#ALOS ALSO I HOPE WE SEE MARK MORE SOON I NEED 2 SEE HIM MORE

[an-theduckin]

Sometimes I wish twomp wasn't so centered around plargos. Like yeah they're cute n all but I kinda want 2 see more side characters yk? Most characters just appear in one episode for a few seconds n just disappear forever n yeag I just have alot of love for them n it just makes me sad 2 know I probably will never see them again. Ashur is def expanding on the world building n lore rn so it's probbaly not gonna be 100% centered around plargos in the future but like. More side characters pretty please <33

[dawnwave16]

Gamer Girl

Yes another SAO/MLB crossover.  I love SAO so I can’t help it!  I was going through my grammerly works and saw the start of this and realised I had never completed it despite starting it in Dec so here you go!

Part 1; part 2; part 3; part 4

AO3

Story:

You would think that Lila Rossi’s lies would be exposed quickly once they had been posted onto the Ladyblog. In fact, you would think that they would be exposed almost as soon as they were spoken with someone so smart in the class. Either way, you would be wrong. It had been six months since the Liar had joined the class and the lies she had told still hadn’t been exposed. Marinette had tried at first but she had soon stopped when it became clear to her that as long as Lila had a story to tell, her class would listen.

As a result of this Marinette had stopped trying to protect her class from Lila’s lies. She had taken to simply ignoring her. She had started to ignore her class too. She didn’t make them the huge birthday cakes or mountain of cupcakes anymore. She didn’t bring in cookies for the whole class once a week and she stopped making personal gifts for everyone. If they wanted anything they had to ask for it but that would require that they remembered that she existed first. It was at the stage where if she didn’t remind her class that she was there, they simply forgot her. She honestly didn’t mind though as it had freed up quite a bit of time for her. Her design business had taken off in Japan as she had several friends there. If she wasn’t ladybug she would have considered moving there as she was much happier there then she was here in Paris. It was due to this that when Marinette had any downtime she had taken to gaming again. Not just any gaming but playing VRMMORPG’s. She had been a little wary of them after being caught in SAO several years prior but when Yui had contacted her after Kirito had logged in to ALO to try to save Asuna, she had willingly gone back into a full dive in order to help him and continued to do so as she went on frequent raids with his group. She had met Kirito when he had wandered into her clothing shop looking for a way to either upgrade or replace his black coat on one of the days that she had been running it rather than leaving it to an NPC. The two had partied together at her suggestion to get the correct mats and had become fast friends with him coming to her whenever he wanted his wardrobe upgraded. Unfortunately, she had reduced the amount of time she had spent gaming due to her class relying on her for so much but now that they weren’t, she had picked up where she had left off. Her stats had skyrocketed with her return to gaming and she had realised that her crush had made her act a little like Klien did whenever he saw a pretty girl. As soon as she realised this she had taken a hard look at herself and decided that while Adrien was handsome, he wasn’t worth making a fool of herself over. The fact that the girls in her class weren’t pushing her at him anymore helped with getting her to calm down too and now she was able to speak to him without looking like an idiot. The past week had been quiet. She’d seen her classmates all talking about something but Marinette hadn’t even asked what it was. She had a raid planned with Kirito and the others that she was looking forward too. Unfortunately, Asuna hadn’t woken from SAO. The blow she had taken from Kiyaba when protecting Kirito had killed her and not even the fact that the game had finished extremely soon after that had saved her like it had saved Kirito. The Asuna that had been pictured at the top of the world tree in ALO that had driven Kirito and herself back into gaming so soon after SAO had been cleared had been an AI that had been created by a mad man. Her family had been unwilling to believe that she was dead when everyone else had started to wake up, choosing instead to believe that she was one of the three hundred that were still trapped somehow. It had been a terrible blow to them when they had realised that this was not the case. The planned raid was one planned in her honour as this Saturday marked the anniversary of her death. Marinette still couldn't believe that three years had passed since she had been declared dead, nor could she believe all the VR events that had happened since then. Marinette had found it ironic that, now that she was no longer focused on Adrien, she had been able to see that she had had a crush on Kirito the whole time. When she had realised this the two of them had sat down and had a long conversation about their hopes and dreams. She had told him about her interest in fashion while in SAO and had kept him up to date with how her brand was doing IRL. In turn, he had told her about how his studies were progressing and how frustrated he was becoming by trying to read all the articles coming out of America about the advancements within his chosen field of study. His face when she had suggested that he have Yui run a translation program over them so that he could read them more easily had been fairly comical, even though she had reminded him that it would be in his best interest to learn English properly anyway. Marinette was drawn out of her musings when Mlle Bustier finally managed to get the class's attention. “Class I know this is may come as a surprise to you but due to the fact that Lila has to go to Achu and we won't be able to celebrate her birthday with her on the actual day, we will be hosting a party for her this Saturday.” The class immediately jumped into planning mode. “I'll do the music!” Nino called. “Ooh, Jeluka and I can organise the decorations!” Rose pipped up “Oh please! I'm going to London with Mummy and Daddy and I'm taking Sabrina with me. You losers can count me out.” Chloe sniffed while Sabrina nodded quickly, even though she didn't look too happy about it. “We could have the party at the park,” Mylene suggested which had Kim, Max, Alix and Ivan nodding eagerly in agreement. “I can't guys, my father has me scheduled for an all-day photo shoot,” Adrien said while he rubbed the back of his neck and appeared regretful. Marinette doubted it but she didn't say anything. “Awe, that's too bad, maybe we can facetime you in one or two of your breaks? I can organise that easily!” Alya tried to comfort him by saying. Marinette shared a look with Nathaniel who shook his head showing that he didn't but this story any more than she did. “What about you, Marinette?” Mlle Bustier said in a sickly sweet tone as though she expected Marinette would agree no matter what her real plans were. The class looked at her expecting her to say she would organise the food because none of the others had offered to do so. “I have plans for Saturday,” Marinette stated calmly. Mlle Bustiers eyes turned cold even as the class started to protest and say she had to organise the food. “Now Marinette, don't you think it would be nice to organise the food for the party?” Mlle Bustier's voice was saccharine sweet as she tried to convince Marinette that she should just comply. “If you want the bakery to do the catering you need to place an order and pay for it like everyone else. I have babysitting for Madam Chamack in the morning while she does her grocery shopping and has a few other appointments. I also have plans for the afternoon but those are personal and something I have been helping to plan for a while now. I can't back out of them now.” Marinette rebutted firmly. She was going on the raid in Asuna's memory no matter what. As she spoke the expectant gazes of her class had turned to glares. “Look, you guys haven't wanted me around for over six months. I have resigned as class president, giving that title to Alya.” Just as Marinette was about to explain more, Kagami walked in wearing a yukata. It took a moment for the class to notice her but Marinette noticed something that the class hadn't noticed and quickly walked towards her. “Do you need some help with retying your yukata?” She asked quietly, not realising that she had slipped into Japanese as she spoke. “Please,” Kagami's voice was filled with relief even as she let Marinette adjust and retie the garment. “How do you know how to do this, let alone speak Japanese so well?” Kagami asked as Marinette worked. Neither girl noticed the class staring at the two of them in shock. When everything was tied properly Marinette stepped back. “I have my own set of yukatas from some of my closest friends in Japan. When you spend as much time with people as I did in the game, you try to find other things to keep you occupied other than grinding for levels. Asuna, Lisbeth and Silica all got together to teach me how to tie mine without relying on in-game mechanics. They also worked on my accent which is why I barely have one when I switch to Japanese, or so I have been told.” Marinette smiled sadly as she remembered the times they had gotten together to have a girls night at one of their homes. The game mechanics meant that they hadn't been able to do much by way of dress up or spa treatments but because Marinette had the tailoring skill she could manipulate fabrics and they had taught her that way. She shook her head quickly and looked back to Kagami. “Are you comfortable?” Kagami nodded and thanked her and they spoke for a little while longer before Kagami left and Marinette turned to walk back to her seat, only to see the class staring at her. “What?” “Marinette, what was that? What language were you speaking? Since when are you and Kagami friends?” The three questions had been thrown at her by Alya, Mlle Bustier and Adrien. Marinette sighed and shook her head then answered. “In order, that as you so eloquently put it Alya, was me helping Kagami to retie her yukata as it is always easier to do when someone helps you, especially if you want one of the more complicated knots. The language, Mlle Bustier, was Japanese. One of the five languages I speak fluently. The other three are Cantonese, Italian and English. I didn't list French as it should be obvious. And as for your question Adrien, Kagami and I became friends on Friendship day

