#stopped taking my meds and its so hard to get back into the groove

[biolums]

my mental state: a moodboard.

[hargrove-mayfields]

Day one of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! I’ll be participating this month as a writer! The prompt for today is Knife!

warnings for mentions of suicidal ideation and attempts, death, child abuse, and blood.

Billy met Steve in the psych ward.

Well, they met officially at Tina’s party, but that wasn’t the real Steve. That was the King Steve. Deeper than that though, even the Steve Harrington everyone else saw even after the breakup and the fall from grace still wasn’t the real thing.

That was fake smiles, overdone nonchalance to cover up the wound from his fallen status. Now he was stripped down to himself, all bloody bandages and tired eyes, the boy he was pretending to be finally broken down to reveal this.

Apparently, Ruthie Harrington found her son with his grandfather's switchblade- all the other objects in the house sharper than a spoon and with less sentimental value had already been tossed -bleeding all over her freshly polished linoleum floors. She dropped him off at the hospital a night ago and nobody’s been by to see him since.

Now, it’s by pure coincidence that Billy’s already in on the same day Steve’s admitted.

He’s been locked up the past three days compared to Steve’s one. These small town hicks are jumpier (ha) than he thought, and don’t think doing the walk and turn test on the edge of the quarry after downing a bottle and a half of fireball is as funny as he does. Whatever. Cid would’ve thought that was badass as hell.

So he was admitted, on suicide watch for a stupid joke that wasn’t really worth it, or even really a joke. Max came to visit once. She punched him in the chest as hard as she could and cursed him out for an hour. She’d never done that before. By the time she left they were both in tears, and maybe Billy realized a thing or too about his carelessness. Realized for the first time that someone cared.

But he’s still in here for another week and a half by law, so. He’s not going to mope about it. And while Steve Harrington showing up is about the last thing he’s expecting, he decides that’s at least something he can work with. Definitely brings a little life to the place.

He waits until Steve’s intense watch period is over to bug him, once they’re out of their cramped little rooms for a couple of hours to “socialize” (see, the more sound of mind keep an eye on the other patients while the nurses take their smoke breaks) Billy goes straight to Steve. Him and Harrington are far from friends, but that’s pretty much irrelevant when the only other choices for company are kids younger than them too scared to approach them and people too deep in their midlife crises to bother with teenage drama.

Throwing himself down in the blue plastic chair across from where Steve settled in, Billy kicks his feet up on the table,, “What’s up Harrington? Didn’t expect to see a familiar face in here.”

But Steve, poor Steve, takes one look at Billy with those haunted brown eyes, and his face just falls completely apart. There are tears on his way too pale cheeks before Billy even has a chance to breathe.

The smile drops off of Billy’s face, “Jesus Harrington, I know m’not looking my best surviving on hospital food and cigarettes without a hairbrush, but that’s a little unwarranted.”

“Shut up. Not everything’s about you, Hargrove.”

“Oh I disagree with that. But I get the point. I’ll let ya be.” Billy hums, scooting his chair back and getting up. He stops when Steve starts to speak, “Y-You outta be careful saying that kinda stuff in here.”

“What?”

“That the world revolves around you. They’ll come up with a diagnosis for that and keep you here forever. Drug you ‘til you forget your own name, let alone your status.” Steve tells him with humor, wiping the tears off his face.

Billy nods in understanding, sits back down with an interested smirk, “This ain’t your first time here, is it?”

“Is it yours?”

“Nah. I’ve done some shit on purpose, some on accident. Once it wasn’t even me. But s’never done anything to help so far.”

Steve puffs out a sigh, “Don’t I know it.. I’ve been in and outta this place since I was like, ten. Clearly nothing’s changed.”

“Why? What’s your dirty little secret, Harrington?”

“I cut myself, dumbass.” He deadpans, looking at Billy with a bluntness in his expression that reads more concerning, more like indifference to what he just said than matter-of-fact.

“No shit. But that ain’t the secret.” Billy probes further, can tell he’s getting under that mask Steve wears, “Why do you do it?”

“Legally, I can't tell you. And I don’t think I would anyways.”

“What about if I tell you all about me first? I got no reservations ‘cept the one that got me a bed here.”

“It’s not a hotel, Hargrove.”

“Eh, might as well be. Feels like the damn hotel California.”

“Is that why?”

“Huh? Oh no, I been pullin’ stunts like this long before we left Cali.”

“Like what?”

“Like downing two full bottles of my mother’s meds after she left. Not at the same time obviously, or I wouldn’t be here. Mostly ‘cause my dad didn’t even wanna take me to the hospital either time.” Billy doesn’t look at Steve while he elaborates. Not because he cares, he’s an open book, if a random old woman at the grocery store asked about his last attempt, he’d tell her.

But. He doesn’t like watching people’s faces. Seeing sympathy and concern there. It makes him feel all stupid and guilty. It’s usually not like that with other kids like him, but Steve’s different. He’s got a big heart. Even if there’s no room for himself.

And Billy hurt Steve before. He doesn’t want to see someone he caused pain caring so much about him. He already cracked when Max came to see him. This could be what splits him open, spills out all the things he’s covered up.

So he keeps going, “And like runnin’ out in front of traffic with my friends. They thought we were just playin’ chicken ‘til I stopped dead in front of a station wagon. Metal rims’d done me in for sure if one ‘a the older boys hadn’t pulled me outta the way. Damn near ripped my shirt in half how fast he grabbed me.”

“I’m guessing your parents are the reason why then?”

“Yessir.” Billy deflects, not good at getting deeper into it, “You wanna tell me yours then?”

“I started cutting because Tommy Hagan told me about it. He thought it was freaky, but when he ran his mouth about how they found the neighbor kid in his room, drained of all his blood from his wrists, I wanted to try it. I’ve tried liquor and drugs and all kinds ‘a shit I shouldn’t, but nothin’ stuck like cutting.” Steve pauses for a long time, his eyes going blank, staring right past Billy, “When my mom found out she.. she.. Forget it.”

“Hey, you seen my skeletons. Can’t I see yours?”

“No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it anymore.” Steve answers, despite his assuredness, his tone wobbling with some unidentifiable emotion.

Talk about mood swings. Billy doesn’t get how nobody would’ve noticed something was up before Steve started carving into himself. Really, he knows someone would have seen it and just ignored it.

It only gets worse though, the reservedness turning to sadness and frustration. None of the words are coming out, but he can tell Steve’s thinking of the stories, reliving all that got him to the here and now. Billy can also tell there’s nothing he can do no to stop him from doomsdaying.

So when Steve is inevitably in the thralls of a panic attack, he tries to hug him tight, to try to get it to stop maybe, that always worked for him at least, but Steve swats him away. Judging from the way he winces, it’s not easy for him to do either, with those thick ass bandages constricting his wrists, but the tears and the pain on his face are buried behind his resolution.

He’s hiding something from Billy.

In hindsight, talking to a new patient about past attempts probably wasn’t his brightest idea anyways, so he switches the subject while Steve works on coming down from his panic attack. He brings up Max and her little nerds, trying to bridge the healthier connections between him and Steve that they’d both been ignoring since the fight. He mentions basketball too, another something they have in common other than trying to kill themselves.

It doesn’t really work, though Steve does stop shaking as bad, just curling up in his little chair and sniffling, pretending not to listen while Billy rambles on and on. But he doesn’t talk. It’s probably better for him not to anyway. Billy himself has been known to say some dumb shit when he’s in distress.

Ultimately, even once the conversation runs out, he stays with Steve until dark. He can tell from the way his gaze sticks to the floor that Steve recovered from his fit a while ago, but he’s embarrassed by having a breakdown in front of him, as if he isn’t in here for the same reason. It helps that he gets it though, and they sit in a comfortable, albeit very prolonged, silence.

Long after Steve gets xanned up and knocked out though, while Billy is still free to wander until the midnight curfew as a low risk patient, he decides to stick with him in his room. Billy’ll never admit it, but he gets nightmares, and he doesn’t want to face that just yet, so with a new friend as an excuse, he’s up half the night watching Steve sleep.

He remembers what happened earlier, how focused Steve was on keeping him away from him, despite his panic, and decides, with a glance at how deeply Steve is sleeping, his greasy hair all strewn about on stiff pillows, that he’s going to figure out what it was.

He snoops around in his bedside drawers, in the bathroom, in the locker in the corner. It’s there he notices the knitted jacket Steve was wearing before, hanging heavy to one side, like there’s something in its pocket. He touches it and feels the outline of something small, so he pulls it out.

He regrets checking though, because it’s a knife. Judging from the old looking engravings on its handle, and the coppery stains within the grooves, it’s specifically the very same one that got Steve hospitalized.

He shoves it in his own back pocket and keeps looking, with a quick glance at Steve, finding a note tucked where the knife had been. Written in perfect scrawl on bond paper that’s been folded a dozen times and stained with tears,

“Do it right next time, why don’t you? Your mother is too soft on you. I’m not paying for this again.

- J.Harrington.”

Billy doesn’t know what to do but throw the note in the trash. Not really in shock, but definitely more than a little fucked up from reading that, he sits on the end of Steve’s bed. His own dad, who'd more than once been the one putting him in the hospital, had never even said anything like that to him.

He didn’t get to talk to Steve much today, but they’ve got as long as Billy’s stuck in here together to fix that. Longer if he just pulls something in front of a nurse. And he wants to, really really wants to.

Because he knows he just met the real Steve, can recognize another broken boy when he sees one, and he knows too, that he never wants to meet a pretty boy like this again.

And if that’s his declaration to get clean, then so fucking be it.

But. He never promised not to hurt anyone. Ultimately he’d still need that outlet.

He keeps the knife. To make sure his pretty boy doesn’t get hurt again.

[silkling]

Hi! I remember you said you liked angst. So... Can you write another fanfic on the AU where the rescue bots were found by the Autobots, with the following plot: Blades is forced to repair one of his comrades, who was seriously injured in battle?(either Chase or Heatwave, your choice) 👀

Ooh, I like this idea! Imma do it. I’m going to make it worse though. Just because. Apparently I really like hurting my favorite characters. Go figure, huh? Also, for those who didn’t read the first, this fic is in the same verse as this one.

Also, beware that there will be descriptions of graphic injury, so be wary if that’s something that upsets you.

———————————————————————————————————

The stars were silent. They always were, of course, but during the Ark’s recharge cycle the silence was all-consuming. Blades was in the rec room, sitting in the little viewport alcove that took up a small portion of the wall. They were passing by the same star system where the Sigma had been found by the Autobots, all those stellar cycles ago. 5 vorns or so had passed since then, which felt both like an eternity and like no time at all.

