in like half an hour if they take the bike. Text me the coordinates.”

Tony hangs up and drops his phone into the passenger seat, knowing FRIDAY will take over with everything else. He focuses his attention on the road, steadily climbing in speed. He doesn’t care if Sam and Bucky can be there for his kid, he needs to be there for his kid.

Finally, the call reconnects.

Tony slips the Bluetooth piece into his ear to make sure Morgan doesn’t have to hear Peter’s end of the conversation.

“Pete, kiddo, talk to me,” Tony begs, glad he’s got FRIDAY on his side. A car honks at him as he swerves into another lane to avoid having to slow down. He’s putting Morgan in danger by driving so recklessly, but he can’t stop-

Peter doesn’t respond, only sobs in response, an awful gut-wrenching noise that makes Tony want to explode.

“Daddy?” Morgan pipes up from the backseat. She looks too old all of a sudden, no longer with the six-year-old bright innocence, but more like Pepper, face drawn in worry and fear. “You’re going too fast.”

“It’s like a rollercoaster, Morguna,” Tony replies half-heartedly, too focused on Peter and his cries of pain.

Morgan’s face crumples. “I don’t like ro’ercoas’ers.”

His knuckles are white from how tight he’s gripping the steering wheel and the cars are honking and Morgan’s starting to cry and Peter’s choking on his sobs and Tony can’t breathe-

He swerves too suddenly, slamming on the brakes, his heart aches when he hears Morgan let out a whine of surprise at the sudden movement. As soon as the car is stopped, he mutes his end of the earpiece and falls onto the gravel on the side of the road.

His body won’t stop shaking, he can’t stop thinking that his kid is dead or at least will be if he doesn’t make it there to him and he’s going to kill his other kid with his reckless driving or he’ll get arrested and he’ll never make it to Peter.

And then, like a beacon of hope, a second car pulls up behind them, and Rhodey’s running towards him.

“You need to breathe, Tony. C’mon,” Rhodey says, dropping to the ground beside Tony. “What the hell is going on?”

“Peter- he-”

“Breathe first, Tones. I know you can do it.” Hands are on his shoulder and chest and then the earpiece is gone, taking Peter’s cries away with it. “Breathe.”

It takes a few panicked minutes before Tony finally has his breathing under control, but when he does, he’s immediately reaching for the little white piece again.

“Tell me what’s going on first,” Rhodey demands.

“Pete- the kid, he’s hurt. He’s- I don’t know. I have to get him. I have to- I-”

“Barnes sent a message,” FRIDAY interrupts. “We’re on our way. ETA twenty minutes. Stay calm. I’ll fill you in as soon as I can.”

Rhodey offers a reassuring smile. “Barnes is getting him. It’s okay, Tony. It’s all fine. You just need to breathe and apologizing for scaring the little one.”

“He’s my kid!” Tony’s hands flail with his sudden anger, nearly hitting Rhodey. “I should be- I should- He could be dead, and I- I’m not there for him.”

Rhodey’s hands are grounding and strong on his shoulders. “He’s okay. He’s Peter Parker. He’s made it through a shitload so far, this won’t be the end, Tones. He’s going to be okay. He always is.”

And even if his words might make sense, Tony can’t comprehend much more than the idea that Peter’s hurt and alone.

Eventually, Rhodey convinces Tony up off the gravel and into the backseat of the car, pushing the earpiece into his best friend’s hand.

“I’ll drive. You take care of your kids,” Rhodey instructs and the car takes off again, nowhere near as fast as Tony was going, but still fast enough, Tony hopes.

“Peter?” he calls out gently when he gets the earpiece in again. “Pete, you with me?”

Peter’s making a scary gurgling noise, breaths few and far between. “T’ny- T’ny- Please-”

“I’m right here, bambino,” Tony reassures, keeping one of his hands holding onto Morgan’s. “I’m right here, I promise. You’re going to be just fine.”

Peter coughs wetly and when he gets control again, he sounds hopeless. “’m sorry. I- I love you. I need- I don’t-”

“You’re okay, kid. I promise. Everything’s going to be okay. Just hang on for another few minutes, okay? Bucky and Sam are going to get to you and I’m coming too, okay? I just-”

Tony’s voice is cut off by a blood-curdling, desperate cry from Peter’s end.

“Fuck, you were supposed to die. You’ve seen my face. You- you know things you shouldn’t,” a new voice is saying, far away from Peter’s phone. “You were supposed to stay quiet.”

“Please,” Peter begs, voice wavering. “I don’t- I don’t wanna die. Please.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that sooner.”

“Please-”

The line turns to static.

*

It takes too long. Much, much too long to arrive to the hospital near the campus.

Tony and Rhodey have been to this hospital one too many times, not for Peter but for Tony’s drunken nights taken too far back when they were in MIT.

Morgan clings onto Tony, arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala, as they rush into the hospital together. Her face stays hidden in the crook of his neck and he vaguely worries what kind of emotional toll this is going to take on her in the future.

“Stark, thank god you’re here,” Sam says, standing from one of the waiting room chairs.

"Where’s Peter? Where’s my kid?” Tony says, voice falling into a plead. “Please, is he okay?”

Bucky stands, bloodshot eyes finding Tony’s. “We don’t know yet. They took him into the ER, and we haven’t heard anything since. It was- It wasn’t great, if I’m being honest. But I think, I hope, he’ll be okay.”

Tony almost drops Morgan when he sees the blood caked under their nails and staining their hands, nearly up to their elbows in blood. Peter’s blood. Their clothing is bloodstained too, covering them from head to toe in blood. So much fucking blood.

Rhodey quickly takes Morgan from Tony, and Sam and Bucky gently help him sit in a chair.

“He’s going to be okay,” Sam says. “He’ll be just fine.”

Tony wants to argue, but there’s no fight left in him. He doesn’t even want to think about the possibilities. He has to be okay. There’s no other option.

*

“C’mon, Tony. Up and at ‘em,” Rhodey says, shaking Tony’s shoulder.

The billionaire shoots awake, rubbing his eyes. “Is he okay? Do we know-”

“Before you have an aneurysm, yes, Peter’s okay. They’re letting us go see him,” he says.

“Where’s Morgan?” Tony demands, finally feeling a little bit of relief loosen his chest.

Rhodey helps Tony to his feet. “Pepper came and took her home. Said you were absolutely insane for taking her all the way down here, but she’s not mad. Sam and Bucky are staying at a nearby hotel for the night. C’mon, room one eighteen.”

The door pushes open with a soft creak, revealing a hospital room not too different from the ones Tony remembers waking up in all the time after binge-drinking or OD-ing. He walks into the room, wincing at the stained blue tiles under his shoes. He only now realizes he’s wearing a pair of Peter’s high tops.

Peter looks much, much worse for wear. An oxygen mask covers the majority of his face, strapped in place and pushing his hair down in weird places. His eyes are closed, but there’re dark shadows underneath them and visible, recent tear-streaks down his cheeks.