while playing that game. I stuck to French that day so I'm not sure she knew to come here but it doesn't matter.” Marinette was walking back to her seat as she spoke, taking care watch where she put her feet as the class had taken to trying to trip her every so often. “Why did you need my help when your uncle visited then if you can speak Cantonese?” Adrien said in bafflement. “Simple. Uncle Fu speaks Mandarin not Cantonese so we wouldn't have been able to understand each other. I also thought you might enjoy a day practising a language that you were being taught rather than just reading it.” Marinette replied with a small smile even as she sat down again. The class was still glaring at her but she ignored them and Lila quickly reclaimed their attention with some false tears and a sob story. By the time Saturday came around the class had forgotten all about the incident with Kagami and Marinette's refusal to help out with the food or having anything to do with the party. This left the class scrambling to organise food and drinks in time and unfortunately made everything a lot less enjoyable then they had hoped it would be. Marinette, on the other hand, had had a fabulous time looking after Mamon as Kagami and her mother had come round and between them they had dressed Mamon up in different yukatas and kimonos, teaching Mamon how to speak a few words in Japanese at the same time. Despite her very stern nature, Kagami's mother had seemed pleased to be passing on a small part of her culture to others who were eager to learn. The raid had gone well too and she and Kirito along with the others had shared some of their favourite stories about Asuna once it had been completed. Despite the sombre reason for the gathering, everyone had made the effort to be happy and to celebrate the good times they had had with her and with each other. They had held the get together at Marinette's home, which was above her in-game shop so they hadn't needed to worry about finding a private spot when they were ready to log off. When Marinette had walked into class on Monday, she had expected to be bombarded with stories of how great the party was. Instead, she was met with sullen glares and dead silence. Marinette raised an eyebrow but shrugged and ignored them, turning her attention back to her phone. She had woken up an hour early but instead of getting up straight away she had started messaging Kirito as he had been online. They had finally decided to give dating a try the previous day but they were taking things fairly slowly. Currently, they were talking about if she would be able to visit during the upcoming school holidays and trying to work out the logistics if she got permission to do so. “Marinette.” Mlle Bustier called. “Yes, Mlle Bustier?” “I thought you were going to do the food for Lila's party on Saturday. Where were you?” Marinette raised an eyebrow. “I told you I had plans for Saturday and that I would not be at the party.” “Marinette, remember what I said about -” “Mlle Bustier” Marinette cut her off, “While you might think that babysitting and going to the memorial of a friend is less important than a party for someone who does not like me, I don't. While my friend was declared dead three years ago, Saturday was the first time any of us had the chance to truly get together and remember her. Asuna died trying to give others a chance to live and she deserved to be remembered by those of us who were closest to her.” Marinette's voice was sharp and her tone was ice-cold as she spoke. Mlle Bustier and the rest of Marinette's class stared at her. “Footage was recently released of how she died if you are callous enough to demand proof. Unfortunately, I think you are because if anyone except Lila tells all of you anything you just swallow it but as soon as it's to do with anyone else you insist on having proof.” Marinette could tell that the class was about to start shouting at her but she ignored them and looked at her phone only to freeze. From what she was seeing, Yui had copied herself onto her phone and found all the videos from the past six months, as well as recording the confrontation that had just happened and sent it to the School Board. Marinette had planned to try to get a bit more evidence before she did that but it seemed that Yui had decided enough was enough. She was brought out of her frozen state when she heard Max asking if he had permission to play the video he had found for the class. She was about to warn them that it was fairly violent but Mlle Bustier had already granted her permission and Markov was projecting the video of the final SAO battle against the Skull Reaper on the white screen that Mlle Bustier had pulled down to cover the blackboard. The class watched in horrified amazement at what was being shown and gasped when they saw the younger Marinette on the screen amid the fighters. Marinette could see they were wanting to point out the fact that this was a game, you couldn't die because of a game and that none of the female players had died in that fight when they saw that Marinette's eyes hadn't left the screen and that the video hadn't ended. They gasped in horror as they watched everyone collapse to the floor and screamed when a girl jumped between the two players that were duelling, killing her. The video ended and the class was silent. Marinette spoke then, breaking the silence in a voice that was so brittle and hollow that none of them knew what to think. “What you just watched was the final two fights of SAO. The girl that died was my friend Asuna Yuuki. Before you say it's just a game, get Max to look up the details. It was well documented. I'm going home, don't bother to try to stop me. You just made me watch my friend die AGAIN, I think I've earned my mental health day. I will stay in this class for the rest of the term, then I will be transferring to a different class. I want nothing to do with any of you anymore, Mlle Bustier I hope you are proud of yourself for letting things escalate to this.” Having said her piece, Marinette turned round and walked out of the room. She knew there would probably be Akumas that would be created by what had just happened but at that moment she just wanted to be alone. Or better yet, surrounded by here real friends.