Blades knew Cybertronians lived a long time. In reality, 5 vorns was barely any time at all for one of their kind. But for Blades, who had once only ever known what it was to save lives, the past 5 vorns that he’d spent learning to take them had dragged on and felt almost unbearably long. He hadn’t actually killed yet, but he’d already learned how do so with a blaster, how to do it by hand, and even how to get in close and use a blade. Apparently, he was particularly talented at that last one. Given his name, the Protectobot found it rather ironic.

“Blades? What are you doing up? You do not have any duties this night cycle.”

The motorcycle startled, his engine revving and his processor snapping to attention at the unexpected voice. He hadn’t killed any bot yet, but he’d been in many, many, many battles now, some of which still gave him nightmares. He’d developed battle protocols very quickly after joining the Autobots, and now took being surprised as poorly as most of the others did. His optics sharpened and focused on his unexpected visitor with unnerving intensity, before his sighed and relaxed, tense armor plating loosening once more.

“Chase.” he greeted. “I know. I couldn’t sleep. I was remembering that last battle.”

“Ah.” Here, his friend’s voice softened, and the blue and white bot walked over to join him. He nudged the slimmer youngling aside until there was room in the small alcove for them both, sitting opposite from his friend and letting their pedes entangle. “I understand now.”

And he did. The last battle had been fought on a young planet, one with plentiful energon mines, and where the local species were still primitive. It had been a difficult fight. Blades, like always, had fought on the front lines with Hot Spot, Groove and Streetwise. Chase and Heatwave had been nearby, too. Somehow, they always found themselves fighting near each other. As with most of their battles, Boulder and First Aid had remained behind at the Ark, away from the battle proper. It hadn’t been a very unique battle, at first. Then the Deceptions had unveiled a new weapon. It had destroyed the planet, and every life that called it home had died with it. The Autobots had been too late to realize what was going on. They hadn’t been able to stop it, only flee before they too fell to the new weapon.

Blades had taken it particularly hard. The small motorcycle was a deeply empathetic bot, and it had hurt him to know they they had brought their war to another planet, and that it had resulted in the destruction of that planet and the loss of the lives there. Chase couldn’t blame him. All of Sigma-17 had felt that loss particularly hard. For all they had become soldiers after being awoken from stasis, all four younglings were still Rescue Bots at spark.

“We will simply have to stop Megatron next time and destroy his weapon before he can ever use it again.” Chase said after a moment of silence. He knew Blades wouldn’t be reassured by useless platitudes.

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet, distant. “Yeah.” he repeated, sounding a little more present as his optics hardened. “We will. He can’t do that again.”

Blades turned to meet his friend’s gaze, chin lifting. “We won’t let him do that again.”

Chase smiled, nodding. “No, we will not.” he agreed.

Blades relaxed completely then, sighing and shifting until he could lean into Chase’s chest. “Thank you, Chase.” he whispered.

“Of course.” he said, his arms coming around to press the smaller bot to his chest. “I will always be there to support you, when you have need of it. I am your Amica, after all.”

That was another thing that had changed in the past few vorns. Blades and Chase had always been fairly close, since they found they balanced each other out quiet nicely. Even before stasis, they’d been close friends. Blades appreciated Chase’s calm, peaceful logic and found it helped bring him him back from some of his nervous breakdowns, and Chase found Blades’s natural easy-going and sociable demeanor soothing and helpful at understanding situations which normally gave him pause. It had only taken them a couple vorns after coming out of stasis to formally perform the ritus and become Amica Endura.

Blades laughed, his hands raising to curl across the arms pressed to his chestplate. “Yeah, you are. And I’m yours. You can always count on me, Chase.”

A small smiled tugged at his lips, and he turned his gaze to the stars outside the viewport, in his chest, his spark pulsed, warm and fond with affection and belonging. He knew that Blades was feeling the same right now, both younglings basking in the quiet peace and comfort of each others’ presence.

“I know.”

Outside the Ark, the vast expanse of space stretched on. The billions of stars shone brightly, and life moved ever forward. Time ticked on, and though this moment was calm and soft, there would be many moments to come that would not be. What the future held exactly, only Primus knew. All his children could do now was hold on and ride out the storms to come.

——————————

When it finally happened, Blades would later reflect that he was surprised it had taken as long as it had. But then again, First Aid and Ratchet would probably have done their best to keep it from happening, to make sure his own emotional turmoil wouldn’t cause him to falter. They couldn’t stall it forever though, because this was War and at the end of it all that only meant he would have been forced into a situation like this eventually.

The orn had stared out like most other orns. The only difference has been that the Ark had landed on a planet that apparently was fairly rich in energon. The planet was also largely uninhabited, save some plant life, so they wouldn’t have to worry too much about harming the local inhabitants. Everything had been going well. They’d managed to collect energon, enough to halfway fill one of the storage hangars, and had been in the process of mining more when the Decepticon attacked.

Blades still wasn’t sure where they’d come from. Maybe they’d landed the Nemesis on the other side in the planet and travelled the rest of the way themselves. Maybe the Nemesis was still above them all, and the ‘Cons had just made planet fall on their own in order to attack. Either way, Megatron and his soldiers had showed up, and once again a battle had begun. Blades hadn’t been near his team or his brothers when the attack had begun, so he hadn’t been able to join them for the fight. That had made him nervous, but he’d fought anyway, shooting at any Decepticons who got close and using the terrain as cover.

It hadn’t been long before there’d been a call for medical attention, and Blades had reacted on instinct. He’d sprung from behind the large stone he was hiding behind, following the call until he came across Cliffjumper and Arcee. The other two-wheeler was unconscious, a shot leaking energon from her neck. Blades had been quick to get Cliffjumper’s help to drag her behind another nearby outcropping, and he’d settled down to begin triage care. As soon as he’d been assured of her survival, he’d swiftly ordered the red mech to bring her to the med-bay. Usually, he didn’t have the rank to order other bots around, but he’d found that all the Autobots would tend to do what he told them when it came to medical matters.

He’d turned to rejoin the battle when Sunstreaker had dragged his twin around the outcropping, dropping Sideswipe with a snarled demand to fix him. Blades hadn’t taken offense. They were split spark twins. They shared a spark bond with each other, like he did with his brothers. It wasn’t the same exact type of bond, but it was close enough that he understood the panic. He’d fixed the severed fuel lines, patched up the sparking wires, and welded the gashes in red armor before telling Sunstreaker to get his brother out of the battlefield. Sideswipe wouldn’t be able to fight further with his wounds, even though Blades had managed to repair the damage completely. He’d need to recover.

It had seemed that, after that, the Autobots must have figured out that the outcropping was where emergency triage was being done. They’d probably passed the information along their comm. system while Blades had been working on Arcee. After the Twins, Blades had found himself busy with many bots. Most had only surface level wounds, injuries that needed a quick patch so they could rejoin the fight. Others needed a full field repair and a retreat, like Sideswipe had. Blaster had been dragged to him by his Cassettes in critical condition, and Blades had had to quickly patch the life threatening damage, then order Ironhide, who’d come in to get a leaking fuel line patched, to take the host mech to Ratchet and First Aid immediately.

Once he’d done that and turned to his next field patient, he’d caught sight of blue and white armor. His processor was deep in its rescue and medical protocols, so much so he initially tuned out all his surroundings. It wasn’t until something in the back of his mind whispered that the shade of blue was familiar that he paused, taking in the full extent of the damage. It was bad. The bot’s chest was the worst off. It looked like they’d been hit point blank with an explosion. The metal armor of the chestplate was melted and twisted, with large areas gone altogether. Blades could see into their chest and realized that even their internals were damaged. The fuel pump was dented and had been pierced with a shard of blue armor, there were several sparking wires and spurting lines, and worst of all, the bot’s spark chamber was caved in and cracked. The motorcycle could see the weak glow of the bot’s spark. That wasn’t even all the damage. The poor bot was missing a leg, and it looked like one of their arms had been practically shredded. Even beyond that, most of the bot’s frame was dented or damaged in some way. Blades could barely pick out the paint job under all the damage.

Even so, his processor started screaming louder as he realized that, despite all that, the colors and patterns of that paint were familiar. Blades froze, his spark almost spasming with dawning horror, and he turned his gaze up to the bot’s face. As soon as he locked onto the slack face, saw the darkened optics that he knew should be a glowing amber, he couldn’t hold back the agonized keen as his medical protocols stuttered.

It was Chase.

His next vent came out in a harsh whine, and he couldn’t take his optics off the slack face of his Amica. Blades almost jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Jazz looking at him with a grim expression. The Third in Command nodded his helm at the prone form of his teammate.

“I know it’s tough’.” he said. “But ya gotta take care o’ him. If he don’t get the care he needs now, he ain’t gonna survive the trip to old’ Ratch. He needs you, mechlin’, so don’t spiral now.”

Blades stared at him for a sparkbeat, and then jolted as if he’d been physically shocked. He turned back to Chase, trying to ignore that it was his Amica who was wounded and dying in front of him, and got to work. He took in the damage once more, fingertips transforming into the tools he needed, and with a hard vent he forced his emotional processes to mute themselves in his processor, letting medical response protocols rise to the surface uninterrupted. Abruptly, his previously distraught EM field went blank and numb, making the bots around him wince with the suddenness if it.

Jazz stepped back, a flicker of regret in his visored optics. He recognized what Blades had done. He’d shut down his emotional response core. It wasn’t something the average bot could do, and he suspected the youngling only knew how to because of his medical training. The only other bot he’d seen do that was Prowl, and the Praxian had to do it if he wanted to come up with his tactics without crippling himself emotionally. Luckily, the emotional core could be brought back online later, but he knew it was never a pleasant process for the bot who had done so to come out of the emotional numbness. He only regretted that Blades had found it necessary to do so in the first place. No youngling should have to do something so drastic. It wasn’t right.

In front of Jazz and the other Autobots who were gathered behind the outcropping for minor repair, Blades worked on. He ignored the sounds of weapons fire and destruction beyond the small safe haven he was huddled in, focusing only on the task in front of him. He had to make sure Chase survived. He had to.

Failure wasn’t an option.

——————————

The rest of the orn passed in a haze. Blades was aware of things distantly, but wasn’t processing anything emotionally. He knew Jazz took Chase off to the Ark as soon as he’d ensured his friend wouldn’t die in the next few groons, until Ratchet or First Aid could get to him. After that, things happened quickly. He’d patched up the other bots around his outcropping who’d only needed minor repair, but he’d had no major patients after that. And then Megatron was calling a retreat, and Ironhide had come to guide Blades back to the Ark. None of the older bots seemed upset at the two-wheeler’s numb demeanor. He was in shock. He knew it. They knew it. They didn’t hold it against him.