His shirt is gone, revealing a thick wad of bandages in the center of his chest. There are some leftover streaks of dried blood over his stomach. A hospital gown is pushed down to his waist, away from the wound on his chest and his legs are covered by a thick heating blanket.

The worst, though, is the thick bandages encircling Peter’s throat, blood dotting through the white gauze.

“What happened to him?” Tony asks slowly, refusing to move any closer.

Rhodey’s face is drawn, forehead creasing. “Police checked the security tapes. Peter was walking home when he was stopped in an alleyway. A mugging. His wallet and watch were taken. Peter tried to fight back, you know, with his training, but he didn’t realize the man had a knife. Stabbed him right in the middle. Punctured one of his lungs and narrowly missed the other. The mugger came back for whatever reason and when he saw Peter was still alive…”

“He- fuck, Rhodey, his throat?” Tony exclaims, voice breaking. “How is he not-”

“Bucky and Sam got there right when it happened. They fought the mugger, nearly killed him with how angry they were. They helped stop the bleeding and got Peter here in just enough time.”

Tony’s knees are shaking and the last thing he needs is to collapse right now, so he forces himself to take the few extra steps to get to Peter’s bedside and sit in the chair.

Peter’s eyes blink open almost instantly like he could sense Tony’s presence. His eyes widen, panic glazing over him. He tries to push himself up, a hand fumbling for his oxygen mask and for his neck, but the movement obviously pulls at something because he cries out quietly in pain behind the oxygen mask.

“Hey, hey, hey, woah there, Pete. You’re okay,” Tony murmurs, gently pushing on Peter’s shoulders to get him lying down. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital, but I’m here now, okay?”

Peter opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t from behind the mask. His eyes are welling with tears and it hurts Tony so badly to see him hurting, but at least he’s safe. At least he’s alive.

“You’re okay, bambino. You’re okay,” Tony repeats, gently pressing a kiss to Peter’s forehead and taking his hand. “It’s alright now, you can breathe, kid. Relax.”

The fight and tension leaves Peter’s body on command, slumping into the bed. His fingers fumble with Tony’s until he can tap on Tony’s palm.

H.U.R.T.S

“I know it hurts, kiddo. Your spidey-metabolism probably isn’t very good for these drugs, huh. But I planned for that, don’t you worry,” Tony says, digging through his pockets until he finds a hand-sized needle. “Bruce whipped this up for you a few months ago. Rhodey, you wanna do the honors?”

Rhodey doesn’t want to, but he will. And once the drugs have been injected into Peter’s arms, he excuses himself, saying he should probably call everyone and let them know the kid’s okay.

T.O.N.Y

“Yeah, bambino, I’m right here. You’re going to be okay. You’re safe now.”

S.C.A.R.E.D

D.O.N.T W.A.N.T. D.I.E

“You’re not going to die, kid. Not on my watch. I told you I’d protect you, and I will. Even if I have to do it through the other avengers. How would you feel about in impromptu vacation once you’re healed? Maybe Italy? May, Morgan, me, you, and Pepper. Italy for a few weeks. That sounds nice. Didn’t think my heart could deal with that kinda stress anymore, but I guess we’re all full of surprises, huh?”

There are a few seconds of nothing from Peter before he taps three times on Tony’s palm. It’s his way of saying I love you. They’ve been doing it since after the snap and Tony was the bedridden one. Peter would tap three times against Tony’s real hand.

Tony taps three times in response eliciting a little smile from behind the oxygen mask.

T.H.A.N.K.S

“You never have to thank me for helping you, kid. I wish it would be about crushes or homework, but I’m here for you, Pete. Always.”

Peter taps three times again.

“I love you too, kid. Get some rest.”

N.I.G.H.T

Followed by three more taps.

“I get it, kid, we’re sappy and lovey, but seriously, Goodnight. I love you too.”

Tony doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of saying it.

[spoookymuulders]

two of a kind.

hello friends!!! this is the first chapter of the novel i’ve been working on since i was fourteen!! it has grown and changed so much over the years and im finally proud of the first chapter???? i’m excited to share it with y’all i hope you enjoy it!!! chapter word count: 2,213 warnings: mentions of a car crash, mentions of suicide.

Classical music echoed through the halls as Mesa made her way to the main floor of the studio, legs sore. Pausing in the entryway of the building, she tugged a sweatshirt out of her dance bag and pulled it on, dragging the hood up as she stepped into the rainy afternoon. Wishing she’d worn her rain boots, or something better than mesh sneakers at least, she picked her way around puddles, expertly dodging busy New Yorkers and ducking into the shelter of the subway station, pushing her hood down again.

Digging her metrocard out of her wallet, she swiped it and slipped through the turnstile. The station was the same hustle and bustle of activity that it always was; voices buzzed around her, a droning, monotonous robot announced the arrival of the next train, and somewhere down the platform she could hear drumsticks banging against buckets. Leaning against a pillar, she scrolled through her phone absently, tapping on her messages and reading the latest text from Rosie, taking a moment to type out a reply.

Hope you worked up an appetite at dance. I’m making enough dinner to FEED A SMALL ARMY!!!

                                                                                                  I’m fucking starving you’re the best

The train screeched to a halt and she tucked her phone back into her pocket, waiting for the passengers to rush off before following the flow into the car. Finding a spot where she could comfortably stand, she wrapped her hand around a pole and held her ground as the train rumbled to life. As they went, she found herself lost in thought. Her mind wandered first, as it often did, the the class she’d just had.

Her students had done well today - Claire was getting better every day at her pliés, and Andrew was getting more and more comfortable in the class. It had been exhausting, as always, but something about it today had tired her out more than usual - probably a result of the headache she’d felt coming on midway through the class. She’d kept it to herself, never one to worry those around her, especially young kids, but as the class had gone on, it had only worsened.

The two painkillers she’d taken just before leaving the studio had helped a little, but not much, and now that she was on the train, surrounded by noise and flickering lights, it was returning in full force. She winced as the brakes of the train screamed into the next station, and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to block out as much of her surroundings as she could.

Her thoughts went now to the dream she’d had last night - she had decided throughout the day that the only word for it was odd. Odd, and a little frightening.

In the dream, she had found herself in a palace throne room. She had been dressed in a golden brocade ballgown, and she had felt a heavy tiara atop her head. Her long hair had been in tight curls down her back, and she had been watching the grand entrance of two people she could only assume were the king and queen. The sight of the king sent a chill down Mesa’s back. Something about him seemed off, to say the least. He didn’t seem right. What exactly it was, she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she didn’t like it. The queen, on his arm, looked miserable - and an awful lot like Rosie, Mesa realized with a start. When she had tried to call out to the queen - to Rosie - someone had clamped a hand over her mouth and silenced her.