[avatoh]

Still taking Shassie requests? I'd love anything hurt/comfort, preferably with some hurt!Shawn?

Hi! Yes I am still taking prompts! I have two more to write, but if you didn’t hate my writing style, feel free to prompt me again! I’m so sorry it took so long! I lost my glasses & couldn’t write for like 5 days and found them yesterday in the actual trash after much searching.

Anyway, Story Below the cut:

Ao3 link:

The theme song from “Cops” woke him up; his phone was ringing.

“Hello?” Lassiter answered, rolling himself to a sitting position on his sticky pleather couch.

The summer heat, along with his cold air conditioning directly hitting his body, had somehow caused him to fall into an uncharacteristic deep slumber in the middle of the evening.

“Lassie!” came Shawn’s all too familiar voice on the other end of the line. “How’ve you been, buddy? It’s been hot out today, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said back in a cautious voice. It was Monday, his day off, and the last thing he wanted to deal with was Shawn bugging him.

“Anyway, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I really need-”

“No,” Lassiter said outright.

“You didn’t even hear what I had to say!”

“I don’t need to. The answer is still no.”

“How about if you do this for me, I promise not to show my face to you at the SBPD for a whole week?” Shawn begged.

“No.”

“Two weeks!” Shawn implored. “That’s my final offer.”

“Fine,” Lassiter resigned himself. The offer was just too tempting. “What do you want from me?”

“I have a little problem-” Shawn began.

Lassiter stayed silent on his end of the line, waiting for him to continue with what he was saying.

“Okay, a big problem,” Shawn continued.

“What? Are you going to tell me what’s happened or are you going to continue wasting my time?”

“Can you come over and pick me up? I’m at the beach right now.”

“Is that all you need? I just come and get you at the beach and I don’t have to see your face for two whole weeks?”

“Yes and no-” Shawn started.

“Spit it out already.”

“I may have accidentally taken a nap…and fallen asleep. At the beach. For a few- okay- maybe five or so hours.”

“You didn’t…”

“I did.”

Lassiter sighed and grabbed his keys. Shawn gave him directions to the beach and then his exact location.

“You owe me $3 for hourly parking and you-” Lassiter stopped mid-sentence when he came upon Shawn. “Oh. Wow.”

“I know,” Shawn agreed as he was sprawled out on a towel with the sun still beating down on him.

“I thought you were exaggerating.”

“Evidently, I am not,” Shawn gestured with his neck as best he could. “Ow. A little help here.”

“Can you move at all?”

“Not really.”

Shawn’s entire back, neck, arms and, legs was beet red. Basically everywhere on his body was covered with a nasty sunburn, excluding the area of skin that his trunks were covering.

“I’m in pain.”

Lassiter circled around him, inspecting his scorched body slowly. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

“I want you to help  me!?” Shawn cried.

“Right,” Lassiter said slowly. “But what do I do?”

“I can’t move,” Shawn said.

“Yes, we’ve already been through this-”

“Lassie, please. Help me up.”

“Help you…Your red all over. Where do I touch you?!”

“Anywhere. I just- ugh- need to get up. I can’t do it myself. I already tried.”

Lassiter took a quick glance around the beach before looking back at Shawn. ’Well, here goes nothing,’ he thought. Shawn let out a pained shriek as soon as Lassiter grabbed him and Lassiter immediately recoiled.

“Sorry. Sorry,” Shawn said quickly. “God. Ah! Okay, hold on.”

“Are you ready now?” Lassiter asked after a while as Shawn adjusted and steadied himself.

“Yeah, I think so,” Shawn squeaked out. “Count with me.”

“1-2-3, Up!” They roared in unison. Shawn was up and Lassiter led him to his car as quickly as he could without causing Shawn too much pain. He fastened his sea tbelt up in the passenger’s seat and saw  white indentation marks where his hands had just been on Shawn’s body.

“Do you think we need to go to the hospital?” he asked, a little worried.

“Nah. I think I’m fine. Just really really sore and need some rest,” Shawn assured him.

Lassiter started up his car with a face full of concern. It really wasn’t his place, but Shawn didn’t look too well to him. They drove for awhile, but not in the direction of either of their homes.

“Where are we going?” Shawn asked.

“I’m taking you to a clinic.”

“Why?”“If you’re not going to be a responsible adult and take care of your own body, then I will for you. It’d put me at ease just to make sure you didn’t get sun poisoning or anything. I don’t want to go home with a guilty conscious or have you calling me back once I’ve settled in at home.”

“You’re not the one with a sunburn on your back-”

“Juliet, Guster, The Chief, everyone would be mad at me if I didn’t do this for you, okay? You don’t want them to be worried about you, do you?”

“I guess not.”

They pulled up to a small medical building for non-emergencies. The parking lot was not too full, which looked promising. They parked in the front.

“Do you think you can get out of the car?”

“Shawn let out a deep sigh. “If you help me.”

It took about 40 minutes in the waiting room for them to see someone. Shawn seemed to be quite antsy waiting. Perhaps he didn’t like hospitals, Lassiter thought. The man kept bouncing his leg lightly and twiddling his thumbs as best he could with his sunburn. Lassiter touched his knee against Shawn’s and he stilled his actions.They were told Shawn should be fine and some at-home treatment was required to help with his burn. He was also informed to watch out for blistering and nausea or vomiting that might occur. It was immediately recommended that Shawn take a cool shower, some pain meds, and put moisturizer on his body.

