#can never express how much i love me some wires on pretty tech

[spirit-creates]

wire love

[junowritings]

Hello! I just saw your Kalim x reader and my heart went boom!

Is there any chance that I can request a Neige Leblanche x Fem NRC student Reader?

*Where Neige falls for her quite literally and romanticly when she is setting up for VDC. But turns out his love is somewhat forbidden in a sense.*

please and thank you! Also, question! Have you seen Yuuekn for the twst manga? He's really cute in my opinion! Have a good day!

I’m so happy to hear that you liked that hun I had a lot of hun with it~! Also I feel like writing Neige on Vil’s birthday’s gonna get me cursed but it’s fiiiine~

Also HELL YEAH I’VE SEEN YUUKEN. That man threatened Crowley with a kendo stick what a legend I can’t wait for the next volume! --------

You were only supposed to oversee the others working as VDC was being set up, to go around checking on others progress and non-too-subtly marvel at all of the booths as they were being built and arranged in the appropriate locations. 

Admittedly, you were probably only allowed free reign so you didn’t get in the way of the performers as they got in some practice for the final show. If the sharp look Vil had given you when as he’d practically herded you out was anything to go by, making yourself scarce till things cooled down was your best course of action, so you’d taken to keeping track of the backstage team, if only to see all the work that went into making this long awaited event happen. 

It was just pure chance that one of the second years had caught you wandering between equipment and mistook you as part of the team. Before you knew it, he was handing you an imposingly large set of speakers and asking you to get them moved back to the stage, and perhaps if you’d been more firmer about refusing, then you wouldn’t have been scrambling towards the main area, weighty equipment in tow as you hauled them alongside you. 

Fortunately, the work you’d been dragged into suited you just fine; you’d worked a few backstage gigs during previous school events, thanks to the headmaster’s brilliant idea to leave professional work to a bunch of minimally trained students (seriously, what does Crowley even spend the event budget on?). Thankfully, you were well prepared, and it looked like the other ‘volunteers’ were grateful for the extra set of hands too, as before long you were being approached by some of the first year workers, asking for your advice or help because they weren’t sure what to do.

You’re overseeing one such first year as he sets up the wires for the overhead lights, peering over his shoulder from where he’s crouched and guiding him when needed. When he plugs in the last of the cords he turns to glance up at you, wordlessly seeking your approval.  

You grin and flash him a thumbs up. “Hey, great job. Told ya you could do it.”

At your response the student visibly relaxes, standing up and rolling off the stiffness from being stuck in such an awkward position for so long. He gives the lights a quick once over before shuffling back, releasing a sigh as he muses aloud. “Looks like that was the last of the tech setup; do you think we’ll be needed anywhere else?”

You give a noncommittal shrug. “Probably not; unless we’re needed down by the clubs I think they’re all set.” 

Honestly, the work’s pretty much done by this point, and you’re sure that sooner or later you’ll be getting a call from Rook letting you know it’s time to rejoin the group. You’ve got to admit, you’re looking forward to seeing all of the boys’ hard work pay off - you know they’ve been busting their butts to polish their routine and you’re sure their nerves are kicking in right about now.

Maybe you could bring them something back from the stalls? A good luck charm or something to snack on to ease their nerves a bit - you’re sure Ace and Kalim would appreciate some of those ‘pick-me-up’ treats from those food stands they’d been eyeing near the entrance...

Something catches your attention from the corner of your eye mid-musing, and you find yourself pausing as you cast your gaze towards the stage. There’s several people on stage, and you know at a glance that they’re not part of the crew - the pristine white and blue uniforms were a dead giveaway as is, but as you watch the small group move along the structure you freeze, eyes narrowing.

Are those...kids?

You can’t be certain, given that you’re pretty sure this is a students only event, however you’re transfixed on watching them chatter happily to one another as they point at the different decorations strung up all over the venue. There’s one boy among them that you notice, namely because he’s the tallest of the small, merry group; his smile is bright and gentle as he laughs along with his friends, guiding two of them by the hands so that the group doesn’t get separated. 

The sight is cute, no one can deny, and it's enough to tug a smile at the corner of your lips. The student beside you notices your silence and follows your gaze, gasping when he spots who you’re looking at.

“Wha-Neige is here already?!”

“Neige?” You look between the student and the boy, confused. 

Now where have you heard that name before…

Your eyes widen when you remember. Of course, Neige Leblanche! That guy you’d seen from those interviews! You remember how miffed Vil had gotten when at the sight of the soft spoken boy when they’d worked a shoot together, just about dragging you and Rook out with him before Neige had even finished his segment. Apparently they were rivals or something, but you’d never gotten the chance to ask before Vil had shut that conversation down the moment it started.

Remembering the tempered scowl on Vil’s otherwise pristine face brought a frown to your own. What was it about this guy that he’d hated so much? The more you watched Neige the more he seemed about as nice as you’d expect, regarding his friends with a soft smile that radiated nothing but warmth and kindness as they swarmed around him, all smiles and laughter. 

One of the boys tottered away from the group, wandering over to the edge of the stage to look down at the people still milling about. His fingers were wound into the scarf around his neck, pulling it up close to his face as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking around with curious eyes. Eventually, he spotted you off to the side and you found yourself smiling as you offered a small wave.

The boy’s face brightened and he didn’t hesitate to return the gesture, waving back and letting go of his scarf long enough for you to see him smiling back at you. You chuckled a little at the sight, but the little moment doesn’t last long before his face suddenly scrunches up, discomfort crossing his face.

“A-Achoo!”

He sneezes violently enough that it completely knocks him off balance, and your face pales when you watch him start to topple off of the stage. People have wrecked their ankles just trying to jump from that height, so the moment you see him start to fall you’re running to catch him, arms stretching out before you’ve even reached him.

“Ah! Snick!”

Neige notices his friend beginning to tumble and crosses the stage before you get there, calling out the boy's name as a hand reaches out to grab the back of that peach scarf and uses the garment to pull him upright. You’d have been relieved if the momentum of yanking him back hadn’t sent Neige falling right off in his place, and now you’re running to catch a different boy as you watch him go over the edge.

Fortunately, the split second difference between him and Snick gives you enough time to reach him, and Neige lands in your open arms not a moment after you get there with a gasp at the force. Mentally congratulating yourself for the good catch, you look down at the boy nestled in your arms, who looks back up at you with a surprised expression.

His hair’s skewed, hat having landed somewhere in the fall as soft black strands fall over his face and brush against his lashes. He’s close enough that you’re pretty sure that you can hear his heart hammering in his chest, and his eyes are wide - you guess he’s still shaken from the tumble - but up close you can see just how striking they are, a deep brown easing into a honey color.

‘No wonder this guy’s an actor,’ you find yourself thinking. ‘He looks like he’s straight from a painting.’

You shake the thought away and focus on the moment, lips parting to ask. “Are you okay?”

For a beat, Neige blinks up at you, speechless before breaking from his apparent reverie with a start.

“O-Oh! Y-yes, thank you.” you watch a pink hue rise to his face, dusting across his cheeks as he brings  a hand to fix his collar, gaze never straying from your own.

Your expression softens at the response. How cute.

“Niege! Neige, are you okay?!”

A voice calls out, and you look up just in time to spot Neige’s gaggle of friends as they race down the stage stairs, moving to converge around you and the boy in your arms. The one who yelled - with silver hair and glasses - seems relieved when he sees Niege is unharmed, and Snick looks on the verge of tears as he shuffles to his friend’s side, bumbling apologies between sniffles.

Neige smiles and reaches out a hand to affectionately ruffle Snick’s hair. “It’s alright; I’m fine, everyone.”

The spectacled boy turns to you and bows. “Thank you so much for your help!”

You shuffle anxiously at the praise. “Ah, well, it’s no sweat, really - I’m glad I caught him in time! Heh…”

Both you and Neige sneak a look at one another, and as your eyes meet you become acutely aware of the fact that you’re still holding him to your chest. Masking your embarrassment with a cough, you loosen your grip enough for him to ease back onto his feet. He smooths out his sweater and you lean down to grab his hat, shaking it back into shape before moving to place it back onto his head. 

You don’t think twice about tucking some stray strands of hair behind his ear until he lets out a soft “Oh!” and you fluster, bringing your hands to your chest as he mirrors the motion.

“Thank you for catching me!” he hums, words sincere as he gives a little bow of his own.

“It’s no problem!” you give an idle wave, rubbing the back of your neck as you add. “Besides, the headmaster would have my head if another school’s student got hurt on our school grounds!”

Neige raises a brow at your words, but laughs along with you when you chuckle.

“So, you guys are entering VDC, right?” you venture a guess, changing the subject, and you watch the group nod in various degrees of agreement.

“Yes! I’m looking forward to seeing everyone perform!” Neige beams at the mention of the event. “Are you a member of the NRC team…?”

He trails off, realizing he doesn’t know your name; when you tell him, he repeats the name back to himself softly, as though making sure to remember it.

“As for me? I’m not on their team, well, technically.” you find yourself hesitating for a moment. “I’m more of a manager, cheering on the team and helping out with set-up. Though, Vil’s been handling most of the work, heh.”

“Vil?” he parrots back to you, looking visibly delighted at the name Happy to ramble about your friend, you’re quick to continue.

“Yeah! He’s been working really hard with everyone to polish their performance - I swear, you’re gonna love it! He’s actually-”

“(Y/N)-!”

You freeze, head whipping in the direction of the voice, spotting Vil striding in your direction as the crowd parts seamlessly to move out of his way. You grin as you watch him approach, but your smile falters a bit when you see his expression. Though his face remains carefully neutral, you’ve known him long enough to recognize that he’s positively seething, and you have no idea what’s got him so angry.

Still surprised to see him, you shift to face him. “Oh, hey Vil! What are you doing-?”

“We need to go.” Vil’s voice is stern, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder guiding you away from Niege and back towards the way he’d come from.

“Wha-why?” you sputter, confused.

“The event’s nearly starting, and we’re up first - you’re going to be late.”

He punctuates each word carefully, though gives you a surprisingly soft smile and brings his free hand to rest against your back when he notices the confusion visible on your face. “The others are waiting for you.” he adds, as though working to ease your concern as he continues to walk with you.

“O-oh, okay.” you fumble for a moment before craning your neck to look back at Neige, giving him the brightest smile you can muster as you wave.

“See you later, Neige! Good luck with the performance~!”

Neige returns the wave, soft smile betrayed by furrowed brows as he watches your retreating form disappear back into the bustle of people. For a few moments he tries to spot you in the crowd before reluctantly giving up, bringing a hand up to his chest and lightly grasping his sweater between his fingers.

“(Y/N)...” he mumbles aloud, hoping to himself that this isn’t the last time he sees you today.

[masterjedilenawrites]

I’m not good at making requests, so forgive me if anything come out wrong.

But, could you do something were reader and Tech are fixing some eletronics and listening to cientific things, and start talking about a wrong thing people said there, so they get distracted and when realize, they’re in to a awkward position (like him btween her legs or sth like that)

I love your writing and thanks (: <3

Omg I've been so soft for Tech lately and this prompt is perfect 💚 I hope this is what you were looking for, I really enjoyed writing it!

Tech x reader | 2k words

...making bacta the most important scientific achievement in history...

"Dank farrik," Tech huffed beside you.

You came out of your daze at the sudden exclamation and looked at your friend with concern, trying to quickly figure out what had gone wrong. You were helping him with a project, though what it was exactly you weren't completely certain of. All you knew was it involved digging into the walls of the ship and untangling a lot of wires. You'd been instructed to hold onto several of them, keeping them pulled taught out of the wall so Tech could fiddle with the other ends, and the dullness of the task had caused your mind to wander.

"What's wrong?" you asked, doubtful you'd understand any explanation, but wanting to be sure you hadn't done anything to mess up his progress.

He waved a hand at you dismissively, not pulling his attention away from the work in front of him. "Just the radio," he mumbled.

You hadn't been paying attention; it had only been turned on as background noise to keep you from going insane with boredom. And since it was tuned into some kind of scientific news frequency, you didn't really understand much of what was being said anyway.

...with the most influential application simply being in the field of medicine, providing us higher life forms with a versatile tool in maintaining our quality of life, and potentially even prolonging it...

Tech huffed again. Scoffed. Your mouth quirked at how upset he was getting. It was kind of cute.

But, you had to debate whether engaging with his frustration would be worth it. He had only recently calmed down from his outburst earlier that day, the only time you had ever seen him genuinely upset. Wrecker had accidentally knocked over a piece of machinery that was... well, something very important, apparently. No one was too sure. But Tech had spent most of the week carefully arranging its parts just-so, so that when all his hard work went crashing onto the floor, his breathing had suddenly resembled that of a charging Nexu. He'd drawn himself up, trying to match his brother's height, and ordered the poor guy to never step foot in this part of the ship again. The other Batchers had tried to defend him and were subsequently banned as well.

That left you as the only option for help.

Maybe that meant he wouldn't kick you out for debating him....

"Sounds like they're saying some pretty reasonable things. Am I missing something?"

Tech's fingers, which had been deftly working through the wires before him, clipping some and splicing others, finally froze. The clone's face tilted over to you, his eyes looking a little too judgmental through those glasses for your liking.

"You think bacta is the most important scientific achievement?" he asked. You didn't like his tone, either.

You scrunched your mouth in thought, actually giving the question serious consideration. While you mulled it over, Tech stood up from his hunched position in the wall and started pulling on some of the wires, unraveling them from their tangled mess.

"Yeah," you finally decided. "I think medicine in general is pretty important. And bacta specifically is the strongest known substance to deliver fast and effective healing."

Tech was mostly focused on the wires, but he spared you a glance.

"And treating symptoms is the most important thing for humanity? Here, hold this." He added another wire for you to hold in your hands.

You knew it was a loaded question so you chose to answer it with one of your own. "Well if it's not bacta or medicine, then what would it be?"

"Electricity," he said quickly and assertively, as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. He continued to focus more on his work and you were annoyed he didn't seem to want to offer up an explanation to his opinion, despite having made you give one. He'd finally untangled the wires and was back to leaning into the cavern in the wall and setting them into their proper places.

"Why electricity?" You hated how dumb your question sounded; obviously you understood the concept and understood its importance. You just really wanted to challenge him to give you some explanations.

"For one, most medicines would not be able to be mass-produced were it not for the electrically-run vats in which they are made." He held his hand out behind him and made a grabbing motion. "Blue, please."

You sorted out the blue wire and passed it over.

"For another," he continued, his voice sounding distant as he leaned further away into the wall, "we must ask what constitutes a quote-unquote important achievement. For example, is an achievement worthy of the title simply because it improves our quality of life? Green, please."

You handed over the corresponding wire. "I'd say it's more about preserving life. Even outside of war, there's enough injury and illness that would end life were it not for medicine to heal them."

"Ah, but in that same reasoning, electricity also sustains life. It powers sources of light and warmth, which can also provide a means of boiling water and cooking food. All keys to survival. Yellow, please."

"So does fire," you shot back. "People survived long before electricity, and there's still plenty of civilizations living fine without it."

Tech finally emerged from the wall and took the last few wires from you, the red and black ones. He met your eyes with an earnestness that let you know how much he was enjoying this conversation. "And people have survived without medicine. At least the manufactured forms that you're arguing for, like bacta. Traditional medicine is as sufficient as fire."

Before you could respond, Tech moved to the side, motioning toward the wall with his head and holding up the remaining wires.

"Now, unfortunately these last ones need to be clipped in down below. I'm not able to fit through the lattice of the floor, but someone of your stature easily could."

You stepped forward and peered down. It was a mess of machinery and pipes and beams, but you could clearly see the port where the wires had been yanked out earlier. You knelt down, resting your stomach on the edge of the wall, but paused before bending over.

"If it wasn't for bacta, you wouldn't have been born." You were confident in your comeback and thus didn't linger for his reaction, turning to bend down into the ship with your wires instead.

You were disappointed to hear his soft chuckle from above you.

"And what do you think powers the bacta tanks that hold the clone embryos?"

You were glad he couldn't see the frustrated frown on your face. While you tried to think of a new point in your debate, you snapped the red wire into the proper port. But then you realized you couldn't quite reach the black one, and started carefully shimmying forward, deeper into the wall.

"It seems we have circled back to the initial question," Tech offered in your silence. You felt his hands hold on to your hips, steadying you as your legs lifted from the floor, most of your body now inside the ship. You didn't think anything of it, though, your focus split between your task and his words. "What makes an achievement the most important? Both medicine and electricity are capable of preserving life, but neither are essential to survival. So, what criteria are we left with?"

You were finally within reach of the last port and pushed the wire into it. "Sounds like you already have the right answer, so why don't you stop teasing me and just say it?" you called up to him.

"I...I didn't mean to sound like I was teasing."

You could hear the apology in his voice, how truly caught off guard he was to hear that you had perceived his attempts at a friendly debate, a conversation, as mocking or disrespectful. Your stomach knotted up in guilt, making your journey to wiggle back out of the wall a little more difficult.

"I'm sorry, Tech," you said through a grunt as you tried to push yourself back. "I didn't mean to sound rude. I just don't know the answer."

You felt his arms snake around your middle, pulling you the last of the way out. You came to rest on your knees, breathing heavily at the sudden increase in air supply. Tech was crouched alongside you, his chest against part of your back, his arms still holding you.

"I honestly don't know the answer, either," he blinked down at you, speaking quietly. "I don't know what criteria would constitute the most important scientific achievement. I thought maybe we could figure it out if we kept discussing it."

You craned your neck around to look at him, unconcerned about the discomfort it took to do so. You needed to face him fully. "Or... maybe we don't need to figure it out? I mean, does there need to be one achievement labeled more important than any other? Can they not all be valued equally?"

"I suppose..." he relented. But only a little. "It is a fun thought exercise, though."

You smiled at that, and it made your heart flutter a little to see him return the expression. There were a few seconds between you where you sat pleasantly in each other's arms... before the realization hit that you were in each other's arms.

"Uh," Tech stuttered first. His eyes looked about frantically as if the more he saw of you practically sitting in his lap, the more he would know what to do about it.

Your face was hot and your heart thumped forcefully in your chest. But you weren't panicking. Even though you'd been around the Bad Batch for a while now, this was the first time you'd gotten physically close to any of them, especially this dorky genius, who made you feel just a little better about life than the others did. You hadn't been sure why, not until this moment, your face being mere inches away from his own. Now it clicked.

His arms had removed themselves from your frame and he was starting to crawl backward on the floor. You quickly grasped his shoulder to stop him.

"Tech, wait."

He froze, looking at you with wide, apprehensive eyes. His shoulder was tense so you relaxed your grasp and simply let your hand rest on it gently. You gave him a small smile. Thankfully these little gestures were enough encouragement for him to lean back to you. He still looked at you timidly, but he wasn't pulling away anymore. It seemed like maybe he had been feeling the same things about you.

"Yes?"

He was waiting for you to make the next move.

"So, this project," you stalled, needing just a little more time to work up the courage. "What is it again? Why did I just crawl into the bowels of the ship?"

Your face was creeping closer to his, breath gently fanning across each other, warm but refreshing.

"I... I..." Tech seemed to be short-circuiting. "I was just, uh, re... redecorating."

Your nose had just brushed his when you suddenly frowned and moved back to look at him questioningly. "Redecorating... wires?"

You were very amused at how flustered he seemed to be in this situation. But then the tables turned as Tech rolled with it.

"Yeah, I didn't like the way they looked in there. Wanted to change things up. You know me."

The smile on our face spread as he talked and you couldn't hold back your laughter any longer. You bent forward, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck while your body convulsed with giggles. Tech laughed along, bringing his arms back around you to hold you in place. When you finally looked up at him and the shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face, you knew you'd finally found your courage.

"Oh, Tech..." you chided, pressing your smiling lips against his own.

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 8

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: Welcome back to Part 2 of the HPHM Rockstar AU! New location, new songs, new drama. Buckle up, we're going for a ride!

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Language

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

You keep on saying you'll be mine for a while

You're looking fancy, and I like your style

You drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy

You keep on shouting, you keep on shouting

I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day

~ Kiss - Rock And Roll All Nite ~

Despite it being her third tour with Equinox now, Lizzie would probably never stop being amazed at the incredible machinery that stood behind every single one of their shows.

Now, two weeks after they had started out in London, their route had seen them through Bristol and on to Birmingham. All the familiar routines had established themselves again as if they hadn’t spent a whole month apart at all. Like cogs in a well tuned machine, everyone was working together in well established patterns to make each show unforgettable for those who came to see them play.

It didn’t matter whether one was part of the tech crew, the management, security or the band themselves; they were all like a big, chaotic but loveable family. Of course, Lizzie couldn’t deny that this time around there was considerably more tension to be felt backstage than she was used to, but fights were something happening even in the best of families; at least, that’s what she was telling herself.

Their soundcheck being over, Lizzie had just left the stage with Skye, waiting for the others to catch up. Even though the roof of the arena they were playing in tonight was still closed, Lizzie could feel a bead of sweat running down her spine.

It had been uncharacteristically hot for weeks now, very unusual for a British summer. Not that she was complaining, Lizzie typically loved everything about the hot weather; but the dampness that it brought with it made it almost unbearable to move, setting everyone’s nerves on edge. Hopefully it would just rain soon and be done with it; there was nothing better to clear the air than a good summer storm.

At least for them, however, the heat of the sun would soon be replaced by the spotlights burning down on them. Even after so many years of playing on stages of every size and format, Lizzie had trouble fighting the nervous feeling spreading from her stomach through her body. She was always the first one to enter the stage, the beat of her drums building up the mood until one after the other of her friends would enter and add their own instruments to the sound. As soon as she started playing she was in her element, every flare of nerves forgotten; but until then, she was stuck feeling like in free fall.

Lizzie reached into the pocket of her shorts, her fingers finding the familiar shape of the red plectrum she was always carrying with her. It had belonged to Orion before it had found its way into her possession; it was one of the plectrums he had used on the first tour they had ever played. Without thinking about it, she drew it out and let it wander through her fingers, a fun little trick Orion had taught her to help channel her focus when her stage fright was setting in.

“What’s that you got there, little rockstar?”

Charlie had finished his work on Merula’s keyboard and joined them at the stage entrance. Lizzie hadn’t noticed him approaching and jumped when he spoke, dropping the plectrum to the ground. Before she could pick it up again, Skye had gotten hold of it, turning it around between her fingers with a confused look.

“That looks familiar,” she mused, examining the colourful piece of plastic. “Is that one of our old plectrums?”

Lizzie tried snatching it from her hands but Skye quickly moved it out of her reach.

“No, it’s not, it’s just a lucky charm.”

She could tell Skye didn’t buy her explanation. “Why would you have one of these?”

Lizzie scowled at her friend as she tried in vain to reach Skye’s hand. “None of your business, Parkin. Give it back.”

Skye made an indignant sound as Charlie jumped to Lizzie’s aid; playing out his advantage in height, he unceremoniously plucked the plectrum from Skye’s fingers and handed it back to Lizzie with a wink. Giving him a grateful look, she let it disappear in the depths of her pockets.

“You’re a real spoilsport, Weasley,” Skye snorted.

“And you’re a nuisance,” Lizzie said in Charlie’s stead.

Charlie shook his head. “Hearing you two talk, I might just believe the rumours about your relationship.”

“I do have standards, you know,” Lizzie rolled her eyes, chuckling at Skye’s sound of protest.

Lizzie’s attention was drawn away from their bickering when she saw Orion and Everett were still standing on stage, engaged in a heated discussion. She stifled a sigh; Everett was still at odds with Orion’s decision to perform the new songs himself. There wasn’t one day he would spare them his complaints. Although Everett had always been a person with a temper, Lizzie couldn’t remember him ever being angry at one of them for so long.

Orion, however, wasn’t responding to Everett’s aggressive demeanour. Ever the calm and collected person, it took a lot more for him to lose his centre; Lizzie wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him anything but level-headed at all. And sure enough, even when Everett left him standing with a dismissive gesture, he only looked after him with a tired expression.

In contrast, Everett’s face was clearly showing his annoyance. He tried to hide it behind his usual sneer when he saw them looking, but the way his shoulders were tensed was speaking volumes. His posture only changed when he walked past where Artemis was still working on her explosives. She was bent deeply over the igniter she was wiring, so concentrated on her task she didn’t even notice Everett coming up behind her.

“A little lower, sweetheart. If you have to mess with our pyros, you might as well give us a proper show.”

Artemis straightened up with a face like thunder. “Go fuck yourself.”

Everett shrugged. “I don’t need to, I have plenty of people willing to do that for me. I can bump you up the queue if you like?”

Rolling her eyes, Artemis gathered up her things and moved to the other side of the stage, as far away from all of them as possible.

“Why can’t he just shut up for a second,” Charlie growled as they watched Everett strut off with a self-satisfied smirk. “I’m making no progress with her whatsoever. I’m still trying to convince her that we’re not all dickheads. Ev’s attitude is definitely not helping.

“Is it still so bad with her?” Lizzie wanted to know.

“Yeah,” Charlie admitted, “I don’t know how to get through to her. She’s a tough nut, that one.”

“Tell me about it,” Lizzie said. “I’ve never met anyone so determined to not be nice to anyone.”

“Surprised there’s people out there not wanting to be your friend?” Merula scoffed as she joined them.

“Actually, I am,” Lizzie said. “I even managed to convince you to be my friend, after all.”

“If you want to call us friends,” Merula snorted, but Lizzie knew she was teasing her.

She chuckled and turned to Charlie. “Do you have any idea why she’s so frosty?”