The dream had changed very suddenly, then. She still wore the golden ballgown, but it was late at night now, and the party had long since died. The throne room was empty, and silent, and that was worse than before, when it had been bustling and filled with people she didn’t recognize, speaking a language she didn’t know. She turned, slipping quietly out of the throne room, and looked for anyone else she could find; which seemed to be no one, not even a maid or a butler. A shadow had fallen across the floor, and when Mesa looked up, she saw dream-Rosie hovering by a balcony overlooking the grand foyer. She was in an extravagant wedding gown now, her veil held tightly in clenched fists as she tied one end of it around the railing of the balcony. Mesa realized too late what it was she intended to do, and by the time she did finally realize what was happening, she couldn’t move her feet, nor could she make a sound, no matter how hard she tried. She watched in horror as dream-Rosie slipped the other end of the veil - fashioned into a noose - around her neck, and climbed onto the railing. She found her voice as dream-Rosie let herself fall, but all that came out of her mouth was a scream.

She had jolted awake in a cold sweat, pressing her hand to her throat as if she could feel the gauzy material of the veil digging into her own skin. In a panic, she had scrambled out of bed and rushed down the hallway, peering into real-world-Rosie’s bedroom. Only satisfied that her roommate was fine when she saw her roll over in her sleep, Mesa had slipped back to her room silently and crawled back into bed. But she hadn’t gone back to sleep - how was she supposed to, after that?

Now, as she considered the dream again, she shuddered. It had all seemed so very real in the moment. She had felt the scratchy material of the ballgown against her stomach, the heavy metal of the tiara she wore. That had contributed to her weariness, she was sure. At the very least, it hadn’t helped at all.

The train rumbled to a stop and Mesa glanced up, shaking herself from her reverie when she realized it was her station - she’d nearly missed it thinking about the nightmare. Readjusting her bag on her shoulder, she slipped off the train and pulled her hood up again, gliding through the turnstile gracefully and jogging up the steps, returning to the rain again. Rosie would have her hide for going out in the rain without proper boots or a jacket, but it was fine. It wasn’t as though she would actually get sick from just the rain.

As horns blared around her and people bustled past, she found herself lost in thought again while her feet guided her home. She refused to think about the dream anymore, but her next thought wasn’t much better, really.

The crash.

The scar on her hip twinged, as it often did when she found herself thinking about the crash, but sometimes it was unavoidable. The roads had been slick that afternoon as she drove home, and someone had swerved into her lane. To this day, she wasn’t sure if they were avoiding an animal, or texting someone, or just a bad driver. The next thing she knew, she had been swerving out of the way and her car had gone off the road, rolled several times, and ended up on its roof. As she hung there upside down, ears ringing, she had managed to keep calm. At least, until her hearing had started to return and she could hear people shouting about calling 911 and cars stopping suddenly. That was when the panic had started to set in.

She had reached up to undo her seatbelt without thinking, and had gone crashing to the ceiling of the car. Ignoring the people shouting for her to stay put, she rolled onto her stomach and crawled out through the window. It wasn’t until the ambulance arrived that she even realized she had hurt herself. She had cut her hip on a piece of glass from the window as she removed herself from the car, and it had stained her favorite shirt. That was what she had chosen to be upset about at the moment - her shirt was ruined.

Later, at home, was when she had lost it. Rosie had come to the hospital to take her home, and after she had showered and her hip had been re-bandaged and she was safe and warm in a pair of fresh pajamas on the couch, she had started sobbing. Rosie had been there in an instant, arms wrapped around Mesa tightly, rocking her gently as she cried.

That had been part of the reason she had decided to move to New York - she wouldn’t have to drive anywhere. If she needed to get somewhere, she could take the train, or walk, or get a bike if she wanted. And Rosie, bless her heart, had decided immediately that she was going, too. Mesa smiled a little and made a split-second decision, slipping into a bodega and browsing around for a few minutes before choosing a small bouquet of yellow roses, as well as a few of Rosie’s favorite candies. She paid the pimply kid behind the counter and slipped back into the rain, continuing her wander home.

As she passed the alley beside their building, something glinting in the shadows caught her eye. She paused, peering down the alleyway for a moment before slipping into it and following the shine. The source of the glint was a large, antique-looking mirror leaning against the wall. It was an odd place for a mirror, to be sure, but this was New York after all. People left weird shit everywhere. Almost before she realized it, Mesa was reaching out to touch the glass, transfixed by the reflection - she wasn’t sure why she was so intrigued by the reflection, either. It wasn’t as if it was anything special; it was just her, standing in a dark, dingy New York City alley, her sweatshirt soaked and her hair hanging in rain-drenched strings around her shoulders. But she reached out nonetheless, holding her breath. When her fingers made contact with the mirror, however, she yanked her hand back, gasping. That couldn’t have really happened, could it? Reaching out again, she touched the mirror carefully and jerked her hand back once more - it had happened. As her fingers had brushed the surface of the mirror, it seemed to ripple. And then it had done it again. And as it rippled, she saw herself in the same gown from her dream, standing in a wind-whipped field of tall grass. The second time she touched it, however, the reflection had changed.

This time, the reflection staring back at her almost didn’t look like her. The hair was shorter, the eyes colder. This reflection was clad in a dented suit of armor, her face dirty and bruised. A castle loomed behind her, and a sword hung from her right hand. The reflection was telling her something, and a voice seemed to echo in her head.

Beware the false king.

Mesa closed her eyes tightly and shook her head fiercely. When she opened her eyes again, she was still in the alleyway, staring at a dusty old mirror as it rained. Swallowing, she reached out and kicked at the mirror, not daring to touch it with her bare hands again. The toe of her sneaker tapped against the glass of the mirror and she exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

That dream had messed with her more than she had realized, apparently.  Pushing her hair back, she sighed slowly and moved out of the alley again. She needed to get home, get out of her dance clothes, and take a shower. She’d feel better and more put-together after that. Then she would sit and eat whatever delicious meal Rosie had whipped up tonight, they would binge something on Netflix for a while, and she would go to bed and put the whole day behind her. She would wake up tomorrow morning, ready to go, and forget about the dream and the mirror and whatever other weird shit would happen between here and home.

She slipped into the building, glad to finally be out of the rain, and stopped at the mailboxes. She dug her key out, grabbed the mail, and turned to go upstairs, pausing when she spied little hands wrapped around one of the banisters. Smiling, she started up the stairs and hummed loudly.

“I sure hope nobody scares me while I’m walking home.” She said loudly, trying to keep a straight face at the little giggles floating down the stairs. As she came to the second floor landing, the little boy from 2B jumped out from behind his hiding spot, and Mesa feigned terror long enough for him to collapse into giggles and hurry back to his apartment. She shook her head fondly, waving to the boy’s mother as she shut the door, and climbed the next flight of stairs. She paused at the top of the stairs long enough to shove the mail and candy into her bag and find the key to the front door, then continued to the end of the hall. She could already smell Rosie’s homemade pasta sauce floating towards her - she’d been able to smell it on the second floor, too, but it was much more prominent up here. She looked up as she neared the end of the hall and their front door, and froze outside of it.