They left feeling better about having gone and Lassiter drove Shawn back to his apartment and up his stairs.

“Well hope you heal up soon, Spencer.” he said outside the door. “Take that shower and the recommended meds. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“Lassie-” Shawn said quietly.

Lassiter groaned without Shawn having to say any more and came back to his side. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the hall.”

“Can you shower alright?”

“Yeah. I just might need some help turning it on.”

They walked to the room together and Lassiter stood outside the door while Shawn took a shower with his swim trunks still on. When he was done, he removed the swimsuit and wrapped a towel around his body. Lassiter had gotten him some water and ibuprofen when he was out.

“Where do you want me to leave you?” he asked

“Can we go to my bed?” They walked together slowly. It surprised Shawn how patient Lassiter was being with him. “I’ll try to rest for a bit before Gus gets off work. Then I’ll call him.”

“Do you need help with putting on the lotion before I leave?” Lassiter tentatively asked as he settled him in.

“Eager to get your hands on me, aren’t you?” Shawn smirked with a chuckle.

“It’s not like that,” Lassiter said. He felt his heart jump in his chest despite himself. “I’m going to tell you something I don’t want you mentioning again. I got sunburned really badly once. Got stranded in the middle of the desert on a case. The burn was about as bad as yours right now, except I had blisters and heat stroke. I didn’t go to the doctors straight away, but I wish I had.”

“I didn’t know that could happen,” Shawn said.

“Me either. I thought it was no big deal at the time. And like you, I didn’t have anyone there when I got back home for me at the time. It was a real bitch of a healing process. And taking care myself, especially putting on the lotion and Aloe was terrible.”

“That’s why you’re so eager to help me.”

“I’ve been shot before, but a full- body sunburn is a different kind of pain. I know how it hurts everywhere. How even the brush of fabric stings you. I’m not entirely sure you can even reach some of the burned areas in your condition.”

“RIght. There’s some nice moisturizing lotion that might help in the nightstand, if you want.”

Lassiter gave him a cautious eyebrow and went to the furnishing.

“It’s an unopened bottle right next to the lube.”

He groaned and retrieved it without much looking into the contents of the drawer. Shawn was placed on his stomach in the middle of the bed and Lassier climbed up and sat besides him. He didn’t bother warming up the lotion in his hands like he had the urge to, because that would defeat the purpose of what he was doing, and put a dab of it straight onto Shawn’s body. Using the pads of his fingers only, he began lightly rubbing the lotion onto Shawn’s burnt skin.

“Now that’s the stuff,” Shawn purred into his mattress, clearly in relief.

Lassiter continued his ministrations across his back and down his body. “Legs okay too?”

“Of course!” Shawn winced.

Shawn wasn’t as strong as he pretended to be. Lassiter was trying his best to be soft with his touches, but he could tell that Shawn was in a lot of pain as he moved his hands up and down his body with the soothing lotion.

“Thank you,” Shawn mumbled when he was done.

“Two weeks,” Lassiter chided.

“But you’ll come and visit me, won’t you? The deal was that I won’t show up at the office. You can still visit me here if you want. You were a great nurse today and I don’t think I’d mind your hands slathering lotion on me again. You  helped me a great deal today, Lassie. I owe you one.”

“If you really need me, I-”

“I always need you, Lassie. I mean it.”

“You can have someone else anytime you want though-”

“No. I want you.”

“You want me?” Lassiter breathed.

“Yeah, I want you. There’s no one else like you. You’re the one and only Carlton Lassiter who can satisfy me and do the job right. Don’t make yourself a stranger around here, you hear?”

“You can’t possibly mean that Shawn. This is the first time I’ve come to your place in all this time I’ve known you.”

“And this is the 593rd time I’ve invited you. If I’d had know that getting a sunburn was the thing that was finally going to get you over here, I would have done it sooner.”

“No you wouldn’t have.”

“If you’re ever bored, or need a friend, a great monopoly player, easy-bake-oven chef, or a lover,” Shawn said with a twitch of a smile hiding something more,“come back.”

“I will.”

[smartalker]

Magpie Bridge [2/10 - Orihime]

ENTITLED: Magpie Bridge FANDOM: Mass Effect Andromeda - Reyes/Ryder RATING: M LENGTH: 50k via 10 chapters GENRE: Romance/Sci-Fi/Drama/Humor, in that order SUMMARY: With the Kett subdued and Andromeda’s terraforming system running at full power, Kadara Port swiftly establishes itself as the trade capital of the galaxy. The city’s unique combination of affluence, corruption, and growing power inevitably earns the ire of both the Nexus, and Aya. Under tremendous pressure to disavow a known criminal’s legitimacy, Ryder once again returns to Kadara hoping to broker peace, but the Charlatan wants something very different from her… ALT SUMMARY: Two people fall in love, galaxy breaks.

Ryder was different, but in a way that was hard to explain. Rather than changing, she had become more of herself. More confident, more focused. If life could be seen as a series of blows and each strike was another opportunity to shape a person, she had sharpened. Like a blade beneath the blacksmith’s hammer, she had solidified, shook off excesses—rather than bending.

Reyes leaned out over the veranda’s railing. He was at a local favorite, a new restaurant that specialized in breading and frying the local vegetation. The establishment’s peak hours hung between midnight and dawn, the darkest time. Kadara’s vegetation naturally contained weak toxin that, when warmed correctly, could act as a psychedelic for both humans, Angara, and the Asari.

“Waiting for someone?”

Distracted, Reyes reached for his battered leaves. The waitress who’d spoken to him raised her eyebrows. He’d been squatting for nearly half an hour, and the place was overflowing. “You could say that,” Reyes conceded. “But I think it’s going to be a while.”

Annoyed, the waitress eyed him for another moment, then left. He’d have to buy a round for the house soon.

Another important change: Ryder had more freckles.

Reyes considered the aesthetics of freckles as he checked his omni-tool. Nothing. Quiet.

The street below was very dark.