Charlie shrugged, looking as clueless as they came. “If only I knew. She’s giving me no chance to find out either, as soon as the work’s done, she’s off.”

“Sounds like she needs to get a few drinks in to loosen up,” Skye said. “Probably much easier to handle her then.”

Charlie looked at her incredulously. “You do realise how creepy that sounds, right?”

“Don’t be stupid, you know what I mean,” Skye rolled her eyes, “but seriously, who says no to a free drink and some good company?”

Charlie watched Artemis work her way through the remaining igniters. He didn’t seem convinced by Skye’s suggestion but shrugged anyway. “Might as well give it a shot at this point, but if she bites me, I’ll hold you accountable.”

***

Just like the weather forecast had promised, the temperatures hadn’t dropped one bit until it was time to enter the stage. And even if a cooling breeze would be blowing outside, it would stand no chance of reaching the fired up masses filling up the arena.

Lizzie wasn’t sure where it was warmer, down between the thousands of people singing along to their music, or up with them on stage where the heat of the spotlights made her wish for a cold shower.

They were already halfway through the setlist and as always, time seemed to be racing by.

Their fans were fantastic tonight as well; the arena was sold out up to the last seat and the crowd was incredibly enthusiastic. They were reacting to every prompt they were given, whether it was a challenge to cheer louder, sing along or clap to the beat. It was shows like these that reminded Lizzie time and time again that she had the best job in the world.

Everett was giving a stellar performance tonight; he had the whole stadium wrapped around his little finger like only he could, and the fans were cheering him on as he stepped back from the microphone to join the sound of his guitar with the rest of them.

Lizzie turned her head to Orion, who was already waiting for her to give him his cue. She counted down the remaining beats in her head before she gave him a nod. When he turned his attention from her and began playing his solo part, Lizzie couldn’t help but grin. The people were screaming themselves into a frenzy as Orion worked his magic on his guitar.

He never planned what he was going to do beforehand, not one solo the same as the day before. His brow was furrowed in concentration and his lips ever so slightly parted as his fingers flew up and down the neck of the guitar. In moments like these, everything else faded into the background for him; there was nothing left but him and his music.

As Lizzie watched his fingers dance with dizzying speed, her flushed skin burned at the memory of what other magic they were able to do. The thought almost made her miss a beat.

Almost.

She caught herself at the last moment before anyone could notice. She was glad everyone else was too busy to see the blush spreading on her face. But even if they had, they would never have suspected that it didn’t come from the incredibly high temperatures, but something else entirely.

The song ended with a bang, Lizzie hitting two cymbals and the bass drum at the same as KC let all the spotlights flare up. Almost blinded by the brightness flooding the stage, Lizzie closed her eyes and dipped her head back, breathing heavily. For a fraction of a second, the fading sound of the music was still hanging in the air, everyone holding their breaths, before it gave way to the cheers erupting from the crowd.

Lizzie smiled to herself, waiting for her racing heart to slow, before setting her mind onto the rhythm of the next song. The crowd was still cheering and she waited a moment longer until everyone was ready and Orion had stepped behind his own microphone. The next song was one of the unpublished ones and even two weeks after striking their deal with the label, Orion hadn’t let Everett sing one single verse of them.

Lizzie took a deep breath and set the rhythm by hitting her drumsticks against each other a few times. Luckily, it was one of the slower songs so they all had the chance to calm down a little. Orion’s melodic voice carried into the vast space of the stadium over the hushed crowd and Lizzie felt a shiver run down her spine; she had loved this song from the first time Orion had let her hear it.

The crowd seemed to share her opinion; many had taken out their phones and lit the screens, waving them through the darkness in what was looking like a sea of stars. It wasn’t quite the same sight as it had been when lighters had still been allowed in the auditoriums, but Lizzie was loving the sight nonetheless.

All of the new songs they had played so far had been very well received. They made sure to switch them every night so no one got too overexposed, but whatever ones Orion chose, they were always met with great enthusiasm.

The only unrecorded song they were playing night after night was, much to everyone’s surprise, not one of Orion’s creations. Even after Orion had given his consent, Everett hadn’t stopped pestering Ethan until he had agreed to give a few of Everett’s songs a shot. Most of them weren’t nearly as well liked as the ones Orion hadn’t even finished yet, but there was one song that had instantly become so popular with their fans that Ethan had decided to make it a permanent addition to the set list for the rest of the tour.

Everett had revelled in his triumph over Orion; at least that’s how he saw it. And Lizzie had to admit that it really was a catchy melody. But much to Everett’s dismay, whenever Orion picked up his guitar and did what he did best, all eyes were on him, and him alone. He was pouring his heart and soul into the music he played, and people could tell. Like the Pied Piper, he commanded everyone’s attention without even trying to.

That was probably what angered Everett most; the fact that Orion wasn’t even trying.

Even now, Everett was scowling darkly at Orion as he was singing the song in Everett’s stead. Lizzie tried to concentrate on keeping a steady beat, but her eyes were drawn back to their frontman’s menacing expression.

She couldn’t help the feeling that a storm was coming.

[ceealaina]

Title: Mind Control Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card: 4008 Link: AO3 Square Filled: S1 - Technopathy Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Teen Major Tags: Technopathy, MIT Era, Fluff and Humor, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting Summary: Rhodey always knew that Tony was special. He just hadn't realized how special. Word Count: 2749

Rhodey had always known there was something different about Tony, something special — something beyond being heir to one of the biggest fortunes in the world. Despite all his bravado when they’d first met, it had been clear what a genuinely good person Tony was. He was unfailingly kind, generous to a fault. He was special.

But for all his observations, it was almost two years of calling Tony his best friend (and six months of calling him his boyfriend) before Rhodey had realized just how special. 

They’d moved in together after their first year, deciding that dorm life was not for them. The apartment was tiny and crappy, but it was theirs. And sure, they could have had top of the line everything with Tony’s trust fund, but millions or no, Rhodey insisted on paying his own way. (It was, Tony had declared one night when they were drunkenly celebrating the end of the semester, one of the things he loved best about Rhodey.) 

Which was how they ended up with the world’s most temperamental television set, some old thing that Rhodey had found on the side of the road, lugged home and bullied into working. Tony may have been the tech genius, but Rhodey was no slouch when it came to electronics himself, and this was his baby, his responsibility to take care of when she broke — which happened once every couple weeks. 

So when she finally broke to the point that even Rhodey had to admit defeat, to classify her as unrepairable, it hurt him more than he liked to admit. He knew it was foolish, but he couldn’t help giving her a quiet little goodbye, patting her on the top of her box and thanking her for all her hard work. 

Which, of course, was exactly when Tony had walked into the room. 

“Ummm.” Tony had his lips pressed tightly together, fighting back a smile, but Rhodey could see it curling at the corners of his mouth anyway. “Everything okay there, bud?”

Rhodey didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t upset, just sighed heavily. “Betsy finally kicked it.”

“Betsy?” Tony repeated with an arched brow. “Sounds like somebody Captain America would have dated.” But he dropped his bag in the doorway, making his way over to the television in question. “Want me to take a look?” 

Rhodey gave a half-hearted, forlorn shrug, and Tony didn’t even have the grace to pretend he wasn’t laughing at him as he pulled the TV out, poking at the back of it. 

“Come on baby,” he purred, manipulating the wires. “Tell me what’s going on, yeah?” He talked away to the TV as he worked, pausing for breaks like it was a conversation, and Rhodey quirked his head as he watched him. There was something odd about the way Tony was working, something he couldn’t quite figure out. Rhodey had a tendency to talk out loud while he worked too, but this was different, like Tony was actually listening to a response. And then, after a few moments, Tony gave out a “Ha! There you are,” fiddled with something, and Betsy sparked to life again. 

“Holy shit,” Rhodey said, because he’d been working on the TV set for hours, and he hadn’t the idea of writing her off lightly. “How did you do that?” 

Tony shrugged, but he looked pleased as he rocked back onto his feet, wiping at a spot of grease on the side of his thumb. “I just listened to her, you know?” 

Rhodey just arched an eyebrow, because no, he didn’t really know. “Uh… Sure?” 

Tony just grinned wide and grabbed his bag to dump in his room. “Pizza tonight?” 

***

That might have been it, except that Rhodey kept noticing it after that. He’d always thought Tony talked to the coffeemaker like that because he loved coffee so much, but then the coffee always somehow tasted ninety times better when Tony made it. And he seemed to have uncanny luck when it came to traffic lights. Like in a way that Rhodey was pretty sure actually defied the laws of probability. And somehow their highly temperamental oven never seemed to burn the frozen pizzas that Tony put in, even though he could barely cook to save his life, and Rhodey -- who actually could cook, thank you very much -- always managed to burn his pizzas to a crisp. 

And then there was the ROTC Christmas party. The ROTC Christmas party always turned into a drunk fest, and Rhodey was no exception to the rule. He’d been looking forward to it since his second week of classes. Tony had been finishing up his final project for one of his classes anyway, so he’d promised to pick Rhodey up after, saving him from having to drunkenly stumble his way home. But he’d been late, and Rhodey had been waiting outside for nearly twenty minutes, distracted by the lightly falling snow, before Tony rolled up in his car. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Tony called, leaving the car running as he jumped out of the driver’s seat and hurried over to help Rhodey through the snow. “I couldn’t find my goddamn keys.” 

“I’m not so drunk I can’t walk,” Rhodey protested, unable to help the way his words all rolled together. “You don’t have to help me.” Tony’s hand on his arm was warm and comforting though, and he made no effort to pull it away. 

Tony just grinned at him and then reached up, brushing off the snow that had gathered on Rhodey’s bare head. “Why didn’t you wait inside, dumbass?” he asked.

Rhodey shrugged as Tony helped him into the car, pushing his head down so he wouldn’t smack it into the doorframe. “Got distracted by the snowflakes.” The fond smile that Tony gave him in return made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside and he snuggled into the cushy leather, watching Tony through the windshield as he hurried back around to the driver’s side and climbed in after him. 

“Here,” Tony said, turning the heat up until it was full blast. “You’re gonna freeze to death.” 

“I’m fine,” Rhodey protested. “I’m not even cold.” 

“You’re frozen,” Tony told him, grabbing his hands and rubbing them between his own hot ones. “You’re just too drunk to realize it.” 

Rhodey was pretty sure that wasn’t true, but the heat did feel nice, making him drowsy and lazy as Tony headed back toward the apartment. His eyes were getting heavy, now that the party was over, and he fell asleep not long after. 

But when he thought about it later, he could have sworn that there hadn’t been any keys in the ignition when his eyes had closed. 

Still, he probably could have written all of that off (maybe Tony had panicked when he couldn’t find his keys and hotwired his own car. That was totally something he would do) until the incident with the music. 

Rhodey had had a very long day, and felt like his head was splitting apart with a headache. All he had wanted was to go home and sleep for the next twenty-four hours, but he’d had to stop by Tony’s lab and tell him something that had seemed important at the time. Of course when he’d walked in there was music playing at an excruciatingly loud decibel, and no sign of Tony among all the bits of machinery. It was too loud for him to even hear himself think, let alone for Tony to hear if he called his name, and not in the mood to play hide and go seek, he’d headed over to the top-of-the-line stereo system and hit the pause button. 

The music kept playing

“What the fuck,” Rhodey grumbled, blinking down at it as he tried to will his brain to work. He hit the button again, wondering if he’d hit the wrong one or something, headache making him stupid, but still the music continued to blare out through the speakers. 

Of course, Tony was constantly taking things apart and putting them back together when he was trying to problem solve. He’d probably rewired it so that off was on and vice versa. Rhodey was too tired to try and figure out what button went where, so he just reached around back and pulled the cord right out of the socket on the wall. 

And the music kept playing. 

“What the fuck?” he shrieked, suddenly wide awake as he jumped back with the cord still in his hand. He pulled a little too hard, and the entire system fell to the floor with a loud crash, but the music still didn’t stop. 

And then: “Rhodey?” 

Rhodey just barely heard Tony’s voice over all the noise, but he whirled around to see Tony standing there with his arms full of spare parts, eyes wide and distressed. Abruptly the music cut off, the room going suddenly, eerily quiet. Rhodey blinked back at Tony, down at the stereo and the cord still in his hand, and then back at Tony. 

“Was this you?” 

“Listen,” Tony nearly tripped over his own feet as he stumbled over to the counter to set the things in his arms down, moving over to Rhodey with his hands held up in a placating motion, like he was terrified that Rhodey was going to run away in fear. “Rhodey, I can explain, I swear. It’s not what it looks like.” 

“Can you control electronics with your mind?” 

Tony’s face fell, and he winced. “Okay, maybe it is kinda what it looks like,” he muttered, staring down at his feet, and for the life of him Rhodey couldn’t figure out why he looked so dejected. 

“Holy shit, Tones,” he breathed, looking around the room with a new appreciation for everything Tony had in there. He grabbed Tony by the forearms. “This is awesome.” 

Tony’s head shot back up, staring at Rhodey with a startled expression. “Awesome?” he repeated, incredulously. The hint of a nervous smile twitched at his lips, like he didn’t want to get his hopes up. “You really think so?” 

Rhodey’s eyes narrowed slightly; he’d known Tony long enough to be all too familiar with the symptoms of Howard Stark’s A+ parenting. “Tony, let me say it again. You can control electronics with your mind. This is the coolest thing I’ve ever heard of! In the first place, I'm pretty sure this qualifies you as a bona fide superhero. And even as far as superpowers go, this is waaaay up there in coolness factor. You could have something lame like cheese manipulation--”

“Cheese manipulation?” Tony repeated, looking confused.  

“But let me say it again. You can control electronics with your mind.”

Tony snorted, but he was grinning now, shy and pleased. “I don’t know about superhero,” he protested. “But thanks. I guess. Although I feel like I should point out, it’s not like I actually did anything.” 

Rhodey ignored that. “How long has this been going on?” he asked instead, finally letting go of Tony’s arms. “Have you always known you could do this? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner.” 

“I mean…” Tony shrugged, rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Yeah? But when I was a kid I just thought it was normal. It wasn’t like I was around a whole lot of people, I just figured everyone could turn the lights on by thinking about it. And then when I was like five, Howard had a whole entire day where he actually remembered he was actually my dad, and he was showing me something in his lab, and I was so excited to be working with him that my dumb ass said something about being able to hear the electronics and, well… You know Howard.” He shrugged a little, seeming to shrink in on himself. “He looked at me like I was nuts -- like really nuts -- and made me leave, and then later that night I couldn’t sleep and I snuck out of bed to find Jarvis and I heard him whispering to Mom about psychiatrists and mental hospitals and sending me away. Obviously that didn’t happen, and when I didn’t bring it up again they forgot about it, but I guess after that I was scared to ever mention it to anyone.” 

Rhodey blanched. He’d seen the pictures of Tony as a little kid, heard the stories from Jarvis. He couldn’t imagine even considering sending away that sweet little thing to a mental hospital for something as innocuous as telling his father he could ‘hear’ the television. Not for the first time, Rhodey wondered what in the actual fuck was wrong with Howard Stark. He managed a smile for Tony though. 

“Guess I’m just special then, huh?” 

Tony huffed and rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help his little smile. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

Rhodey huffed right back at him. “Jesus Christ, quit looking so pathetic, you’re breaking my heart.” He wrapped his arms around Tony’s back, smiling to himself at the way Tony immediately melted into it, wrapping his arms around Rhodey’s waist in turn and leaning into his chest, despite the minimal height difference between them. “Listen, Tones. I know your dad’s got money, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a fucking moron. Howard sucks. This is literally the coolest thing to ever happen to me, and it’s not even happening to me.” 

There was a little giggle against his chest before Tony pulled back again. “Yeah?” he asked, smiling but still looking awkward. He let go of Rhodey’s waist and gave a little shrug. “I don’t know, I guess maybe I also kind of always felt like I’m cheating?” 

“Cheating?” Rhodey stared blankly back at him. “I don’t get it.” 

Tony shrugged again, somehow looking even more awkward. “Well you know. People give me all this credit for being smart, and good with tech and--,” 

“Nope,” Rhodey hollered as he figured out exactly where Tony was going with this. “Let’s just shut that shit down right now. You're using your natural talents to the best of your abilities. Would you consider…” 

He trailed off, trying to think of a good example, and Tony arched an eyebrow at him. 

“Captain America having the ‘ability’ to take on a tank cheating?” he offered with a wry grin. “Yeah, I absolutely would.” 

“Nope,” Rhodey said again. “Not the same at all.” 

“You’re the one who literally just compared me to a superhero,” Tony grumbled, but his smile looked a little more genuine now. 

“Still, not the same,” Rhodey insisted. “You were born with this, it’s not something you injected into your eyeballs.” 

“I don’t think…” Tony started, but stopped at the look on Rhodey’s face. 

“You’re not cheating any more than... Stephen Hawking is cheating,” Rhodey decided on finally. “He uses his brain to the best of its ability, and so do you. Besides, lotsa people have natural talent without a clue what to do with it. You’ve got both, so… Not a cheater.” 

“That’s a terrible conclusion. Not a bit of proof. It’s a hypothesis at best.” Tony was grinning though, that shy little smile that he got when he didn’t want Rhodey to know exactly how pleased he was. 

“I’m serious, Tones,” Rhodey insisted, because the best way to get Tony to really relax was to bully him into it. “This? Is cool. Think about all the things we can do with this!” 

“‘We?’” Tony repeated, voice dry. 

Rhodey ignored him. “You can fix my car for me... I’m never going to have to change a lightbulb again...” 

“You’re definitely still going to have to do that, that’s not how electricity works.” 

“You can get revenge on that asshole at the coffee shop who always makes my coffee wrong. Swear he does it on purpose,” Rhodey continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Hey! Can you do that thing in the movies, when you make money shoot out of the ATM?” 

Tony snorted, but he was fully beaming now, concerns apparently forgotten. “This all sounds like a whole lot of me doing the work while you get the benefit. What’s in it for me?” 

“Tony, baby.” Rhodey threw his arm over Tony’s shoulder and gave him his most obnoxious wink. “That’s what friends are for.” 

He waggled his eyebrows at him and headed for the door, busting up laughing when all he got was an indignant, “We’re boyfriends, asshole,” from behind him.

@tonystarkbingo  

[coleyholts]

The ER and the Operation

First off-Sorry I haven’t posted in a while.  For obvious reasons, this post took a lot of time to put into words that were relatable.  

Trigger Warning: Infant Injury.  This is by far the worst part of the entire ordeal.  I want the reader to know that none of this is exaggerated whatsoever, and it may be difficult to read.  What happened in the ER and trauma center that day has truly changed me.

The glass doors parted in front of me to reveal a line of people waiting to get checked in. This was the first time I cried. They all quickly waved me up ahead of them once they saw that I had an obviously unconscious, super pale, vomit covered infant in my arms.

The helplessness set in when I was required to sign in like everyone else.  It’s not like I expect special treatment, but my baby was dying and no one seemed to understand the urgency of the EMERGENCY.  There were no nurses coming out to receive a trauma patient. There was no alarm.  I stood there, alone, with my rapidly worsening baby, sobbing and screaming for help while dripping in her breakfast and lunch.  At this point, she would wake up and pass out again in a vicious cycle.  Over and over, I watched her light dim for what felt like an eternity. After what I would rationally estimate to be about seven minutes (48,369,526 years to a scared parent), they finally called us back.

Everyone was taking their time.  I wondered if they thought I was being dramatic.  Were they rolling their eyes and blaming my emotion on “New Parent Syndrome?”  They were.  I felt it.

It wasn’t until they FINALLY decided to run vitals that they discovered what I was trying to stress since I had entered the hospital.  My daughter had something way more serious going on than any of us expected.  We walked (very briskly) down the hall to get a better look at what was actually happening in her head.  The tech and nurse cloaked me in protective gear so that I could stay with her.  I gently stroked her toes (also known as de peets) as she woke up, cried in pain, and fell back into her trauma-induced sleep while they got all of the imagery they needed.

We were brought back to our room and had a brief moment alone.  I held her so tight while I kissed her face and alternated holding her feet and hands.  They were so cold.  A nurse rushed up to our door, looked at me and said, “make sure to keep her as upright as possible.”  

That’s when I knew there was a bleed in my baby’s head.

A team of nurses came in and told me that they were going to start an IV, which actually made me feel relieved to know she would be feeling better soon. This is when Daniel arrived, and being that he is the epitome of girl dad attitude, he understandably doesn’t like to watch her get stuck.  He stuck his head in the room and immediately backed out when they tried to start the line. Unfortunately, we found out very quickly that she had no blood in her limbs whatsoever.  

They stuck her over and over again just to find air bubbles, which means they were unable to administer any intravenous medication to replace fluids, relieve pain, stop her from fading in and out of consciousness, or do anything to prevent the blood pooling in Natasha’s skull.  They decided that her condition was serious enough that she needed a line no matter what it took, which I agreed, which meant that they were going to use a legitimate power tool to drill into her shins to run a line into her bones.  I consented and sobbed, knowing the pain my baby had already endured that day was going to be the start of much more, if she survived.

While this was going down, Daniel was right outside the door, unaware of the issues we were running into, he heard a nurse at the nurses’ station ordering a helicopter for an infant, and that the “family wasn’t aware yet.”  My husband is a strong, supportive man that is a fixer.  If he cannot fix a problem, he expresses himself with (verbal) anger.  He comes into the room and says very abruptly to the nurse, “You’re flying her out?! Why?!” to which the male nurse responded, “because there's something seriously wrong and it needs to be fixed.”  I saw him escalating with anxiety so I assured him that they were just having a little trouble getting the line in and he returned to the hallway to start the wait for the doctor who was going to tell us what the hell was actually happening to our baby.

When she arrived, the doctor came in with Daniel.  She told us that Natasha had fractured her skull, and along with potential brain damage and hemorrhage, we were also concerned about blood loss, as her supply was pooling in her head.  The only way to save her life was to get her to INOVA Children’s Hospital for an emergency surgery, on a helicopter that I was not allowed to accompany her on.

Alone with my baby and the nurses, I was so upset.  My sweet girl was in so much pain. I made eye contact with a nurse and while sobbing, begged her to please administer anything whatsoever to ease the headache and all of the needle sticks-not to mention the drill.  For the first time, someone heard me.  She RAN into the hall and managed to bring back Versed, which can be administered nasally to relax muscles and calm the patient.  I am given the same drug when I get my back injections, so I was relieved.  It also prevents the patient from remembering everything, when administered in proper dosage.  It helped Natasha’s discomfort immediately.  They gave her the numbing shots in her legs, and while she was dozing and truly unaware of my presence, I stepped into the hallway.

This was the first time since the CT scan that she wasn’t in my arms. This time was different.  We knew the severity of the injury and she was being cared for by the entire trauma team of 7+ people.  I took one step out of the room, one step to the left, and planted my butt on the wall and hands on my knees for stability while I hung my head in complete disbelief.  How could this happen?  I opened my eyes and saw my clothing, dripping in her vomit.  I can still smell the banana berry baby food she ate without hesitation two hours earlier.  I screamed and sobbed as my muscles locked up in my legs and chest, then I felt someone put their hands on me.

I was literally picked up and supported while I shakily stood, completely losing my mind over the guilt and hatred I felt for myself.  The drilling began and I let out a sound I didn’t know I could make, while I was held tighter than I’d ever been.  I pulled back, just for a second, to look into the eyes of my soulmate and all I could say was, “I’m so sorry.”  Daniel pulled me back in, kissed my face, wiped my tears (which really didn’t do anything considering they just kept coming, but the gesture was so kind), and proceeded to tell me that it wasn’t my fault, and that he loves me and he loves that I am his daughter’s mother.  In that moment, his anger subsided and he moved to a different headspace.  That small exchange is burned into my heart forever and I have never been so incredibly thankful to be his wife.

They helicopter team arrived and they were still unable to get a steady line going.  According to their transport regulations, a patient transported by air has to be hooked up to an IV as well as intubated.  Time was ticking and my baby was visibly fading.  While still in the hallway, we were met by some medical coordinator who was trying to arrange a ride for us while she was in the air.  I don’t know how he was able, but after insisting over and over, they let us go.  They finally put an IV in my baby’s forehead; there was no other way.  They were discreet and covered it but I know what an IV mark looks like after the fact.  They could not get her intubated and save her so that (very brave) helicopter team took a huge risk that ultimately got her to INOVA by deciding to take her anyway.  WE kissed her goodbye while sobbing and told her how much we loved her.  The thought of her dying in flight weighed on us heavily, so we took off as soon as they wheeled her out.

The ride there was crazy.  I had no thoughts and all the thoughts going through my head.  My heart was nauseous.  I set a quick group text to my immediate family.  We saw the helicopter fly over us and it was a sigh of relief-knowing we were FLYING down the highway but she would be there faster.

We pulled up to the ER/Trauma Center.  I got out and ran in.  All I could get out was “Natasha” until they asked my relation and I somehow got out, “my baby...”  They valeted the car so Daniel could be with us.  They were rushing to get her into surgery.  They brought us into the trauma room (families usually aren’t permitted there but there was no time) and pulled up some waiver and permission forms.  They briefly explained the surgery, we signed, then it was GO TIME.

We stepped out of the room as the table with my baby strapped to it-full of wires and tubes-flew out of the trauma room.  The anesthesiologist made brief eye contact with me, halted the team, and said, “Let her kiss her baby.”  He knew she could easily not make it through this surgery.  Daniel kissed her and loved her for a few seconds and backed away with teary eyes.  I laid my forehead against her cheek.  I sobbed and screamed.  I kissed her over and over as my tears soaked us.  I told her I was so so sorry and that I loved her so much.  I wished it was me.