Once he had been safely delivered to the starship, Ironhide had gone off. Blades wasn’t paying attention to where he’d gone. Maybe some of the others were gathering the last of the energon. Maybe everyone was preparing for take off. He wasn’t fully aware, wasn’t fully processing his surroundings. He drifted along in a haze, until he found himself in front of the medbay doors. That was when his focus sharpened. Usually after a battle, he’d join Ratchet and his brother in the medbay and do his part to help. He needed to go in.

The only thing making him hesitate was Chase. His Amica was in there. He’d done all he could on the battlefield, but had it been enough? Could he face it again?

He would have to. He stiffened his spinal strut and steeled his resolve, then stepped forward and the doors opened. He stepped into the medbay, his optics roving over the occupied berths, until they landed on a trio of berths by the far wall. On one, there was a familiar blue and white frame. Chase. On the second, a red mech lay prone and limp. Heatwave. On the third, a bulky green bot was resting on his side, unconscious and unaware. Boulder.

No.

Blades’s spark screamed in agony. He could see some of the damage from here, but he couldn’t see it all. Heatwave’s lower half looked like it had been crushed under something extremely heavy. The metal armor was dented and almost flattened. Blades could also see that the red mech’s optics were blackened and shattered, if if they’d been hit by a blaster bolt. Boulder wasn’t much better off. His entire back was a melted, twisted mess. Blades could see his spinal strut poking out of the ruined armor. There was so much energon. All three of his teammates were covered in it. It almost looked like they’d decided to incorporate pink into their paint jobs.

An agonized keen tore its way free from his vocalizer, and and medical protocols he had been ready to engage fell away under the onslaught of emotional anguish. He didn’t notice how First Aid had gasped and pressed a hand to his chest plates the second he’d noticed Sigma-17’s damaged states. He didn’t hear his brother call out to him in concern as he keened. He didn’t see Ratchet curse and begin to turn towards him, looking both irritated and worried.

He did, however, feel the hands that clasped his shoulders, the chest that pressed up against his back. He startled, drawing in a rasping gasp, and then he felt a soft warmth wrap around his spark. He knew that presence.

“Streetwise.” he whimpered, twisting to stare up at his oldest brother with wide, over-bright optics.

“Hey, Blades.” Streetwise gave him a small smile. “Let’s go, yeah?”

“B-But I have to stay. I need-“

“Ratchet and ‘Aid can handle it. This was an easy battle. They handled a lot worse than this before you came along.” he cut it. “You won’t be of any use in the state you’re in, Blades. Besides, I’m fairly sure it goes against medical code to come in and treat patients when you’re covered in filth from outside.” he said sternly.

Blades made to protest, but the soothing pulse in his spark from First Aid distracted him enough that Streetwise was able to guide him out of the medbay. He started gently ushering his brother towards the communal washracks, making sure Blades didn’t run into anyone in his shocked state.

“Streetwise, I gotta go back. They need me, I-I can’t-“

“None of that now. You did plenty today. Blades, let them handle it. Your well-being matters too. Right now, that’s actually all I care about. Your team will be fine. Have faith in Ratchet and ‘Aid, yeah?”

Blades whimpered, but he didn’t have the chance to argue further because that was when they came upon the washracks. Hot Spot was there, and he grimaced when he saw the state of his brother, but he forced a smile a moment later and reached out to rub Blades’s audial fins in a way he knew the smaller bot liked. The finial under his fingers quivered faintly, and Hot Spot wrapped a hand around Blades’s wrist to tug him into the washracks. He’d managed to get the others out earlier, and they’d been fairly understanding when he’d explained that Blades was in shock and needed a proper cleaning.

“Come on, bitty Blades.” The largest Protectobot whispered. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? You’re covered in energon, that can’t feel good.”

Blades went stiff at his brother’s words, looking down at his frame and noticing for the first time that his armor was covered in energon. Chase’s energon. A pained whine was pulled from his vocalizer, and Hot Spot winced when he realized he’d said the wrong thing.

Streetwise shot the bigger bot an unimpressed look, but both knew that talking to Blades now would be useless. The smallest Protectobot, though not by too much, had always been prone to worry and panic. Blades was an anxious bot, it was just part of who he was. It meant that sometimes, his worry overcame him and he spiraled. His brothers could always tell when that happened, because his spark pulsed almost frantically and they could sense the overwhelming panic through the bond. When Blades got like this, he lost awareness of his surroundings. They’d long since learned that the best way to soothe him was to use the bond and send comfort and safety along it, to wrap their brother’s spark in feelings of love and reassurance and peace, and pull him out of his panic that way. Thankfully, Blades didn’t spiral often. He was overly nervous, sure, but he’d never let it stop him from doing what was needed of him, and he’d learned to not let it control him. That didn’t mean his emotions didn’t get the better of him sometimes, though.

Hot Spot gently tugged them all over to one of the cubicles, where he’d already grabbed the items they needed. With all three of them in there, it was a little crowded, but they could make it work. The spray of solvent was turned on, and Blades barely twitched as it hit his frame. Neither Streetwise nor Hot Spot were bothered as their younger brother remained silent. They worked together to clean up the mess that was Blades, using wash rags to wipe away the dirt and energon, and then smaller brushes to get in between the armor plating and into the transformation seams. It took some time, especially with Blades so unresponsive, but eventually they had him fully cleaned and dried, and were tugging him back towards their berthroom.

Blades himself was still in a daze. The energon was gone from his armor, and that certainly helped, but he couldn’t stop thinking of his teammates in such dire condition in the medbay. He couldn’t get the image of Chase’s broken frame on the battlefield out of his processor.

Blades was a gentle spark, perhaps even more so than his easy-going flyer brother. Groove was a pacifist, and Blades was deeply empathetic and his brothers knew that he felt things on an emotional level far more keenly than they were really able to grasp. The rest of the Protectobots had been able to adapt to the War, especially since their introduction to it had been more gradual. But Blades, who had always hated seeing anyone hurt, to the point he’d taken any extra classes he could at the Rescue Academy just to be able to help as many others as he could? The War was hard on him. He’d adapt, in time, but with how sudden his introduction to it had been it would be a while yet before the violence stopped making him so upset.

The trio eventually arrived at their berthroom, and when the door closed behind them Blades felt Streetwise and Hot Spot move away from him. A klik later, he felt another frame press against him, and a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. It took only a beat for him to recognize Groove. He whimpered, his fingers twitching and clinging to the copter bot. Blades felt soothing warmth wrap around his spark from the bond, coming from all four of his brothers. Love, warmth, assurance, and peace soaked into his spark, and Blades let out a broken noise as everything from the day crashed into him.

Groove crooned gently, tightening his grip on his younger brother. “Easy, Blades.” he whispered. “We have you. We won’t let you fall, yeah? Just let it out.” he soothed.

Blades shuddered, then sobbed and clung tighter to his brother. He felt Streetwise press up against his back, and Hot Spot’s arms came to way around them all. The four of them stood there for a while, Blades sobbing and gasping as all his panic and worry rushed through him at once. He hadn’t been able to really process it, before. That was the danger of muting ones emotional core, as he had done earlier. It meant that he’d need to handle the emotions he’d blocked off all at once instead of steadily and as they came. So, he was forced to stay in his brothers’ hold, letting them keep him from falling as everything crashed into him. For many breems, he wept into Groove’s shoulder, his own shoulders shaking with the force of what he was feeling.

But, finally, his cries petered out, and then he was just venting harshly, shaking faintly in the aftermath of it all. He felt Hot Spot smooth a hand down his side, then come back up to rub his finial before his biggest brother spoke.

“How about we watch some of that old drama we used to like before the War? We still have the whole series downloaded on the old travel holo-pad. I know you missed a lot of the episodes that came out while you were in stasis, bitty Blades.” he said.

Blades reset his vocalizer, wincing at his staticky and rough his voice was even after doing so. “You have the whole series of But a Chance?”

Streetwise hummed. “You bet we do. We kept downloading the new episodes that came out after…” he paused, trailing off. Blades knew what he was talking about. “Well, we kept downloading the new ones. Never watched them, though. Not beyond the ones that came out before them Purge.”

“Didn’t feel right. Not without you there to make all your little comments.” Hot Spot quipped.

Blades huffed a weak sound of amusement. “You still watched some without me, though.”

“Awe, only a couple, bitty Blades.” Hot Spot smiled. “Not too many. So? What do you say?”

Blades gave another huff. “Yeah.” he agreed,

“Good, because I’ve already got it set up.” Groove said cheerfully.

“Presumptuous.” Streetwise teased.

“Shut it. You’re the one who told me to prepare for a Blades Cheer Up Night.” Groove snipped back.

“We all knew it was time for a Blades Cheer Up Night. Why are you sparklings arguing?” Hot Spot asked playfully.

“I’m older than you.” Streetwise said, frowning.

“Only by half a breem.” Hot Spot sang.

“And I’m not a sparkling!” Groove protested.

“Hush, little brother.” the two older Protectobots said at the same time.

Blades giggled weakly. “Yeah, hush. The big bots are talking.” he rasped.

Groove turned an offended look on him. “We’re all older than you. And bigger.” he sniffed.

“I’m prettier though.”

There were noises of outrage around him, and Blades felt his lips quirk up. Even as Hot Spot tweaked his finial in retaliation, he just felt his smile relax a little more. His spark was still heavy with grief and fear, but already it felt warmer and lighter. He didn’t protest as Streetwise eventually got the other two to simmer down, pushing them all towards the large berth. At the head of the berth, the holo-pad was set up on a small desk. As soon as all four brothers were settled, Groove started the episode Blades remembered having left off on, and they settled down to watch.

Things were peaceful, for a while. They got another episode in, and Blades couldn’t help himself then as he watched the characters go about on screen.

“I’m sorry, Clearview did what now? That’s stupid. She’s stupid. Why would she even do that?”

“Well,” Groove purred. “It could be because she’s actually-“

“No!” Blades hissed, drawing back a pede and planting it firmly in his brother’s hip, sending the flyer tumbling off the berth. “No spoilers!”

Groove cackled, but crawled back onto the berth and flopped on top of his younger brother. “Okay, okay. Have it your way.”

“You two are being far too loud for anyone else to enjoy to show.” Streetwise said blandly.