“Not much of a view,” said a soft, low voice.

He glanced back over his shoulder. A petite Asari in clean, new-looking space armor was lounging at a nearby table. She had a small, smug smile, and very dark lipstick. Once she knew he’d seen her, the Asari stood, and picked her way towards him. She was very slight, almost underdeveloped. No scars. Young? Hard to tell. “So who is this person you’re waiting for?” she asked. “A woman?”

“Of course,” Reyes smiled easily. “She takes her time. But I am very good at waiting.”

She regarded him for a moment, her black eyes curving with laughter. “Forgive me. A human is never patient.”

She attacked a half-second later than he’d predicted, with monstrous, raw biotics. Her power was wild, unrefined. It blew out the balcony’s iron railing and sent the now mangled metalwork not only across the street, but through the neighboring building’s wall. If he’d been slower, he’d have been dead. There were screams as those who had avoided the balcony’s blast rushed back into the restaurant—and still more commotion from the street below. Reyes scrambled to his feet, smiling at his attacker. “I thought someone was watching me.”

The Asari was frozen, her eyes livid. She writhed ineffectively at the biotic chokehold his bodyguards had slapped upon her. The veins in her hands bulged, and receded again into her skin. She stared at him, furious, still trying to smile. “You are more important than I had realized.”

“Perhaps.”

“You met with the Pathfinder,” the Asari snapped, her voice clear, almost loud. Was she wearing a wire? Or perhaps she had an accomplice? Reyes kept his features even, careful. He’d been with Ryder only hours before. His opponents were quick. The Asari continued speaking, with that same aggressive, almost confident tone. “Has the Charlatan allied himself with the Nexus? Are they finally ready to pay attention to the problem they can’t contain?”

“I thought the Charlatan was a woman,” Reyes said mildly. His assassin sneered.

“The Angara is nothing. Don’t take us for fools. Tell the Charlatan he can wear as many faces as he wants. We will rip them away, one by one, until there is nowhere left to hide.”

“Tell her yourself!” Reyes said brightly. Her jaw locked, struggling. Reyes watched apathetically. “I always wondered, why do would someone with biotics bother with poison? Surely you can just blow yourself up. Can’t you?”

The Asari’s jaw, frozen to keep her from biting down, strained to answer him, or to end things. You could never be too careful. He kept watching her as the mental chokehold’s pressure increased, until finally, she wavered, her eyelids fluttering. Her body fell pitifully to the ground, and as Reyes searched her, he realized that her slightness was, in fact, to be expected. She was barely more than a child.

She was carrying Angaran daggers, Initiative boosters, and her armor was worth more than the average mercenary could afford, sporting some kind of stylish shield tech he hadn’t seen before. Scans showed that several of her teeth were filled with poison, but she would need to crush her molars to access it. It would be very painful.

Reyes glanced up as his two shadows slid forward, awaiting his orders. He’d chosen the twins—a pair of ancient human biotics, the sort of old women whose discretion could be matched only by their uncaring savagery. Reyes had never liked using the Asari commandos. Too flashy. “Take her back to Keema. Whoever’s sponsoring her already knows she’s been captured, we might as well make sure the Initiative knows it too. When she wakes up, see what you can get out of her.”

“If she refuses to cooperate? We kill her?” one of the old women asked.

Child murderers. Leaving little bodies in the streets. Reyes sighed. Annoying, when the child had lived longer than him. “We’ll give her to the Pathfinder. The Nexus can take her into custody.”

The old women exchanged glances. Telepathy? He would have believed it. Respectfully, one woman dipped her head, considering the young Asari. “There is a chance she may be able to divulge something unsavory to the Nexus…” she trailed off, her silence fat with meaning.

Torturer. Murderer. Sadist. Ryder’s face, when she’d seen what he did to Avitus as punishment for failing to renounce Sloane. Her face, when she’d seen him as the Charlatan, known that even the title he’d chosen for himself marked him as a liar. Her face, aging and recoiling before his eyes, her obvious and instinctive horror. The moment he had realized that there was a part of him she would never, ever be able to see without flinching.

Absently, Reyes dusted the rubble off his thighs, and turned away. “Get what you can from her. Keep her alive. Make sure she’ll never be able to tell anyone, anything. Especially not the Pathfinder.”

Decision: he liked her new freckles.

As Ryder’s party stripped out of their armor and boarded the Tempest, several heads popped around the corridor’s corners to watch. “Nice to see you’re back,” was Lexi’s greeting. It seemed innocent enough. Ryder was already afraid.

“We just stopped for a drink on the way back,” Ryder explained, her voice oddly high-pitched. She glanced hopefully at Drack and Cora, neither of whom seemed interested in covering for her.

Lexi’s arms were crossed, her spine rigid. Very slowly, and with considerably deliberation, her weight shifted to one hip. “Of course,” the doctor acknowledged. “A drink.”

Or several. Ryder grumbled, then realized that Drack had apparently mastered the art of evaporation. Her favorite Krogan was nowhere to be seen.

Lexi had privately decided that she didn’t have the energy to badger someone who regarded their internal organs as currency, and she now settled into easier targets with a sense of relative comfort. “I’m not sure where to start. Wait, yes, I do. Cora?”

Cora’s mouth actually dropped a little. She looked indignantly at Ryder. “Me? Why am I being singled out?”

“Did you even wear sunscreen?” Lexi demanded.

“Yes.” Cora said, immediately and definitively and shifty as hell.

Scans reveal she is lying, SAM pitched in.

“Sunscreen is important,” Ryder pitched in. “Very anti-cancer, that stuff. Yep.” She slunk rapidly towards the nearest escape route, and was more than a little perturbed when Lexi’s hand snagged her jacket sleeve, especially since there should have been several meters separating them. Ryder smiled nervously. “You’re pretty speedy for a Doctor.”

“Aloe vera,” Lexi barked at Cora, who was actually jogging down the hall. Casually. Casual jogging. Lexi returned her glare to Ryder. “And you.”

The Pathfinder wore sunscreen, SAM reported. Nice to know someone was on her side.

“I thought we were arresting your boyfriend,” Lexi growled. “I don’t see a detainee. SAM’s monitors show your oxytocin excretion levels all over the place!”