They took her away then.  The team saw my raw sorrow.  I got a very quick but kind pat on the back and they took off.

We were met by a social worker who brought us to a private room where we could chat and have some water.  Of course, we were asked all the suspected child abuse questions, but they got the idea pretty quickly that this was a freak accident.

After the interview, we were brought to a huge waiting room that must have been filled with 100+ seats.  We found a spot and the social worker left us.  We sat for a moment, touching hands.  They we both had to cry, then stand, then pace... The wait took forever, even more so not knowing if she was even going to live.

My brother, Jason works out that way and asked us if we needed anything right at that moment.  I was wearing a paper shirt provided by a nurse, so we gave him a small list and he stopped by.  He and Daniel stepped out for some fresh air while I sat breathing deeply and trying not to worry myself into another panic episode.  Then, an actual angel emerged from the hospital doors.

Dr. Leon Moores, a pediatric neurosurgeon at Pediatric Specialists of Virginia performed the emergency surgery.  I called for Daniel as Dr. Moores hugged me so tightly.  I didn’t know if this was a good or bad hug yet.

Daniel and Jason walked (ran) back in and sat with us to hear the outcome.  He told us that he was able to remove a blood clot the size of his fist from Natsha’s skull and that her vitals were wonderful.  So she had 100% survived the surgery.  Next was about brain damage, and by some miracle, her brain remained unharmed.  Dr. Moores saved my baby.

While they were getting her settled into the PICU, Jason took us to Target to get some clothes and snacks.  We had no idea how long this journey was going to be.  We got back to the hospital, gave gigantic hugs, and went up to see our baby as she woke up.

[refinedbuffoonery]

I + Can’t + Lose + You (2)

masterlist. Read it on AO3. 

A/N: Did I take my time on this or what? Yikes. I’ll try to get the next update out much faster. Enjoy! 

*****

Riley had to admit, she was having the time of her life on this impromptu road trip with Mama. 80s music blasted from the truck’s speakers, and she and Mama danced in their seats. But Riley knew their fun was coming to an end the moment she spied the sea of brake lights in the distance. 

It took no time at all to catch up to the traffic. Every vehicle packed on the freeway sat at a standstill. 

“How do y’all live like this?” Mama asked incredulously. “There is no reason for this many cars to be on the road.” Riley chuckled. 

After another half mile of crawling through bumper to bumper traffic, Riley was finally fed up with it too. “Okay that’s it,” she announced. “We’re taking the back way.” 

LA streets were slow, but nothing was as slow as the 10 during rush hour, and they’d left right at the beginning of it. Avoiding the freeways like the plague, Riley wound through the city streets, flooring the gas through every yellow light. 

After a particularly risky one, Mama questioned, “Who taught you to drive?” 

Riley grinned ear to ear. “Jack.” Mama rolled her eyes and double checked that her seatbelt was buckled. Before long, they were back on the freeway, zooming toward the desert. 

In Indio, they stopped to get gas and use the restroom. From here to Phoenix, there was just a whole lot of nothing. Maybe some cactus, tumbleweeds, and the occasional Joshua tree if they were lucky. 

Although, Riley doubted her luck, considering she was driving to Phoenix in a truck with crappy air conditioning in the last week of July. She regretted not changing out of her favorite black Van Halen tank top into one that was a lighter color. 

By the time Riley exited the gas station’s convenience store armed to the teeth with snacks, Mama had finished filling up the gas tank and was now leaning against the tailgate, waiting. “You’re still driving,” the older woman said. Riley sighed. Of course she was. 

Riley jumped at the sound of a door slamming open behind them, almost dropping her armload of snacks. A guy wearing a navy blue hoodie sprinted toward an old Bronco, clutching something to his chest. He dove into the car and sped off. Riley and Mama winced at the squeal of the tires as he skidded out of the parking lot and back onto the road. 

The sole convenience store employee had chased after the thief to no avail. Dejected slump curving his shoulders inward, he stared after the long-gone car. 

Wordlessly handing the snacks to Mama, Riley cautiously approached the employee. He was just a kid, 25 at the most. “Hey, I’m sorry that happened.” She tipped her head toward where the Bronco had been parked. “Are you okay?” 

“Am I okay?” he asked incredulously. “Of course I’m not okay! That was the third one today and my boss is going to be fuc--pissed and it’s all because I can’t see in the back anymore because the first guy smashed the security camera with a can of Pringles which he then stole.” He had the wild look in his eyes of a furious customer service employee who was about to explode but couldn’t because they were, well, a customer service employee. Riley pitied him. 

“Well, I can’t do anything about the thief, but I think I can fix your security camera issue.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” Riley wasn’t totally sure she could fix it, but she’d seen Mac build and fix enough cameras over the years she figured it was worth a shot. “Can you show me where it is? I’m Riley, by the way.” 

“Marco,” he replied, holding the door open for her and Mama. Marco led her to the far corner of the store. Back here, everything a customer did would be completely concealed from the cashier. Mounted from the ceiling, the security camera’s shattered lens didn’t do much good. 

“Can I take it apart?” 

Marco looked skeptical, but he said, “It’s not like you can break it any more.” 

Riley unhooked it from the wall and began taking it apart. Aside from the shattered lens, it wasn’t actually broken. She could fix it if she had a camera. 

Riley froze. She did have a camera…

God, when did she turn into Mac? 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered as she cracked her phone open. Riley didn’t bother checking to see if she had any notifications first. They were about to disappear forever anyway. Mama’s eyes widened, but Mac would’ve been proud. She held up her unusable phone and wiggled it. “In this line of work, always get the insurance.” 

“You’ve spent too long with that MacGyver,” was all Mama said, but Riley didn’t miss her impressed smirk. 

The hardest part was breaking her phone. Riley prided herself on having the lowest phone replacement rate, which she knew was only because mission success relied on her tech actually working. Mac only sacrificed hers when he had no other option. 

Riley also knew Mac picked which phone to sacrifice based on who would have the most dramatic reaction. So, she dutifully handed it over every time wearing a serious expression, refusing to give Mac the satisfaction of being annoyed. 

Connecting the phone camera to the security camera wiring was easy enough. The finished product looked janky as hell, but Riley was pretty sure it would work. “Alright, go check whether it works.” 

Marco wove his way back to the counter. A few seconds later, a shrill “It works!” echoed through the convenience store. 

Mama smiled. “Good girl. I’ll meet you in the truck.” 

A rush of pride filled Riley--the same one she got every time she MacGyver-ed her way out of a problem. Fixing the security camera hopefully would put an end to Marco’s shitty day. 

She met Marco by the exit. “Thank you!” the kid said, throwing his arms around her in an overenthusiastic hug. Riley stiffened at the contact and patted Marco’s shoulder. He let go, none the wiser to her discomfort. 

“You’re welcome,” Riley said. “Have a good rest of your day.” She exited the convenience store and walked back to the truck. 

**********

Mac was alone in the war room when Riley’s location disappeared off the map. 

Gone, in the blink of an eye. 

“No,” Mac said to himself, voice catching. Her location last showed her at a gas station in Indio, but she could be taken anywhere from there. There was a whole lot of nothing and no-man’s land for her kidnappers to make her disappear in. 

Watching the tracker cut out finally pushed him over the edge. Mac succumbed to all the worst case scenarios that were threatening to incapacitate him completely.  They know who she is, and they’re forcing her to hack something. Or maybe they don’t know who she is, what she can do, and they just grabbed her off the street because she’s pretty and...Mac couldn’t finish the thought. 

Without anyone there to stop him, Mac let himself get absorbed in his own head. I’ve lost her, for good this time. She’s gone. Riley’s gone.

Why the hell hadn’t she sent him a clue? Every time she got kidnapped, she always managed to give him a clue about her whereabouts. Riley was one of the smartest people he knew. How did this happen? Who the hell took her? 

I never told her I’m in love with her. 

God, what if he never got that chance? Or what if something really bad happens to her and he’s too late to stop it and she loses her faith in him? 

He had to find her. And when she was safe and healed and at home he’d tell her. Mac stormed out of the war room, nearly running Matty over on his way out. 

“Where are you going, Blondie?” she asked. 

“To get Riley back.” 

He didn’t stop walking until Matty said, in the gentlest possible voice, “Mac.” 

Her tone was the only reason he turned around. If she’d spoken in her Matty The Hun voice, it would’ve fueled him to keep walking, but something about the knowing gentleness made him pause. He turned to look at her, every emotion he felt about the situation and about Riley plain on his face.

 “Okay,” she said, giving him a small nod. If she didn’t know about his feelings for Riley before, she definitely did now. 

Mac ran to his truck and sped off. 

**********

Matty added Mac’s location tracker to the screen in the war room. Like a true Californian, he skipped getting on the 10 completely and stuck to the secret back ways he’d learned over the years. Like Riley, he sped through every yellow, but eventually he got stuck in a long chain of red lights. 

Despite the fact that one of her two best agents was MIA and the other was out of his mind with grief and fear, Matty smiled to herself. Mac would find Riley; they always managed to find each other, against all odds. And when they finally reunited...maybe some things would finally be put on the table. 

Good things, Matty decided. She’d always suspected their relationship might go down this road. For years, Mac and Riley unconsciously gravitated toward one another. They stood unnecessarily close together, they constantly flicked their gaze to the other, they kept tabs on the other’s emotions. 

Because of that, she’d rarely put them undercover together as a couple because of the romantic potential. If they were ever going to move past their obliviousness and develop feelings, Mac and Riley deserved for that to happen on its own, without a bunch of charades in the way. Although, given the details they’d both left out from their reports on the op in Monte Carlo, it might’ve been just the thing to finally push them together after all this time. 

All of the chaos of the last year must’ve brought new, deeper feelings to the surface, because after defecting to Codex, Mac and Riley grew closer, though they remained guarded with the rest of the team. Even if they didn’t recognize it, their relationship was changing, hopefully for the better. With the hands they’d been dealt in life, Mac and Riley deserved that kind of lasting happiness more than anyone else she knew. 

Eyes still trained on the screen, Matty whispered, “Go get her, Mac.”

[angelspn15]

✨Happy New Year in advance everyone!✨

I participated in the Initial D Secret Santa event (@initialdsecretsanta ) and got to make a gift for @twilighthomunculus !!!

I've never written a mecha AU fanfic before but it's always exciting to try new things! I hope you enjoy this fanfic about our lovely Night Kids in a mecha AU!

~•~

Ring Ring

A young man was laying on his bed,snoring softly. The phone continued buzzing somewhere in the room,making him shift in his sleep,the bedsheets falling on the floor,leaving him half covered. He rolled to the other side as an attempt to avoid the disturbingly loud sound of his cell phone,his whole body facing the window. The caller probably gave up and the ringing stopped but the young man was already half awake. The thin rays of golden sunlight found their way through the thin curtains,landing on the man's handsome face. His long,black eyelashes trembled and he groaned at the warmness he felt,from the sunlight  caressing his sharp facial features. Deciding that it wasn't meant for him to sleep any longer,he half opened his sparkling dark grey eyes,running his fingers through his now messy,charcoal black hair.

Nakazato Takeshi propped on his elbows,turning his head to look half lidded at the digital clock on the bedside table: 09:26A.M.

Memories of the last night flooded in his mind making him want to sink back in his soft bed. He still couldn't believe what had happened: he had lost.

He had freaking lost a fight and to who? To a 18 year old school boy.

He was so sure,so full of confidence that his high tech GT-R would win that old 8-6 that didn't even look like a fighting robot. But he was wrong. He had underestimated Fujiwara Takumi and his fighter. That boy was so skilled despite his young age and the fact that he looked like he didn't know what he was doing with the spaced out expression he would wear.

Takeshi finally got out of the bed,rubbing his eyes to suppress his sleepiness and headed to the bathroom for his daily morning routine. Brushing his teeth,he looked at his reflection in the mirror that hung just above the sink. His robot was now in the garage waiting to be fixed but the worst part was that his pride was wrecked. He had lost the title of "The Strongest in Myogi",a title that he had earned with lots of effort,sweat and money. He had spent his whole life designing fighting robots,wanting to create the Ultimate Fighting Robot and even get to challenge the king of the underground fights,Takahashi Ryosuke himself.

The man got out o the bathroom,back to his messy bedroom. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt that were laying forgotten on a chair. He decided to not show up at the underground for awhile,at least not before his next battle. With these thoughts he headed straight towards the kitchen in need of his morning coffee to wake him up completely and get his daily endorphins.

He poured the dark liquid in a mug,bringing it to his lips,the bitterness coating his tongue. Just as he walked towards the sofa,the doorbell rang,startling him. Nakazato just froze in place,staring blankly at the front door. He wasn't expecting guests this early,especially after his embarrassing defeat yesterday. The doorbell rang again and Takeshi dragged his feet to the door,still holding the mug.

He didn't manage to fully open the door as it bursted open violently,makimg him take a few steps back,gasping.

"IDIOT!How could you lose yesterday?! That's ridiculous! You're such a clown,Nakazato!" the younger man stomped inside,rage pictured all over his face that matched the color of his crimson shirt.

"Yeah,good morning to you too,Shingo..." Takeshi said tiredly,rolling his eyes. He closed the door and turned to face the other man who was still muttering things under his breath.

"I called you today but you didn't answer! Are you ashamed? You should be! You lost to that school boy and his...his old piece of junk that he calls a fighting robot!" Shingo continued, heading towards the fridge like he was in his own house. He returned with a cold can of beer, opening it with a click and bringing it to his lips. He leaned against the wall, eyeing up the house owner.

"You understimate him. He has incredible skills and-"

"SHUT UP!That's just excuses! You're such a poor excuse of a leader! You're hopeless,loser-" Shingo's voice cracked from yelling too much. He was taken aback when soft lips kissed his. Takeshi chuckled and moved backwards to admire the desired effect. That so said desired effect was Shingo's eyes widening,his expression a mixture of shyness and anger.

'Maybe I am but you love me..." Nakazato said,another chuckle escaping his lips at the pout the shorter man gave him.

"Don't get cocky! Bastard! You-" he stopped and looked away,his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

"What are we going to do now?"he asked more calmly now. Takeshi shrugged looking at his teammate and boyfriend.

"I need to repair my robot. Will you help me?"

"Alright,show me the big guy." Shingo said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his loosened up jeans after throwing the now empty can in the bin.

A few minutes later they were in the garage,both of them staring at the tall robot. It was pitch black,some parts had fallen off as well as the right arm. The paint had being scrubbed off in lot's of places as well as scratches were everywhere.

"So...what do you think?"asked the black haired man, sipping his coffee.

"Yeah.... it's bad... really bad..." Shingo mumbled, scratching the top of his head.

"Come on! Don't make it look worse than it is! The base is in a pretty good condition. I'll have to fix the arm as well as those wires at the bottom and of course paint it!" Takeshi faked a smile, pointing at the parts he mentioned. He opened his mouth to say something else but that's when another part fell off, rolling towards Shoji who stopped it from rolling any further,with his foot. Shingo raised his head to glance at Takeshi with a raised eyebrow. Nakazato bit his bottom lip, walking towards his robot, sighing deeply.

"You're right... it's bad.. really bad... I've got a battle next weekend with Takahashi Keisuke and I don't know how I'll go...I haven't got enough money to repair the robot and even if I had them...the time isn't enough.." the man said sadly,his finger tips trailing down the leg of the robot, feeling the scratches. He couldn't back down. He had to go to that battle. He had two options: either to go with the robot he has now and make a fool out of himself or not go at all. But if he didn't,the RedSuns would take that as a runaway and would see him as a coward. Takeshi was a lot of things but definitely not a coward.

"I've got an idea." Shingo's voice reached his eardrums and he turned to look at him as soon as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"We're teammates. What if I battle in your place? I've almost finished on upgrading the EG6."

Takeshi's mind was racing. He hadn't thought of that option.

"That's... that's an idea! But do you think you can defeat Keisuke's FD?"

"Ha! I need to put that arrogant brat in his place!" The long haired man said proudly, flashing a smirk.

"Alright then. As soon as he agrees then that's what we're going to do.." the GT-R master said,his lips curling up into a faint smile.

~•~

"Hand me the lube"

"You've finished it all!!!"

"Just give it to me already! It's not my fault it stuck!"

Takeshi sighed and took the bottle, giving it to Shingo who snatched it from his hands, climbing back up the tall ladder. Shingo had brought his own robot over, installing some last parts before the big battle. Takeshi would just observe him,while leaning against the wall. He liked watching his boyfriend work his magic on the robots. Who would think that the clumsy,temper filled Shoji Shingo was actually good in such things?

The younger man finished screwing something on the back of his tall, bright red EG6 and gave out a satisfied yelp. Climbing off the ladder,he got a piece of cloth that was hanging from the side of his pants, wiping away sweat on his forehead.

"You finished?" the black haired man asked, leaving the wall and walking around the red beast.

"I think so." Shingo mumbled and got the newly tuned controller that was laying on a nearby table.

"Nakazato,get out of the way if you don't want to be stepped on!" he hissed, pressing something on the controller that caused the robot to raise its head, with a loud sound. Nakazato backed away and headed to stand next to the younger man, staring at the controller curiously.

"You upgraded it as well?" he asked pointing with his index finger at the device in Shingo's hands.

"Yes,I installed some new features." just as he said that,a loud thud was heard and the robot got in a fighting position.

"Woah,how did you do that,let me see-" Takeshi leaned closer to observe the new controller but Shingo stepped away, frustration pictured on his slim face.

"Oi, don't touch it!" he hissed, standing away from the taller man who just folded his arms on his chest,the muscles on his arms flexing.

"Punch..." Shingo mumbled and the robot instantly, created a fist, punching the air in front of it, it's fist inches away from Takeshi's face.

"Damn,are you going to kill me?" he yelled and walked away grabbing the coat that was laying on a chair, tossing it to Shingo.

"Come on,you don't want to be late."he said bitterly,a huge pout on his face.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever... let's get this over with."

It didn't take long for them to get to the underground. The hour was long past midnight,the dark sky reflecting lot's of small stars that would shine like pure diamonds on dark silk.

Just as they entered, Takeshi could feel the burning gaze of everyone but he held his head high like the proud man he was. The Underground was incredibly full, everyone had heard of the battle with the great Takahashi Keisuke and his unbeatable FD. Shingo was looking around, seeing lots of different robots and he nodded to some of the fighters he knew. They were both walking in front, Shingo's EG6 following behind. Takeshi spotted Mako Sato and Sayuki who once she saw him she smiled brightly, giving him a thumbs up. If he wasn't with Shingo,he could have easily fallen for that long haired girl which was cute on the outside but tough on the ring.

The young man was so caught up looking at Impact Blue talking to some random guys, that he didn't notice two robots jumping right in front of him, fighting each other. A strong hand grabbed his shirt and shoved him aside,making him stumble but he quickly regained his balance.

"Takeshi! Focus!" Shingo scolded him, breathing heavily and Takeshi just nodded, relieved that Shingo was there to save him.

The two men knew that they would probably find Keisuke at the bar that was nearby so they headed straight towards it, hearing lot's of yells and laughs.

The blonde was sitting there,as expected, surrounded by his teammates as well as lots of fangirls,his shiny, bright yellow FD near him. His deep blue eyes met Takeshi's dark ones,as soon as he stepped inside.

"Nakazato! I was waiting for you. Where's your R32?" Takahashi yelled from across the room,sipping on his drink. Everyone's attention now was on them. The Night Kids approached them,both having anamused looks on their faces.

"Shoji Shingo will be fighting with you today." the dark haired leader exclaimed sternly,trying to have a straight face.

"Oi,your robot really got destroyed by that kid,did-" Keisuke began but was cut off when Shingo bursted forward,his hands in fists.

"Shut your mouth Takahashi!"

Silence followed,the tension between them growing. Nakazato began thinking that this was a bad idea but what else could he do? The policies of the Underground said that you must fight with your own robot and you can't borrow from someone. But right now,he hadn't got one so he didn't have another choice,did he?

"So,do you accept the challenge from Shingo?"

"Alright. But you still owe me a battle." the blonde said,wearing a grin.

Suddenly,silence fell over,the only sound was the stomping of a heavy robot. Murmur could be heard feom everywhere and the three men looked behind them to see what caused such reaction. Takeshi stiffened when his dark eyes fell on the man who was approaching. The people were stood in two lines, leaving enough space for the newcomer and his robot to walk through the crowd. He was dressed in a white,expensive outfit,his dark blue bangs falling on his face. A white,shiny robot was following from behind,causing everyone to stare. They all knew who this was :the king of ths Underground himself.

Takahashi Ryosuke.

"A-aniki?! Wh-what are you doing here?" the blonde stood up,cold sweat running dlwn hiz handsome face,causing hiz forhead to glister.

"Hmm. I wanted to see this battle."

Shingo just stared at the legendary Takahashi Ryosuke. He secretly admired him and his skills. Ryosuke was a gifted man,with an incredible mind and skills. He was also one of the best fighting robot makers and would use the latest advanced technology for his fighters. The white FC3S was a proof to that. The Myogi fighter could see a speaker on Ryosuke's ear and he knew that this was what everyone kept talking about lately: Ryosuke developed a voice recognition in his robot so now he could control him by just giving him audable orders.

"Aniki...you shouldn't have troubled yourself...I-I can hamdle this..." Keisuke got im front of his older brother,his blue eyes that were identical ro Ryosuke's having a strangw spark in them. But the older Takahashi ignored hiz youngwr brotgwr,proceedimg to exam Shingo's EG6. He walked around it,his delicate long fongers trailing on the  freshly painted parts.

"Nice robot you've got here." the dark blue haired man commented,the sides of his lips curling up into a barely visible smirk.

"Did you come here to mock me?" Shingo hissed in between gritted teeth. He was a proud man and didn't liked to be made fun of. Especially when it came to his robot. But Ryosuke didn't laugh,nor had a mocking look.

"No. I actually meant what I said." he exclaimed calmly,his sharp face features not giving out a single emotion.

"Where did you get it?"he added and finally turned to face Shoji who seemed taken aback by the question.

"I-I made it myself..."

Ryosukes bright eyes widened for a split second,clearly impressed. Tge young man retrieved from the red EG6 and waljed towards his brother.

"Well. Will the battle begin? I can't wait forever."

Everyone stiffened at Ryosuke's request,not wanting to disappoint him.

"Yes,of course!"

~•~

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Be prepared for another night of fire! Let's welcome our fighters!" A man from the RedSuns, Fumihiro was it?,shouted, catching everyone's attention.

"Takahashi Keisuke and his FD3S" as he said that,the yellow FD got on the ring, accompanied by loud applause and shouts.

"Shoji Shingo with his EG6,instead od Nakazato Takeshi!" with that,the red EG6 stood on the other side of the ring.

"Let the battle begin..." Takeshi thought, stealing glances from the man besides him who kept adjusting some things on the controller.

The yellow robot swang forward,followimg its master's orders,but the EG6 managed to dodge the hit just on time. Instead,he attempted to punch the FD,unsuccesfully. The FD turned around sharply,its fist hitting its opponemt,with a loud metallic sound.

"Damn..."

It raised its hands in victory and got ready to punch the laying robot but Shingo managed to make it roll over to the side,escaping Keisuke's fist. Takeshi could see Ryosuke saying something to his brother on the other side of the ring,but paid no attention to it. He trusted Shingo.

Another metallic sound snapped Takeshi out of his trance,as he watched how the yellow robot stumbled, Keisuke's cursing following.

"Ha! Did you see that Takeshi? I almost crushed him,I-" Shingo turned to face his boyfriend,his dark eyes screaming pride.

"Shingo, WATCH OUT!" Takeshi's eyes widened as he shouted, watching how the EG6 fell on the ground. Shingo didn't lose his cool, despite being under pressure. He tapped on his controller but something wasn't right. His robot's left arm... wasn't working!

However,this didn't stop him. He rolled over but unfortunately didn't get to avoid another punch from the FD.

"Shingo,your robot. It's lighter and faster,use that to your advantage!" Takeshi bursted out, getting right next to the other man, their shoulders practically touching.

"Oi,Nakazato...don't stand so close!" the long haired man complained but still had a determined look plastered all over his face. He knew Nakazato was right. With a swift motion,his robot stood up and got behind the yellow one. Since Keisuke was startled,Shoji used those few seconds to punch the FD hard, making it fall down. Surprised gasps filled the air, murmur being followed.

Three rounds later,both of the masters were exhausted but neither of them let their guard down, doing everything to not lose concentration. Shingo's robot ended up laying down with thd FD towering over it. The countdown started but Shoji didn't manage to make his fighter stand up which resulted to him losing. Keisuke was growling happily,raising his fists in the air with a victorious grin that riled up Shingo. He furiously rubbed the bridge of his nose,letting out heavy breaths.

"It'd okay." Takeshi's hoarse voice was heard from next to him but Shingo didn't pay attention. He had freaking lost. Previously he had gotten all high and mighty,sure of his win but in the end...he was the loser. What tore him apart was that he had let down Takeshi. He was supposed to win...to make his boyfriend proud...

But he lost.

He lost to Takahashi Keisuke.

Shingo was dazed off,his ears ringing. He was surprised when he was yanked by the colar,his face being brought up. Grey eyes stared right into his brown ones,piercing through his soul. He half expected to be yelled at,or even punched and he wouldn't blame Takeshi. But instead, Nakazato crushed his lips on Shingo's,kissing him lovingly.