“Blame Groove.” Blades sniffed. “He started it.”

“You’re the one who kicked me!” Groove squawked, outraged.

“I will not be spoiled! Bots who spoil the show for other bots recharge on the couch, remember? That’s the rule!”

“Well, we don’t have a couch.” Groove said smugly. “So there.”

“We have a floor, don’t we?”

“I’m not recharging on the floor!”

“You are if I make you!”

“Try it!”

“Fine!” Blades huffed, and proceeded to launch himself at his brother.

Groove yelped, not expecting Blades to actually go through with it, and the two wrestled on the berth before their elder brothers pulled them apart. Streetwise grabbed Groove and rolled on top of him, while Hot Spot dragged Blades into his lap and wrapped the motorcycle in his arms.

“Hush.” he admonished. “It’s show time now, not wrestle like feral sparklings time.”

“We’re not sparklings!” Groove and Blades protested in unison.

“Then stop acting like it. Now shut up and watch.” Streetwise said, though they could all hear the grin in his voice.

There were grumbling protests, but the two younger bots obeyed and went still. After another couple episodes, they were released to drape across each other. Time wore on, and the Ark slipped into it’s nightly recharge cycle. By this time, Blades’s brothers were in recharge themselves, curled around and on top of each other while Blades himself continued to watch the drama. He was waiting, after all.

Another groon passed, and the door to their berthroom opened. First Aid trudged in, exhaustion hanging from his frame. He went straight for the berth, tipping right into it and not even bothering to get his legs in. Blades huffed a laugh, gently tugging his younger brother up into the berth. He reached out to turn off the holo-pad, then refocused on First Aid as the youngest Protectobot cuddled firmly into his side. He knew his brother was tired. Pit, he could feel the depths of First Aid’s exhaustion over the bond. But he had to know.

“‘Aid? Are they…?”

“They’re fine.” First Aid mumbled. “They’ll make a full recovery. You don’t have to worry, Blades.”

All at once, the last of the fear and worry left him, and Blades released all tension in his frame with a heavy vent. “Thank you.” he whispered.

First Aid hummed softly. “‘Course. They took care of you when we couldn’t. I won’t let you lose your team if I can help it, Blades. ‘Specially not your Amica.” he mumbled, his words slurring towards the end.

Blades smiled, his arms wrapping around the little medic as First Aid nuzzled into his embrace. “Yeah.” he murmured. They really had taken care of him. “Recharge, ‘Aid. You need it.”

“You too.”

“I will.” Blades agreed. “Goodnight, little brother.”

“‘Night.” First Aid made a sleepy, content churring noise. “Love you…”

Blades blinked, then tightened his grip around him. “Yeah.” he whispered. “Love you too.”

He watched his youngest brother drift off into recharge, then offlined his optics ans let himself drift off as well. Just before he fell unconscious, he felt Groove roll on top of them both, and Hot Spot’s arms coming around all three of them. From the other side of the largest Protectobot, Streetwise’s hand came to rest on Blades’s head, his thumb twitching against his finial.

Comfortable and warm, his frame and spark both surrounded by the peace and love of his brothers, Blades drifted off into recharge, his rest easy and quiet with the reassurance that his Amica and his team would recover. His spark was warm with the sheer joy, adoration, and contentment that pulsed all along the bond, and his rest was easy and undisturbed.

Beyond the walls of the Ark, the stars were silent.

———————————————————————————————————

And here it is! What did y’all think? For those who don’t remember, the Purge that Streetwise mentioned was the massacre of the Rescue Bots.

Also, poor Blades. He has it rough. At least he’s not alone, right?

Let me know how you liked that! If you want more of this verse, I might expand on it after I take care of more prompts. (Or you could request a specific scenario yourself.)

Until next time, folks!

[shadow--writer]

I Got a Feelin' I Might Have Lit the Very Fuse

hmmm it’s a writing weekend. And the start of what’s going to be an awful week haha. So expect more of me peddling my brainworms (halp I have fallen back in love with these two to the point where friends have started sending me prompts for them)

title (it’s slowed bc WHY TF NOT)

Maeve x Lucas. Second meetings might go better than firsts 3k

TW: none!

@dela-png

A week had passed, and it was slow. Her regulars, of course, had been popping in and out keeping things from being boring. As much as she appreciated that...she was going to kill them. 

How on Earth someone could anger a squirrel that badly she would never know. 

But today was calm. Calm and yes sure the ‘q’ word. 

She refused to even think of the ‘q’ word. Knowing her luck the moment she thought it, seven people would be flooding into her clinic. 

With food poisoning.  

She let out a low groan. Slow days were nice and all, but usually she had company. It was eerily silent when she was alone. 

And she was bored. 

Maeve pushed herself off the counter. She could stand to reorganize her herbs and medicine cabinet. She needed to relabel some of the bottles and jars anyways, with the amount she pulled them off the shelves she smudged her script.

She started moving the jars off the shelves, muttering to herself as she looked at the labels and did her best to decipher the smeared ink.

She had only pulled the herbs off the shelves and onto the counter when the bell above her door rang sweetly into the silence. She stopped her humming, pushing the fraying edges of her handkerchief away from her eyes. 

Oh yeah sure so now someone came in. 

Forcing a smile and a fake cheery tone to her voice, she turned around. “I’ll be with you in a moment!” she called. She couldn’t see the door over the stack of herb jars on her counter. Some were pretty empty, she’d need to stop at the market again or go foraging. 

Ugh foraging. 

It wasn’t that she disliked foraging. But it was time consuming. 

And she usually got lost.

But she didn’t like to talk about that part. 

“Thumbelina!”

She froze. She knew that nickname. She knew that voice. 

The smile climbing onto her face became real. 

“Giant!” she said, moving out from behind the counter. He looked better today. Not as bloody. In his arms he cradled the little boy from the dock. “Oh! You must be Will!” she said, dusting off her skirt. 

The boy looked much better than he had. Colour had returned to his face, and he didn’t seem to be in as much pain. That was good. She knew the bite must ache but it was good seeing him up and about.  

She stepped forward, offering her hand to shake. He shook it once, swinging their arms up violently before slamming them back down. 

Whoa there.

She laughed in her surprise. “Firm handshake you’ve got there!” she said, drawing her hand back to her side. “So what brings you to my corner of the world? Need more pain meds? The stitches okay?”

Lucas blinked at the questions, she directed her attention to the boy in his arms (who looked so tiny compared to Giant, she noted with a giggle). 

Will smiled, he was missing one of his front teeth. “Nope! Lucas brought me over to say hello! And bring you somethin!” Will ducked his head closer to her, mock whispering. Or whispering at the volume a seven year old thought was a whisper.

Aka not at all. 

“He also said he wanted to see ya again!”

Her eyes flicked back up to the man in question. His cheeks had been flooded with pink. The blush climbed all the way up to his ears. This was why she never told seven year olds anything. They had no filter, it was cute, but embarrassing. 

Though the way Lucas blushed was adorable.

She pressed her fingers to her lips as she chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you came by. It’s nice to see you again,” she said. “Would you care for something to drink? I have tea in the back.”

Lucas’ head snapped up. “We don’t want to bother you! To- W-Will here just brought a gift over to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“You...saved his life.”

Oh yeah right she did do that. “And you’re just the messenger?” 

Will tugged on Lucas’ sleeve, the man gently setting the boy down on the ground. He was walking, that was great!

“The others n I made you somethin! Sylvie mentioned yer cloth head thing.”

She touched the ratty thing on her head. It was falling apart at the seams but she didn’t have time to make another.

Will held a deep green fabric up to her. She blinked, reaching down to grab it. It was made from a soft cotton, and it smelled nice. Like cinnamon and other spices. “So we made you a new one!”

She pulled the one in her hair out, shaking out her bangs. They were a gnarled mess, but soft against her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered, pulling the new handkerchief into her curls. She tied it under her ponytail, bringing her hand down as she smiled down at the little boy. “It’s beautiful.”

“Lucas also wanted ta help!” the boy chattered on. He reached over to Lucas, tugging on his hand. Lucas shuffled forward, looking a little embarrassed. “We couldn’t afford any fancy fabric so Lucas gave us one of his old shirts!” The boy beamed up at her, his hand so tiny in Lucas’. “Sylvie did the little flowers!”

Oh! She didn’t even notice the messy embroidery. She ran a hand against them, it was bumpy beneath her fingers. 

She loved it. 

She squatted down, it made it easier to be at eye level with him. “Well tell her I said thank you and that her flowers are beautiful.”

“She said they were bellflowers. Those are Lucas’ favourite flowers! They’re the only ones she knows how ta make though...”

She looked back up at Lucas. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there in that moment. She giggled. “Bellflowers are beautiful, Lucas has good taste.”

“Do ya like it?” He stood on his toes, eyes all lit up. 

She smiled, closing her eyes as she tilted her head. “Oh I love it! I’ve been needing something new to pull my hair back for a while now. It was very kind of you to make something for me.”

“I uh, also brought you lunch,” Giant said, bringing her attention back up. Squatting down to be at eye level with the seven year old boy was a smart idea. 

Until she realized how much more he would tower over her. 

Goodness gracious.  

She froze, teetering on her toes. “What?”

He held up a little cloth bundle tied with a string. A nervous smile worked its way across his lips. “It’s some extra stew I made to bring with me. A...thank you from me.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I’m fine eating out.”

“But a home cooked meal is much better than eating out, wouldn’t you think?”

She pressed her palms to her knees as she got to her feet. “Well...yes, but I don’t have time to make a home cooked meal. Let alone a good one. I am an awful cook,” she joked. 

“Oh I’m sure you aren’t that bad.”

She cringed. He was so very wrong. “...oh no I am that bad. ‘Permanent ban from the kitchen back home’ bad. And that’s when I even eat something- oh.”

He was glaring at her. 

She did not like him glaring at her. 

“What?” she asked, drawing out the syllables.

“‘Even eat something’? Thumbelina you’ve got to eat. You’re tiny enough already.”

“Well I don’t have time! Dumba- dumb people don’t wait.” She caught herself. No swearing in front of the kid. 

“You should still find time to eat something. Were you even planning to get something to eat today?”

“Well y-yes!”

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. 

“Okay, no, but I usually get something to snack on during slow days. What’s got your goat in a twist anyways? It’s not like we know one another well.”

Her words struck a chord. He looked away from her, rubbing the back of his neck. “I...I cook,” he admitted. “So I’ve started paying attention to people’s eating habits. Yours are atrocious by the way.”