[snarky-badger]

Prompt: Please do a continuation of this! (It’s Going Sideways)

Part 3 of ‘Moral Compass’ and ‘It’s Going Sideways’

And I’ve written this so there’s gonna be Part 4! (Honestly, what the hell am I doing to myself, haha)

This ‘series’ was started BEFORE the movie came out. All I had to go on were the trailers, so it’s movie-based, but not movie compatible. If that makes sense. ONWARDS!

And, if you like these prompts of mine, please consider buying me a coffee over on Ko-Fi!

You frowned as you stared down at the phone in your hands, Venom’s low growling from the doorway the only sound in the room.

Obviously Drake suspected that you knew were the symbiote was, which, duh, doorway. Drake was smart, very smart. Probably had a contingent of security on their way in the guise of ‘keeping you safe’, not that you trusted Drake. Not one damned bit.

Thoughts whirling, you spun around. “We leave in five minutes,” you announced, seeing Venom’s opalescent eyes widen a little at the order in your voice before you closed your bedroom door in his face.

It took only two minutes for you to change into something more appropriate than your PJs. Honestly, you were still hopping into your jeans when you exited the room, rushing over to the hallway closet and pulling out the ‘bug out’ bag that you’d put together after Drake had ‘insisted’ that he post security to ‘protect you’.

It was Eddie that was standing awkwardly in the kitchen, eyes taking in your frazzled form as you tugged your sneakers on, then grabbed a black blazer off a hook, pulling it on over your tee shirt.

“You’re prepared,” he commented, blinking when you shoved the bag into his arms.

“I’ve been dealing with aliens and a megalomaniac. Of course I’m prepared,” you shot back as you went to rifle through your purse, pulling out your wallet. It got shoved into the backpack, before you pulled your phone out of your jeans and, mournfully, dropped it onto the floor and smashed your foot down onto it. You’d backed up all your photos and contacts, of course, but still, it hurt to do it.

Couldn’t take the chance that you could be tracked through it though. “Okay, let’s go.”

“What’s the plan?” Eddie frowned as he followed you out the door and over to the stairwell.

“I have nothing beyond ‘get the fuck out of dodge before Drake shows up’. Was thinking of heading to the University. Lots of people, lots of witnesses. But...”

“But there’s lots of innocent victims if Drake’s goons go gun happy. Yeah.” Eddie was silent for a moment as the two of you hurried down the steps. “The Park? It’s bigger. There’s people, yeah, but lots of hiding places too.”

“Might work.” You hit the ground floor’s stairwell door in a rush, then skid to a stop, grunting when Eddie ran into you from behind. “Shit.”

He was taller by a few inches, which allowed him to see over the top of your head and spot the black SUV that pulled up in front of the building. “Back door?”

“Yup,” was all you said as you grabbed his wrist and headed for the side entrance. “Think you can kick the door open? The Super keeps it locked.”

You’d barely gotten the last syllable out before blackness in the form of three stalks of symbiote shot out from Eddie’s torso, hitting the nearby door with enough force that the metal dented, the door shooting off it’s hinges and clattering against the opposite building’s wall.

Eddie smirked at you when you turned to look at him. “Ladies first.”

Rolling your eyes, you poked your head out into the alley to make sure it was clear, then led the way out, heading for the opposite end, away from the ominous SUV. “We need a car.”

“Told you we should have taken the bike,” Eddie grumbled to himself, and you huffed as the two of you stepped out onto the sidewalk proper. It was past the time where people were rushing to work, so it was sparsely occupied, only a few people heading to where ever they were going.

Two steps ahead, you idled over to a parked car and tried the driver’s door, frowning when you found it locked. The next two cars were the same, and Eddie gave you a look that plainly said he knew you were thinking of stealing a ride and was waffling over whether to be mad about it or not.

That look vanished when a black SUV turned the corner.

Your lucky number was ‘six’ apparently, and you grinned as you slid into the driver’s seat. Eddie frowned, but didn’t comment, merely circled the car and got into the passenger seat, his gazed locked on the SUV that was slowly approaching from behind. His expression wavered a bit when you ducked low and started to hotwire the little Sedan.

“Seriously?”

You glanced up at him. “What? I was a teenager once. Snuck out of the house a lot. Needed a ride.” You twisted some wires together, smirking when the engine rumbled to life. “Seriously, Eddie, you’re hosting an alien and we’re being hunted by wackos. This cannot the the weirdest thing you’ve ever seen.”

His lips quirked a little. “I just didn’t take you for...”

“The grand theft auto type?” You belted yourself in, then tried to drive ‘nonchalantly’, calmly pulling out of the parking spot and heading down the street.

The SUV behind you didn’t speed up, didn’t do anything but continue it’s slow drive down the street, the occupants clearly interested in the people walking on the sidewalk.

You thought, that, maybe, you and Eddie were in the clear as you neared an intersection.

You were wrong.

Something bashed into the back of the sedan, blowing out the rear window, pulling a startled shriek from you as glass imploded into the car. Eddie snarled something as Venom’s tendrils shot out of him, blackness like a living wall expanding to block the bullets that followed.

You floored it. Cleared the intersection going fifty and climbing, barely avoiding a truck. Saw something odd flitter in the side-view mirror, eyes narrowing when your brain finally put the image to a word. “Drones! They have drones!”

“Go, go, go!”

“No shit!” You swerved around a slow Mazda, clipping the bumper of a parked car as you did so. Got the little sedan up to sixty before you were forced to slow down at another intersection to avoid ploughing into a slow moving bus.

Eddie meanwhile, had one foot braced on the dashboard, left hand braced against the roof, and his right hand closed tight on the ‘oh shit’ bar of the door. His head swiveled, trying to keep track of the drones that whizzed overhead.

When he suddenly shouted “Left!”, left you went, scraping paint with a Nissan as a drone dive-bombed itself to death against the pavement where you had been seconds before. Debris and bits of asphalt peppered the car, sounding like rain against the windshield, and you reflexively ducked a little. “They explode?! What the fuck!”

“We need to get out of the city!” Eddie shouted over your semi-hysterical shriek. “Head right! If we can get to the Bridge we can--”

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the blare of a delivery truck as it nearly t-boned the car. You shrieked a little, jerked on the steering wheel, and screeched across two lanes of traffic into the on-coming lane. Another drone exploded against the roof of the car, and you got the unwelcome view of an oncoming pickup truck’s terrified driver before you swerved back into the proper lane.

“So much for subtle, we might as well be blaring Ride of the fucking Valkyries,” you snarled as the roar of a black SUV preceded the lurch of something ramming into the rear bumper of the car.

“Just keep driving!” Eddie yelled as he rolled down the passenger window and started to climb out of it, blackness beginning to cover him.

You drove with one hand and reached out to grab his jacket with the other, cursing when the bit of material just escaped your fingers. “Get back in the fucking car you idiot!”

“JUST DRIVE, MORSEL!”

“I’m with idiots, I’m escaping with idiots,” left you in a mutter as the roof dented inwards a little from Venom’s bulk crouching atop it. Some black tendrils curled over the frames of the open windows, which was probably for the better, because the maneuver you had to do to dodge another SUV that came head-on at you would have knocked Venom off the car had he not been anchored to it.