"Let's get out of here. You're tired." the taller man said,a small smile on his face. He didn't look angry,not even a bit,more of concerned. Shingo just nodded,his cheeks painted a light shade of pink.

~•~

Shingo and Takeshi were sitting on the roof of Nakazato's house,close to each other while staring at the night sky. Shingo got a pack of cigarettes, handing one stick to his boyfriend while getting one for himself as well. The man besides him got his lighter and soon both of them were inhaling the toxic smoke.

"What a night..." Takeshi mumbled more to himself than to the man besides him who hummed anyways.

"I'm still proud of you,you know that right?" Nakazato attempted to indirectly compliment the younger man,but failed as he heard a low scoff from his side.

"Shut up already..." Shingo exhaled sharply,the smoke swirling around him and dissolving into the night air.

As they sat there in a comforting silence, a thunder was heard in the distance and out of nowhere it began pouring. The two men remained still, confused and shocked at the sudden change of weather.

"Damn! What are you sitting, let's go inside!" Shingo was the first one to come back to his senses before throwing his cigarette away and standing up. Takeshi watched how his long bangs would cling to his face,while his clothes being completely soaked by the strong rain.

"Beautiful..." Takeshi thought, being completely absorbed in his thoughts,not even hearing Shingo's yelling,who in the meantime was desperately trying to drag Takeshi inside,to the warmness of his house.

No matter what the outcome was today,he still enjoyed every minute of it. Because life isn't only about winning... losses are what make it more interesting.

Hope you enjoyed it!

[fifteenleads]

A YOI x Chrono Trigger AU fic from Ye Olde 2018-ish Era. Go figure.

I can’t even remember what the hell I titled this before. Welp.

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Chapter One: “That’s a Nice Band-Aid, Darling.”

.

They say that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, and that a hero's adventure begins with a cliché-ass wake-up call - something like, "Good morning, Crono!," perhaps. How that even made it on to TV Tropes, Yuuri would never understand. But it is on TV Tropes, and he is in bed reading it.

He's glad his mother doesn't wake him up that way, at least. But then again, he's always up before five a.m. anyway. Sadly, the daily deliveries won't take care of themselves.

Yuuri glances at the time on his tablet. 4:59. Someone will come knocking in three, two, one --

"Yuuri! Get up!" Mari's voice is accompanied by three sharp raps on the door. "Go with dad to the plaza and help him set up!"

This is the part where the hero typically groans at being woken up before grudgingly getting themselves out of bed, but Yuuri Katsuki does not groan. He shouts back that he'll be down in a minute while looking for that darned sock that has gone missing now, of all times. Phichit would surely laugh hard at seeing his best friend hopping frantically on one foot while wearing a poodle-patterned sock. It'll probably go viral on Instagram, too, but that's pretty much a given already. Someone has to part the boy from his gadgets long-term after the Millenial Fair is over.

The minute is up, so Yuuri gives up and gets another sock from the drawer. It is patterned with the face of a silver-haired man surrounded by snowflakes. He has no idea how that found its way into his pile of clothing, but for now, mismatched socks are better than being late.

Yuuri makes his way downstairs and greets his mother, who is busy in the kitchen. Hiroko sends him off with an allowance of fifty kin and packed lunch for him and his father. He ignores Mari's snickering as she musses his hair while glancing at his feet.

The ride to the plaza is pretty short. It is already bustling with people even at such an early hour, all the sellers trying to outdo each other in showing off their wares. Yuuri chuckles as his father joins in the fray, calling out to everyone about the best katsudon in town. Everyone is excited for Hasetsu Kingdom's first Millenial Fair, and with it, the hopes for a thousand years more of peace and prosperity to come.

Toshiya leads the way to their assigned spot, a quaint little corner by the northern area of the square. The tent had already been set up the day before, so all that's left to do is to arrange the food and drinks before the first customers come in. Yuuri passively observes the hustle and bustle around them. Much energy is palpable in the air, and the excited hubbub only grows louder as the sun rises. Some stalls have weapons and armor, others exotic trinkets and accessories. He even spots a merchant selling animals. Phichit would probably want to pick up a new hamster on the way home later.

His eyes wander to the secluded area beyond the main square. Yuuri hoped Phichit's solo exhibit would be a success this time, too. His friend loved tinkering with machines since he was little, and it brought him and his family great fortune as he won scientific contests left and right. His magnum opus, a two-machine teleporter, had impressed the university professors and the panel of judges alike, earning him the highest thesis grade and the first prize for the National Physics Summit.

Yuuri's hand stills when his father calls his name. He had been adding portions of garnish to the newly-cut fried pork cutlets. He instinctively opens his mouth to apologize, but Toshiya immediately pats his back and pushes a one hundred-kin note into his hand. "I'll take care of the stall. You go have fun." He winks at his son mischievously, and Yuuri pushes down the growing blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"Th-Thanks, dad," he mumbles, bowing slightly before making his way to the northernmost part of the square. Phichit would probably be busy right now, but he would never refuse breakfast and morning coffee. It had been their time-honored tradition as college roommates, after all.

Yuuri stops by a mobile café and orders two tall hazelnut lattés and a baguette loaf. He is turning to leave with breakfast in hand when he bumps into the next person in line, spilling hot coffee over his white shirt. The other person, too, recoils in pain, reflexively putting a slender finger into his mouth to nurse it.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so, so sorry!" Yuuri exclaims, setting aside the food and drink and beginning to fuss over the man. He searches his bag for the small bottle of salve he always brings with him, and proceeds to apply a small amount over the man's injured finger, covering it with a band-aid afterwards.

The other man chuckles as he lets Yuuri take care of him. "It's quite all right," he assures airily, waving the bandaged hand with a smile. "I was also too close to you in line, as well." His blue eyes crinkle beautifully as he smiles, and Yuuri fights yet another blush from coloring his face. "I love this band-aid, though!" the man comments. "Where did you get it?"

"F-From the kids' section of the pharmacy," Yuuri admits, embarrassed. He just had to use that one by mistake instead of the flesh-tones ones, did he? Why now, of all times? "The poodle-patterned ones were part of a limited edition series."

"Nice!" the man exclaims in delight, scrutinizing the design closely. "Thank you so much for giving me this one. I love it!" He winks at Yuuri and places a light kiss over his own bandaged finger.

Yuuri wishes the ground would swallow him whole right this instant.

"U-Um, I think I'll get going now," he excuses himself, retrieving the coffee and bread from the counter. "My friend is waiting uphill. I'm so sorry again." Yuuri quickly nods his head and goes on his way, but the other man takes a long stride and ends up beside him, taking the baguette loaf out of his arms.

"It's okay, I'll help you," he offers happily as they ascend the stone steps. "I'm alone today, anyway." The man cradles the food with his left arm and extends his right hand out to Yuuri. "I'm Binktop, by the way. What's your name?"

For an instant, Yuuri is tempted to laugh out loud. The funny name hardly matches the man's regal appearance at all. He must be a foreigner, like the many others who have come to Hasetsu Kingom to join in the festivities. As a citizen of Hasetsu, therefore, he is to show this man the utmost respect and hospitality he deserves, funny names or not.

He shakes Binktop's hand, the cool skin sending small shivers down his spine. "I'm Yuuri. It's nice to meet you, Binktop."

"A pleasure." Binktop returns the handshake with a smile, and they continue going up the stairs. "So, Yuuri, are you also alone here today?"

"Our family actually has a food stall down at the main square, but my dad told me to enjoy myself today," Yuuri explains. "I'm on my way to see my friend, actually. He's an inventor."

Binktop's eyes widen and sparkle in delight, and he accidentally climbs two steps at once. "Wow! He must be really smart!"

"He is," Yuuri nods fondly in agreement. "Phichit has a solo exhibit today. This project won him first place at the National Physics Summit last month."

"That's amazing!" Binktop gushes in admiration, his silver bangs parting to reveal twinkling blue eyes. "I can't wait to meet him!" Yuuri smiles back proudly in response.

They reach the top of the stairs in a minute. The miniature square is cluttered with various machine parts and wires of different lengths and calibers. The two main pods have already been set in their positions, though not yet fully-assembled as Yuuri remembers them. It's definitely like Phichit to cram at the last minute.

The soft whirring noise dies down as the two approach the left pod, and a brown-skinned young man in a bandanna and overalls comes out to greet them. "Yuuri! You're here!"

Yuuri shrugs good-naturedly and hands Phichit the cup of coffee. "I'd love to hug you, but you're covered in oil and soot right now." He smiles widely at his best friend. "Good luck with your exhibit today!"

"Oh my gosh, thank you so much! You don't know how much I need it!" Phichit downs the coffee in an instant, breathing rapidly through his mouth afterwards to cool his tongue. "I heard the prince is coming with the royal delegation to watch my demonstration! I am so nervous!"

This time, Yuuri pats Phichit's shoulder encouragingly, not minding his hand blackening with soot afterwards. "You'll do well, Phichit! You've done this before; you can do it again."

"Good luck, Phichit!" Binktop adds, sending a friendly wink and a thumbs-up of his own. Phichit is surprised at the additional voice, and notices the other man for the first time. His nervous expression immediately changes to one of teasing, instantly directed at his friend. "Yuuri!" he whispers loudly. "Who's the hot guy?!"

"H-He's not - I mean -" Yuuri splutters, coughing into his hand to stop himself. He doesn't even bother hiding his obviously-reddened cheeks anymore; nothing ever escapes Phichit's notice, anyway. Tonight's phone call is going to be a long one.

When Yuuri has composed himself, he turns to Binktop. "Phichit, this is Binktop. I ran into him in the square today. Binktop, this is my friend, Phichit."

"Hi there!" Phichit merrily extends a hand to Binktop. "Phichit Chulanont, at your service!"

"Binktop," he introduces himself, shaking Phichit's hand. "Yuuri here has told me a lot about you."

"Hahaha, good things, I hope!" Phichit laughs, before shooting Yuuri an expectant glare. Yuuri grins back before taking another sip of coffee.

Phichit shows them around the workplace, pointing out the different parts of the invention and which part goes where. His black eyes shine brightly as he rambles in tech jargon while explaining the principle behind the teleporter. Binktop nods excitedly while asking questions, while Yuuri merely watches them interact. Despite his "nerdy glasses," as Phichit had christened them, he is not really into scientific stuff, having taken up a sports major in university.

"Sure thing! I was about to give this thing a test run, anyway." Phichit beckons Yuuri to come over. "Yuuri! Could you kindly step on the left pod? Binktop wants a demonstration."

Yuuri opens his mouth to protest, but knows better than to interrupt his friend when he is in scientist-mode. He may have also wanted to impress Binktop with his bravery, but he doesn't know it yet. Huffing, he finishes the rest of his coffee in one gulp and does as he is told.

Phichit flips the switch, and Yuuri almost loses his footing as he feels himself being sucked away into a vacuum space. Black, wavy lines fill his vision for a moment before everything around him returns to normal. He steps off the right pod and flashes the peace sign at Phichit and Binktop from across the square.

Binktop immediately makes a beeline for Yuuri and embraces him tightly, while Phichit pumps his fist in joy. "Wow, amazing!" he exclaims as he cups Yuuri's face. "You actually teleported!"

"That's how it's supposed to work," Yuuri answers matter-of-factly, but even he has an undeniably huge smile on his face. Phichit's exhibit is surely going to be a massive hit amongst the fair-goers.

"Can I give it a try, too?" Binktop asks Phichit excitedly, still not letting go of Yuuri. "It looks like so much fun!"

"Of course, Binktop!" Phichit laughs, gesturing at the left pod. "Anything for Yuuri's friend!"

Binktop lets out a whoop and disentangles himself from Yuuri. He lightly steps onto the left pod and runs a hand throuh his silver hair. "Watch me, Yuuri!" He sends a playful wink in Yuuri's direction before nodding at Phichit.

"All right, let's do this!" Phichit flips the switch again. Nothing happens at first, so he turns the machine off and on while observing the monitors. Worry begins to creep into his expression as he starts fiddling with the controls, but still, nothing happens.

A gasp from the left pod directs their attention to Binktop, whose pendant is glowing brightly from inside his shirt. It seems to be resonating with the core machine of the teleporter, from which ominous sparks begin to fly out. Phichit shouts at Binktop to get off the pod immediately, but Binktop hears it too late.

A large wormhole, unlike the one Yuuri had seen briefly while he teleported, opens up in the space behind Binktop and appears to be sucking him in. Trying his best to hold his ground, Binktop cries out for help as he extends his hand. In a panic, Yuuri runs up to the left pod and tries to grab him, but his whole body disappears in a flash of light, and the wormhole closes in an instant. Yuuri is left alone on the pod, Binktop's golden pendant in his hand.

Phichit is the first to regain his voice after a few minutes. "What the hell... This wasn't supposed to happen..." Yuuri turns to his friend, who is kneeling by the controllers in shock. Long tracks of tears have washed away the layers of soot on his face.

He runs down to embrace Phichit, who is now trembling in his friend's arms. "Yuuri, I'm so sorry! I really didn't mean for this to happen!"

Yuuri runs his hands over his friend's back, ignoring his own swimming vision and the violent hammering of his own heart in his chest. Now is not the time to deal with an impending anxiety attack - not when Phichit needs his help.

"Phichit. Look at me," he instructs calmly. "Breathe with me."

Together, they go through the motions, inhaling and exhaling deeply in unison. Most of the time, it was Phichit who did this for Yuuri when they were still in college together. It always helped calm Yuuri down after an attack, and Yuuri is more than glad to return the favor now. They cannot afford to be too calm, however - they still have to find out where the hell Binktop went.

Some day this is turning out to be. Yuuri swears never to get up before five a.m. ever again.

Phichit looks up at him and nods determinedly. Yuuri lets go of his friend as he begins to go over his notes. "Either the telepod malfunctioned, or something else did it," he thinks aloud to the clearing at large. "I'm suspecting your friend's pendant had an unusual reaction with the core interface, causing a ripple in the space-time fabric or something."

Yuuri gapes at Phichit incredulously. "You mean, like, time travel?!"

"I don't know yet." Phichit bites his lower lip in deep thought. "That wormhole could have led anywhere. It's too dangerous to try anything at this point."

"We have to bring Binktop back, Phichit! There's no time!"

"I know that!" Phichit snaps, rubbing a blackened hand on his temple at the sudden outburst. "It's not as easy as it seems. We have to find out how to open that wormhole, for starters. There must be something about that pendant."

Yuuri lifts the pendant in his hand against the daylight. It is a small, round, golden medallion with intricate rose patterns bordering its circumference, hanging from a simple chain. The pendant also seems to be pretty old but well-maintained. He briefly wonders where Binktop must have gotten such a valuable trinket and how much it must have cost, but pushes these thoughts out of his mind.

A tiny spark jumps out of the medallion, causing Yuuri to drop the pendant onto the left pod in surprise. Immediately, it causes another reaction, violent gusts of wind forming around them as the wormhole opens once more.

"Well," Phichit laughs brokenly, "that was easy enough!" With a hand shielding his face, he struggles to walk against the wind's direction and tries to pick up the pendant off the ground.

Yuuri has other ideas, however. He uses his stronger body to his advantage and overtakes Phichit in a second, picking up the pendant and wearing it around his neck.

"Yuuri! What are you doing?!" Phichit shouts in alarm. "Get off the pod now!"

To be honest, he has no idea what he is doing, either. His body is already protesting his sudden decision, his heart rate going up, his breathing more rapid, and his hands slippery with sweat. But above all, Yuuri feels that it's the right decision. It's more reckless than heroic, by all means, but nevertheless the right one, just the same.

"I'll bring Binktop back!" he shouts at his friend. "I'll get us back home, I promise!"

Again with the stupid promises, but Phichit seems to finally support his decision. He nods determinedly and hands Yuuri a long, steel wrench. "It's my favorite one! Bring it back safely, okay?"

"Thanks, Phichit! I will." Yuuri waves the wrench nervously as he steps into the closing wormhole.

"Be careful, Yuuri!" Phichit shouts after him. "I'll try to follow you as soon as I figure things out!"

A chuckle escapes Yuuri's lips. It's just like his friend to jump at the call. If anyone is more suited to be the hero of this story, it would definitely be Phichit, and Yuuri, as the dutiful friend, would support him all the way. Funny how things have turned out the other way around this time.

For now, he, Yuuri Katsuki, will be the hero of this story, and he swears on his life to bring Binktop back.

Yuuri raises a thumbs-up to the fading image of his friend, not caring if he doesn't see it. He lets the distortion fill his senses completely until the black nothingness consumes him and claims his consciousness.

[boneswriteswords]

Alien Boyfriend: Duxob

I wrote this over a year ago and it was on my wattpad so I decided to move it over here too. Its my first crack at an alien and a space story. Let me know what you think and if I should continue this world building. 

I reread it and I’m not a fan but I never like any of my work so eh. Its unbeta’d because we die like men here. 

Length: ~7900

Male Alien x Female Reader

~~~~~~

The sun that rose in the west was at its peak as you pretended to rummage through your backpack. It was the kind of hot that evaporated the sweat from your body before it even had a chance to drip and you could feel the skin at the back of your neck boiling. Stealing the large tub of sun cream you in preparation for your days on this hell-site of a planet was honestly one of the smartest things you had ever done in your life.

A few feet away, Duxob leaned against your bikes, tinted band hiding half his reptilian face as he scanned the area - particularly the cargo wagon by the gateway- under the guise of adjusting something on one of the handle bars.

It was a believable enough scene. Your bikes looked like they were on their last legs, barely functional and ill-maintained, what with all the scratches and chipped paint, the dangling wires and exposed gear shifts. The tires were covered in duct tape. The seats were tattered and stained. The metals looked rusted and dangerous.  

No one needed to know that they only looked that way though.

No one needed to know that you designed them to look like heaps of junk. Aside from the things that you needed to fix on them the next time you hit a decent port city, they ran smoother and faster than anything on this side of the galaxy.  But, for the purposes of keeping your head down and not getting robbed, life was easier when they didn't look appealing.

Across the clearing, you could hear the men attaching the empty wagon to the jump ship, checking over the mechanics one last time. They're yelling something  The driver of the jump ship revs the gears in quick bursts, filling the silent port with noise, and you know that you only have a few minutes before they leave.

You adjust your band down over the bridge of your nose, turning up the the tint so your eyes weren't visible. If anyone was watching, you didn't want them to have any more identifiers than necessary. It was bad enough that your roots were showing, revealing your natural hair color to the world.

Glancing up at Duxob, you nod. His scales shift colors -green to blue to purple- in silent agreement, running his hand over his pants and mounting his bike. There was no need for words when you've been working together as long as you have. There is no doubt between you and it makes picking out the best targets easier than breathing.

Like the driver. You would have approached him. He was an old Culxan, wrinkles deep in his wide face and expression set in a way that shows he has never known much other than struggle and hard labor in his long life, but he was soft around the edges. He likely had a family or at the very least, he wished he had one. You'd be able to play into that if you had the time, chipping away at him with curious glances and innocent but intrusive questions until he broke rules about stowaways and border jumping.

But time was the one thing you didn't have at the moment.

Which was why Duxob was taking the lead while you kept watch, one hand on your gun and the other on your bike handle. There were no visible security measures - the region you were in was way too poor to afford drones and bots and all the other high tech shit that smothers the galaxies - but that didn't mean much. This was an outlaw station - used more for transporting produce and drugs than intel and technology - and that meant anyone could have some sort of weapon on them at any time.

Which meant that they all did.

It also meant that you both needed to be extra careful. What you were doing was still illegal - Duxob could be arrested the moment he set foot by the gates - but there was a lawlessness about the way they dealt with criminals.  There were no questions. There were no arrests. There were no calling the authorities.

You didn't just have to watch for guard passes through the jump, you had to watch for anyone who looked at your partner for longer than 10 seconds.

It made you anxious but you knew Duxob could handle himself. He was Alzeanian after all - one of the most deadly species to exist on this side of the cosmos - and while they were rare and were hardly ever seen off their own planet, everyone knew what they were capable of.

It was an advantage you had utilized many times since you met him.

Still, you also never looked away from him as he approached the cargo wagon. Between the whirring of refueling pods and the grinding of the lines, the whole area is drowned in a sea of noise that made it damn near impossible for you to pick up what Duxob was saying. He was off his bike and if you hadn't redesigned it yourself, you would have thought it was turned off.

'Not safe yet,' you thought, watching as he adjusts his gait into a saunter as he approaches the driver. His wide smile is all sharp teeth but his flat nostrils are closed into slits as he scented the wagon. After a moment, the slits flared open again and He stretched, his lean body on display as his dirty shirt rode up.

You tried not to stare but it was difficult when your job was literally to watch his scales to see if they shifted or not.  

Duxob's toothy smile morphed into an easy grin as he reached down into his pocket and pulled out a small bag, slipping it into the driver's pointed claw in a pseudo-handshake. He flashed green and you knew you were safe for the moment.

Relieved, you hitched your backpack over your shoulders as Duxob drove back over. "We good?"

"Yeah. One bag of units and four ounces of dust," he husks, removing his own backpack from where it was hooked onto his bike, "Pretty cheap but then again, the wagon is empty, they're jumping through a moon shift, and its heading to the Triquaz region so anything more than that would have been bullshit and he knows it."

"Ew."

You hated the Triquaz region. Hated it. On your list of choices for destinations, it wouldn't even make it to the top 500 but the reality was that you didn't have a choice at the moment. They needed to get off this planet and find a port where they could stock up on their dangerously low supplies. You were human, which limited the amount of things you could consume in the galaxy apparently, and finding stations that imported Earth produce and the like took a bit of research to find.

"I know but at least the temperature doesn't fluctuate so suddenly or so dramatically."

"This is true," you sighed, adjusting your grip on your handle bars as you walked alongside the bulky alien, kicking up dust as you did so "Do you know which planet we're going to?"

"No but I do know we will be confined inside the back for a good five days before we get there."

"Well fuck," you groaned, "Do we have enough to get us through til then?"

His lips quirked up and you couldn't help be annoyed at it. You had real concerns damnit! You knew how much you had in your bag but that was it. You didn't touch your partner's bag unless it was a severe medical emergency, like the time you got bit by a Qon and needed a poison pack or when Duxob accidentally burned off an entire forearm's worth of scales and skin trying to readjust the thrusters on his bike without your supervision.  

"Don't fucking smirk at me dickhole."

His grin widened minutely before disappearing completely, "We will be fine. We have enough to last until we get off-world and find somewhere to sleep."

God you missed sleep. It felt like ages since you were able to get more than an hour here and there. The tension in your body was tight enough to choke someone to death. Your body was not made for the rough interstellar outlaw lifestyle that you found yourself in and it loved to remind you of that.

The alternative wasn't any better so you tried not to bitch too much about it.

The wagon was attached to the jump ship, the back door closing as it prepared to jump. The gatekeepers on both sides of the portal gate were bustling too and fro, making sure everything was secured for a final time before departure.

"Ready?" Duxob grunts, picking up the pace.

This part, along with literally everything else about being a stowaway, made you nervous. Jumping was a very serious, precious thing. If you fell back, it usually wasn't so bad. Depending on how far you are, you could come back unscathed. If you fell to the side.....well, it wasn't pretty thats for damn sure.

"Ready."

As one, you run forward, kicking up even more dust and shoving your bikes upwards, hopping into the wagon just as the doors close. You can hear the clicking as the metal latch seals and the overpowering light from the east sun was consumed in darkness. You quickly dropped to your knees and clutch onto the metal door handle, feeling the start-up of the initial burst of speed that is required in order to jump.

Duxob worked quickly to secure the security locks and activate the bracer shields on the bikes, knowing full well how awful it could be if the bikes remained unsteady during liftoff.  

The wagon rocks as the buildup increases. There is heavy clanging happening outside, slowly being drowned out by the familiar ghostly noises of the portal as the wagon approaches it. You brace yourself as the rocking turns into lurching, knowing full well that no matter how hard you clutch onto the door, you are going to be flung.

It always hurts and this time is no different. The bruises on your back are going to be a fucking bitch.

"Y/N?" Duxob pulls a light stick from his bag as it ends, snapping the two ends together and holding it up. The wagon illuminates and you give him a thumbs up from where you landed on the floor on the opposite side of the wagon.

"Is anything broken, you weird fragile creature?"

The thumbs up quickly turns into middle finger and he snorts, which makes you bend your arm and snap it up a few times to emphasize the level of 'fuck you' you are directing at him. You hated everything.

The wagon lurches again and flings you over to another side of the wagon yet again. Pain shoots into your side but its quickly quashed when you realize it hurled you right into Duxob's body, causing him to grunt and slam back into the wall forcefully.

Fucking aftershocks.

"Ish what you get for talking shit asshole," you mumbled, face pressed uncomfortably into his abdomen (?)- you had no idea because Duxob dropped the light stick on impact and it rolled underneath one of the bikes and died.

A solid hour goes by before either of you move, wanting to be completely sure that the jump was successful.

"Only five days to go," you grumble as you finally shift away from the chilled body of your partner, "Fuck."

Five days of sleeping on a hard floor, working in the low lights of your remaining sticks, sucking on dehydrated food packs and ignoring the grumbling in your stomachs, and trying not to go stir crazy in the darkness of space. Again.

"We'll get through it. We always do."

"I know," you sigh, "I just wish it was different sometimes."

He doesn't say anything but you can feel his clawed hands stroke the top of your head and you hum, content despite the complaints on your lips. You'd cope. You both would. Just like you always do.

Because you weren't alone and neither was he.