“Atrocious? You only know my lunch eating habits!” She sulked, placing a hand to her chest. “You wound me.”

“It’s true. Worse than the kids at the dock. At least they come to bother me when they’re hungry. Like stray cats.”

“Hey! We aren’t stray kitties!” Will whined. 

Lucas affectionately rubbed his knuckles into the crown of Will’s head. He swatted at the taller man to no avail. “Well to me you sure look like cats.”

“Yer just blind then!” Will huffed, trying to smooth down his hair. 

Giant turned back to her, handing her the cloth bundle. She took it, her lips twisting. “I brought you lunch out of the goodness of my heart, so I expect you to eat it at a reasonable time.” His tone was teasing but she knew his words had weight. 

“How will you know if I don’t?” she asked, her voice taking a sing-song tone.

He was still not as impressed. Ugh he was no fun. “I’ll come back to check on it.”

“...you wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“You have work!”

“I can take breaks. I work hard, the least they could give me.”

She sighed, cradling the meal he made her to her chest. “Fine! I give, I give! I’ll eat your lunch.”

He smiled. “Good.” His eyes kept moving to her hair. She touched the handkerchief, his cheeks darkened a little. 

Wait...if this was made out of his shirt…

She felt her cheeks warm. 

Oh. 

Oh.

The spices she was smelling was him.

They locked eyes, before they both turned away. She swore she was blushing down to her toes. And she never really blushed. 

Damn you Giant. 

He coughed, looking back at Will who was watching them very amused. “We’d better go little man,” Lucas said.

“Awww but I wanna stay a little longer!” He had wandered off to look at her herbs before exploring the clinic’s many tables. Currently he was looking at the deep grooves on the table. 

Lucas caught her eye again. His eyes were still a vibrant blue. Reminded her of the water when it reflected the sky. “We don’t want to bother her anymore than we have,” he said with a low chuckle. “She’s very busy.”

“Not today I’m not!” she blurted out. She hated to admit it, but she enjoyed his company. Teasing or not it was nice to be able to talk to someone. 

Lucas paused, she bit her lower lip as she smiled nervously. “If you’d like, you can stay for tea. No one’s come in today, and so it’s been very...eerie. I’d appreciate the company.”

Lucas’ brows crinkled. She wanted to smooth out the lines. “Is...that okay?”

“Of course! I’m offering.”

Will grinned, grabbing her hand. “Well if she says we can stay it’s only polite! That’s what ya taught us, right Lucas?”

Lucas sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder if you guys listen to me and then you pull this crap.”

She chuckled. “As the little eel survivor says, it’s only polite.”

“Fine. We can stay for tea.”

She smiled broadly, leading them to her small backroom. There she kept a few extra aprons, gloves and her more powerful medicines (magic pills and all that) locked up tight. 

She grabbed her kettle, settling on the fruity green tea she’d found in the market a while back but hadn’t had the chance to try. She hummed as she put it over her small stove. 

Will was chatting with Lucas about the magic items she had strewn about. Lucas looked at her, pleading for help. 

She laughed, answering the plea. “You like my charms?” she asked. “I had help making them.”

“You can do magic?” Will asked, eyes lighting up. 

She was a little taken aback, but to a little kid, of course magic was...well, magic. She smiled. “Oh yes! I can do all sorts of things. Takes a bit out of me, but I can do some illusions, I know some healing. Herbal magic is fun. And palm reading was just something my sisters and one of my cousins picked up on.”

“Palm reading?” Giant asked as the kettle started to sing. 

She moved, putting some of the tea leaves in her infuser, letting it seep in the hot water for a bit. 

“Yes, palm reading. It’s quite easy actually.” She brought the tea over to the table. She could bring glasses and the ice when the tea was steeped enough. “I can do a reading if you’d like,” she offered. 

Will bounced up and down. “Can I help? Can I? Can I?”

Giant laughed. “Calm down little man, let’s let the fairy doctor do her thing first.”

She winked at Will. “I can teach you after I do his reading.”

Will grinned, sitting back. He wiggled in his seat. He was very energetic. It was refreshing. 

Lucas held out his right hand, she reached forward, their fingertips brushing. “Your hands are cold,” he said, his hand jerking back a little. 

She held firm as she laughed. “I’m aware.”

His palms were calloused. Rough under her touch. Scarred from hard labor. She traced the lines and creases on his hand. She felt his pulse jump under her fingertips as she brushed his wrist.  

“Fire hands,” she said, meeting his eyes. 

“Fire hands? What does that mean?”

“The type of hands you have. Our hands represent one of the four elements, just like astrology. Earth, air, fire, water. You can tell a lot about a person based on their hands.” 

She looked back down at his palm. She traced the length of his palm, and then her fingers danced over his own. “Fire hands show people to be passionate, confident, and industrious. Driven by desires and on a bad day you may lack tactfulness and empathy.”

“And what about your hands?” His voice was soft. 

She looked at her hand, her fingers freezing over his own. “Mine are...water hands. In tune with my emotions, intuition, and psychic ability. Fueled by compassion and imagination, often creative. Also extremely sensitive and my feelings are easily hurt, causing undesirable interpersonal stress.” 

He chuckled. 

She brushed the edge of his hand by his pinky. “Marriage line.” Her fingers moved down to the long line below the marriage line, it curved up between his middle and index finger. “Love line.” Below that was a small curve starting at the flesh of his thumb meeting his palm. “Wisdom.” Two more lines, starting at the bottom of his palm. One curved to match the wisdom line, the other straight up to the middle of his middle and ring finger. “Career and life lines.” Small sun line. 

She searched his palm for his health line. “What are you-” he cut himself off as she traced the broken up health line.

“Health.”

He paused at her touch, she could feel his heart beat race under her touch. “Well Thumbelina? What does my palm say?” 

She breathed in, letting the air out with a sigh. “Love and marriage,” she started, tracing his love line again. His hand jerked under hers. “Line is long and curved. A happy long lasting love. But it’s all in your hands. Communication is key with this love.” 

His eyes widened. “How can you tell?”

She winked. “I just can.” She brushed her thumb along his career line. “Career and business. You’re ambitious and have strong self-confidence. If you have a dream in your heart and you’ll work hard to see it come true.”

She bent closer to his hand. “Health. You’re easily tired. You exercise a lot but don’t take the breaks you need. Short breaks will keep you refreshed and healthy. Don’t forget to exercise even if it’s hard. Don’t forget to rest and take care of your body.”

He chuckled. “I think my work is all the exercise I need.”

“But you still work out?”

“...sometimes.”

“And do you rest?”

“...”

“Thought so.”

She smiled, looking at the last lines on his palm. “Your personality and mental state. Connected to life and health. You know your mind well, you adapt easily. With your adaptability people look to you to lead them. Though reading other people and their feelings is a challenge for you.”

She looked up at him to see his face. 

But his face was close to hers. 

And he looked back at her at the same time.

So their foreheads slammed together. 

Hissing a yelp, she fell back, palm pressed to her forehead. He did the same, Will laughing at them both so hard he fell over. 

“Well now we have matching bruises,” she said with a groan, making sure they didn’t break skin. No blood. Just a bruise. Goddess of the unholy stars did that hurt. 

“My bad,” he wheezed, pressing a finger to the reddening skin. “You’ve got quite a noggin.”

She got to her feet, smiling a little. “Could say the same about yours.”

He watched her move back. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking about as she turned away from him. His forehead where they bonked heads was starting to turn red.

She got to her feet to go get ice and cups. She set three glasses down, pouring the tea over the ice. The ice cracked under the heat. She slid the glasses to the boy. Giant was still looking over his palm. Her fingers tingled from the small use of magic. 

She handed his cup to him. He grabbed the cup from her hand, their fingertips brushing again. 

There was a small spark of magic at the touch, making her jump. 

He didn’t seem to feel it. Or was able to hide the fact he could. She wondered if he had magic, it was like a surge of something strong coming from deep within her. It was unfamiliar. 

It had to be his. 

Waving her thoughts off and ignoring the weird flutter in her stomach, she turned to Will, who was gulping down the tea like a dog to water. 

She chuckled, holding out her hand. Her eyes were alight with the challenge and excitement she felt when she got to teach something. Her voice was low in pitch, but her tone was filled with lithe amusement. “So, wanna learn how to read palms?”

[petertingle-yipyip]

Where Happiness Begins - Peter Parker

Chapter Four : Only Human

//WHB Masterlist//

 //Series Inspo: @cxptain-capsicle @stuckonspidey // Series Tags: @writingsbychlo @rosegoldhome @peterparker-glee-other @chubsluda @mc225g @olliekookie @fandom-princess-forevermore //

Word Count: 4,405

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: Once the adrenaline of the fight wears off and all settles, Y/N ends up showing Peter she’s only human after all. Pushing through broken bones and bruises, she makes a not-so-shocking discovery about her relationship with Petey.

You felt the deep pressure in your head subside as you hear three familiar voices, two male and one automated female. Your seated in the jet, eyes still closed tightly. You felt physically horrible, the worst pain of your life to date. It seemed like even though you were leaving the airport, every scene was playing back in your mind. Every punch. Every hit. Every stupid remark Peter made.

“Peter!” You said quickly, forcing your eyes to open and pushing yourself to sit a bit straighter. Which was a mistake of its own.

“He’s okay.” You heard Happy say gently. “Y/N, he’s alright.”

“Where is he?” You asked anxiously.

“He’s a few rows down. Now will you calm down?” Happy sighed. “Wanna know the damage or should I let Pepper tell you?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. ran a scan already?”

“Scan was running before you even got in the car. Tony had it done so you could get some care as soon as you were lucid.”

“I can feel the concussion already so what else do I have to explain to Mom?”

Happy chuckled. “Report was already sent back to Pepper. She’s getting your pain meds and said they’ll be ready for when you get home. But the concussion, yeah. Fractured radius, cracked ribs, and a sprained ankle.”

“So what, crutches and a wrist brace? Not too bad.” You tried to shrug, the pain immediately stopping you. “Okay, the ribs might be an issue.”

“Here’s a brace for your wrist and one for your ankle. As far as your ribs go, the best we can do right now is just a compressive wrap that’ll hopefully add a little padding and cushion.”

“Alright, sounds good.” You reach out and take the supplies from him.

“You gonna do it yourself?” He asked in shock.

“Well I’m not having you do it.” You laughed weakly. “No, I’ll have Peter help me. Thanks, Happy.”

“Anytime, Y/N/N. You gonna be alright to talk to May when we drop him off?” He asked as you gingerly stood on your feet.