“I don’t think the word excretion should be allowed on this ship?” Ryder said, to the ceiling. “I also would like to point out that SAM is a traitor and this is totally an invasion of privacy? Just, you know. For the captain’s log.” Lexi was still holding/pinning her by the arm. Which was buzzing. Her arm was buzzing? For one wild moment Ryder wondered if her weird headaches had migrated, but no, it was just her omni-tool. Someone was calling.

“Ryder, you might be able to lie to me, but your body can’t. And I am telling you, as your doctor, you cannot rationally or fairly involve yourself in this mission.” Lexi insisted. Ryder groaned. Why was Lexi so smart and caring? Why couldn’t she be a practitioner of the Band-Aid cure-all methodology? Twisting the knife still deeper, Lexi’s tone softened (her arresting grip did not). “Personally, Ryder, I don’t want to see you or anyone else be hurt. I kept quiet before now because, to be blunt, I knew you wouldn’t listen to me. I also was unable to argue that someone else would be better suited to the job. But I cannot continue to sanction your behavior without, at the very least, regular psychological evaluations.”

Trapped like a rat. The psych evals weren’t bad, truthfully. Lexi was a big believer in comfort as a facilitator of intimacy, meaning she had a very nice couch.

The Pathfinder is considering stabbing a fork through her hand to avoid discussing her feelings, SAM reported. Lexi’s attention diverted.

“Left or right?”

Non-dominant.

“At least you’ve still kept some pragmatism,” Lexi acknowledged. She let go of Ryder’s arm. “Fine. Collect yourself first. But then, we talk.”

Ryder nodded furiously, almost disbelieving her good luck as Lexi turned to go. For good measure, and because she was an excellent doctor, Lexi still remembered to nag. “And for the love of the Goddess, hydrate yourself.”

“Yes. Hydration and reflection. Doing that,” Ryder noted, already checking her omni-tool. Reyes? Reyes.

Meet me tomorrow morning? Café called Tiramisu.

Hell yeah.

Keema flinched the moment she saw him. Reyes preferred to work from the shadows when he could—but there were some things that had to be done in person. And there’d been a time in his past when he’d been good—very good—at climbing in through people’s windows. Even the locked ones. Even the ones that should have been impossible to open, like the window to Keema’s private quarters. “My god,” Keema breathed. She pressed a hand to her breast, likely more for dramatic effect than shock. “There’s no need to glare.” She recovered herself, obviously stalling for time as she waltzed to her private collection of liqueurs. “Drink?”

“I told you to keep your mouth shut,” Reyes snarled. He’d meant to keep things cool. Plans changed.

Keema didn’t quite look at him. “I disagreed.”

Reyes rolled to his feet. A weird, unknown energy vibrated through his limbs. Keema poured, offered. He shook his head. “I don’t want her involved.”

“She is involved.” Keema snapped, and tossed down her shot. She smacked her lips angrily. “Don’t let your feelings get in the way of yourself. The Pathfinder is more than capable of handling herself. She’ll probably find the fake Charlatan before you can.”

Reyes ground his teeth. “Not everyone will be able to tell the difference between the good and the bad, when this fake is found.”

“So that’s it?” Keema’s face began to glow. “I don’t understand you at all.” She poured again, almost forcing the next drink on him. “You worry what she’ll think of you.”

“I worry about losing our alliance—”

“She wouldn’t dare. And you know it. You’re a nasty piece of work that likes pretending to be just rough around the edges. And she’ll find out. And she’ll hate you,” Keema laughed. “You know, I sometimes wonder. What do you tell her about yourself?”

Extremely little. Reyes pulled himself back, returned to the dark window he’d cut his way through. The cold air helped, moderately. He’d come too far to lose control like this. “I should have listened to you,” he conceded, relieved to hear his tone could pass for polite. “Your concerns are real ones.”

“If I’d known it only took a human woman to make you back down, I’d have found you one sooner,” Keema snipped. Reyes drank before answering. Whatever she’d given him was hot, and painful, and nasty.

He turned back to Keema, offering a pleasant smile. “Now who’s being petty?”

“I beg your pardon,” Keema replied.

Cold air. He could be cold. “Your decision to ask for the Pathfinder’s help was the right one. But you still made it without me. I can’t have you making those calls on your own.”

At last, Keema nodded. “I know.”

“We were both wrong. Let’s agree to put this behind us.” He thought about leaping back out the window. It seemed a little dramatic. Reyes headed for the door, adding as he left, “Do this again, and you’re done.”

Reyes was late.

Ryder slouched back against her chair, ignoring SAM’s reminder that doing so would atrophy her muscles. Reyes was late. Of course. No biggie. Except that she was the Pathfinder and how dare he keep the Pathfinder waiting. Just saying.

Kadara was sleepy in the morning. It felt cleaner. Less crowded, that was for sure, but she also could have been feeling lonely thanks to her decision to shake her team. ‘Shake her team’ meaning ‘sneak out of the Tempest,’ a thing that was generally frowned upon and, definitely, bad. Very bad. Bad Pathfinder.

Ryder rubbed her eyes, sulking. She deserved to sulk. She was good at her job and responsible and could shoot a bird out of the sky at 500 meters. Did Kadara have birds? Irrelevant. Point was: people needed to get off her back because she had this.

Suddenly, darkness. A hand, hot and very dry covering her eyes. Close enough for her eyelashes to graze. She should have been afraid. She shouldn’t have relaxed. It was a very big and very stupid problem that she relaxed. “You should take off your armor sometimes,” Reyes mused. “It’s just me.”

Ryder twisted around, pretending to glare. “Do you have some sort of problem with approaching so people can see you?”

“No, just you.”

“Why just me?”

He took his time strolling around the table, claiming his seat opposite her. Even as he pretended to pout, his face was alive with laughter, almost mocking. “You’re so good at running away from me. I don’t want to play nice anymore.”

“That’s not fair.” Ryder protested, with new guilt. Did he think she was running away? She wasn’t running away. She was doing Pathfinder things.

“Isn’t it?” he smiled, almost gently. “Don’t look so upset.”

Ryder blushed, feeling stupid. Of course he didn’t think that. He probably didn’t think of her at all. She tried for a breezy laugh. “Upset! I’m not upset. Anyway. You’re supposed to be telling me about the bad guys.”