~~~~~

Five days was four days and 23 hours too many to be confined in the dark with nothing to do. You were ready to tear your skin off just to have something else to focus on. As awesome as it was, travelling the galaxies wasn't a luxurious process if you didn't have the money to book passage on a tourist ship or buy your own. More often than not, if you wanted to get somewhere off-planet, you either hitched a ride or you snuck your way into empty crates and bag holds, spending hours upon hours being quiet and still.

It was maddening at the worst of times but you always felt better knowing that Duxob was with you, keeping you company in the quiet.

Nevertheless, the moment the secondary engines turned off, you were up and ready for action, securing your stuff back onto your body before the clinking and clanging of the descent even stopped.  

Duxob was too by the looks of it. His face was always hard to read but you could tell he was just as anxious to escape your wooden prison as you were. You couldn't see it too well in the dark but his scales were more red than any other color and bright than normal, indicating his level of irritation. You watched as he pressed close to the wood, listening to the shouting coming from the outside through his comm chip.

You would have but yours was damaged and the parts were too small to see and repair in the total darkness of the wagon. The universe was filled with other languages and you picked up what you could but everything on the outside sounded foreign.

"Can you make anything out?" you whisper, already straddling your bike with your hand on the starter. After being confined for so long, the rush of adrenline was blinding. You wanted to go.

Duxob jerks away from the wood quickly and hops on his own bike, "We've descended. They'll be opening the door any minute now. Get ready." His long clawed hand turned his bike on before reaching over and flicking yours on too, "We have to be quick. This port is more heavily armed with border agents and just as ruthless. Be careful."

"You too."

The seconds seem to drag on and anxiety causes your grip on your handles to strengthen even as you start to sweat. Border patrol agents were nasty pieces of work, hired to check and process travellers as they come and go off planets but, because there were no uniform regulations to keep them in line, they often just did as they pleased to people, especially those that are illegally jumping.

Like you and Duxob were.

"We will be fine Y/N," Duxob mumbled quietly, his voice hoarse from disuse and oh how you loved how he said your name "They haven't caught us yet. They never will."

The darkness seems deeper in the contours of his face as you look at him, emphasizing the brightness of his golden reptilian eyes and the gold pseudo-eyes that rest above them and bleeding over the contours of his cheekbones. (He never explained to you what the 'pseudo eyes' were - you weren't even sure if they were eyes to begin with- or what they did and you couldn't bring yourself to care about you- not when he was looking at you and you had more important things to focus on).

He's all hard lines and safety, a reminder of all you've gone through the last few years to get where you are, and you relax just the slightest bit.

"No. They never fucking will."

His lips quirk up again, "Now get ready. Its almost time."

And he was right. No sooner than you had turned back to face the wagon door, did it open with a hiss, revealing several border patrol guards with scanners and tasers and all the pretty toys you wish you could get your hands on.

"Show time."

~~~~~~

The getaway was as dramatic as you would expect. The air tasted wet, the humidity of the planet already working its magic on your already beaten body as you sped away from the guards. The port was a mess - Duxob finding it absolutely necessary to snatch one of their stun bombs and let it off over the entire port. There was a pain spreading from your side and you knew without a doubt that you got hit.

But it was worth it.

Duxob was unharmed.

You glance over your shoulder and assess the chaos left in your wake. Its nothing more than a smoky ball of dirt on wet and slimy hilltop and you grin when you see that the guard patrol bikes are still hovering around the port.

"They didn't see us. I think we're good," you shout, grinning wide despite the pulsing pain in your side. You could feel the blood dripping down your back, a burning sensation crawling over your flesh. Carefully, you engage your auto-drive.

"Lets get farther away before we get comfortable," the reptilian man warned, doing nothing to stop the smirk forming on his lips but kicking his bike into the next gear. You untie and retie your jacket's belt quickly, using whats left of your clothes as a makeshift bandage to staunch the bleeding, before putting your bike into the next gear to catch up.

"Where to?" You could feel drops of water splashing up from your wheels and you pointedly do not think about how much fucking mud you are going to have to clean out of your rechargers later. Instead, you focus on how exhilarating it feels to be alive.

Alive and with Duxob.

"There is a city not far from here but I think we should head out farther. When they release we got away, they'll immediately head to it to try and smoke us out."

"Sounds good to me." It really didn't, not with the way the fire in your side spread and consumed you but auto-drive was a beautiful thing and it wouldn't be the first time you passed out and needed your bike to take you to safety. Duxob was more than capable of syncing your bike to his so you didn't get separated and he was more than used to you passing out due to your human stamina.

It would be ok.

~~~~~~

It was not ok.

You had been on the road for at least a full 12 hours before Duxob found a port city to stop in, every rock, bump, and hurdle ripping at the ever-growing wound on your side.  There was nothing special about this particular port - same lost cost rooms, dingy dive bars, questionable food marts, and horrific pleasure buildings, all the same shit that comes with being a hub for the transients and the poor - and that what made it the perfect place to lay low for a bit.

It also meant that there likely wasn't a med bay anywhere in the vicinity and you're going to have to try and fix the wound yourself when Duxob went for food.

There were plenty of buildings advertising rooms but Duxob was picky, choosing the one that had the least amount of skeevy employees and cleaner bathrooms. It had a parking lot right outside the rooms, which was good since being able to get to their bikes at a moment's notice was vital in your combined survival.

Your room was all the way in the back of the building, on the first floor, another thing Duxob insists on when you bunker down in actual rooms for a night or two.

"I got us a room for five nights," he says, flashing the card keys and slipping them into his jacket pocket.

The surprise on your face must have been obvious because he snorted, "We need a rest. And we need to restock. Shipments are due to come in all this week at this port. Better to lay low and stay than run off with half empty gas tanks and no food."

Point.

"They didn't charge me too much," he murmured, knowing how anxious you got when you ran low on units, "I bartered."

Bartered meaning threatened the clerk until he was satisfied that they wouldn't bother you both.  You smirked up at him, "Good. I'm assuming we also have an hydration pod?"

Duxob leveled you with a stern look before it broke into a small grin and a wink, almost sending you to your knees in shock.

"Oooh, whats got you all playful?" you joked, subtly adjusting so you could poke his abdomen through his thick jacket. The movement was enough to make you want to die but you could not pass up the opportunity to tease him.

"You're going to stop smelling like shit and I'm excited about it."

"Fuck you, you stoic cumstain," you cackled, knowing full well that he was right. A downside to the life is that cleanliness often had to be traded for survival. Weeks could go by with only light rinsing and scrubbing through hoses and water containers and lakes. Soap was an almost nonexistent luxury as was conditioner and lotion.

Honestly, it was one of the hardest things you had to give up when you first left Earth and the thought of slipping into the pod and being able to do a deep cleansing of your body and wound was heavenly.

The scales on his head shift to a deep violet, spreading down his neck and chest in striping patterns and you know he is just as excited as you are to bathe. He reeks just as much as you do, the skin between his scales caked with ingrained dirt that probably drove him insane.

You made a mental note to offer to swab them out for him after his initial wash. You know, if you didn't pass out from the pain.

He swipes the card through the door before walking back outside to secure the bikes. You immediately drop all your stuff onto the bed in the corner, slowly lowering your body down next to it. You side screamed in protest, sweat starting to drip down your body as the wound shifted from a spreading  pain into paralyzing infection.

Which means that it wasn't just a normal blaster the guard was wielding.

Which means that it was one of the million different kinds of biological weapons they had at their disposal.

Which means that not only did it feel like your flesh was being fried and eaten, it likely was being fried and eaten to create the ideal environment for whatever chemical or disease that was inside it to make itself at home and infect you.

Which meant you were fucked.

The world got really fuzzy.

"....hey....Y/N? Are you ok?" your partner said, voice sounding distant.

'Oh...I think I'm dying,' you thought sluggishly as Duxob's face appeared above yours, handsome reptilian face slowly fading.

"Nope," you slurred, making sure to emphasize the pop of the 'P', "I got shot at the port. Thought it was a normal blaster shot but looks like its not...."

"What?"

Oh, he sounded mad.

"Yeah. Don't be mad."

"Oh. Mad doesn't even begin to cover what I'm feeling," he growled, easing off your jacket and the majority of your shirt off as carefully as he could to inspect the damage. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"We had to get away." There were pieces of fabric melted into the wound and no matter how gentle he was being, it was not pleasant and you couldn't stop the choked noises from escaping. Something cold was sprayed on the blistering skin and you vaguely recognized the smell of antibiotic spray.

'He's so smart,' your mind supplied as it floated in dead, squishy remnants of your ability to think rational and continuous thought, 'Knows just what I need.'

"We could have stopped sooner! This needs to be dressed and treated!"

You didn't have the strength to argue, blinking to fight off the very tempting urge to just pass out and ignore the way your body was succumbing to the infection. There was an unhealthy amount of sweat pooling in your collarbones and in the small of your back but there was ice in your bones.

"Stay awake. Stay the fuck awake Y/N! Do you hear me? I'm going to wrap you up and get some help."

"Too dangerous."

"Fuck you, I swear if-"

You didn't hear what he said next. Everything went silent, like when audio is cut right in the middle of a movie. You were positive he was still talking but his lips were moving way too fast for you to read them and it wasn't like you could see them clearly anyway.

A feeling of calm washes over you before the world goes black.

~~~~~

The first time you regain consciousness feels like something out of one of your nightmares.

There is pain.

Lots and lots of fucking pain.

And you can't move.  Your body was frozen, limbs unresponsive and weak.

And there is one - no, two - faces hovering above you covered in blood and neither of them was Duxob. You didn't recognize either of them but you knew that the blood was yours.  

The screams formed and fizzled out before they could reach your teeth.

'Please. Please let me die. Oh my God, please let me die. I can't....help me. Someone help me!'

The darkness gripped you tight and you hoped that you never woke up again.  

~~~~~~

The second time you wake up, you are in a different room and the pain is gone but it was replaced with a throbbing ache in your joints. Its dark, the only light coming from a small light stick in the corner of the room, but you can make out the shape of something moving in the room behind weighted eyelids.

"Dux?" you rasp, mouth dry and disgusting, "That you?"

The shadow figure moved closer. Right away you knew it wasn't Dux and you couldn't stop the anxious whine from escaping. It crackled painfully in your throat. The dark hid everything from you, fear slamming back into you forcefully.

"Shhh. Shhh little love," the shadow whispered, voice feminine and sweet, "Dux is nearby. Cade had to take him to the back room while R fixed you up."

A cool cloth was placed on your head and you flinched, whining again when you realized you couldn't move away from it. The ache spread throughout your body as it tried to shiver. The bed beside your hand dipped before a soft hand stroked your cheek and hair.

"Rest. You are out of danger now. I'll let Dux know you know you woke up," the shadow said, a smooth lilt to its voice as they continued to soothe you. "He worries."

As much as you want to protest, to jump up and demand answers, scream for Duxob to come in and protect you from the shadow and this strange, awful place, you couldn't help but the shadow's touch was comforting. Something beeped somewhere in the darkness followed by a burst of sweet-smelling aroma.

Before you could stop yourself, you slipped gently back into unconsciousness with the bitter knowledge of waking up alone on your tongue.

~~~~~~

The third time you woke up, you felt better. The throbbing ache was centralized to the spot where you knew your wound was. You kept your eyes closed for a few moments, cataloging your body, relieved when it seems that all your limbs seemed back online and capable of movement.

"Y/N?" a familiar voice asked and you couldn't help the grin as it formed on your mouth.

"Dux?"

"Yeah, its me," the sound of wood scraping on wood filled the room and the bed dipped a little, "I was starting to think Jazza lied."

"Who?"

"Don't worry about it right now," he murmured quietly and you didn't have to look to see that his face was next to yours on the pillow, "How do you feel?"

"Sore," you whimpered, shifting a bit on the bed, "but good. Better."

"Good. Good."

After a moment of struggle, you were able to roll your head to side and open your eyes. Duxob's face was, indeed, very close to yours on the pillow. Close enough that you could trace the green patterns in his iris's.

"Hi," you whispered.

"Hey."

"You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm ok."

"Promise?"

He chuckled at that, the sound reverberating through the pillow, "Promise. Go back to sleep. You need more rest."

As soon as the words left his lips, you yawned, sending what was probably a really nasty-smelling gust of gross-mouth into his face. His face contorted in mild disgust but stayed put. You admired his restraint.

"Sleep." There was a hint of command in his tone.

So you did, eager to fall into a place that was just Dux's cool hands and vibrant scales.

~~~~~~

Weeks had passed before you were able to stay awake for more than three hours and each time you woke up, Duxob was there with fresh blankets, soup, and a new story about what he had done while he waited for you to wake up again.

You quickly became acquainted with Jazza, a fiery little humanoid Flazian woman with artificial purple eyes and scars across her pink body who you recognized as the shadow who lulled you back to sleep, Cade, a small golden alien (you couldn't place his species for the life of you) with bright orange antennae and tattoos covering his body, and R, a tall tentacled Carcog who trained as a doctor on Pantone but left the practice to lead a rebellion after he discovered that the institution that hired him had been giving placebos to the poorer populations of beings instead of actual medicine.

You had also learned that the building you were in was where R worked to heal the disenfranchised and those injured by border agents and those they work for in the various riots and rages he leads and organizes. It was beaten down and broken, windows boarded up with wood and red tape, floors splintered and decayed, regularly infested with at least three kinds of parasites at any given moment - seven if Cade didn't parasite bomb once a week -, and the smell was enough to make you vomit. It was incredibly well-hidden - it had to be in order to fly under the radar for extended periods of time.

However, despite the shitty state of the building and most of its rooms overall, the healing rooms were immaculate and perfectly sterile. The medicine cabinets were lined up neatly along the walls and labeled with the different medicines they stored. There were neat charts and lists hanging on the walls - patient schedules, post-its with cute doodles on them, restock lists, all manner of relevant papers.

Air purifiers hung in every corner just high enough to reach and adjust if needed and you were thankful for them because without them, you could imagine it getting quite stuffy in the room.

Cade had found the building right before the last time they had been forced to run - over 3 years ago - and they still hadn't been found, which put you at ease. You wouldn't be able to fight your way out if there was a raid on the building.

Especially since you were unarmed and unable to get out of bed without risking rupturing all of R's hard work.

They were quite the trio, always on the go and doing something, getting in each other's way - sometimes on purpose just to get a rise out of the other - but, despite their strangeness, you were grateful. They saved your life and, from what Jazza had said, kept Duxob from losing his shit all over the place while you were out.

"Dinnertime!" Jazza sang as she sauntered into the room, a steaming bowl of gross mush that was supposed to promote rapid healing.

"Oh goody," you reply sarcastically, dog-earing the page you were on and putting the book off to the side so she could place the bowl on your lap table.

"Hush now," she mock-scolded, purple eyes whirring as they focused on you, "This is helping."

"But it tastes like shit," you whine loudly, exaggerating random syllables, "Its NASTY!"

"Child, I will spank you."

"Pfft, that is sooooo not a punishment," you smirked, wiggling your eyebrows at her as she cackled.

"If it makes you feel better, the rest of us are stuck on this canned garbage until we can make another run and it tastes even worse than the shit R is making for you."

"You're right, I do feel better."

"Oh fuck off."

You laughed, only stopping when your side started to throb. R had told you all about the stuff you had been shot with, and, because you waited so long before getting it treated, you would likely always have a residual pain in your side from where the nerves had been frayed and rebuilt.  Over time, the pain would fade into a more manageable level and you'd be able to resume most activities but it would likely never go away.

It bummed you out in more ways than you could ever imagine and for once, you were thankful Duxob wasn't in the room. You were 90% sure R had already told him everything a;ready, there was no way he wasn't going to get some answer from R after he had fixed you up, but you sure as hell didn't want to have a conversation about it.

"So, I have more questions," Jazza smiled and you groaned obnoxiously, causing her to shoot you a playful glare.

Jazza had grown up with very little knowledge of the worlds beyond her own, having come from a very secretive sub-community on a moon in some quadrant you hadn't even heard of, and only started experiencing other beings when she hitched a ride with Cade off her birth world. As a result, she had at least 20 new questions for you every time she came in and grilled you endlessly as she tried to understand. Most of the time, her questions were about humans and Earth but there were times when her curiosity drifted to your partner.

It was sweet, the way she lit up when something made sense to her. She's get all starry eyed and excited and you felt a pang of loss over your own loss of wonder.

"Ok. Shoot."

"What is up with Dux's scales? One minute they're green. Then they're blue. They get really bright and then dim down like a Hashi craft. I fucking turned around yesterday and he had bright red fucking elbows for no reason and I don't know dude, is he sick? Does he need a catheter too?"

If you had been drinking, you would have choked, "First of all, thank you for reminding me that I have one of those in right now. I really needed to be reminded that I can't pee on my own."

"You are welcome," she responds with all the seriousness of condolence.

" Secondly, its partially how he communicates," you said, rolling noodles onto your fork, "Alzeanian scales are a lot more complex than what people think. Probably because they don't leave their planet often and anyone who visits their planet gets killed so no one really has any data on them." You shrug, dipping your fork of noodles in the little sauce pot. "Each scale looks like its just a flat color from a distance but the closer you get, the more you can see that they are more of an iridescent duo-chrome. Alzeanians can control how muted or how bright their colors are and can make them shift from regardless of where they are standing in the light. Duxob has a green to blue-purple shift in the majority of his scales. In others, he has a gold to red shift and he has a tiny patch that shifts between purple and red but that's literally just on his elbow. Depending on where we are and what we are trying to do, he uses them to talk to me from a distance."

"That is so cool," Jazza whispers, eyes wide and whirring as she slurps down her own food with her double-tongue.

"It can be," you acknowledge, "and its always nice knowing that your partner is adept at handing any kind of situation and can alert you real fast if things get...unsavory. I lucked out big time that he took me on."

You couldn't help the twinge of sadness that came when you thought too deeply about Duxob's presence in your life and the implications of how recent events were going to change that.

"How so? I saw your Wanted reel. You are quite handy with a gun," she grinned, nudging you with a dirty hand and you couldn't help but grin back. You were extremely proud of your Wanted reel. It really captured your insanity and desperation for freedom. Other outlaws try to seem as scary as possible when they know they are being filmed to dissuade anyone from coming after them.

Not you though.

You welcomed the challenge.

'Come and get me. I dare you.'

"I try."

"You succeed."

"Its all I know how to do. Wield a gun and fix bikes," you shift your now empty bowl away from you. There is a bitterness lurking there, something you try to keep down as much as possible. Jazza seems to understand.

"Lets change your bandages," she suggests and you are grateful for the change in topic.

~~~~~~

You hate physical therapy.

Hated it.

You also hated Duxob.

Because the piece of shit loved to get you up early and do the exercises with you until you cried.

This morning was no different. The stupid lizard wouldn't stop smiling as he guided you into each stretch.

"Stop enjoying this," you grumbled as he pushes down on your torso so you get an actual stretch instead of one of the fakes ones you did before he took over because you didn't see the point of putting yourself in more pain.

"I'm not," he said, smile stretched, sharp, jagged teeth on display, even further on his usually stoic face. Fucking liar.

"You are, you - ow, ow, ow, owwwww," you screeched as he eased you into the most painful of the stretches, "Whhhhhyyyyy?"

"You need to use your muscles again. You were in a coma on and off for two weeks and you've been recovering in bed for two more. You're going to get squishy and useless."

"I already am squishy and useless though!"

"No, you aren't," he murmured, letting you come out of the stretch and falling back onto the bed, "And you need to get your body used to movement again."

"Leave me to die," you whine dramatically, turning your head and throwing your arm over your eyes like a princess.

The words formed and hit your mouth before they hit your brain and the silence that follows is deafening.

"I think recent circumstances would suggest that I wouldn't," Duxob says, soft and displeased.

"I know," you sigh.

~~~~~~

"Tell me," Jazza begins, a couple of days later, "How'd you get hurt anyway? I feel like we've talked about literally everything else since you've been here but that. You had a pretty sizable wound when you came in. R wasn't sure you were going to pull through and he's done multiple surgeries on Gorglax creatures."

"Oh um, well," you wrack your brain for a good explanation but the look on Jazza's face suggests a finger right in your side if you lie. "Ok well. We had gotten off a port wagon and the usual 'run for your lives before the space coppers get you' game ensued. Dux had managed to get a hold of one of their stun bombs and released it, paralyzing the border guards. Most of them anyway." You take a deep breath, a weird flash of emotion flowing through you as you relived it. Ew. Not going there. "There was a smaller one following close behind us as we fled from the port. I don't know if he saw me or what, maybe he completely disregarded me as being the less important catch - whatever - but he aimed at the back of Dux's bike. His recharger wasn't in the best shape - I only had duct tape with me when I rewired it - and any sort of hit would have caused an explosion. He took aim at it and I swerved in front of him, causing him to slam on the breaks and swerve away."

Your side throbbed dully at the memory of your skin splitting open as the gun went off anyway, haphazardly, hitting you just enough to burn away a chunk of your body.

"It went off anyway  and got me in the back as I was speeding away."

"It wasn't a direct hit?"

"No, thankfully."

"Then why was it so bad?"

You chuckled awkwardly, "I, um, didn't tell Dux I had gotten hurt so we, kinda, sorta...drove for 12 hours before I collapsed and he brought me to you."

The furious look on Jazza's pretty face would have been hilarious if it hadn't been for the fact it was directed at you, "You are an idiot."

"Hey, no I-"

"Yes you are! Did you have some kind of death wish?!"

"No-o...I-"

"You what? What could possibly have gone through your head that would justify you allowing yourself to burn and rot?"

It was silent for a moment as you tried to think of a reason other than the truth but, it just wasn't worth it. Not anymore. You were tired.

"I thought it was a normal hit, something minor," you whispered, unable to keep looking into the girl's pretty purple eyes, "I thought that I'd likely be okay. We'd stop, I'd patch myself up, and we'd rest. It wasn't until we got there that I realized I was fucked but even so, I was content. It hurt like a bitch but I've long accepted that I'm going to die in a shoot out or in a shitty sleep room in some shitty port," you sighed, leaning back into your lumpy pillow and rubbing your face, "And you, if I was gone....Dux would be safe. Safer, I should say."

Jazza's round face softened, the anger melting into a calm understanding.

"How so?" Her voice was soft, like the night she had soothed you to sleep in the shadows.

"I am a liability. I am no use to him, not really. I get hurt more. I eat more. I sleep more. I am more high maintenance than he is. I require things he doesn't and  that make being on the road difficult. There is a reason humans aren't an ideal partner, especially when you are running from space cops! I mean, look at where I am now? In bed! Hurt! He had to go around in a strange place and put himself at risk to try and find someone who could help. And he's waiting for me out of some misplaced whatever when we both know he could dip at any moment and he'd survive just fine!"

You didn't realize you were screaming until you stopped to catch your breath, throat hoarse and frustrated tears rolling down your face. Everything that had bottled up the last few years poured out, exploding in a tsunami of bullshit you didn't want to have to deal with. There was a throbbing in your side that you knew was from overexertion but you didn't give a fuck anymore.

"He would be fine," you reiterated, suddenly feeling sluggish. The drip in your arm had turned up on its own at the feel of your elevated heart rate and increasing level of agitation. R had set it up to monitor your activity and keep you from doing something stupid out of boredom and ripping yourself open. It was such a staple in your life that you had forgotten it was even in.

"No, I really wouldn't."

Oh shit.

He did not.

"Dux?" your mouth was slow, dripping over the syllable as he entered the room. A silent conversation took place between him and Jazza, one too fast for your slushy mind to process, before Jazza took off out of the room without another word.

The door closed and he sighed, all but collapsing on the chair next to you bed, looking more ragged than you had ever seen him before. His scales flashed and shifted uneasily as he looked at you.

"It seems we need to talk," he said, the finality of his tone telling you a talk was going to happen despite his phrasing.

"If you want."

"No but we're going to."

"Fine, you start."

Coward, you scolded yourself but hey, feelings were scary, which is why you never dealt with him.

"Fine," he growled, scooting the chair even closer and putting himself all in your personal bed space, "Things are going to change."

"I figured," you shrugged, "I can't run anymore. My side will never allow me to do all the strenuous activity of being an outlaw."

"Agreed. You can't do that anymore," he said, eyes roaming over the bandages peeking through the shredded top you were wearing before meeting your eyes again, "So I came up with a solution."

You leaned your head back, your neck unable to hold it up due to the sedation pumping through you, "Where are you going to take me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'd like for you to drop me off in a place I'll be able to get around easily enough. I liked that little blue planet we stopped at like 2 years ago."

"You aren't going anywhere."

"But you just said I can't run anymore. I can't stay here forever and we are still Wanteds. I'm going to need to be in a place where I can live and blend in without drawing suspicion."

"Who says you can't stay here?," he asked, harsh golden-green eyes boring into yours, "And who says that I'm going to ditch you on some random planet?"

"Dux, I can't," you pause, mind really blurry because he isn't making any sense and it's making you anxious, "I am very drugged. Please stop."

His gaze softens and he reaches a stubby clawed hand out to stroke your head, "Calm down, ashistoiro. You are ok. You are safe. I am here."

"Ashi-what?"

"Ashistorio, Y/N. Beloved in Alzeanian...well, the closest translation for it," he murmured, claws scraping gently along your skin, "I discussed it with R. He is letting us stay. There is a bunker attached to this building that he is going to let us have until its time for all of us to leave. I am not leaving you. I won't. I can't. You are my biggest asset."

It wasn't a normal confession of love, not by a long shot, but it was one of the most meaningful you had ever heard.

And you hated that you were passing out in the middle of it.

"Yeah?"