There was a blockade of cops at the next intersection. Obviously someone had called the insanity in. You grit your teeth at the sight, then screamed ‘Hold on!’ out the driver’s side window, cranked the parking break, and did a drift into an alleyway.

The sedan’s right side scraped brick as you ploughed through garbage and  motored over someone’s bicycle. Debris and a bike wheel preceded your emergence onto the other street, people screaming as you did another sideways side onto the pavement.

Really, for a beige sedan, the little car handled rather well. Though the people that were eyeing you as you wove your way through traffic obviously thought otherwise.

Might be because it took corners like the wheels were on sideways. Might have been Venom atop the roof like a demented ornament, using a manhole cover he’d snatched off the ground like a shield to stop exploding, kamikaze, drones. Either way, people were looking at you as if you were the anti-christ come to town.

You’d started to think that you might get away. Right up until yet another black SUV slammed into the right rear panel of the car in a pit move that sent the sedan spinning.

Naturally, you screamed. Heard Venom’s roar and felt the bounce of him leaping off the car’s roof before the sedan came to a stop by side checking a parked car. You sat there, hyperventilating, hands clenched so tight on the wheel that your knuckles were white, for a long moment.

And then the air bag deployed and smacked you in the face hard enough that you saw stars.

Dimly, over the pounding of your heart in your ears and the tirade of curses in your brain, you heard the sounds of gunfire and shouting, followed by a roar and some high pitched screaming that had no business coming out of a male throat.

You fought with the airbag until it finally deflated, then looked out the rear-view mirror, eyes widening when you saw Venom grab yet another menacing black SUV by it’s front bumper and upend it, leaving it to crash onto it’s roof as he threw himself at a man dressed in black with a ‘Life Foundation’ logo on his vest that was unloading a shotgun into him.

Gritting your teeth, you revved the engine, relief welling up in you. The sedan wasn’t new enough that the engine and ignition cut out when an air bag deployed.

You threw the little car into reverse, slamming the rear bumper into the upside down SUV and sending it spinning a little. Then leaned over and screamed out the open passenger window. “Venom! Get in the fucking car!”

He turned to glare at you at the same time that two more SUVs and three police cars that were chasing them careened around the intersection behind you. He hesitated - and you hoped that Eddie was yelling at him too - before ripping off the sedan’s back door and jamming himself into the backseat.

You were now driving something that looked like it had gone three rounds in a demolition derby. Which, added to the burnt rubber that you left behind when you threw the car into drive, probably painted quite a picture for the looky-loos.

All five pursuing cars hit the upside-down SUV out of their way as they took chase, the sounds of loud engines and the blare of police sirens echoing in the cab of the sedan as you took another corner at twice the recommended speed, careening dangerously close to a parked canteen truck.

And finally, up ahead, you spotted a chance.

“Venom!”

“WHAT?”

“Up ahead, there’s some empty scaffolding on the side of the building. If I swerve close, think you can grab it and send it falling into the street behind us?”

There came a pleased rumble as the large form shifted in the backseat and leaned out of the open space where the car door used to be. “WE LIKE HOW YOU THINK, MORSEL!”

A grin that was a bit more of a snarl settled onto your face as you swerved again, bypassing a slower car and moving as close as you could to the blocked off sidewalk and the mess of scaffolding on the side of a building. Prayed to any Gods that were listening that no bystanders would get hurt as Venom leaned out some more, three thick tendrils lashing out to grab onto the supports and ripping them free.

The impact of all that metal and wood hitting the street rumbled up through the tires of the car, and you watched via the rear-view mirror as the SUVs and the cops tried to screech to a stop before ploughing into the mess blocking the road and, inevitably, each other.

Another drone exploded against the roof of the car as you sped away, a bit of sunlight now appearing from the dented and burnt roof of the car.

“He’ll never stop,” you lamented as you sped through the city. “Drake will never stop.”

“HE WILL WHEN WE RIP HIS BEATING HEART OUT OF HIS CHEST,” Venom snarled from the backseat.

And then, you had a stupid, so, incredibly, stupid, idea.

“What if we take the fight to him?”

[tracies-tales]

I Spy

“Eat this, mother fucker!” Arina shouted, firing shots at the car ahead of them as she stood balanced on a motorcycle behind Daniella.

Daniella switched gears and yanked the handles, swerving into oncoming traffic as their targets returned fire. Arina lost her balance for a moment but caught herself on Daniella’s scarf, sitting back down to lock her arms around her waist. 

“Sorry Ari!” Daniella yelled over the roar of traffic, most of the oncoming vehicles blaring their horns as they careened down the wrong side of the highway.

“Don’t apologize to me and just focus on the goddamn road!” Arina shouted back. She took aim with her pistol again, aiming across the median at their adversary’s tires. 

The tinted back window of the sleek black vehicle rolled down to reveal a man pointing a gun back at them.

“Fuck me,” Arina said before it started firing. Luckily, Daniella pulled back onto the correct side of the highway, putting a semitruck between them and the bullets. 

Daniella asked, “How did we end up tailing these guys again?”

“That’s a question for Veronica,” Arina replied. “Now give me a proper shot!”

“Yes ma’am, Miss Grumpy Pants,” Dani grinned, revving the engine and zooming in front of the semi. 

The semi laid on his horn and was forced to start veering into the far right lane. This in turn made the car they were after step on the gas to avoid being knocked into the ditch. The lurch threw off the aim of the man in the backseat with the gun just long enough for Arina to fire, landing a hit on their front tire. The car swerved as the semi hit his brakes and drifted behind them.

Arina tried to shoot at their back tire but turned up with an empty clip. She groaned and reloaded a new one, but before she could start firing again, Daniella said, “We got company!” and cut through traffic as a car similar to the one they were in pursuit of started pulling up behind them. She took the exit ramp and dodged around other vehicles.

“What the hell are you doing? We’re gonna lose ‘em!” Arina shouted.

“We’re not gonna lose them,” Dani said, yanking both handles outward and then twisting them forward. The engine roared as the rear wheel split in two, making room for a lowering tailpipe. 

Arina whooped as the bike spat fire behind them, the activated boost making the motorcycle fly up the exit ramp and over the cross road. They landed on the ramp which led back onto the highway, the downward slope aiding in their acceleration. “This job is awesome!” Arina called.

Dani laughed, “Best in the world,” as they pulled up on the passenger side of their target.

Arina knocked on their window and said, “Would you just stop the fucking car already?”

When it rolled down, they were finally offered a view of the woman seated in the passenger seat. She was adorned in a black suit with gold trim. She peered over the rim of her sunglasses, piercing blue eyes appraising them. “You two are really big pains in the asses, you know that?” she asked.

Arina grinned, “We not only know, we count on it.”

Dani focused on the road as they drove but said, “Brianna, you’re under arrest for, like, fucking so much shit!”

Brianna chuckled, “Don’t I know it,” and held up a grenade.