“Yeah, I should be. If she asks, I’ll just say I was training with Natasha and overdid it.” You tilted your head instead of trying to casually shrug it off. “You really don’t need to worry, Hap. Everything’s fine.”

“Your dad always says the same thing, that everything is fine. But you and I both know what that means.” He commented as you made your way to Peter.

You didn’t want to pay too much thought to what Happy had said but he was right. Your dad always insisted everything was fine, even when it wasn’t. You figured that’s where you got it from, but that also meant you and him said everything was fine. Especially when it wasn’t. You tried to put it out of your head when you came up on the row Peter was sitting.

“Hey, Peter.” You smiled slightly as you limped down the aisle. You sat across from Peter, carefully avoiding your tender ribcage. You stayed on the edge of the seat, keeping your weight in one of your heels to keep your ribs from touching anything at all. “How are you feeling?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He shook his head with a soft smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly?” You took a deep breath, instantly regretting it. You knew you couldn’t lie to Peter. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you, or the concern that dripped from his words. You wanted to say ‘Everything’s fine’ but it just felt wrong to lie to Peter. “I’m hurting. Cracked ribs, sprained ankle, fractured radius, mild concussion. Not counting the random bruises.”

“Woah.” He said quietly, his mouth hanging open slightly. “And you don’t just want to go and sleep? Aren’t you exhausted?”

“Completely.” You nodded. “But, all in a day’s work, I guess. Actually, I was hoping you could help me with my wraps? I won’t be able to get the wrist splint and ankle wrap tight enough. And there’s no way I can wrap my ribs alone. And I’m not gonna ask Happy to do it so if you don’t mind…”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.” He nodded, his eyes soft with concern.

Peter took the supplies from your outstretched hands before dropping his eyes. You slowly reached for the bottom of your shirt, painfully pulling it over your head. You sucked in air through your clenched jaw, trying not to exclaim in pain. You dropped your shirt on the seat next to you, sharp pains shooting up your arm and through your upper body.

“Okay, I’m ready.” You said finally. You pushed yourself to stand, leaning on one foot more than the other. You carefully lifted your arms high enough so Peter could wrap the entirety of your ribs without obstruction, but even that small stretch of your torso made you feel like your body was made of paper and someone was tearing small pieces off.

Peter brought his eyes up and felt the heat blossoming out of his chest and up his neck. Your back was facing him at the moment, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from tracing your figure. Bruises littered your spine, dotting each pair of ribs. He could see welts on your shoulder blades and the swelling of your wrist. He was frozen in place. He could hear your shallow, pained breathing and he could’ve sworn he could feel the pain you were in. He hadn’t even registered that you had turned to face him. Your voice was the only thing that refocused him.

“Earth to Petey.” You chuckled, waving a hand in front of his face. You could see him come back to you and he shook his head quickly, muttering apologies as he securely wrapped your ribcage. You felt his knuckles graze your skin as he walked in circles around you, even though you told it’d be easier if he just stood and used his arms to reach around you.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I mean, more than you already are.” He reasoned.

“I appreciate the thought but standing on this ankle isn’t fun either.” You replied lightheartedly.

Every brush of his fingers made your burning skin feel cold. It was as if he was made of ice, and every touch sent a cooling sensation along whatever nerves it could reach. You winced every now and then when Peter tugged the extra wrap a bit too hard, causing him to apologize more. “It’s not you, Peter. Cracked ribs make everything unbearable. Keep going.” You had to tell him. Once he finished, he helped you into your seat again and knelt to wrap your ankle.

“How’d to manage this one?” He asked, trying to make light conversation.

“I think it’s from when Barnes grabbed me by my ankle. I was trying to head over to you, but he snatched me right out of the air and threw me like a rag doll. Same thing brought the concussion, in case you were wondering.”

“I’m guessing the ribs came from the falling cars then.” He smiled up at you, carefully placing your wrapped ankle on the ground. He shuffled over on his knees, taking your hand in his.

You watched his fingers, carefully avoiding the swollen lump on your wrist. The fracture was in an awkward spot. It was just above the small bones of your wrist, but not high enough to require a full cast. Peter’s nimble fingers closed your hand and turned it so your palm was facing up. He slid the split onto your hand before securing the straps. He gave your fingers a gentle squeeze before sitting back and looking up at you.

“Falling...?” You sat in confusion before the memory of helping your dad with the falling cars flashed in your mind. “Right! Yeah, Wanda was launching cars from the parking deck at my dad. A couple caught me from behind and cracked every rib in the middle of the costal groove. Not to mention the constellation of bruises on my back.”

“So, how’d you fracture your radius?” He tapped your dangling fingers with the back of his hand.

“I think uh-” You began, suddenly forgetting how the injury came about. “Maybe it was when I was holding up the passenger bridge. My arm must’ve already taken a hit earlier and the pressure was too much, so it snapped.”

“You broke your arm trying to help me?” He said in gentle realization.

“Yeah, I’d do anything to help you.” You said, almost automatically.

He chuckled nervously, his cheeks flushing a light pink. “I still feel bad.” He said with a small smile. “I’m real sorry, you know.”

“Don’t be.” You waved your hand. “I would do it again if it meant you were okay.”

“Seriously?” His eyes went wide.

“Seriously.” You confirmed with a nod. “Pete, have you looked in the mirror since the fight?”

“No, why?” His eyebrows scrunched.

“You have a black eye.” You said as if it was obvious. “Either from Steve smacking you with the shield or when Lang took you out mid-swing. Which I tried to warn you about, by the way.”

“Jeez, I didn’t even notice.” He said in shock, now using his phone as a mirror.

“Well, look at you. Spidey hangs with the big boys and comes back with a shiner.” You teased.

“Why do you call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“Spidey.”

You tilted your head to replace the shrug you would’ve done. “Well, calling you Spiderman is a mouthful when you’re in the middle of a fight. I didn’t wanna call you Peter cause then everyone would’ve heard and known who you were. And I know that your identity is important to you and you’d like to keep it a secret. So I just kinda went with Spidey… Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “It’s perfectly fine. I kinda like it, actually.”

“Good.” You smiled back. “Cause otherwise this could’ve been very awkward.”

“You also called me Petey a few minutes ago.” He said slowly. “What’s that about?”

“Just a cute nickname. I call you Peter all the time and I’m sure Pete is played out. I thought I’d add something new is all.” You said simply. “I don’t know, I like it.”

“What am I gonna call you then?” He joked with a playful smile.

It was in that expression that you realized something. You and Peter were so much alike, more so than you had initially realized. You knew you and Peter had a connection. Anyone with eyeballs could see that much. But exactly how alike you were, that was unprecedented, even from what you had known before even meeting Peter. You knew he was smart, kind of quiet but kind, funny when he wanted to be, and all around good to get along with. Liz had gotten his personality dead on with that, which led you to wondering what the relationship really was like between him and Liz. But despite that random thought, you started to wonder if you liked Peter.

You paused for a moment. “Y/N/N.” You said with finality.

“Y/N/N?”

“My dad started calling me that a few years ago. It’s mainly reserved for family but I kinda like the way it sounds when you say it.” You winked. “I think that’s fair, don’t you?”

“The real question is if we can call each other that in public?” He tilted his head to add emphasis to his question.

“Ah, now we’re in a pickle. My dad might not be the biggest fan of you calling me Y/N/N. Not yet at least.”

“Yet?” His eyes went wide. “Does this mean I’m an Avenger?”

“Not at all.” You laughed. “But it does mean that I want you to stick around. You make me laugh. I like that about you.”

“So I can call you Y/N/N, just not in front of Mr. Stark.” He confirmed, not wanting to acknowledge the blush that lit up his cheeks. “You can call me Petey whenever. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Even in front of your friends?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“Maybe not in front of Flash.” He shook his head with a nervous chuckle. “He gives me enough shit as is.”

“A bully?” You asked carefully, to which he hesitantly nodded, seemingly embarrassed of the fact that he had a bully. “Jeez, how lame is this kid that he has to bully you? What kind of crap does he pull?”

“He’s just annoying.” Peter tried to play it off. “He calls me Penis Parker all the time. Tries to make fun of me for not having a girlfriend and stuff like that. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Maybe he’s scared your dick will be bigger than his. He thinks if he jokes about it, it’ll make him feel better.” You joked casually, momentarily forgetting who you were talking to. Peter didn’t seem like the kid you could joke like that around so you paused, weighing his response. To your surprise he laughed. And he laughed hard.

“I never thought about that.” He managed through his laughter. “That’s probably it.”

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend, Petey?” You asked, genuinely curious. Peter seemed like absolute boyfriend material. How could he be single? “In the few times we’ve talked and spent time together, I’ve enjoyed it more than I’ve probably enjoyed hanging out with anyone.”

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” He countered, attempting a playful tone but only giving off nervousness. It was almost as if he was afraid you’d say you did have a boyfriend. But Peter didn’t like you like that. At least, Peter didn’t think he did. But to his credit, he hadn’t brought himself to figure that part out yet. “You’re really great, Y/N/N.”

“Thanks.” You smiled softly. “I don’t know, I guess no one is brave enough to shoot their shot on Iron Man’s daughter. It can be kind of intimidating, I guess.”

“You don’t intimidate me.” He said softly.

“Well, I would hope not.” You chuckled. “You know, I like you. I’m glad we met.”

“Yeah, me too.” More than he cared to admit. More than he really could admit.

Peter knew that neither of you really knew each other. He knew the persona you presented the media. The genius, billionaire, flirty, philanthropist. You were just like your dad, and while he loved and admired that side of you, he somehow knew there was something more to you. Talking to you in the few days he could, he saw a different Y/N peaking through. A vulnerable, teenage Y/N. He saw a different light in your eyes, a different glee to your smiles, more heart to your laugh. He couldn’t help but hope that he was the reason for this brighter personality you were showing to him.

Feeling rather uncomfortable in the jet’s seats, you awkwardly managed to get yourself down to the floor. Ignoring Peter’s questions and protests, you scooted next to him. You leaned against him, keeping your arm between your ribs and his body. Your head rested neatly on his shoulder and Peter carefully folded his hands in his lap.

“Uh, Y/N?” Peter said carefully. You were already losing yourself to sleep so you mumbled a ‘Yes, Petey?’ that only he would be able to understand. He cleared his throat and tapped your hand gently. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to sleep. My body’s exhausted.” You yawned, shifting slightly and snuggling closer to him. You knew you shouldn’t be that close to Peter. The only logical part of your brain was telling you to go into the chair, recline it, and fall asleep there. A different part was telling you not to sleep with a concussion. But the loudest part was telling you that Peter was the best pillow option at the moment and he was nice and warm. “So as much as I like hearing your voice, please be quiet.”