He smiled as he watched you nod off, "Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

You couldn't wait to wake up.

 ~~~~~~

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy - the light switch

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Part Six

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

word count: 3696 + 358

warnings: mentions of suicide. this one is big and there’s a lot of chatting, sorry!

music: blink-182 - shut up

“Best songs about escaping the law. Go!”

Mal was a natural. Or seemed like one. He took up the maintenance guy, Flip, who volunteered to help them decorate the gathering hall for the party. It was almost the thirty-first, and, thanks to hard work and Mal’s disgust for sleep, they were done with the playlist. Not that it was very difficult. Caroline had said, nostalgia flick. Well, they knew exactly what people would feel nostalgic to. And even if they didn’t, who cares. They had the filthiest of Bloodhound Gang and a sick lamp that changed flickering from orange to blue.

Currently he was guiding Flip through Styx’s discography, explaining why it was literally the best rock band of the middle of seventies. Every little thing Mal enjoyed was literally the best for him. He had a mind of a twelve year old teenager, and a scary look of a snake. Ever since Y/N learned why he’s the way he was, she saw everything he did in a much more ominous way. Yet, he seemed friendly enough, turning his back to her, which meant he trusted her. Just in case she has to take him out. After the gaping hole grew in her over the winter and spring, she felt there wasn’t a single thing she wasn’t capable of.

Y/N was opening boxes with plastic cups and napkins, tons of waste five hours after the party. Caroline arrived exactly at noon, just like she’d promised, and started helping her.

“Is that him?” she asked quietly, eyeing Mal from the other side of the hall. Y/N stood up and nodded. The two girls were watching as he and Flip unfolded a big knot of wiring.

“He’s cute”.

“Uh-huh”.

“And you said he was… odd?”

Y/N nodded.

“I’m quite fine with that, though. I found the reason for it. I’m not sure he’s completely honest about everything, but earlier I thought he was like a demon, or a vampire undercover”.

Caroline looked at him closely, putting away her curly strands of hair to hear better.

“And what’s the reason?”

“Caroline, you’re lifting two boxed with the projectors. Put them down”, Y/N hissed, grabbing her by the hands. The blonde vampire formed an O with her mouth and grimaced awkwardly.

“Gee, I just wanna do it all as quick as possible. Sorry. You were saying?”

“Well, he has… some… he’s like…”

On the one hand, a bit of sociopathic energy won’t surprise anyone here. But then again, this stuff is personal.

She leaned to Caroline and whispered into her ear, really quietly.

“Oh! Has he killed anybody yet?”

“I thought the same!”

Her shriek made the boys turn their heads. Mal waved his hand at Forbes, and she nodded.

“About that, by the way…” Caroline followed him with her eyes, and then looked back at her friend.

“Those bodies at Stefan’s house”, Y/N always wondered at how all the people in the town are divided between the two Salvatore brothers. “Damon found their heads. You will not believe where they were”.

Y/N rubbed her palms. Please, don’t let it be too spooky.

“They were all packed under Damon’s bed. He couldn’t sniff them out right away because of all the smell on the lawn and inside... ”.

“What was it like, exactly?”

“They were just outside the house. Butchered”. Caroline shivered under her silk blouse.

“So, that was about Damon”.

“For sure”, Caroline shook her head lightly, letting her bangs swing. Y/N noticed a clear trace of indignation in her voice. “I wonder what he has done this time to piss Rebekah this time”.

“Rebekah? You already know she did it?”

The dead weight clutching her heart and lungs for three days let go. She thought it would be something way more evil, or threatening.

“I mean, who else has such a cracked up mind to do such a thing? And a grudge against Damon? She really outdid herself this time though”.

“Right, she’s bitchy, but not completely insane, for sure?”

Forbes just shrugged, her eyes big and blue.

“Don’t stop unpacking, Y/N. Yeah, and plus, that’s a lot of work”.

“This is atrocious. We gotta find out for sure”.

Y/N was unable to work, puzzled. A sudden burst of music, bashing with the sound of drums, exploded the silence in the hall, and she jumped, nearly screaming. Mal rushed to his laptop.

“My bad!” he waved his hand, smiling.

Caroline let out a tired sighed. So, Mal conquered her, too, without even talking to her.

“When did she do it? I can’t seem to make up the time line”.

“I’ve no idea. Maybe while Damon was napping”.

“Ridiculous”.

“Look, I don’t know. Klaus is talking to her, but she’s being all defensive… she denies everything”.

“Why are you so sure it was her though? I mean, they’ve slept a thousand years ago, and then I don’t remember them contacting afterwards”.

Caroline sat on the box and started to unpack the shuffling packs of packs of napkins. She lifted her sky-blue eyes to Y/N with the expression of sorrow.

“Y/N, honey… he… they’ve been in and out, for months. He just doesn’t tell you because he knows you’re still kind of into him”.

That made her wonder.

“Weird. I fell out of love with him years ago. You guys still think there’s something?”

Caroline shrugged impassively.

“I don’t know. It better be over. Damon is not the man of your dreams, I bet”.

“Well, he used to be”.

“Ladies”, Mal appeared out of thin air like a freaking ghost, startling her yet again. Even Caroline looked at him, surprised, her hands stopping for a second.

“We’re ready for the sound check. You wanna put in a song? Care, can I call you Care? Y/N’s been talking about you lots, I feel like I’ve known you for years”.

Caroline was dead silent, looking at him like she was about to hit him. Y/N felt an urge to put her arm on the guy’s shoulder and shield him from all the world and everything he didn’t get about it.

“You’re the boss here, right? Or is it Y/N? Um, anyway, she mentioned you wanted to see the transitions?”

Forbes stood up, still unimpressed, but put on a polite face.

“Oh. Sure. You’re Mal, right?”

She outstretched her hand in a challenging gesture. Mal shook it like it didn’t matter, and Caroline was seemingly left satisfied.

“Right. Mal Osbourne”.

“Mal’s short for…”

He tilted his head.

“Mal”.

“Oh. That’s the full name?”

“Yeah, it’s very short. Just like my patience”, he smiled widely, showing teeth. His eyes stayed the usual frozen navy color. “So, you wanna check it out? I’ll wrap the equipment until Friday and won’t get it out, so all the tech stuff should be checked beforehand. Y/N’s completely useless in it. The other day she failed to upgrade AdBlock, I was pissed”, he let out a laugh. Caroline gave Y/N a stunned look, not about her impotence in computers, which never surprised anyone who knew her. Y/N nodded, and the two of them walked to Mal’s laptop. He started explaining to Caroline the queue of songs and how they all formed patterns. This seemed to finally get to her, as she saw the organizational side to the whole mess that was happening. Y/N returned to her boxes.

When the lion share of preparations was done for the day, Mal suggested they grabbed a beer at the closest bar, to reward themselves.

“She’s a bit slow, eh, Caroline? I thought you said she was brilliant”.

“She is, and that’s mean. You just talk very much, and all my friends need to acclimatize to you at first”.

“Didn’t seem to have those problems with the others at Whitmore”, he thought out loud.

“Well, these ones are Mystic Falls people”, Y/N said. “Ric still avoids you, doesn’t he?”

“Big time”.

“They’re more cautious. You see the kind of shit happening with us”.

“Oh, right”.

They left the building, and headed for Y/N’s car. Mail never drove and usually walked from college to his place which was around ten minutes away. Sometimes Y/N gave him a lift on her way home as it was the same direction. The road from the campus to her house on the Oak street normally took not more than twenty minutes.

“Does that happen often? I read about all these ‘animal attacks’. What’s up with that? What kind of animal kills people and leaves them in the parking lot?”

“Wolves”.

“They’re that hungry?”

“In the cold season, yeah”, Y/N marveled at the amount of bullshit the normal folk had to consume here on a daily basis.

“And you’re all fine with that. And they’re gonna tell that pile of bodies was wolves as well? Is that true that they didn’t have heads?”

“How did you even know about it?”

“Twitter”.

Y/N shook her head. They got into the car, and she started the engine. Mal never put on seatbelt, no matter how many times she’s asked him to. The car itself seemed to have given up because now it didn’t beep when Mal was inside.

“I don’t know what kind of animal does that”, she confessed. She still wasn’t sure Rebekah was to blame for that. But she wished it was her, very much.

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Let me tell you a story”.

“Oh, story”, Mal gasped excitedly, turning his whole body to her. He loved stories.

“One morning I wake up and the body of my dad lies there on my carpet. His upper half was in my room, and his legs were in the corridor. His throat was cut and there was a big, black pool of blood under him, soaking into the wood. Awful. I couldn’t move for about five minutes. I was afraid he would get up and attack me. And I was asking myself, who would’ve done it, why they never hurt me, how come I didn’t hear anything, and why they positioned him that way”.

Mal listened with his pretty mouth slightly agape, eyes flickering. To him, it was a retelling of a movie, a piece of fiction he loved so much.

“You think there was something special about the way they left him?”

“It looked like when a cat drags you a dead rat”.

He smirked.

“You don’t seem too upset the whole thing”.

“My father was an awful man”.

“What about the whole family talk you gave me the other day?”

“First, I don’t know Martha’s folks. I only heard your side of story. Second, we never found out who killed my father. So I can’t tell how I feel about that human”.

“Human?” Mal caught her off guards. “Why did you say ‘human’?”

She imagined banging her head on the steering wheel. Because someone got inside her house in the night without being invited, and never bit him, that’s why. It was important while they were trying to figure out the murderer, that he was human. It was a habit.

“I… don’t know”, she offered, without trying too much. “Anyway, I have little to no feelings about that. The picture of his body, though, lying there, waiting for me to wake up and discover him, still haunts me sometimes”.

“Okay, imagine you found who did this. Imagine you met that human”.

Y/N didn’t like the way Mal said that word.

“Imagine you knew the motive”.

“Which would be..?”

“Well, what do you mean when you say he was awful?”

“Ah, okay. You think they killed him to rid me of him”.

“Something like that, maybe. Imagine you met him. What would you say?”

“I wouldn’t like to meet him. He’s clearly crazy”.

Mal chewed on his lower lip. They drove up to The Craze and left the car.

“You’re driving me home in the evening”, she announced, throwing Mal the keys. He managed to catch them at the last moment. “I need to drink”.

_____________________________________________________________

“Tell me”, Mal frowned with a hidden smile, “why do we always have to make everybody listen to your millennial pop rock playlist?”

“You love it”.

“I do”, he confirmed and made himself comfortable in his chair. “But I just wonder about the reason you’re so hooked up on it”.

“I don’t think about it much”.

There was the song he put in to the DJ, who actually approved it, probably due to Mal’s natural charm. Being wrapped in the music she chose herself, and organized in a way she enjoyed, made her feel comfortable in the times of distress. Maybe now was the time like this, because she physically needed it.

Shut the fuck up, she said,

I’m going fucking deaf

“Let it be the snippet of the party then”, Mal agreed. People at the bar were swinging their heads, sniffing the familiar lyrics they probably last heard ten years ago, or even more.

They said cheers and started getting wasted.

“You remember you promised me something?” Mal cooed conspiratorially, pierced her with a look, and made her forget all about Martha for a second. She swallowed hard.

“What?”

“A sad story in exchange for mine. Or was it a trick to make me talk?”

Y/N went silent, amazed at the fact he remembered.

“You forgot, right? So typical of you. You’re ultra irresponsible. Sometimes I feel like you’re the one without any conscience”.

“Ugh”.

He drank his beer and licked his lips.

“You’ve seen my tattoo on the forearm?”

“It’s big, hard not to see. I reckoned, Alex is dead?”

She nodded. She looked at Mal’s forearms with the grey sleeves of his hoodie rolled up.

“It’s been five years now. He was my childhood friend. He taught me everything my bastard of the father was meant to teach me. Riding a bike, watching movies, making jokes, LEGO assembling, crashing my knees as we were rollerblading”.

“Did you have a crush on him?”

“At one point, when I was ten, maybe. It wasn’t serious. He was always like a big brother to me”.

“What happened?”

She tasted her bitten lip with the tip of her tongue. It was salty and rough.

“When we grew up, he lost interest in me. We went different ways, I guess. I haven’t talked to him since I was sixteen. I mean, sometimes I messaged him, I tried to see him, but he moved on far away, and he wasn’t really interested. Like none of what we did when we were children mattered. Made me feel it didn’t count. What am I supposed to do with all the memories now? He was the only friend I had growing up, and when a person feels insecure, they touch their past and it makes them feel good. But when I remember the happiest days, Alex is in all of them. And at the same time, there was another Alex, who just forgot about me, like, people just… I mean, Mal, everybody had a childhood, right? We are not born adults”.

“My childhood sucked”.

“Yeah, I know. But it still existed”.

“Unfortunately”.

“He pretended I meant nothing to him. He had a new life, moved away from Washington, and – the funniest part – nothing had actually happened, there wasn’t a clear reason. That’s just how it happens sometimes. But then, couple of years after, his fiancée called and said he had hanged himself”.

Mal was thinking, playing with the bottle cap.

“And you still got his name tattooed”.

“He still taught me how to ride a bike. No matter what else he’s done, you can’t take it away now. You can’t erase my memory”.

Mal’s face went hard. That was his judging look. He didn’t say anything, but only sipped on his beer. The waitress brought his cheese fingers, and he attacked them like a hungry bear. Y/N marveled yet again at his teen-like appetite for bad stuff. It’s amazing he was lean, and his skin was so clear, given every time she saw him eat, it was complete trash.

“Alright, but I think I win”, he said after a pause.

“You mean the saddest story?”

“Yeah. Martha’s still alive, which means I get to be rejected for the second time”.

“You think she’ll reject you? It’s kinda sweet you’re being such a creep about her”.

“You’re a specific type of chick, Y/N. She’s more normal than you. She’ll think I’m a horrible person”.

“Do you think you’re a horrible person?”

He grinned to himself.

“I used to, but not anymore. I’m on my own in this world, and the only person that ever cared about me for real doesn’t know I’m feet away from her. There’s no use beating yourself about your qualities when you’re my age”.

“You’re like, a year older than me”.

Mal smiled at her like at a child that’s talking nonsense, but you gotta be nice because one day they’ll figure it out.

“You want some?” he always shared his food with her.

“No, thanks”.

“Oh, you know what else was bugging me?”

Y/N raised her brows.

“Something bugs you, sweet boy?”

Mal giggled charismatically.

“What are the Salvatores like? I saw one of them the other day, Steven? With Prof Saltzman. They seem to be good buddies, but he looks strange”.

“Stefan. Yeah, well, we all went to the same school. Ric, too. He used to be our history teacher”.

“So, you know them well? You keep mentioning the second one”.

“Go on”.

Mal pursed his lips, concentrating really hard.

“Go on, remember”.

“I can’t, you know I can’t. I don’t remember names. Be thankful I call you right”.

“Go on”, she nudged him, entertained. It was a thing about him, Mal, not considering others important enough to remember people’s names.

“Da- Dan?”

“Nope”.

Mal crossed his arms on his chest, his eyes wondering all over Y/N’s face like the answer was there.

“Daniel. Dasher. Denmark. Dunder Mifflin”.

She laughed.

“Go on. Mars’ moons”.

“Deimos. Damon!”

Y/N felt amused when he was around. She felt entertained, light, he was taking away the weight from her. The tilt of his head, the stupid quote from Gordon Flash, and she felt like she was a different kind of person. A memory would come back to her, that she wasn’t born here. That she didn’t belong to Mystic Falls and could actually go if she decided, one day. That, in theory, she was free.

Mal watched her.

“You like him?”

“How come?”

“Your face does that thing when you talk about him”.

“What thing?”

“Like now. Like you’re missing something”.

“I don’t get why everybody thinks I still have a crush on him. I used to love him back when I was at school”.

“Whoa, love?”

“Yes. It’s that thing when you want to be with somebody, you know that”, she pressed. She still was looking for an opportunity to test just how much Mal actually felt about Martha. That he cared about her, was not a question – but how did it actually work, with his brain? Did he desire to possess her? Or felt incomplete without her? Did she make him better, more human?

“And what happened to that?”

“I grew up”.

“And?”

“You’re pushing me”.

“I’m being curious”, Mal was chewing again, “how does it die? You say you loved him. I only really loved one person in my life – and that’s rich for me to say that. Given, you know”, he motioned with his hand, “But I really think I love her. Like, when I look at her, my eyes melt. You ever get that? And my heart goes ba-dum, and sometimes I forget and think, oh no, I’m finally having a stroke”.

Y/N couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“And when I think about her, sometimes it feels like I’m dying”, Mal said, and suddenly, it wasn’t as funny anymore.

“Oh, my poor boy Mal”, Y/N held out her hand and touched his wrist in an instinctive gesture.

“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

“I’m comforting you”.

“Ah. Thanks. And so, I used to wait for it to go away, but it didn’t, so I decided, if I can’t get over her, I’ll just get her back. You know?”

“That actually makes perfect logical sense”.

“So, how do you fall out of love? If it’s real?”

“Maybe with Damon, it wasn’t real. But it sure felt that at some point. Boy, the things we did together back then”, Y/N snickered, raising Mal’s eyebrows high.

“What?”

“We…”

She realized she couldn’t tell Mal about one of the coolest things that ever happened to her in her life. The one person she really wanted to share, because she knew exactly the kind of reaction she would get, and it would be perfect. And yet, to tell him how she, a sixteen year old, was a bait for a bunch of vampires and how Damon ripped a heart out one of them in front of her? How he was standing there, all soaked in rain, with his black hair and silver eyes, tall and strong, like a statue, holding a bleeding heart in his palm, like an epitome of safety.

“We had the maddest parties. I was big on vodka when I was a teenager”, she lied. “We would gather all school at their huge house and party all night. And get into all kinds of trouble”.

“How old is he, exactly?” Mal asked, suspicious.

“He’s seven years older than Stefan”.

“So, you partied with that man while being underage. And you let him get into your pants?”

A wave of frozen air hit her in the face. Y/N was taken aback, at the same time feeling blood flush to her eyes and cheeks. Mal’s severity sometimes blew her off.

“I- no. Not that it’s any of your business, man, Jesus. He never liked me back”.

“Damien sounds like trash”, Mal concluded gravely, looking away. “No wonder someone’s threatening him. Is he a criminal?”

“Not that I know of. Mal, stop it”.

“What?” he shook his shoulders, as if brushing off all the thoughts of Damon.

“You’re freaking me out a little”.

“You’ve had one bottle, weakling”, he smiled warmly. It didn’t work. His eyes were worse than weapons sometimes.

“Moorning!” Mal announced loudly as he stopped the car, with a swing, on her driveway. Y/N had almost fallen asleep while looking at the window. When he turned off the music, silence rang in the car for a moment.

“You still walking?”

“How are you not drunk?” she demanded slowly, getting out of her car and pushing the door a little bit too hard.

His hand found its way to her shoulder blade. Mal seemed to move like a cat, and her being completely wasted didn’t add to her circumspection.

“I have high tolerance”, he responded. “You need a tea or whatever? Are you gonna puke?”

Y/N stood up and looked at her house. It swayed just a little.

“Nah, I’m fine”.

Together, they walked to the porch. Y/N decided to be double careful and thought of luring him inside for a minute without inviting him, just to be sure.

“Actually, would be cool if you helped me, uh, find the switch”.

Mal got slightly surprised but said nothing. Y/N opened the door, and he held it with his hand, as she stepped inside. She stood in the dark for a moment, looking at him, just outside the doorframe. The streetlights were out, again. The faint moonlight made his face look waxy. He studied her with curious look.

“You want me to come in?”

She wouldn’t budge.

Mal put his palm on the door jamb and took a step, letting himself in the house. Y/N exhaled, blood thumping inside her head, like an empty gunshot.

“There it is”, he outstretched his hand and flickered the lights, getting the switch unmistakably. How did he know? Y/N closed her eyes for two seconds and opened them again. Light was burning her eyeballs.

Mal stepped up to her, and took her head with his hands. He promptly kissed her on the forehead, his lips warm and quick.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll call a taxi”, he said nonchalantly, an amused smirk, like he was playing with her, stretched his mouth. He left the house without saying goodbye, and closed the door after himself.

How did he know where the switch was?

[mysteryartisticwriter]

Alright, Spider-man // Peter Parker X Reader

A/N: Hey loves, I know I need to do a part two of “What’s Stopping You?” but I just had this idea and I really wanted to write it! Every time I see an AU where the reader is the daughter of Tony, I always like to think of how they would actually meet if they met in the actual MCU. So, I made this! I hope you guys like it because I still need to do several other stories to do, such as my Wattpad story and that part two. Anyway, enjoy!

TAKES PLACE IN CIVIL WAR

REQUESTS ARE STILL CLOSED BTW (FOR NOW)

Requested: Nope

Warnings: None

Not my gif!! (Please tell me if you, the owner, would like me to take the gif down!)

-

“Why do I have to come, again?”

Your father, Tony Stark, had forced you to come with him to pick up a new recruit. You’ve heard the situation currently happening at the moment, Uncle Cap and your father having a disagreement about the Sokovia Accords and a division between the Avengers.

Soon, Tony was going to Germany with Auntie Nat, Uncle Rodey and two other recruits, one being the one you were going to pick up right now. The two of you were in front of the small apartment door and were about to knock.

“Because the kid is your age, he might feel more comfortable around someone his age. It’ll be quick, I swear.” Your father answered.

You sighed, patting down your black dress suit and blowing a few strands of (h/c) hair, usually braided but now in a bun, from your face. You knew better than to argue with your dad, it never went anywhere since his stubborness was passed down to you.

While wiping a stray hair from your face, you knocked on the door and stood next to your father.

A middle aged, yet young looking woman opened the door. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Tony Stark and this is my daughter (Y/n),” you waved at the woman. “We’re here to speak to Peter Parker.”

The lady’s face turned to shock and she seem flustered for a moment then she regained her stance.

“Oh my- um...come on in!”

She opened the door wider to let you two in and you walked in after your dad. You looked around her apartment and felt a comfort and homey feeling. It was nice and simple, definitely a humble family.

“My name is May Parker, I’m Peter’s aunt. He’ll be home soon, he just finished school. But until then, I made tea and meatloaf! Take a seat and have some!” The woman, May, picked up a tray of cookies from the kitchen top.

You graciously took a piece and smiled at her, giving her a thank you in responce. Your dad took several pieces and sat on her couch, you following him.

May set down the tray on the table in the middle of the living room and sat on the couch next to you.

“I don’t mean to be rude, I mean it’s an honor to have the Tony Stark and his daughter in my home but what do you need to talk with Peter about?” She questioned.

“I assume Peter has told you about the grant, yes?” Tony lied.

“Grant? Um, no, he hasn’t. I-I don’t think so, at least.” May replied.

You and your dad exchanged fake shocked looks.

“Well basically, your nephew applied to the Stark Inc. Internship; a internship where young smart minds, like Peter, get the chance to work around my company part time. He got accepted.” He explained, taking another bite out of his meatloaf piece.

May’s eyes widened at your father’s words and looked over to you, as if not believing him. You nodded and a large smile grew on her face.

“O-oh wow! I can’t believe he hasn’t told me about it!”

Just then, the door of the apartment opened. You could see a young brown haired boy in a thin, navy blue sweater walk through it. He hadn’t said anything so you guessed he just didn’t notice you yet.

“Hey, May.” You assumed was Peter, greeted before dropping his keys on the counter and heading to the kitchen.

“Hey, how was school today?” May asked.

“It was okay, but there’s this crazy car parked outside.” Peter turned towards his Aunt but saw you and your father as well. You and your father pretended to not notice him while he came in.

His face showed silent shock, his mind not believing what he was seeing. From what you saw, you had to admit he was pretty cute and good looking. For a second, you didn’t believe he was your age because he looked to be about maybe 18, but looks can be deceiving.

“Oh, Mr. Parker.”

“Um,” Peter took out his wired headphones. “W-what are you- hey! I’m uh...I’m-I’m Peter.”

“Tony.” Your dad gestured to you.

“I’m (Y/n).” You smiled.

“What-what are you doing here?”

“It’s about time we met. You’ve been getting my emails, right?” Tony winked with his eyes, telling the boy to go along with what he was saying.

“Yeah-yeah...regarding the-”

“You didn’t even tell me about the grant?” May interjected.

“About the grant! Right.”

“The September foundation? Yeah? Remember when you applied?”

“...yeah.” Peter sheepishly replied.

“We’ve approved!” Tony pointed to him and you.

“So now, we’re in business.” You finished for him.

“You didn’t tell me anything. What’s up with that? Are you keeping secrets from me now?” May asked, a little hurt.

“I just- I just know how much you love surprises so I thought I would let you know...anyway, what did I apply for?”

“That’s what we’re here to hash out.” You told him, his eyes looking towards you.

“It is so hard to believe that she is someone’s aunt.” Flirted your dad, you gagged on the inside.

Aunt May just laughed. “Well they do come out in all shapes and sizes, you know?”

“This woman’s meatloaf is exceptional.”

“Lemme just stop you there. Is this grant like got money involved or whatever..?” The brown haired boy wondered. You giggled at his words.

“Yeah, its pretty well funded. Look who you’re talking to.” You stated, smirking a little.

“Can we get five minutes with him?” Asked Tony.

May agreed and the three of you headed towards a more private area, more so, Peter’s bedroom. Once you entered, you closed the door behind you and did a quick scan of his room.

It was filled with many layers of technology around the room and his desk was full of it. His room was smaller than the average bedroom, definitely smaller than yours and one twin sized bed laid in the middle of it against the wall.

Peter walked towards his desk and your dad spat out the meatloaf in his mouth to the trashcan. You almost laughed at his distaste to the woman’s food.

“As meatloaf goes, that wasn’t too bad.” He said then looked around the room.

Your dad looked at the old computer and other devices on Peter’s desk.

“Oh, what do we have here? Retro-tech, huh? Thrift store? Salvation Army?” Tony asked Peter.

“The garbage, actually.”

“So you’re a dumpster diver?” You raised an eyebrow at the boy.

“Yeah I was...um anyway, look. I definitely did not apply for your grant-“

“Nah uh! Us first.” You looked over to your dad, he waved his hand and you took out the small device in your pocket.

“Quick question of the rhetorical variety,” as you held up the device, a hologram popped up and a video started to play of a web swinging person stopped a man from breaking into a car. “This is you, right?”

“Um, n-no. What do- what do you mean?”