“What’s your rush?”

“Uh,” Ryder clamped her mouth shut. She was truthfully not even sure where to begin. Her sense of duty? Professionalism? Her crew’s constant vigilance and clear dissatisfaction with the mission at hand? “Nothing. No rush.”

“Such a bad liar. I almost want to teach you.”

“Why don’t you?”

He just looked at her. Defiant, Ryder stared back. He looked tired. A little older than she remembered. What was he doing that made so worn out? Did he ever get hurt—would he even tell her if he was? Would he tell her anything?

Reyes smirked, and she shook herself free of her thoughts. “Have you eaten?”

“Is it safe?”

“Don’t be that way.” Reyes leaned back, settling himself more comfortably into his chair. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you.”

“About me? What about me?” Ryder squinted at him, suspicious.

“This time apart, has it changed things? Between us? You seem more distant.”

“Distant!” Ryder squeaked, now indignant. “We kissed!”

“No. I kissed you.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“I like it better the other way.”

“You would.” Ryder snorted, then caught herself. She was not going to spend the morning flirting. She had definitely promised herself that. Trying for neutral ground, she gestured at their surroundings. “Why this place? Come here often?”

He rocked forward, pulling his chest over the small table between them. There was a new scar on his forearm, almost startlingly white against his skin. Ryder promised herself not to ask. Watching his shoulders hunch, the way he filled the space in front of her, she struggled to accept his physicality. It was ironic, considering how much time she spent ignoring Liam as he paraded his abs across the Tempest. “It might surprise you to know that it isn’t easy to get good coffee on this space rock,” Reyes intimated. He did his usual sign language with a passing waitress, which Ryder watched jealously.

“Let me guess—you drink it black?”

“Are you out of your mind? Three spoons of sugar. I like them sweet.” He winked.

Ryder stared.

Reyes giggled. “Okay. Sorry.”

“My father would have punched you.” Their coffee arrived. Ryder drank it straight, with a poker face that was almost murderous.

“You old soldier,” Reyes continued to snicker. He leaned back, now trilling an R at her. She kicked him under the table.

“Stop giggling! And! This coffee is terrible!”

“Like I said, you’d be surprised how hard it is to get good coffee on this space rock—”

She kicked him again. “Did you seriously just call me here to drink bad coffee with me?”

“I dream of the day,” Reyes returned. He was coming down from whatever giddiness he’d felt before now, and she felt sorry for it. Ryder glanced down. Her stomach was cramping. She should have eaten something.

The moment stretched and dropped between them. Their silence shrank and made space for the noise of the world around them. Ryder let herself relax, feeling oddly at peace. Beneath the morning sun, saying nothing with a dangerous man, she drank her bad coffee and watched him wake up.

Reyes finished his drink and offered his hand to her, “Come with me?”

She thought about refusing. Or even just asking questions. Instead, she followed. She followed him down side streets, through dizzying crowds of people, into long, dark hallways. Past empty apartments and arguing peddlers. Two fire-eaters were about to brawl for a street corner, their eyes and their flames both flashing. She followed him until she realized that she was lost—so lost that it would be hard to find her way back out, even with SAM. There had been too many things to see, so much to take in. “Will you be escorting me back out of here?” she asked him, half joking. He had never let go of her hand.

Reyes stopped. “I’ll consider it. What do you think of this?”

She wasn’t sure what she was looking at. It seemed like just another of Kadara’s alleys—small, foul-smelling. There was one thing, though—it was empty. An empty path in a city swollen with people.

The street is freshly washed, SAM noted. Ryder’s fingers clenched.

“Did someone die here?” she asked. Reyes glanced at her. He had been looking at the wall. Surprised, Ryder followed his gaze.

“Yes. There was a child here,” he agreed. There was something about the wall. She could sense it. Cautiously, Ryder reached to brush the rough-cut stone with her fingers. Someone had painted this building green—but not recently. At least a year ago. She was just about to ask SAM to run a scan for a deeper analysis, when she saw it.

“It’s a face?” she asked, already knowing the answer. She reached out to touch the left eye’s image. SAM was scanning. Rather than painting or drawing the face, someone had gone into the stone itself, and cut out a rough approximation of human features. The overall effect suggested that someone had just begun to emerge through the wall, face-first. “Well, that’s creepy.”

“Isn’t it?” Reyes asked. “It took me a while to notice too. They usually use the victim’s blood to paint something ridiculous on the walls, which covers up the face. It’s only after things are washed away that you see it.”

“The others were like this too?”

Reyes sighed. “There are others. Not all. The problem is there are too many copycats. Someone’s seen the paintings but not what hides beneath them, is my guess.”

She had to tell her crew. “You have pictures of the others, right? Can you send them to me?”

“Done,” Reyes agreed. He waited for her to finish scanning, then reached her wrist. “I’ll take you back.”

She looked around once more, then followed him obediently. He glanced back at her, grinning. “Some date.”

“We have our own style.”

He laughed. “I like that.”

He’d trusted her, letting her in. She felt good. “Is that the only thing you like?”

“It’s a start,” Reyes murmured. He’d paused to touch a passing door knob—and he’d twisted—something? But with the barest push she heard a lock snap and in the next second Reyes tugged her wrist, and she was in, off the street and in his arms, while whirls of lazy dust lit the air with gold around them.

Her heart was racing. “You came prepared.”

“I am always prepared,” he pulled her more tightly against him. “Are you impressed?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Yes,” he said, and just barely in time. Ryder lifted herself onto her toes, and pressed her mouth to his. She didn’t want to hurry. As she kissed him she peeked one eye open. He kissed her with his eyes closed. Somehow, this thrilled her. She broke away to kiss his eyelids, and beneath her mouth, they trembled.

“Silly,” he whispered.

She wanted him. She had to go back to the ship. She wanted him.

He knew it.

She pushed herself away, unsuccessfully.

“Where are you going?” Reyes asked, his mouth grazing the edge of her ear—a feeling between ticklish, and an itch. She wasn’t going to look at him. She wasn’t going to look. She looked.