“You like my voice?” He asked, a hint of pride lacing his amused tone. He wondered how much of this you would remember when you were well-rested. “Maybe you shouldn’t sleep with a concussion?”

“Too late.” You murmured, letting that last syllable slip before falling asleep fully.

Peter was tempted to sleep on the flight home. He wanted to gently lay you down and just lay beside you, but he liked the feeling of your head on his shoulder. The sound of your steady breathing seemed to calm his own nerves. You shifted often and he assumed it was because it was uncomfortable on your ribs. Acting on nothing but a hunch, he carefully unzipped his hoodie and bunched it up. He used it as a pillow for your ribs as he gently laid you in his lap.

Peter was in complete awe of your gentle beauty. He always thought you were pretty, even before he met you. You were a Stark, for crying out loud! Any boy your age that didn’t have a crush on you was insane. But seeing you sleeping, a small smile on your lips, curled up in Peter’s lap. It made his heart soar.

When Happy came to tell you two you were landing, he stopped dead in his tracks. He looked to Peter for an explanation, but the best Peter could offer was a cheeky grin and a shrug. Even he couldn’t explain what had happened.

“Wake her up.” Happy finally said. “Gently! I’ll be in the car.”

“Hey, Y/N.” Peter said softly, shaking your shoulder gently. You groaned in response, not waking from your sleep. “Y/N, we landed. Come on.”

“I don’t wanna.” You complained, sleep making your words sound more like a pout.

“Come on, please.” Peter urged.

“Nooo.” You mumbled.

“For me?” He tried, reaching out and holding your hand in his. If anyone had asked him where the confidence to do that came from, he wouldn’t be able to tell them. He stared at his own actions in shock, even more amazed when you lazily laced your fingers together. He hadn’t even realized you had rolled to your back to look at him.

“Anything for you, Petey.” You said. Your tone was bordering sultry, but Peter heard it gently. Honestly. “Now help me up before Happy tattles on us.” You said, using your free hand to wipe the sleep from your eyes. You wondered how you ended up in Peter’s lap, holding his hand. But you weren’t too concerned about the how. You were just excited that it had even happened.

You had had flings before. A jock from random high schools here or there. Hot, young billionaires that wanted to get in good with you to try to get a Stark Industries deal for their parents. Late night hookups at parties. But no one made you feel the same butterflies Peter did, and Peter wasn’t even trying to woo you. He was just naturally charming and endearing.

The car ride was tense. Neither of you really wanting to talk to each other, fearing what kind of nonsense would spill from your lips. You didn’t know what Peter was thinking, and maybe that’s what drove you so crazy. In some of your past moments with Peter, the connection was palpable. You could physically feel how you and Peter just wanted to sit, talk, hold hands, and maybe even kiss. Other times, it felt like Peter didn’t care what you did or said. But little did you know it was the complete opposite.

Peter felt like he was on the edge of his seat every time he was with you. He never knew if the next words out your mouth would make him laugh, make him blush, or make him proud. You were the first person to really see him, all sides of him. You knew Peter and you knew Spiderman, but you treated them as one and the same. You didn’t prioritize one persona over the other. He knew you to be honest, light-hearted, `generous. But also he knew you to be strong, confident, and truly remarkable.

“What are you gonna tell May about your eye?” You asked as the car stopped in front of his apartment building. He looked up at his floor and then back to you.

“I’ll probably just say some other guy punched me. It won’t last long.” He shrugged.

“Happy, can you get the case out the trunk?” You leaned forward to ask Happy. “I wanna have a few words with Peter.”

“Yeah, sure.” He said with a tight smile. “Want me to carry it to his apartment too?” He added sarcastically.

“If it’s no trouble.” You smiled with the same sarcasm.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” Peter said quickly. “I can carry it up.”

“See, that’s thoughtful.” Happy said, gesturing to Peter. You stuck your tongue out in response, to which Happy rolled his eyes and got out of the car.

“Petey?” You said once Happy’s door was shut.

“Yeah?”

“Want me to walk up with you?” You offered.

“No, it’s alright. I wouldn’t want you to put more stress on your ankle than you need to.”

“It’s no trouble, really.” You smiled kindly.

“You wanted Happy to get out so you could offer me company upstairs?” Peter chuckled.

“No, actually.” You laughed softly. “We need a story about what you did this weekend, your internship with Stark Industries.”

“We can talk about it on the way up.” He shrugged. “I can carry you on my back if you want.”

“What a gentleman.” You teased. “I’ll be alright. Happy has crutches for me in the trunk. Even though I’ll probably only need one.”

You both got out of the car, Peter taking his case and you taking one crutch. Happy said he would wait in the car, and for you not to take too long. He reminded you that your mom was waiting and so were your medications.

You and Peter managed to make it to his apartment, after what seemed like an eternity hopping up the stairs. You knew it was going to be a struggle, but you hadn’t expected it to be that hard. Peter stayed behind you, keeping close in case you missed a step or your foot slipped. You had even considered taking him up on that offer of carrying you but you powered through. You wondered if it would be easier to get downstairs later.

“Welcome home!” May exclaimed when you and Peter walked in. “Oh, and Y/N? It’s good to see you again.”

“Hi, May.” You smiled widely. “How have you been?”

“Well, who doesn’t love a quiet, relaxing weekend? Although, I am glad that Peter is back.” She smiled, tousling his hair. “Oh my god, your eye! What happened? Who hit you?”

“Just some guy.” Peter tried to shrug it off but May had already ran and gotten him an ice pack. Peter fiddled with the web shooters around his wrist. “So itchy.”

“Leave it alone.” You smacked his hand gently.

“What’s some guy’s name?” May yelled from the freezer.

“Uh-“ Peter hesitated. “Steve.” He shrugged to you, where you only shook your head in amusement.

“Steve?” She shouted. “From 12C? With the overbite?”

Peter played with the bracelet, pressing the small button that flashed the Spiderman logo you had programmed. He let out a breathy chuckle, staring at the light with an amazed smile.

“No, no, no. You don’t know him. He’s from Brooklyn.” He answered quickly, staring in awe at the bright red light.

You had to hold back a laugh. You grabbed his wrist quickly, shutting off the light and pushing his hand down as May came back into the room, ice pack in hand.

“Well, hope you got a few good licks in.” She said with a sigh.

“Yeah, got quite a few in, actually.” He said proudly.

“That would’ve been something to see, I bet.” You joked.

“And you.” May turned her attention back to you. “What happened to you? Did Steve from Brooklyn get you too?” She joked.

“Actually, I was training with Ms. Romanoff yesterday. Her and I took it a tad too far.” You waved your hand dismissively. “Happens all the time. Perks of being an Avenger.”

“Well, as long as you’re alright.” She placed a hand on your shoulder gently. “How was the weekend? You have fun, Pete?”

“Yeah, it was cool. The facility was awesome!” Peter smiled widely.

“It was really cool to have company my own age.” You nudged Peter slightly. May’s jaw dropped slightly before giving a knowing smile. “We got Peter set up in our system, set up a profile with F.R.I.D.A.Y., and introduced him to some of the other Avengers.”

“Sounds fun.” She nodded to Peter.

“Well, I should head out. I just wanted to make sure Peter got in safe, and of course say hi to you.” You smiled before May interrupted.

“So soon? Have you eaten dinner? You could always stay, if you’d like.” May offered sweetly.

“I’d love to but Mom has dinner ready at home.” You nodded slightly. “I appreciate the offer though. Rain check?”

“You’re welcome here anytime, Y/N.”

“Thanks, May.” You turned to Peter. “I’ll be in touch about when we’ll need you again. Most of your work you can do from home, unless you really just want to be at the facilities. Obviously, my dad wants you to keep your grades and extracurriculars up. You have my number if you need anything, or have any questions.”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Peter nodded quickly.

“Call me, if you ever need anything.” You smiled softly.

“Anything?” His tone was playful, with a hint of disbelief in it. He doubted that he could call you at two in the morning just to talk about his new Lego set or a Star Wars theory he came up with. But he also knew he could call you after school if he wanted to talk.

“Anything for you, Petey.” You said quietly and you pulled him in for a gentle hug. He was careful to not squeeze you too hard, mindful of your tender midsection. “Talk to you soon.”

“Yeah, talk to you soon, Y/N/N.”

And so it begins. You realized as you made your way down the stairs and back to the car. There’s officially a small crush on Peter Parker. Dad’s definitely gonna throw a fit when he realizes he was right all along.

[cupidjayne]

Hurt

Tags: @the-shadow-of-atlantis

A/N: Ok this is long… it’s a lot more Nightwing orientated. After writing Subtle I just kinda got into the groove.  (Requests are open)

Annabella belongs to @the-shadow-of-atlantis

The fight was over. Poison Ivy had gotten away. Aqualad paused and took stock of the situation. It was a mess, the ground covered in green foliage and broken parts, but his team were ok. Exhausted and bit worse for wear but ok. Or at least that’s what he thought until he turned in time to see Layla fall to the ground, a shriek escaping through her lips.

“Frost?! What happened? Are you hurt?” The team leader questioned as he ran to her side. Carefully looking over her, he noticed her leg laying at an odd angle.

With tears in her eyes, the girl whimpered out only two words before passing out. “Help… Dick.” At the mention of Nightwing’s civilian name Kaldur knew it had to be serious. Wrapping his arms under her knees and around her back he tried his best to not jolt her and worsen her injury.

“Everyone back to the Bio-ship. Frost Fox is hurt and needs medical attention at the mountain.” Kaldur told the team, heading towards the ship himself, only to be stopped by Nightwing racing to his side.

“Fox! What the hell happened Kaldur? She was fine a minute ago!” Dick demanded taking the still unconscious girl from his friend’s arms. Finishing the short walk to the ship, Dick sat in one of the larger seats and placed Layla carefully so her head was carefully resting against Dick’s lap.

The trip to Headquarters felt like the longest trip Dick had ever taken. He could feel himself getting more and more tense no matter how hard he tried to relax. He knew Layla would be ok. She had to be. Finally arriving at the Mountain Dick carefully bundled Layla up again and raced her to the medical bay to meet Red Tornado.  

“Scans from the Bio-ship determine that Frost Fox has merely broken her leg. A clean break that should heal quickly,” Tornado informed the young hero that still hadn’t let go of Layla. Without waiting for a reply from Nightwing, he left to gather the supplies he would need to set her injuries.