You smirked before pulling up another video of the hero you knew was him. It was footage of him stopped a car from crashing into a moving bus.

“Look at you go!” Your dad joined in.

“Wow, nice catch. 3,000 pounds and 40 miles an hour? It’s not easy. You’ve got mad skills.” You complimented Peter while putting the tech away.

A small smile grew on his face until his washed away almost immediately.

“That’s all- that’s all on YouTube though, right? I mean that’s where you found that? ‘Cause you know that’s all fake, it’s all done on a computer.” The boy tried to lie but you and your dad were not having it.

“Mhm.” Your dad hummed, looking up in the ceiling and noticing something. You followed your dad’s gaze and grabbed a nearby bat from the floor.

While Peter continued to prattle on, you pushed the top part of the bat into the attic opening and a red and blue suit, attached on a string came flying down.

“No!” Peter managed to grab the suit before you could and hid it in the small part of his room where the rest of his clothes were.

You high fived your dad and he gave you a proud smile. Peter turned away from his hidden suit and awkwardly looked anywhere but you two.

“Ahh...that’s uh...” The hidden hero sighed, knowing he was finally caught.

“So, you’re the ‘Spider-ling’? ‘Crime fighting Spider’? You’re ‘Spider-boy’?” Asked your dad.

Peter hesitated for a moment before answering. “Spider-man.”

“Not in that onesie you’re not.”

“It’s not a onesie.” Peter gave a hard glare at your dad, walking past you both.

You grabbed his suit out of the corner of his room, handing it to your dad.

“You know, I was actually having a really good day today, Mr. Stark. Didn’t miss my train, found this perfectly good DVD player that was just sitting there and algebra test; nailed it.” The boy told you.

“Who else knows? Anybody?” You inquired.

He just shook his head in reply. “Nobody.”

“Not even your unusually attractive Aunt?”

“Dad, no.”

“No! No, no, no! If she knew, she would freak out! And when she freaks out, I freak out.” Peter pointed towards the outside of his room where his Aunt was still sitting.

Your dad then tapped you on the leg with his own and showed you a small container filled with some type of fluid. He passed it to you and you examined it, looking at it with fascination.

“You know what I think is really cool? That webbing.” Tony pointed towards the container in your hands and you tossed it to the web slinger, who caught it right before it hit his face. You looked at him with an impressed expression and smiled at him, earning a shy one back.

“The tensile strength is off the charts. Who manufactured this?” You brought into the conversation.

“I did.” Answered Peter, throwing the web fluid back into the corner.

“Climbing walls, how do you do that? Adhesive gloves?”

“It’s uh...long story.”

“Lordy! Can you even see in these?” Your dad teased as he brought Peter’s suit goggles up to his own eyes. You laughed as he made weird sounds with them.

“Yes! Yes, I can!” Peter yanked the suit away from your father and tossed it into the clothes pile.

“Yes, I can see in those, okay? It’s just that when whatever happened...happened, its like my senses have been dialed to 11. There’s way too much input so they just kinda help me focus.” Explained Peter.

‘This is going nowhere.’ You thought. Gazing back to Peter and his suit, you walked to Peter’s desk.

“Dad, mind if I talk to Peter alone for a bit?” You insisted.

Tony looked between you and Peter, sighing then got up to leave the room.

“No funny business, Mr. Parker.” He said, using his ‘dad voice’ as you called it then walked out.

It was silent for a few moments until you spoke up.

“You are in dire need of an upgrade.” You snickered, sitting on his bed and looking at him.

The boy just leaned against his wall, shy and awkward. You just figured he’s never been alone with a girl before, nonetheless, in his own bedroom.

“Okay, start talking.” You pat the bed part next to you, offering a seat.

Peter shuffled quietly towards his bed and sat next to you, looking away and slightly blushing.

“Why are you doing this?” Peter just looked to you, confused. “I gotta know, what’s your MO? What gets you out of this twin bed in the morning?”

Fidgeting with his hands, the hero replied, “Because...because I’ve been me my whole life and I’ve had these powers for six months. I read books! I build computers! And yeah, I would love to play football but I couldn’t then so I shouldn’t now.”

“Sure, because you’re different.”

“Exactly. But I can’t tell anybody that so I’m not.”

Peter began to grow shy again so you gently rested a hand on his fidgeting ones in his lap. He looked to you, shocked but no words came out of his mouth. The brown eyed boy sighed and looked to you.

“Look, when you can do the things that I can, but you don’t,” you slightly leaned forward, but not enough to envaid his space. “And then the bad things happen...they happen because of you.”

You knew what he was talking about, your dad always told you about how it was dangerous out there in the field. You were kidnapped with Pepper years back, getting hurt in the process and your dad almost lost it. Tony didn’t want you to get involved with any hero stuff to avoid you getting hurt or killed. Your dad felt guilty, guilty for letting you into this life where someone was always after him. Therefore, after you.

“So you’re just looking out for the little guy? You wanna help out the world, do your part and make your home a better place on that, right?” Quietly, you responded.

“Yeah-yeah, just looking out for the little guy. I mean, it is what it is.” He stuttered.

A couple seconds go by until you stand up, looking around his room one more time.

“You got a passport by any chance?”

“No, I don’t- I don’t even have a driver’s license.”

“You ever been to Germany?” You interrupted him. He shook his head.

“Oh well, then you’ll love it.”

Peter looked at you with a mix of a strange and shocked expression on his face.

“No, no I can’t go to Germany!” Exclaimed Peter.

You chuckled, “Why?”

“I-I...I got homework.” Peter stuttered. You rolled your eyes and stuffed your hands in your dress pants pockets.

“Okay, I’m gonna just pretend you didn’t even say that.”

“I mean, I’m serious! I can’t just drop out of school!”

“Why not? I did. And I’m your age.” You gestured to yourself.

“W-well, why can’t you just go?” Peter tried to argue.

You scoffed, “As if my dad would allow me, his own daughter, to go against Captain America. He barely lets me out of the house.”

The brunette sighed and ran his hands over his hair in distress. You knew you only had one more chance to get Peter to come to Germany, and a bright idea came to your mind.

“Welp, it might be a little dangerous so I think I’ll just tell my dad to tell your Aunt May-“

Right before you could touch the doorknob of his room, Peter sprayed a douse of web fluid onto your hand, sticking it to the knob so you couldn’t turn it.

Smirking, you turned to look at the new recruit, whose arm was pointed outwards and fingers in a position so he could spray the webbing at you.

“Don’t tell Aunt May.” Peter warned.

“Alright, Spider-man.”

-

TAGGED:

A/N: Tell me if you wanna be tagged in my Marvel stories!

@dear-selena​ (i know this is what you requested but i promise you i will make the part two of the last one you liked!)

[bibbumblebee]

Ectober19: In Which Sam Falls Apart at a Halloween Party

My first ever fic for anything before. Not perfect, but it was a lot of fun to write! Also it’s 22 minutes late shhh don’t tell anybody.

Prompt: Fangs/Shatter

Sam’s fangs were really starting to bother her.

They poked at the inside of her bottom lip, and if she wasn’t careful, she found herself sticking them into her tongue or the soft gums behind her bottom row of teeth. She wondered how on earth some of the ghosts Danny fought back to the Ghost Zone could stand having such deadly teeth. All the time. Her fake ones were about to drive her crazy.

Just a few more hours, Manson, she told herself. She took a drink of punch, wishing it was spiked, to soothe the sores forming along her lip and the bristly, nervous anger that had lodged itself in the back of her throat. Gothika, Vampire Queen, doesn’t take her fangs out. Not even for boring parties.

She had come with Tucker and Danny, had actually come at their insistence. Tucker begged her the moment he found an invitation to Paulina’s party in his locker. She’d declined and declined, in varying shades of no, until Danny asked her one day after class. He’d held his invitation in his hands like a secret the two of them could share and looked at her shyly.

“Be more fun with you there,” he said.

Those eyes. Bluer than springtime. That little half-smile that, had she not known him since grade school, she wouldn’t have noticed. Would have thought was sadness. The slight quiver in his voice, like he wasn’t sure he should be saying anything. Afraid he might mess it up. Afraid she might say no. But how could she say no to that? To him?

She realized now she probably should have.

***

Danny had decided to dress up as Phantom for Halloween, saying that it was the only time during the year he could be himself and no one would be suspicious of it. “People love Phantom,” he told her when he announced his plan. “Maybe I can use tonight to get people to like Fenton, too.”

“Dude,” Tucker said, scrolling on his PDA for lists of popular Halloween costume ideas, “Phantom’s public enemy number one. They don’t love you.”

“Yeah, well, they love the idea of me.”

Sam knew how much it hurt Danny that the world feared Phantom as much as they hated Fenton. She’d been so certain that using his ghostly half to save the city from other ghosts would work. Would make him a hero. Would make him realize people loved him. She never suspected Amity Park would turn on him. And judging by how Danny’s face fell every time he saw Phantom on the news, every time Tucker reminded him that Amity Park wanted him dead for real, every time his parents invented another doomsday device, Sam got the feeling that Danny never suspected the hate, either.

***

She sipped some more punch, eyeing her black lipstick stain on the cup. She’d have to reapply soon. Maybe go and find Tucker, trying to pick up girls with his sexy professor costume. Sam tried to tell him that sexy professor was not the costume he thought it was, but his heart was set. He’d come in tight pants that highlighted his (admittedly) nice calves and a shirt he only buttoned up halfway.

Just as Sam figured they would, most of the popular kids assumed he was trying to be a sexy Mr. Lancer. Sam would have felt bad if she didn’t think Tucker needed to learn his lesson.

Still. She could use a dance.

Sam set down her empty cup and adjusted her black gloves where they had slid down her arms. She was going to go and find Tucker when she saw a flash of green from across the courtyard.

Paulina’s Most Perfect Halloween Party was held at the country club, like all her other parties, and the outdoor garden and courtyard had been decorated in purple streamers and smiling Jack-o’lanterns. Candles with artificial flames had been rigged on wires, suspended above their heads. It cast everything into a warm haze, everyone’s costumes cloaked and flickering between shadow and light.

Everyone’s except Danny’s.

He lit up like a star, a star with its own gravity, pulling everyone at the party to him. It was that natural magnetism Sam noticed he had while he was Phantom. Smiling, making jokes, puffing his chest out boldly. Confident. In control. With that smile, and that mop of silvery white hair, it wasn’t difficult to see why people were drawn to him. Why they feared him.

“Oooh, Ghost Boy,” said Paulina. She grabbed his arm. “How do you make your eyes light up like that?”

“Ghost Boy?” Dash said. Sam noticed him lurking behind the two of them, his face painted green like Frakenstein’s monster. Big, hulking, mindless mistake, Sam thought. Fitting.

“If that’s really the Ghost Boy,” said Kwan, appearing next to Dash as if summoned, “then we gotta report him.”

“It- it’s not Ghost Boy,” Danny said, and Sam heard the panic in his voice. “It’s just me. Danny Fenton.”

“Yeah right,” Kwan said. “Don’t lie.”

“Why would Ghost Boy lie about being Fentwerp?” Dash’s voice carried across the courtyard as if he was standing next to Sam at the punch bowl, making conversation. “He wouldn’t stoop that low.”

“Yeah,” Paulina said. Sam noticed her back away from Danny. She tried not to notice Danny’s face as it fell. “Ghost Boy wouldn’t lie about being a loser. No offense.”

“Yeah…” Danny said. “I guess not.”

“But still…” Paulina said, “You do have a pretty sweet costume, Danny. How does it glow like that?”

“My parents’ ghost hunting tech,” Danny said. His voice, which had lost a significant portion of its confidence, strengthened a little.

He and Tucker had rehearsed answers on the walk from Sam’s house. She’d tried to pretend to be focused on gluing her fangs over her real canines, but really she was trying not to turn around and stick the fake teeth through Tucker’s cheek. Asking questions like If Paulina wants to dance with you, what do you say? and If she wants you to turn invisible, will you? and Yo, man, I never thought. Can you turn just clothes invisible?

Sam stopped listening after that.

***

She only came tonight because Danny wanted her to. “Be more fun with you there,” he’d told her. But he hadn’t been with her the entire evening. She’d stood, her back to the garden wall, following his spectral glow around the party, trying not to think about the way he smiled when someone said his name. The way he fidgeted with his hands, more than likely trying to fight the urge to show off too much.

“You can’t shoot ectoblasts, you know,” Tucker told him. “Unless you lie and say you rigged one of your parents’ guns into your suit.”

They were in Sam’s room, waiting on her to finish applying her makeup. She’d decided on a darker, more dramatic look than the one she usually wore, replacing her purple eyeshadow for gray, opting for fake eyelashes over her natural.

Danny hovered behind her, watching her glue her eyelashes on. She felt his t-shirt brush against her shoulder. Caught the smell of laundry detergent and winter air and electricity—something he’d had since the accident. A permanent, static chill where there should have been body heat. Even while alive, he carried the chill of the dead.

“Why are you covering up your lashes?” he asked, watching her in the mirror.

She turned and batted them at him, laughing at the expression on his face. “For dramatic effect.”

“I’d say it worked,” Tucker said, sitting on Sam’s bed to tie his sexy loafers. “Earth to Danny? You in there?”

A second too late, Danny turned away, and Sam noticed the flush along his pale cheeks.

***

“Remember,” Tucker said. “You’re not Danny Phantom tonight. You’re Danny Fenton dressed up as Danny Phantom.”

“I know.” Danny watched Tucker unbutton and rebutton his dress shirt, making what he probably thought were sexy faces in the mirror. “I want them to like me. They already like Phantom.”

“And possibly want to kill him.”

Danny blanched. “Yeah. That too.”

After Sam finished her makeup, she encouraged Danny to sit down so she could cover his face with some powder, too.

Danny was sporting a black eye, only just starting to fade, from his most recent run-in with Dash’s fists. He’d been in worse shape from other fights, but Sam didn’t want Danny to be embarrassed by the bruise. She knew, too, that he carried marks far worse than the black eye, but it was the least she could do for the party.

Though neither of them would say so, Sam had seen the scars. She hadn’t meant to. It had been an accident, walking into his room without knocking. He’d been quick, but she’d seen his side where Valerie shot him. The long burned scar along his ribs. She couldn’t imagine it didn’t hurt, even now nearly a month later. She’d seen the smaller scars along his back, random collections from his fights over the last year and a half. The wings of a purpling bruise along his shoulders—more than likely from his fight with Skulker that ended with Danny’s back buried in ten inches of brick.

And it was all her fault. Because she couldn’t say no. She couldn’t say No, don’t go into the portal. She couldn’t say No, it’s okay. You don’t have to prove anything to me. No, she’d taken one look at those big blue eyes, that mess of black hair, the suit he’d slipped on, highlighting his narrow waist and lean arms. The curve of his back. Of course she wouldn’t tell him no.

And he’d died because of it.

He died a little more every day because of it.

It had taken Sam a few moments of convincing, but she managed to seat Danny at her vanity and powder his face to cover the worst of the bruising.

He fluttered his eyes shut so she didn’t get any powder stuck in them, and she occupied herself with blending over the purple and black blossom around his eye. She tried not to think of his hair, tickling her cheek, or of his cold breath on her hand. Just a brush and powder and a fresh bruise that, if she pressed too quickly, caused him to wince with phantom pain.

***

She didn’t notice she’d been lingering next to the punch table, her cup empty in her hand, her eyes focused on a spot just next to the DJ’s table on the dance floor.

“Sam?”

She looked up to see Danny standing next to her, his eyes glowing like will-o-the-wisps waiting to lure her away. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said.

His eyes searched her face. Sam wondered what he found there. Anger? Sadness? That oh-so carefully practiced apathy?

“Paulina and the others are actually talking to me. Me,” he said. “Not Phantom. Fenton.”

Sam tried to appear happy at the news, but she’d known that would be what happened. She chewed her bottom lip, no longer caring about the sharp fangs still glued in her mouth.

“I mean, all they want to talk about is my parents’ gear and my costume, but still.” When he stepped closer, a chill fell over Sam and she shivered. It was as if she had decided to step into a bucket of ice water. “They actually seem interested.”

The way his voice swooped up with hope. It was enough to make Sam regret coming, regret hearing that joy in Danny’s voice and know it wasn’t because of her. Sure, she was happy for him. Being accepted is all he ever wanted, Phantom and Fenton. He was obsessed with saving people, protecting people. Being loved.

She wondered if he knew.

“I know,” he said.

Sam froze. About how she felt? She wasn’t sure she knew how she felt. She just knew that guilt that followed her wherever she went, that feeling of walking on ice every time she felt Danny near her. The way the chill traveled up her spine and froze the bones under her skin. And when he touched her...a wayward brush, an intentional hold on her wrist, a thoughtless clasp of her hand...it shattered her. Broke her into a million pieces inside. Thin ice under a heavy weight—gone.

And yet, in amongst those pieces lay a stronger, scarier feeling. The feeling of the life she’d nearly destroyed, the life fighting through the death, the patient blue of his eyes. The slight pout lingering behind every smile. His spidery fingers. His birdlike bone structure.

She had been the death of him.

She wished he’d return the favor.

“I know they’re only going to like me for tonight.”

Oh.

Oh.

Right. Of course. The popular kids. The costumes. The party.

“Well you know you’ve always got me,” she said. After a moment, she added, “And Tuck.”

There it was. That sad, shy smile. “I know.”

“I know you do.”

“The fangs,” he said, glancing toward her mouth. “When did you put those in?”

“Put them in? I’ve always had them.” She tried to lift her voice, dangle it on a thread of humor. She failed.

“I mean,” Danny said, “I guess Gothika, Vampire Queen, wouldn’t be a very good vampire without fangs.”

“You remember Gothika?” She hadn’t talked about her in weeks, and she never believed Danny had really been listening to her.

“I remember,” he said. He looked up at the popular kids, who were clustered on the dance floor, not dancing, just talking. Taking selfies. Checking their friends’ profiles. Even Tucker was out there, Sam noticed, trying to talk to a very harassed-looking Valerie.

“I invited you tonight,” he said.

“Yeah?” Sam knew she was the only person at Casper High to not get an invite from Paulina. It stopped bothering her well over a year ago.

Danny turned and looked at her mouth again. “Stop chewing on your lips,” he said. “You’re going to put a hole through them.”

She tucked her fangs inside her mouth, licking her teeth along them, tasting the sour glue holding them in place. “Nervous habit.”

They shared a silence for a moment, Danny’s eyes flicking away from her face, looking up to the candles above their heads. Sam watched the light bounce around his features, casting his eyes and the hollows of his cheeks into shadow. Be more fun with you there.

She forced her eyes away before he caught her staring.

“I’d love to dance,” he said, answering her unasked question. He turned and gave her his sad half-smile.

“With me?”

“With you.”

He took her hand, and she shattered at the touch.

[danetobelieve]

Who’s Fext? || Luce and Winston

As weird as it was being at a high school alumni event, Winston had to admit that at least Luce was there. She was cool. All the Vurals were. In their own way. If they had been forced to go through something like this alone then they weren’t sure that they would’ve come out of it entirely sane. They were dressed appropriately for the event. Just office wear really, a shirt and trousers, a jacket, sneakers, a hoodie, okay maybe they could’ve made more of an effort. But this was something that they were doing to keep their mother happy, rather then because they really wanted to. “Thank god,” Winston said as they headed out of the hall where the event had taken place, “I wasn’t sure that I could take another “have you ever shot a gun?” question if my life depended on it.” 

Why the high school had wanted her here was beyond Luce. She didn’t think that “tattoo artist at a local shop” ranked all that highly on the list of things that would inspire kids to stay in school. But, she’d spent her day in the art classes, talking to kids about what she did and how her classes had helped prepare her for her career. Which was objectively a lie-- what she’d learned as an apprentice was what had made her successful. But, they didn’t need to know that. Plus, it was good to see Winston here. She’d spent the last five years living out in her cabin, very deliberately avoiding other people. But, it wasn’t bad seeing the neighbor kid again. “You could have just lied. Would have been fun to see the teacher just go wide-eyed and pull the plug on the whole thing.” Luce said with a grin. “I straight up just told the kids that I dropped out of college a semester in.” SHe said as they walked down the hall together.

Laughing Winston couldn’t help but imagine what the AV club kids -- or whatever the current Gen Z equivalent was -- would say if they tried to claim that they had dropped out of college. “I don’t know if it would work as well for me if I tried to lie about dropping out of college or anything like that, if anything I think that they would know that there is no way that I can actually make it anywhere meaningful in my career without college.” They shuffled their feet as they made their way through the corridors of their old high school. High school hadn’t been the best, and they didn’t exactly miss it. Winston hadn’t really found their feet till college and at that point it was nice that they could put high school well behind them. “Besides, I think I’m still too hard wired to be a good student to fuck with a teacher like that. They probably don’t want to be here either.”

“That’s a good point. Your whole deal requires a lot of studying and shit.” Luce said with a nod. Winston had always been good at that sort of thing-- they’d pretty much grown up together, their interests in tech stuff had gone a long way back. “I figured. But, this is why you’re the one with the internship with WCPD. You’re good and law abiding like that.” Stretching, the material of her flannel shirt rubbed against her forearms in an almost suffocating way. She’d figured it wouldn’t have been a great idea to roll up in her usual outfit-- leather jacket, tank, and jeans-- so she’d worn a flannel under her usual jacket. It didn’t hide the tattoos on her hands, but the art teacher had known who she was inviting when she’d extended the offer. As they walked down the empty hallways, Luce glanced down one of the corridors, a smirk growing on her face. “Hey. Do you remember Mr. Blume? Taught chemistry? Wanna pop by and see if he’s still teaching here?”

“I mean, it is all just practice, just a different way of practicing to the work that you do. Besides, my kind of practicing is a lot less permanent then yours, I don’t know if I would have the nerve to give someone a tattoo, I’d be terrified of fucking up.” Winston swallowed at the thought, imagining how angry they would be if someone gave them a bad tattoo. How did people work their way around something like that? They knew that they definitely didn’t have the spine for it. “Wow, am I that easy to read?” Winston asked with a shake of their head, they tugged at the rolled up sleeves of the shirt they had worn today, wishing that they had taken a leaf out of Luce’s book and dressed more casually. A t-shirt would’ve been more comfortable. AS they moved down the corridors and headed towards the classrooms which were called ‘labs’ they found themselves nodding. “Oh hell yeah, I loved Mr. Blume, he was like the best teacher that they had in this place, is he still around?” Winston made their way down the corridors, in some ways it was like nothing at all had changed. Things seemed to be mostly the same and yet they were different. “Think he’s got the same classroom?” 

“That’s why there’s a three year apprenticeship. You practice on oranges for a long time, then pig skin, then yourself.” Luce said, rolling up her sleeves and showing them a faded and honestly kind of shitty crescent moon she had on the inside of her wrist. It was far from her best work, but she kept it as a reminder of how far she’d come in the last few years. “You just work until you’re too good to fuck up.” She said with an easy shrug. “And, you’re only easy to read cuz we grew up together, goofball.” Luce teased. As the two walked down the hall, she couldn’t help but smile a bit wistfully. High school hadn’t been too bad for her, honestly. She’d had to deal with being known as “Bea’s Little Sister” for a while, but by the time Nell and Winston got to high school, she’d carved out her own little niche in the art wing. “He might. I just remember blowing shit up when we learned about combustion reactions. That was fun.” She said with a smile. 

“Three years of training so that I could potentially ruin someone’s skin permanently,” Winston chuckled and shrugged, “I don’t think after all of that I would trust myself to do a really good job. But then again I was never the artist that you were.” They glanced at the tattoo and raised an eyebrow. “Damn, you actually did tattoo yourself, that must have been a weird experience.” Luce really seemed to be in her element when it came to tattoos and Winston was kind of impressed. “True, I think when you’ve known a family as long as the Dane’s and Vural’s have known each other then you really get good at reading people, I know exactly what it means when your mom purses her lips. You know how she does.” Winston hadn’t loved high school, they’d not exactly been popular and they’d had friends but they’d also had … well not friends. “He once dropped a tiny bit of sodium straight into a puddle for the class, I don’t think that the janitor ever forgave him for it,” they strutted down the corridor and paused outside of his classroom, peering through the little square window of glass set into the door, Winston spotted him working at the desk at the front of the class. “Hey, he’s in there, you wanna say hi?”

“Eh. It’s all about practice. Some people might start with talent, but that doesn’t mean shit compared to consistent practice.” Luce said, a hint of humor in her tone. That statement could be applied to magic as well. Bea had always been the focus of their parent’s attention, the first born, the one with the flare their parents were looking for. But talent didn’t measure ability. At the mention of her mother, Luce full body shuddered, shaking her head at the mere thought. “You’re not wrong in the slightest.” She agreed. Yet another quote-unquote benefit of living with her sisters… their mothers increased ability to meddle in her life. She fucking hated it. At least when she was in the woods, she’d had some physical distance to keep her family out of her life. Laughing, she grinned at Winston. “That sounds just like him. He is? Shit, yeah, let’s go in there.” Pulling open the door, Luce grinned and waved a hand. “Hey there, Mr. Blume. Still kicking huh?”

“I guess it’s like a musical instrument, the more that you work on it the more confident you are, but also the more able to deal with unexpected shit you are able to be… though I hope with tattoos you don’t often have to deal with any surprises.” Winston laughed gently at the idea of a surprise arising during a tattooing session. That wouldn’t be ideal. Obviously. “It’s nice that you’re back around, I know you had to do your time in the woods and stuff, but it’s cool to actually see you and Nell and Bea more now, there were a couple of years when I was in college and Nell was travelling, kinda felt like you guys were on a different planet you know.” The Vural family had always been beyond good to Winston and they would never forget that goodness. They had given them a lot and they would do whatever they needed to feel as if they were on equal footing once more. Following Luce into the classroom, Winston waved as well. “Hey Mr. Blume, can’t believe you’re still stuck here right…” they fell silent as Mr. Blume’s eyes snapped up and locked with Winston’s leaving a chill to trickle down their spine as they realised something was wrong, “you okay Mr. Blume?” 