“Oh fuck my ass,” Arina said as she pulled the pin and threw it. It emitted an electrical pulse which disabled their bike, cutting the engine and power steering. Dani barely managed to retain enough control to get the bike into the right-hand shoulder. Arina pouted as she watched Brianna’s car speed away. “Well now what?” she leaned one elbow on Daniella’s shoulder to prop her chin in her hand, crossing her other arm across Dani’s mass of curly hair. 

Dani looked over her shoulder as Brianna’s convoy car pulled up a couple hundred feet in front of them. She said, “How about we take their car?”

Arina raised her brows as she watched a few men leave the car. “I like your style,” Arina flashed a sharp grin.

She flipped her legs over the edge of the bike and helped Dani turn it so they could use it for cover. They heard a few shots ring out as the henchmen approached. “Ready?” Dani reached into her pocket and pulled out a flashbang. 

“Best job ever,” Arina gave her a thumbs up. Dani pulled the pin and threw the grenade over the bike behind her. The two covered their eyes as it exploded into blinding light, stunning the pair of men that had been coming for them. They booked it around either side of the bike and sprinted past the two men on the ground, Arina kicking one in the balls for good measure. 

They dove behind the trunk as the driver reached an arm out the window to try to fire at them. Arina scoffed, “Amateur,” and snuck around to the passenger side. She yanked the door open and pointed her own gun at the back of his head. “Out.”

The driver slowly left the vehicle as Arina got in, jumping the armrest between the seats and slipping through the driver’s door, ramming the butt of her gun into the man’s head before he could turn around. As he crumpled to the ground, Arina returned to the car, Dani already buckling in to the passenger seat.

Arina buckled in as Dani said, “I love you, Ari.”

“Love you, too,” she smiled, leaning in to share a brief kiss. “Now let’s kick the tits off Brianna.”

“Seconded.”

Arina put the car in drive and floored the gas pedal. Dani nonchalantly flipped on the radio and channel surfed as she also looked for hidden weapon compartments. She landed on a song she enjoyed with an ‘oohh,’ Jump by Van Halen, and cranked the volume. She started singing along under her breath as she rummaged.

The car didn’t roar nearly as loud at their motorcycle, allowing them to catch back up to Brianna’s car without giving them too much forewarning. Dani giggled manically, then said, “Bingo,” as she pulled what could have been a flamethrower out of the glove box.

“What even is that?” Arina asked.

“We’re gonna find out!” Dani chirped. She rolled her window down and unbuckled her belt. She leaned out the opening and sat against the ledge, resting the butt of the weapon against her shoulder as she took aim. “Come on and Jump,” she sang, firing on the final word. What could only be described as a plasma beam shot out of the weapon’s tip. Dani’s eyes widened with delight as Arina’s jaw dropped.

Arina said, “No fair, I wanna fire the plasma rifle!”

“Oh, mommy is keeping this,” Dani said with glee, the plasma eating a hole through the rear windshield of Brianna’s car. The car swerved, ending up running off the road and into a street light. 

Arina was quick to pull off behind them, screeching the car to a stop behind Brianna’s. Dani spun her way through the already open window and kept the plasma gun raised. “Out of the car, bitches, and hands where I can see them,” she instructed. 

Brianna opened her door with a look of disdain, keeping her hands raised as she left the car and got to her knees. Arina got behind her and affixed cuffs to her wrists. She then pressed a button on her watch and held it up near her face. The screen lit up and projected Veronica’s head into the air above it. 

Veronica asked, “I trust you have good news?”

“Yes ma’am, guess who’s in custody?” Arina grinned, giving Dani a high five.

“I should hope so, because I’ve already received the damage reports,” Veronica snapped. Arina winced. “A patrol car is on its way to you. Please don’t lose her again.”

“So, first of all, you’re welcome,” Arina said, “and second--” Veronica’s head disappeared. Arina set her fists on her hips, “The nerve of some people.”

Dani nodded, “That was rude.”

“It was rude!”

Brianna said, “You’re both insufferable.”

“Hey, no one asked you,” Arina looked down at her. She ruffled a hand through Brianna’s short silver hair and said, “You know, it’s a shame you’re a super villain, because you really rock that suit.”

“You’d be the last person I’d allow to take it off,” Brianna replied.

Arina set a hand on her chest in shock as Dani made a fist pump, “Yes! That means I’d get to take it off first!”

Brianna shut her eyes and groaned, “Please just shoot me.”

“As impressed as I am that you said please, I’m still personally affronted,” Arina said, “so I don’t think-” She felt something cold touch her back between her shoulder blades.

A female voice with an Australian accent said, “Drop the rifle,” to Dani, who was now looking at someone over Arina’s shoulder. Dani pouted but threw the gun behind her into the ditch so that Brianna couldn’t go get it.

Arina risked peering behind herself to see a woman with sunglasses perched on her head of short brown hair, dressed in a blue suit, aiming a gun at Arina’s back. 

Brianna stood and said, “Thank you Roxy. Sorry ladies, it’s been fun.” The two loaded themselves into the car Arina and Dani had borrowed before they sped off. 

Dani immediately ran back to grab the plasma gun. Arina watched the car shrink into the distance and mumbled, “We’re so screwed.”

Dani tucked her arm around Arina’s shoulders, the rifle hanging down against her other leg. “Meh, we’ll catch her tomorrow,” she grinned. 

“If Veronica doesn’t kill us over the collateral damages first.”

“Okay, Debbie Downer,” Dani chuckled and kissed her cheek. “If V doesn’t kill us, then we’ll catch Bri tomorrow.”

Arina turned to give her a smile, “It’s a date.”

idk the girls made me think of super spies and sci fi is fun ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ physics? what are those idk her

in other news over 400 lovelies??? who am i what is this someone tell me

granted sure you’re not all here for my writing and hey, that’s fine and swell! you’re welcome to pop in anytime anyway!! and also free to leave prompts cough

[achtung-attitude]

“One more time!” he shouts after climbing out from softened to solid ground, “I know I can get her if we try one more time!”

“That won’t be necessary,” Trish replies, climbing out after him. The ground reverts to its original state. Her hair is a mess after flying through the air.

“What do you mean not necessary?! We can catch her if you use that trampoline move again!”

“That method of pursuit is far too risky. A single miscalculation will result in us becoming pancakes on the sidewalk. Besides--”

“So what the hell else can we do?!” he shouts, grinding his teeth. He advances on her, looming over her, getting in her face. “How else are we going to reach her?! Are we just gonna stand here like idiots while one of your fans dies?!!”

Trish’s eyes narrow. Her eyes spring wide open again when SPICE GIRL spontaneously materializes and hovers over Kilo. It prods his chest with one finger and stares him down. “YOU WERE TOLD TO HAVE FAITH. ARE YOU SO FULL OF SUSPICION AND HATE YOU ARE WITHOUT REASON?”

“Wha?...” Kilo mutters, bewildered but still on guard.