An hour later and Layla’s leg was secure in a white cast, and Dick hadn’t left her side, holding her hand the whole time. Tornado had told him she had simply fainted and would wake when the shock wore off. Dick had spent the time since their ‘den mother’ left wracking his brain trying to figure out how and when Layla had been hurt. He had been fighting near her and only saw her fall once, an incredible feat for the clumsy Layla he knew, but she was only down for a moment and then back in the fight trying to freeze Ivy’s damn plants. Like always, Layla had managed to stump the protégé of the world’s greatest detective.

Dick could feel a presence appear in the doorway. At least he hadn’t lost his detective ‘powers’ completely. “Annabella, what are you doing here? You heard when Tornado said no visitors until she wakes up.” Dick chastised his younger sister.

With a roll of her eyes, Annabella sat on the chair next to Dick. “So what’s your excuse then, big brother? You heard Red Tornado too.”

“You know it’s different for me, Little Bat.” He turned giving his sister a knowing look.

“Yeah you two have history but I don’t get it. I thought you weren’t together anymore. I mean, after… all that happened I didn’t think it was the same. That both of you had changed.”

Looking down at the girl he would always have a soft spot for, he whispered, “It has changed but she’s still my Fox. That will never change. I just… I need to be here, sis. I can’t explain it.”

“There’s a name for that, Richard. True Love. Things have changed but I still believe that Layla is your soul mate. Always have and always will.” With a sad smile, Annabella gave her brother a hug and left him to his thoughts.

“Layla can’t be my soulmate. She can’t. Right?” Dick asked skyward hoping for some kind of sign. Maybe once upon a time she was, but things were too different now. Too much had happened to them both.

A small squeeze to his hand stirred him from his thoughts. Facing Layla again he saw her eyes trying to open and heard her groan. ‘The medication must be wearing off’ he thought to himself.

“Wha… What happened?” Layla asked groggily to the hero beside her.

“You’re ok, Fox. You’ve got a broken leg and you fainted. We’re guessing from the pain. Tornado fixed you up though.” Dick replied with immediately.  “Do you remember what happened? How you hurt your leg?”

“Uhh, yeah. One of Ivy’s vines grabbed me and pulled me down. But I magicked my leg to be ok. I got up and kept going. That’s one thing you always taught me.” The girl admitted with a small smile gracing her pale face.

“Fox, I never meant that if you’ve broken your leg. Wont that affect the healing process? Because it was magic that held it together?” Dick still didn’t fully understand magic but he knew it wasn’t meant to be used to heal bones, at least not with the magic that Layla used.

Looking a little guilty, she nodded. “I mean yeah, I would heal in like a day with the magic in my body anyway, so it’ll take maybe a week for it to heal. I mean we defeated Ivy, I’m ok with it.”

“I mean she got away, but yeah the damage stopped. I guess that counts as a win. But I am in no way happy with you and your leg.” Dick had to make sure Layla knew that her being hurt wasn’t a sacrifice he ever wanted to take.

“Ok, Dick. I get it. Being hurt isn’t ok, but I’ll be fine in a week and I won’t apologise for what I did. You know I haven’t had a good run of things, like ever, but I did something good and I wouldn’t take it back, even if I could.” With a sigh, Dick looked at his determined Fox. He hoped she never changed. Was always this passionate.

“Ok, Fox. We can agree to disagree for now. You got hurt and now you need to rest. No visitors until you’ve slept for at least 8 hours. You took a decent hit and need to relax for now.” With a nod of her head, Layla cuddled deeper into the med bay blankets covering almost her whole body. She looked over to Dick, and gathered all the courage she had left.

“Dick?” Hearing his name, he turned and faced Layla again. “I know this a weird thing to ask, but could you… maybe… uh… Stay? I mean just until I fall asleep. Or I mean you don’t have to or anything…”

Her rambling was cut short when Dick gave Layla a smirk and laid beside her on the small bed, putting his arm under pillows and whispering “Its ok, Layla. I’ll stay.” Layla was already halfway to dreaming when she heard her former love whisper again, thinking that the blue haired girl was already asleep.

“I’ll always stay, just like I’ll always love you, Fox.”

[thesinglesjukebox]

BTS FT. HALSEY - BOY WITH LUV

[6.00]

We're prepping the comment section for ARMYs as we speak...

Ashley Bardhan: This is kind of sick, like, the good kind. I resent Halsey because when I was 13 I got annoyed that her name is Ashley (my name), but she made it Halsey (different name). I really can't stand the flow of the rap sections in this song. Triplet, triplet flow. This song reminds me of mayo. Take from that what you will. [7]

Iris Xie: Tastes like Melona-flavored soft chews, chased down with mini matcha Kit-Kats. The "ooh-wahs," the clipped melodies, and the gentle and easy "oh my my" hook, combined with Halsey living out her K-pop girl group dreams with her exclamations ("I want it!") is a breezy, sugary, feel-good mixture. This results in something that sounds both like a throwback to older K-pop (Sweetune's guitar-heavy productions and the chewy, brusque-lite rapping style come to mind here), but it also sounds slightly newer, since the production decides to go for relaxed, airy grooves to balance out the hooks instead of 2011-style pop maximalism. The only thing missing that would elevate the song is a reworking of the rap flow so that it would sound less like an intrusive interruption that competes with the song's hooks, which hold it back from launching all the way into its 2019 vibe. The summer songs are blooming and ready for the picking, and "Boy With Luv" is prepared to launch for your next pool party. [6]

Alfred Soto: The lilt in the chorus is closer to Latin pop circa 2000, which shows BTS's stylistic fungibility. Meanwhile, an organ whistle adds a welcome note of discordance. [6]

Thomas Inskeep: They can do better, they've done better, I expect better, and they really don't need Halsey. [4]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: A poorly mixed and awkwardly shoehorned rap break. Extremely basic disco-lite instrumentation that K-pop has been doing for ages (and with far more gusto). A totally unnecessary Halsey feature that only exists to perpetuate BTS's continued reign in the West. It turns out the nondescript title is perfect: this is innocuous, confectionery pop that appeals to the masses because it doesn't have the guts to double down on anything particularly interesting. Even if you didn't like "Fake Love" and "Idol," you couldn't complain that they sounded so devoid of ambition. [3]

Katie Gill: It's a very ballsy move for Halsey to attach her name to a song where she might as well be a session singer and a music video where all the BTS boys blow her out of the water with their dancing skills, but a paycheck is a paycheck. At least she'll get a cut out of the proceedings when ARMY spams this play-by-numbers, middle-of-the-road song all over the internet, turning something just okay into something annoyingly inescapable. [6]

Katherine St Asaph: For the past several days, BTS stans have been tweeting furiously at me, and I assume other music writers, despite my having written literally nothing about their new material except a joke about the acronym "behind the scenes." There's currently a flare-up of Discourse about musicians vs. critics, but it doesn't account for the confusing but ongoing scenario of being yelled at about a review I didn't write. So it comes as an actual relief that this is a very enjoyable neo-disco song, and I can honestly tack a nice, reassuring big number on to this blurb. May whatever applicable god please accept this sacrifice to restore my mentions. [7]

Joshua Copperman: After the past week, I am afraid of BTS stans, so I'm very glad I like this. The guitar line reminds me a lot of early 2010s pop, but the rest of the production has the restraint inherent in this part of the decade. Genius tells me this is like a victory lap after their earlier song "Boy in Luv," and as someone who is a sucker for meta-references, I can get behind that. [7]

Jessica Doyle: On first listen this was a hard [0], Jimin's Cathy Dennis channeling notwithstanding. There's fanservice, and then there's publicly disavowing your previous save-the-world ambitions to better love ARMYs, which rings thoroughly hollow. There's fanservice, and then there's trying so hard -- grins, winks, pastels, trap interludes, even Jin cooing "Come be my teacher," for Christ's sake -- that it ends up calling attention to the very set of circumstances it may be designed to obscure, which is that BTS has become the best-known product of an industry steeped in corruption, exploitation, and rape. (To preempt the reply: no, the guys haven't been accused of anything, and no evidence has surfaced against them. But if they really are worth billions to the South Korean economy, then a lot of people have a lot of incentive to block even innocuous reports about them, let alone the potentially truly horrifying.) Having read more -- though I haven't gotten to RM's breakdown of the lyrics yet -- I don't think the most cynical reading is the best one. I think BTS is trying to convince themselves as much as their audience. "Boy With Luv," while still not my style, feels less now like a total misfire and more an effortful, deliberate commitment. (Meanwhile I choose to believe they're not all sadistic rapists using the group chat to make fun of the women they brutalized. But then, I would.) [5]

Alex Clifton: I saw BTS last October and ended up having a very expensive panic attack. It wasn't my first BTS show, but my friends and I bought pit tickets together and we were all determined to have an Extravagantly Good Time. Between purchase and show, though, I went through a bout of extreme depression. I cared about running, petting stray cats, and making it to the end of each day, in that order. Listening to music was particularly painful, as my brain punished me by taking away the one thing in life that has always kept me afloat. I forced myself to go because I'd spent so much money already, figuring going through the motions might help me feel better. In the pit, though, I left my body; I was surrounded by people who were incandescent with excitement while I couldn't conjure any joy. I saw doom lurking in every face around me, telling me you're not a real fan if you're not excited, you don't deserve to be here, how dare you even show up, you ought to be ashamed. I considered leaving the show but stayed (again, money) and spent the entire time numb, observing rather than participating. For me, the most devastating part was thinking I could never love music -- or anything -- again. BTS had seen me through a depressive spell in 2017, and suddenly one of the brightest things in my life was slipping out of my grasp. It was a scary, weird night. But I've been doing better since October. I'm on different meds. I stopped insulting myself constantly. Music no longer makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I was wary of listening to "Boy With Luv" as the first single After the show; some BTS songs can still trigger anxiety responses and teleport me back to a bad time. I prepared myself for disappointment. But for the first time in months, I woke up with excitement at 5 a.m. to watch the video as it premiered, actual butterflies in my stomach. And I fell in love with this song. I love the "oh my my my" hook. I love the disco-funk. I love how it makes my heart light up like summer. I love the fact that Halsey sings in Korean (!!!) so this isn't a Justin Bieber "burrito/Dorito" "Despacito" disaster. I love that this is a counter to "Boy In Luv" which is such a macho take on impressing girls when "Boy With Luv" shows that the strongest relationship happens when you love yourself. Most of all, I love the fact that I can hear a song and feel happy once more. It's the greatest gift I could ever receive. [9]

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