“Yep, pretty much. Eh,” Luce paused, thinking about the strange walk-in tattoo that she’d just done the other day. “There are some surprises that can happen. Usually just people saying they’re ‘totally fine’ and then passing out on me. When you decide to get a tattoo, just be honest with your artist.” She advised. At their mention of the time when the family was spread all over the place, Luce’s joking expression wavered for a moment. If Winston thought they were on a different planet then, then call her a fucking astronaut. She’d rather be back in her cabin than living with Bea and Nell. She’d had an entire place to herself, now she had a room and a shed. A great shed, but still a shed. As soon as the two of them stepped closer, Luce’s eyes narrowed, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. There was something off, something evil about Mr. Blume. Not in a typical science teacher way either. In straight up, that’s some bad shit kind of way. As Winston moved closer, Luce grabbed them by the shoulder. “Don’t--” Before she could finish that sentence, Mr. Blume vaulted over his desk and hurtled towards them with unnatural speed.

Winston frowned for a moment, “I definitely think that I would be the type to think that I was totally fine when in actuality I would be moments away from passing out, besides, I’m not exactly the best with blood and shock and stuff…” they sighed and shook their head gently before continuing. “Either way, if I do get a tattoo I will do everything that I can to be entirely honest with whoever is putting a permanent mark on my body. Seems like it is in my best interests really.” They noticed Luce’s expression and immediately realised that she hadn’t felt the same. But now didn’t exactly seem the time to ask her about it, so Winston decided that they would simply have to ask about it later. Or not at all. Depended on how they felt it would be received. They didn’t want to intrude after all. “Fuck, run,” Winston didn’t need to see the empty look in Mr. Blume’s eye, they didn’t need to see the way that they had cleared that desk with a single bound and they didn’t need to see the bee line that they were making towards them, “run run run.” They were pushing Luce out of the door and sprinting after them. “I don’t remember Mr. Blume doing that when we had chemistry together, even when I forgot my homework a few too many times.”

As soon as Mr. Blume yeeted himself over the desk, Luce had already turned on her heel and started sprinting away. Thank god she didn’t go running this morning, her legs were fresh and she needed the extra oomph, given she was hauling ass in heavy fucking boots. “Less quipping, more running!” Luce yelled over her shoulder as she booked it down the hallways. The school was empty, which worked out in their favor. But, as she looked behind her, Luce saw that Mr. Blume was hot in pursuit and gaining fast. There was something about his eyes, a dead look behind them, that just screamed ‘oh fuck no’ to her. “This way! Shortcut outta school!” Grabbing Winston’s arm, she pulled a hard right down one of the hallways towards one of the back entrances she’d used to cut class back in the day. Here’s hoping the door lock was still busted. As they neared the double doors, Luce kicked her foot out to push open the door and ran outside into the darkness. 

It was all that Winston could do to stop themselves from screaming and swearing. Something that they weren’t about to do in front of someone who they had grown up in semi awe of. “Good idea, more running,” Winston said as they glanced over their shoulder and realised that Mr. Blume was easily keeping pace, in fact they might’ve even been gaining on them. Winston was sure that if Mr. Blume had seen them back in the day then they would’ve definitely told them off for running. Luce seemed to know exactly where they were going however, and as Winston saw that Mr. Blume was maybe seconds behind them they tried to pack on a final burst of speed as they exploded out of the school and into the perpetual night. “My car is in the car park, we should just get the fuck out of here and get someone more qualified to deal with this to help.” Things were going well, they were really making progress, they were getting further and further away and then of course, Winston Dane, the clumsiest person in the world had to have two left feet and trip over a curb. 

Luce nodded at Winston’s plan-- it was as good an idea as any and whatever the fuck Mr. Blume was clearly wanted both of them dead. He looked human enough, so maybe if they lured it to the police station, the police would just riddle him with bullets and that would end that situation? Just make up some story about the guy going nuts and trying to murder them? But, as soon as they made it out into the parking lot, Winston tripped and fell over the edge of the curb. Pausing to help them up, Luce gritted her teeth together as she saw that Mr. Blume had not, in fact, been tricked by the sharp turn. “Fuck it.” She said, glancing over her shoulder to make sure she and Winston were the only ones around before holding her hands out and letting free a burst of magic. A ball of fire the size of a softball, concentrated and burning a bright white, soared from her hands towards Mr. Blume. “Get fucked, old man!” She yelled. But, instead of engulfing him in flames, something weird happened. The fire seemed to dissipate, recede, the colors growing dimmer and dimmer until there was nothing but smoke in front of him. 

After learning the truth about the Vural family, Winston had suspected that Luce could also do magic too, but they weren’t about to admit that to them without letting them explain it first. But apparently when she had thrown a literal ball of bright white fire at Mr. Blume, that wasn’t something that they were going to need to do. “Yeah, get fucked…” Winston had made it to their feet just in time to see the fire expand around Mr. Blume, it should’ve burned them away and yet the magic just seemed to dissipate and vanish as if the oxygen around them had been snuffed out, “okay we should definitely run,” Winston said sprinting past Luce and grabbing her hand, pulling her towards their complete shit mobile. Their ankle twinged gently as they ran, the mostly healed wound that they’d received from the weird gremlin thing at UMWC not loving the amount of aerobic exercise that they were getting. Looking back, Winston tried to think of something that would buy them more time, do anything to get them more space, they had a plan, but it would take them a minute to enact it and they wanted to make sure they were in the car first. 

The effort of throwing the ball of fire barely winded Luce, but it was the irritation of watching the man just continue to pursue them that really got to her. What the fuck? How did he just do that? There was no way that he would have been able to just… dissolve her magic like that. It was a fucking fireball. Letting out growl under her breath, she raised her hands again, intent on nuking this man into the ground. But, before she could conjure up another ball of flames, Winston had grabbed her hand and yanked her towards their car. “I can take him!” She protested, but when she saw the way that they were limping, she gritted her teeth. Even if she wanted to try and duke it out with Mr. Blume, there was no way that Winston would be able to manage. They shouldn’t be caught in the middle of this shit. “Ah screw it, the car it is.” She said, running ahead towards the familiar looking vehicle. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” She yelled, watching as Mr. Blume continued his relentless pursuit after them. 

“You can absolutely take him I am completely and totally sure of it, but at the same time the guy just absorbed what looked like a white hot fireball, which by the way was very very cool, and I don’t really want to find out what the hell else they can do.” Winston reached into their pocket and dropped their keys immediately. Great. “Uh, if you could throw a few more fireballs at him whilst I get the keys then that would be great,” Winston was already pressed flat to the tarmac of the car park, they were wriggling under the very greasy and dirty underside of their car in an attempt to reach their keys, praying that they would be able to get them before whatever the hell Mr. Blume was got to them first. Somehow they didn’t think that when their old chemistry teacher got their hands on two of his former students that he was going to explain covalent bonds to them or quiz them on the periodic table. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Luce groaned, but stepped up to bat nonetheless. Rolling her sleeves up, she took a deep breath. Calm. Steady and calm. Disregard the neighbor kid behind her fumbling with their keys, completely ignore the murderous chemistry teacher on a warpath. Just straight up forget the fact he’d made her fireball completely vanish in a puff of smoke. None of that mattered, none of it. There was only the fire inside her. The burning, white hot energy. Flames she so carefully stoked and tended to, urging her onwards. And all she had to do was let them free. With a sharp exhale, Luce held out her hands and jets of red hot fire streamed out from her palms. Not fireballs, he’d already demonstrated he didn’t give a shit about those. No, she was going for volume this time. The parking lot lit up with the red hot glow of flames, shooting twenty feet in front of her from both of her hands. Aiming at the ground, she urged the magic on, fueling the fire to burn, even on the empty asphalt. Pulling back her hands, sweat dripped down the side of her face as she glared triumphantly at Mr. Blume, who had stopped for a moment on the other side of the flames. 

As Winston’s fingers curled around the ring of their keys, they dragged them towards them and managed to bound up to their feet, slipping their keys in the lock of the car they pulled the door open and slipped the keys into the ignition. As they turned it and heard the car roll over a few times before sputtering into life, Winston thanked whoever had given them luck today because their car never ever started first time. Turning around, they were just in time to see Luce’s hands fire … well flames in great jets in front of them. A huge wall of fire erupted into life and Mr. Blume was hidden from view. Winston’s jaw fell slack and they were awe struck by the sheer display Luce had made. They’d managed small magic but nothing as big as what Luce had just done. For a moment, Winston was convinced that she’d saved them. Second time lucky right? And then, the most terrifying thing that Winston had ever seen happened. Mr. Blume appeared inbetween the flames that licked the open air, and then stepped through the magical inferno, causing the flames to shy away from their form as they made their way forwards. The heat seemed intense however, and Winston was convinced that they could see some of the skin on Mr. Blume’s face sizzle in the heat of the air, but they were through the wall of fire and making their way towards the car. “Luce, get in now!” they snapped, throwing the door open as they spun the car around and revved the engine, ready to speed away. 

The second Mr. Blume vanished from sight, Luce had a fleeting moment of exhilaration. She’d done it, she’d made him back off. Maybe she’d even-- before she could get too happy, he appeared again, in the middle of the flames. Her magic was repelled away from him, skirting around his form as he took a slow step towards her. His eyes stared at her, unflinching, entirely focused on her. A chill ran down her spine and she recoiled. “What are you?” She asked, more to herself than to him. Before either of them could respond, Luce heard Winston’s car roar to life, heard them yell at her to get in. They didn’t need to tell her twice. Turning tail, she ran for the door and slid inside, slamming the door shut. Grabbing hold of the Oh Shit Handle, she stared through the window as Mr. Blume continued to come for them. “Let’s get the hell outta here!”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” Mr. Blume was sprinting towards them, Winston could hear their footsteps and see them hurtling towards them in their rear view mirror. They shifted gear, slammed their foot on the accelerator and felt the wheels spin in place for a moment before the car shot off. Keeping their eyes bouncing back from their mirrors and the windscreen, Winston reached inside of themselves and harnessed the well of energy that they accessed in times of magical need. Taking a deep breath, they began chanting under their breath. Mr. Blume was moving with surprising speed and Winston could see them cutting across the car park as Winston was forced to weave between the cars that were still parked here, which wasn’t many. As they reached the exit to the school, Winston turned left and finished their incantation. As they turned left an identical copy of their car appeared to peel off towards the right. Winston slammed the speed on, heading towards the one place that they could think of which might have some information on what the hell this all was and what was going on here. “Fuck, that was really fucking close.” 

As they zipped out of the parking lot as quickly as Winston’s car would allow, Luce slumped in the back seat, panting from the effort. Doing a mental check of her energy levels, she grimaced. She’d expended more of her energy on that than she’d originally thought she would. And it didn’t even phase him. What the fuck was Mr. Blume? As she stared out the window of the car, she was startled to see an illusion of their car appear in the middle of the road. What? That wasn’t her. Which meant… Leaning forward, Luce grabbed the back of Winston’s seat to stabilize herself. “Winnie. When were you gonna tell me you were a spellcaster, huh?” She asked, exhaustion letting her annoyance come through in her tone a bit more than she intended. 

Perspiration beaded on Winston’s forehead as they slammed their foot down as hard as it would possibly go. They knew that they needed to eat, but they would have to do that later. But they’d found that for them, after using any amount of magic it was important to have a sudden and ferocious hit of calories as soon as possible to avoid too much of a deficit. “Sorry, I ….” they swallowed, “towards the beginning of this year I found out about all of this and I just haven’t been telling people about it because honestly I’m not very good and I also know that with Miriam Flemming out there it isn’t exactly safe to be broadcasting that information.” They took a left, then a right, then three more lefts, then two rights and another right, finally convinced that they were safe, they turned the wheel and headed for the old Scribe building. “But, we need to work out what that was and how we’re going to deal with it, because Mr. Blume is too dangerous to just leave to their own devices apparently, but I have a place we can go.” 

[etherian-affairs]

To Face Evil.

Adora finally has a chance to strike Hordak down, until Entrapta puts herself between him and She-Ra's blade.

This started as just another cyborg Entrapta story. Wanting to play with the concept some more. Then it became something else.

Crossposted on Ao3

================

It is difficult to face evil. It is difficult to know evil is a person. It is difficult to kill. Yet Adora is here, she is looking down at Lord Hordak. The man that has caused decades of terror and hardship on Etheria. The fight has been hard, but through grit, determination, and what allies remain  Adora, She-Ra, has struck him low. His armor sparks, cracked. It's seemingly endless regeneration finally broken. He looks up at Adora, meets her gaze. He is defiant.

They did not meet in some climactic battle. This was not a planned engagement. This was chance. Two forces being in the same place at the same time. It is a chance she needed to take.

She feels the eyes of friends and enemies alike on her. Waiting to see if the She-Ra will strike down evil. Namely she feels the worried eyes of Bow, the one who stood with her here.

He has seen friends willing to take the killing blow before. He is about to see it again.

With a roar of rage and anguish at everything that has been done to Etheria She-Ra brings the Sword of Protection down toward Lord Hordak. It whistles through the air, gliding true toward the warlord’s chest. Adora was never one to aim for the head, even when she strikes against one who has caused so much strife. The blade hits metal, it slices in, it slices through, and then it stops. A combination of resistance and Adora’s own sudden halting of the downard sing.

Hordak is uninjured. 

The Sword is buried nearly elbow deep into Entrapta’s arm. The Princess had dived into its path, catching the blade head on in the final moment.

In Shock Adora releases the sword, stumbling back. “Entrapta!?” 

There is no blood. No bone or meat. There are sparks, and pieces of metal falling to the ground. Entrapta’s hair reaches out, pulling her torn glove away from her arm. Revealing the now mangled metal appendage. “I was worried it wasn’t going to stop for a second!” Entrapta speaks loudly as her other hand grasps the sword and tears it out of her arm. 

Her hair produces the many tools hidden within. The tendrils now pulling and manipulating the mangled arm, splicing new wires, repositioning the surviving servos, bypassing the damage, welding and bolting things back together. Hordak rises slowly behind her. “Thank you Entrapta.” he speaks with a cough, he does not seem nearly as surprised as Adora or anyone else present by this whole ordeal. "She could have taken the rest of you though." He adds, concern oddly clear in his voice. 

Entrapta smiles back at Hordak. "It's okay! I was pretty sure she'd stop once it hit me instead of you." 

As Hordak smiles at her just a little Adora speaks up. "Entrapta are you okay?! Your arm what… are you a robot?!"

Entrapta looks back at the warrior goddess and quirks her head. "No. I just have prosthetic limbs." She holds the sword out to Hordak who takes it from her quietly. Then Entrapta glances at her mangled arm. "I think I'm only going to be about to get three fingers working again." She hrmms.

"W-why? When? Why did you jump in front of Hordak?! I could have killed you!" Adora is low key freaking out now. She's always had a hard time with the killing thing and to very nearly kill someone she actually knows personally is quite nerve wracking. Someone who doesn't really deserve it, in her mind. Also learning that your mental image of that same person is apparently very wrong can be jarring as we.

"Well!" The Princess of Dryl begins. "I have tech prosthetics because I lost all of my original limbs back when-"

"ALL OF THEM?!" Adora shouts. Hordak winces.

"Yep! At different times of course! I wouldn't have survived losing all of them at once! Anyway! I love Hordak and I didn't think you'd follows through if you hit me instead of him."

Hordak smiles a little behind Entrapta and says a simple "I love you too." That hits Adora like a brick. Did Hordak just say he loves her too? Did she just say she loves him?! Some combination of Hordak’s quick comment and Adora’s expression seems to make Entrapta giggle.

Adora stares at them for a moment, then clenches her fist. She needs to remain strong. “Entrapta… the things he’s done. You can’t defend him.”

“Oh but I can Adora.” she flexes her arm, wiggling her three remaining functional fingers. Her hair moves to Hordak, beginning to work on his damaged armor without even looking at him. “The data says you would defend Catra, if I was going to kill her. Wouldn’t you?” the princess is smiling, yet her voice has an air of seriousness to it. Those around them, the participants of this now stopped battle, murmur. Bow visibly winces at the accusation.

Adora falters at that. “I… Catra has done horrible things… she needs to pay for them.” Adora’s fists clench ever tighter, nails digging into skin. She eyes the sword in Hordak's hand. His armor is beginning to self repair again now that Entrapta's gotten the initial work started. Adora has lost her advantage.

“How though? I am curious! Would you kill her? Or would you rather she pay in some other way?” Entrapta asks with some surprising forcefulness.

"Entrapta I…" 

"Do not try to justify your hypocrisy Adora." Hordak speaks now. Moving up to Entrapta's side to take her arm and examine it. "You'll need a replacement." While his voice was hard toward Adora it is gentle with Entrapta. Concerned. The juxtaposition causes Adora pause once again.

"I think I can salvage this one with our supplies back home." She replies. Smiling a little before looking back at Adora. “I liked being your friend Adora. I’d like to still be your friend.” 

Adora is frozen. She hears Bow finally speak, letting out a worried “Adora?...”

Adora has lost so much. She’s been lied to and manipulated. She’s watched Friends descend into darkness. She’s still watching it happen.

Entrapta has never lied. Entrapta is not a good person, and Hordak is an evil one, and yet...

Aren’t any friends she can get a boon? With everything happening.

So Adora finally nods. “He needs to pay.”

“But not like this.” Entrapta counters.

Adora’s eyes close for a moment and she nods again. “Go.”

She watches Hordak and Entrapta nod to each other. Then, surprisingly, Hordak tosses the sword to the ground. The two run.

Bow approaches her, he reaches out to touch her arm. “Adora… are you sure about… letting them go?”

“No.” Her voice is quick and hard as she bends down to pick up her sword. “I’m not Bow.”

“Then why did you?”

“He knew.” Now Bow looks confused. So she elaborates.

“Hordak knew about her arm, her limbs… My whole life I’ve been told he doesn’t tolerate weakness, sickness, injury… and I just watched him take her hand to look at the damage… I just watched them say they love each other” Adora sighs. “And we need friends Bow. It’s just us now and we need friends wherever we can get them if we’re going to save Etheria.”

Bow nods now. He understands. He has always held bottomless kindness and compassion in his heart. Now he looks up toward the retreating Horde Forces, pondering them for a moment. “I think it’s good you didn’t kill him.” He finally says.

Adora just sighs.

It is difficult to face evil. It is difficult to know evil is a person. It is difficult to not kill it when given the chance. Yet Adora is here, she is looking into the distance and watching the evil she has let escape vanish. Decades of terror and hardship left unavenged. 

Because there is so much worse on the horizon.

[tinsley-goldsworth]

the magic of technology

summary: crowley helps aziraphale figure out how technology works and of course, feelings are involved (Week 6 of my 30 week writing prompt challenge: tech support)

Wc: 1124

read on ao3!

To say that Crowley and Aziraphale had been around for a long time was an understatement. They had been around since the beginning of everything, as in since Adam and Eve were wandering around in the garden. They had been around long enough to have seen and interacted with dinosaurs. They had been around to watch empires built on hope and peace crumble into violence and chaos. They had been around to watch Christopher Columbus “discover” America and watched as the world continued to grow in diversity and experience.

The angel and demon’s purposes were the same: to make sure Armageddon would run smoothly. But while they were watching over Earth, two events happened. The first was that they both grew emotionally attached to Earth and all the stupid little beings it housed. Aziraphale was more obviously attached to all Earthly things but Crowley kept his feelings to himself so he seemed like he didn’t really care much for the Earth.

But when Armageddon began to approach, Crowley realized that he actually quite liked Earth. While Aziraphale was obsessed with sushi and books, Crowley loved the music and popsicles and if Armageddon was going to destroy his favorite objects, Crowley wasn’t so enthusiastic about it anymore.

The second event that occurred while the angel and demon were on the planet was that they both became attached to each other. Not physically, of course, but rather through an unspoken bond that could be considered a friendship, or even more if you looked into it more carefully. Somewhere between all the wars between countries and civilizations built, Crowley and Aziraphale fell in love.

If one of them spoke about his feelings directly, then everything would be easier. They wouldn’t have to make lies about why they were constantly appearing in each other’s lives, even though they didn’t have to, and somehow, they both were oblivious that their passionate love was requited. Somehow, even though they went on many adventures that could be interpreted as dates, they still didn’t confess their love to each other.

Through everything they had been through together, they had never gone through anything as confusing as the creation of the iPhone. When Steve Jobs first introduced the iPhone, everybody knew it would be a big deal but nobody expected it to blow up like it did.

Crowley began seeing more humans walking around with their heads lowered, staring at a rectangular, glowing device in their hands and he decided to look into it. After discovering that these new devices were called “iPhones”, Crowley decided that he wanted to get one for himself to try out and see why everybody loved it so much. So, he got himself an iPhone and Crowley being Crowley, figured out how it worked pretty quickly. And as a result, he also got hooked on playing games like Angry Birds on his phone all day.

One day, Aziraphale and Crowley agreed to meet up at a park bench to discuss Armageddon and because Crowley arrived early, he sat on the park bench, his finger nimbly swiping across the screen as he played Angry Birds. When Aziraphale saw Crowley’s new device, he was confused.

“What on Earth is that?”

Crowley looked up from his game and showed Aziraphale his screen, a questioning look forming on his face. Aziraphale could feel the curiosity burning behind Crowley’s sunglass as Crowley asked, “You’ve never seen an iPhone before?”

“I don’t think so? That looks nothing like a telephone,” Aziraphale commented, sitting down next to Crowley and staring at the iPhone screen as Crowley proceeded to finish the Angry Birds level he was playing.

“It’s called an iPhone. It’s like a telephone without permanent wires and more things. You can call and text people. You can take photos and play games and watch funny videos,” Crowley explained, exiting out of the Angry Birds app to show Aziraphale all the apps he downloaded. “See? All these apps are really useful and entertaining.”

“Hm, that looks interesting. Actually, now that you’ve explained it, I would like to try having one. You’ve tempted me once again.”

Crowley grinned at Azriaphale’s remark and tucked his phone away. “I can help you with that. Meet me here next week and I’ll have one for you.”

And just as Crowley promised, he had gotten an iPhone for Aziraphale by the next week. When Aziraphale walked to the park bench, Crowley handed him his new iPhone and Aziraphale examined the phone in awe. He let out a little yelp of surprise when he pressed the home button, causing the screen to light up and Crowley smiled at the angel’s reaction.

“So, show me how to use this iPhone,” Aziraphale carefully handed the phone over to Crowley, who unlocked it and began showing Aziraphale the features of the iPhone.

First, Crowley showed Aziraphale how to call and added him as Aziraphale’s first contact. Then, he downloaded a few apps on Aziraphale’s phone, specifically YouTube. As Crowley scrolled through the many videos available to watch for free on YouTube, Aziraphale’s eyes went wide with wonder at the gamut of videos available for streaming.

But the biggest discovery was texting. When Crowley went to the messages app, Aziraphale looked confused and asked, “What’s texting?”

“It’s like leaving a written voicemail. You can write messages and have conversations. See, you can send me a text,” Crowley demonstrates by typing a message into Aziraphale’s phone and sending it to his contact before holding up his phone to show that he received the message. Aziraphale seemed mystified by texting and as he held his iPhone, he looked down at it with an expression of amazement, clearly stunned by how much a tiny piece of metal could hold.

Just as Crowley predicted, Aziraphale also got hooked pretty quickly. He was sending multiple texts to Crowley every day and with each message, his typing was more coherent (his first few messages were awkwardly written “hleof chrksilye” and “o mEatn heElio cttolwy”).

Crowley got used to Aziraphale’s good morning and good night messages and somehow managed to fall more in love with the angel than he had before. Then, one fateful day, Aziraphale sent a text after asking Crowley to meet him at the bookshop that read “Thanks! I love you very much <3”.

When Crowley first read the message, his cheeks burned red and he typed back, “Is this some sort of joke?”

He anxiously waited for Aziraphale to text back and Aziraphale replied, “Of course not! I even searched up how to do a heart emoticon for you.”

This caused Crowley to grin like a giant idiot and his cold heart fluttered to life with affection as he answered Aziraphale’s text with, “Good. I love you too <3.”

-

this is my first official good omens fic! this blog will still be bfu-centric but i will occasionally post some good omens fics here :)