“WE KNOW YOU. WE HAVE KNOWN MEN LIKE YOU BEFORE. THOSE WHO HAVE MADE AN ENEMY OF THE WHOLE WORLD. BELIEVING IN NOTHING, BELIEVED IN BY NOBODY. A CLOSED-OFF SOUL, RIPE SOIL FOR CULTIVATING EVIL. JUST LIKE FATHER.”

“SPICE GIRL, enough!” Trish yells, “you’ve said too much!”

Her Stand goes silent, before receding back into Trish’s essence. Kilo stands his ground, but a chill runs up his spine nonetheless. That was not bluster, he is sure. He does not know what the Stand meant, but he senses there was no lie in it all the same. There is anger in Trish’s eyes. Hatred. Fear and pain and regret, like baubles of light floating in a green pool. She sighs.

“Mi scusa. My Stand can be rather outspoken… Your doubt in me... is not unfounded. You haven’t known me longer than half an hour. But I ask you to trust me now and believe when I say I will do everything in my power to save Shizuka. But how can either of us do anything for her if we are too damaged to even help ourselves?

“That’s why we must change tack. Rather than catching up to her, we must learn where the Stand is taking her. And now we have a trail of follow.”

Declaring this, she raises her left hand. Tied around her index finger, what appears to be an ultra thin thread of gold waves about in the warm evening wind. Kilo follows the path of it, and sees it leads up into the sky. In the night sky, he cannot pick Shizuka out anymore, but he realizes that the thread must lead right to her.

“This is living hair,” Trish declares, “the move earlier wasn’t intended to catch Shizuka, but for this. I softened this hair and its cuticle. It will stretch endlessly, no matter how far she flies. With this, we can know exactly where she is going.”

“... Like Theseus in the Labyrinth. Finding his way with a golden thread…” Kilo murmurs, backing off at last.

Trish smiles at him, producing a comb seemingly out of nowhere to brush her hair back into place. “Have you faith now, Kilo Staples?”

                                                       ---

“Let go of me you rejected Muppet freak!” Shizuka yells. She struggles and kicks in NYT’s grip, which so far has proven to be unbreakable. It is cold up there, and difficult to breath. The wind whip her hair into her face and bring tears to her eyes. It carries her by her arms, its claws cold and metallic, its joint creaking audibly. “SUNAVA BITCH!!!” she shouts, swinging like a acrobat to deliver a kick to the Stand’s forehead, but only for her foot to phase through.

“It’s not letting go…! Regular Stand rules still apply… It can touch me, but I can’t damage it in return…!”

She lets her foot swing back down, and looks up, to see the moon. As far up as they are, she can make it out, even against the glare of the streetlights below. ACHTUNG BABY reaches out and takes hold of the light rays streaming down from it. “See how you like this!” Shizuka shouts, as Achtung Baby delivers a fist cracking into NYT’s face, followed by a flash of light.

The grip on her right arm is released, and she begins to grin in triumph. But then NYT’s right hand blurs and she feels a stinging pain in her neck. Coughing, she looks down and see one of the Stand’s syringe fingers sticking into her neck. The fluid press injects some dark pinkish fluid into her veins.

Instantly, drowsiness like a wave crashes over her brain and her vision goes blurry and dark. “Aghh… Son of a… bitchhh…! Whadidyudoo…?!” Her speech slurring, she soon goes limp. NYT resumes its grip on both arms and continues to carry her away.

                                                      ---

“Did you a favor, dumbass,” sneers Cone at his laptop screen. “What were you even trying to do, stupid piece of bait? Don’t you know what’d happen even if you could get loose?” He raises his hand, then lowers it, waving it side to side. “Wheeeeeeeew, KERSPLAT!!” he exclaims, slapping his open palm on the dusty ground, then laughing grimly.

“Ok, enough of that. Back to the main problem. Trish and this blackie. How do I get him away from her? How dare he get his stink all over her like that?” Grumbling to himself, he opens a tab on his laptop, keeping the footage of NYT in the corner of the screen. He pulls up a road map of Los Angeles.

After a moment of studying the map, he makes his decision, and picks up a remote controller, slightly heavier than a regular one but with the same shape as a standard video game controller. “Follow the drone, NEED YOU TONIGHT. Follow this path,” he mutters at his screen, manipulating the joysticks.

                                                       ---

Finding a vehicle proved even easier than expected for Kilo and Trish, as they simply approach a parked motorcycle. Soon enough, Kilo gets to work hotwiring it.

“Is a motorcycle a good idea? Couldn’t we find a car?” Trish asks as Kilo gets the engine started.

“This your first time in LA, lady? Traffic can be a nightmare, even at this time of night. No, what we need is something more…”

“Maneuverable?”

“Right.” At that moment, Kilo revs up the engine as he gets on. “Now that’s what I’m talking about…”

“I didn’t know you had such a unique skillset, Mr. Staples,” she notes as he revs up the vehicles.

“Well, Miss Una, I grew up in Compton. This shit is what we had instead of Nintendo.”

With her arms wrapped around his waist, Kilo speeds off. They thunder down the semi-populated streets, swerving between lanes, at times running up onto the sidewalk and terrifying pedestrians. Around Trish’s right index finger is tied the yellow hair that leads them to Shizuka. She reacts suddenly. “They’re turning! Left! They’re losing altitude!”

“Got it,” Kilo says, peeling into the next lane. He brakes, tires screaming, then turns again, drifting back onto the sidewalk. Glancing for a moment at his surroundings, he barely avoids ramming into a woman clad in blue, stepping out of a building with with white marble steps. The motorcycle screech to a halt and swerves around to avoid her. Kilo casts a glance at the hapless woman he nearly hit, and notices for the first time her silver badge, and that her navy-blue clothes are, of course, a uniform. “Shit,” he mutters, as he revs up and speeds away from the building that is obviously a police station.

“D-d… Dispatch…” the cop stammers, coming to her senses, before rushing to a nearby squad car and shouting into the radio, “Dispatch, come in. This is Muñoz at Santa Monica Pier Substation! There’s- there’s a 23103 in progress. Suspects are a… African American male and Caucasian female, they’re driving on the sidewalk!”

“Copy that, Santa Monica,” says the metallic voice from the other end of the radio, “back-up is en-route.”

The LAPD work quickly. Within five minutes of the call going out, two squad cars are already on Kilo and Trish’s tail. “For fuck’s sake!” Kilo complains.

“Oh it’s two squad cars!” Trish chides, “Who hasn’t been chased by the police at least once in their-  There it is…!”

Kilo sees it, his eyes fixed forward. NEED YOU TONIGHT, directly in front of them and matching their speed, dangling the limp Shizuka in front of it. It swerves into a dark alley, and Kilo swerves after it, leaning close to the asphalt . They burn through the alley, disturbing the homeless people there. Once back on the main road, NYT remains where it is, tantalizingly close yet just out of reach.

“Damn thing’s taunting us…” Kilo grumbles, “To hell with it, I’m gonna grab her!” He sits up, releasing the handlebars. SATURN BARZ hands appear in their place.

“What? Kilo no, listen to me!” Trish says, “It’s trying to goad you, make you slip up!”

“I can’t just leave her when she’s right in front of me!”

“You can! You have to!” Trish points at the misshapen thing. “It’s fast, and it must have impressive range, but it hasn’t attempted to attack us! It must be a long range type with no combat ability. Our best chance of saving Shizuka is if we find the user and put him down!”

“What if it decides to drop her before we get to him?!”

“If the user was going to do that, they would have already! The key here is to remain calm. If you lose your cool, then it’s all over. For the both of you.”

Kilo glances back at her, then back to Shizuka, still clutched in NYT’s hands. “Damn...” he mutters, resigned. No sooner has he said that NYT does suddenly ascend, revealing a bright orange hot-rod speeding towards them.

Kilo shouts in surprise, and barely notices Trish releasing her grip around his waist. She rises to her feet on the back of the seat and leapfrogs over Kilo. SPICE GIRL rains down blows on the hood of the approaching car, turning it soft as gelatin. The motorcycle squishes into it, front wheel first, then flips forward over it. It lands on the other side, both the bike and Kilo rattled, but safe and sound.

“Oughh, you motherfuckers…” groans the guy, a young man wearing shades at night, who steps out of the car, “What the fuck did you do to my car?!!” Glaring furiously, his eyes ultimately find Kilo, and his eyes narrow in anger. “Kilo Staples…?! Oh, you bastard, you’re a fuckin’ dead man--!!

SPICE GIRL cuts him short with a slap to the face that knocks him straight out. “I think I’ll drive now,” Trish says, sauntering to the bike as if nothing has happened.

“Ok,” says Kilo, wide-eyed and dazed.

Swinging onto the seat of the bike, Trish asks, “That man said your name. Do you know him?”

“Wha? Oh, I don’t know. I might’ve kicked his ass a while ago.”

Trish chuckles wryly at this, and drives away as the sirens approach. As they speed away, the driver comes to, and immediately pulls out his cellphone. “Y-yo, it’s me, it’s Darrell…! Listen I need y’all to… No no shut up, listen to me! I need y’all to come the fuck down here, right now! Kilo Staples just wrecked my fuckin’ ride that’s what! … I don’t know what they did to it, but… Just come down here, man. Bring everybody, everybody!! Bring Kilo Staples to me!”

END OF CHAPTER 15

[beaversatemygrandma]

I’ve been thinking about some odd interactions while out in the wild playing pokemon go today. Like. Odd. And kinda scary tbh. With real human beings, not like it’s halloween spooky. Like real life scary.

So me and my dad went to that massive cemetery near downtown again to hit those ten gyms and like thirty stops. (Caught a flygon out there, pretty happy about that one.) Driving with the windows down. It’s 75F and breezy out and just feels nice. And we were sitting in the car near one of the gyms and a lure i set up for a few minutes and this guy comes out of nowhere from where we came from. Weirdest part is that the only thing in that direction is the interstate and a large fence so he must’ve been sitting out there. And he’s just yelling and cussing. My first thought bc when you hear that in most places there’s some people fighting nearby. My anxiety spikes. There’s yelling and arguing. I’m nearly panicking not knowing I’m among what he’s yelling at. None of my business. I’m just there and not gonna look. My dad tells me to roll the window up, watching this guy. That was when i finally looked. This guy is looking directly at us, flipping us off and just telling us to fuck off and whatever. I didn’t realize til then so i reach down for the MANUAL FRICKIN CRANK to roll it up so I’m there for a moment, just watching this guy screaming from like fifty feet away in the middle of a row of gravestones cussing us out. Keep in mind, we’re doing nothing wrong. We’re parked on the side of the road, nowhere near any stones, no loud music or anything profane or problematic, just calmly getting ready for a pokemon raid, and he’s JUST YELLING. Once the window is up, he looks almost offended and keeps walking across the cemetery (disrespectfully OVER graves and shit btw. not even on a path.) STILL cussing us out and flipping us off and shit. I was nervously looking around the car the whole time we were out there after that. I wasn’t getting out. Nobody could make me get out.

It was the middle of the fucking day. We weren’t the only ones there playing pokemon go. (Fought a gym with a stranger again. Fun from a long distance) And just That. Whatever the Fuck That was. Idk why us. I’m glad nothing bad happened further than being verbally abused from like fifty feet away. I’m not sure if I’m ever going there along when I’m finally driving. Even if the place is only ten minutes away without any driving on the interstate.

THEN on the way home, some jackass in a massive pickup truck tried to run us off the road and eventually passed on the right In The Bike Lane and like halfway on the sidewalk, causing us to swerve into oncoming traffic. Luckily, the closest car was at least a hundred feet up so we didn’t crash or something. Hilariously (sarcasm), at the next light the same asshole was driving five below the speed limit and we were behind him. When he passed. We were going five above. The fuck.

Idk what’s up with people around here. Idk why everybody is SO FUCKING DIFFERENT and Far More aggressive in a fucking city. I thought the FL rednecks were bad. They’re nothing compared to the people I’ve seen on the streets around here. And my dad kept saying it was race related. We’re white. They’re all black, including some from the past month or so. (like the homeless, presumably, guy who induced a panic attack while i was driving bc i have an innate incapability of saying no to someone who is aggressively trying to guilt me into giving him money while my dad was getting something from the gas station...) And he goes on on some stories about other black people who have literally verbally abused him in public over the past year. And I’m just Confused as hell. At first i thought he was just being racist. But no. They’re actually doing that. I’m not going to assume literally every black person i meet in this city is an asshole, but holy hell there has been quite a few. I mean, I’ve had a lovely conversation with a nice one a month ago at a store. Mostly about bands and concerts and shit bc i was wearing a band tee. He wasn’t a blatant ass hat and i honestly hope I’ll meet him again being in this city. It’s not like nice people don’t exist in the city. BUT the Other Three. 

ngl my queer ass can’t handle this. i already got white rednecks giving me hell. 

goddammit i need to be medicated before going into the public. properly. not the xanax that calms me too much to drive. I need to not end up crying in public bc of some stranger. Like i’m sure there’s good people around here. but the way the city is set up and how people are acting makes me think different. All that stuff, plus the obvious remaining segregation (people say my old town in FL was. It’s not. Not like this), plus me being white with my borderline racist dad (who is trying not to be, he’s learning. but good god it’s hard for him to learn when this stuff happens) like i can understand why they would do this but why us? we literally live in the segregated area with all the shitty stuff around there. we’re among them. i thought the rich was the enemy. we’re rolling around in a beat up old car and driving the same unkempt roads and living in the same old ass houses near the train tracks and airport. idgi. i don’t. we’ve never done anything wrong to deserve it. at least i havent.

I’m only 22. I just moved here. I’m not old enough to have a say in shit happening around here. What the Fuck do i have to do with anything. Leave me out of it. Leave me alone. Don’t verbally abuse strangers in public. the fuck is wrong with you. Running people off the road. Guilt tripping people who are just as poor as you. Just. What the fuck. 

Long story short: Just be nice to people. Fuck.