“This isn’t going to work,” she hissed through tight, determined teeth. “I can’t do this right now. I snuck out while everyone was sleeping to be here, I—I said I wouldn’t do this.”

“Okay.” Reyes didn’t let go. “But do it anyway.” He pushed her hair back, rough hands on her neck, holding the base of her skull just a little too firmly. He kissed, lovingly, the extent of her throat. He bit, hard enough to make her gasp.

“Distracting me is definitely not going to work—”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.” He was pulling on her armor. No, he was barely touching it. Like a lock pick, her gear fell around her, like nothing had been standing in his way to begin with. Her shield plate, nearly banging her foot as it dropped. She didn’t even know that her arms could feel naked, but they did—they did. She couldn’t bring herself to even think about stopping him, not when it was so easy—why was it always so easy for him?

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” Ryder protested, barely hearing herself. He had knelt, and was unthreading the straps and snaps around her legs. Her thighs, now, bared to the air. Unconsciously, she reached to touch his hair, only just grazing the side of his head with her fingertips. He looked up at her, his face now catching the sunlight, his eyes shining. He seemed, suddenly, vulnerable.

“But don’t you want to?” he asked. She couldn’t tell if he asked to tease her, or because—maybe—she was actually something he actually wanted.

“Yes,” she admitted, horrified when her voice cracked. He gazed up at her, unreadable. For too long, he said nothing. For too long, she fell without a safety net.

It was too much. Her face burning, Ryder scrambled to grab her armor, throwing it back on. “I should go,” she muttered. He watched her. She wouldn’t look at him.

“Hey,” Reyes said. Ryder paid attention to her breast plate, to sealing things as fast as possible. “Hey,” he said again.

“What?”

He handed her a missing glove. “Can I try again?”

She hated herself for falling for him. Of all people. He probably didn’t even like her that much. When he smiled at her, when she saw his uncertainty—she believed that he did. Trying to hold on to her anger, Ryder groused, “You’re not a good man.” She pulled on her glove. He pulled her to her feet. His uncertainty was gone, or hidden, or had never been there in the first place. She turned before he could kiss her goodbye.

“Would you believe me if I said that I try to be?” he asked her back.

Ryder didn’t answer.

She was going back to the ship. She really, really was. As soon as she figured out the right way to sneak onto a secured military vessel, she was in there.

Ryder huddled behind a few of the docking bay’s larger shipping containers, sweating. She was so busted. She’d been brave enough to check the messages on her omni-tool earlier. Lexi was pissed. So was Cora. So was Kallo. She hadn’t even opened the messages fully—both because she was sure the read receipts would damn her further, and because the subject lines alone were terrifying.

“It’s the truant,” Vetra said.

Ryder choked, and whirled. Definitely Vetra. Ryder couldn’t tell if the Turian was angry, or amused. Or both? Probably both. Also: everyone and their mothers were sneaking up on her these days. Everyone. This was why she didn’t do things without a sniper. “Oh, hey there Vetra,” Ryder squeaked. “I was just thinking, it’s funny, because I had SAM install all these ‘predictive combat matrices’ yesterday and then everyone started getting the jump on me.”

Vetra crossed her arms. “Ha.”

“So. I was just—”

“I honestly hope you at least got laid,” Vetra interrupted. “Because Lexi has requested a full psych eval.”

“No,” Ryder whispered. She stared hopefully up at the Turian. “You’re teasing me.”

“You are arguably a deserter.” Vetra shrugged. “No biggie.”

Ryder wilted. Vetra snorted, “Jeez Ryder, take a joke. It’s fine if you’re fine. But don’t pull that shit again. You want someone to discreetly supervise your trysts, all you gotta do is ask.”

“Ugh,” Ryder rubbed her forehead again. Seriously, ow. “You’re right. I’ll apologize. I just wanted—I thought—I don’t know.”

“You thought you had a connection.” Vetra said simply. Ryder tried not to die.

“I guess you could say that.”

“You thought that by confronting him solo, you’d somehow be able to…reach an understanding? Or something to that effect.”

Stupid stupid stupid. Ryder buried her face in her hands. “Can you maybe not tell everyone about this?”

Vetra sniggered. “Probably. For a price.”

She could only lurk behind shipping crates for so long. Sheepishly, Ryder straightened, and tried to act like she had always been striding confidently back to her ship. “It’s not like I was completely playing hooky, you know. I got some good data. I’ll have SAM upload it.”

“Good data? From Reyes?”

Ryder lifted her chin proudly. “He showed me some stuff.”

Vetra sighed, and fell in line behind Ryder as they approached the lifts back to the Tempest. “So did you know that the Collective took an assassin into custody last night? Some Asari kid with really nice armor? Ringing any bells?”

Ryder froze. “What?” she whispered.

“He didn’t tell you, huh?” Vetra crossed her arms. “Thought so.”

“It might not be what you’re thinking,” Ryder defended. She’d never felt this way before. This cold, sinking feeling. It wasn’t disappointment or anger, but something more physical—something like fear. And what was she saying, anyway? Like Reyes tickled people until they told him what he wanted to know? Come on.

“Cute,” Vetra snorted. “Almost like you’ve never seen him torture anyone before.”

“We don’t know that,” Ryder snapped. She winced. She hadn’t meant to sound angry. Vetra’s face shifted, expression cool. If Turians had eyebrows.

“Listen Ryder, I don’t have anything against the guy. It’s a rough world. A part of me thinks he’s doing what he’s gotta do, but a bigger part of me doesn’t want to see what happens when you get sucked into it. Just remember that I’m on your side here, and I’ve dealt with more crime lords than you have.”

“Right.” She felt like such an ass. Ryder closed her eyes. Migraine. Again. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Vetra shrugged. “Don’t look so bummed. I don’t care if you fuck him.”

Ryder ignored this. “Wait. How many crime lords have you dealt with?”

“Does it matter? They’re mostly dead.” Imperious, Vetra keyed in the shuttle request to deliver them back to the Tempest. Ryder squinted up at her.

“You know that thing where there’s like a hundred rats locked in a box together and eventually they eat each other until only the strongest one’s left?”

“Ugh,” Vetra wailed. She looked genuinely horrified. “Seriously Ryder, what the fuck? Rats? Those furry things with the little wormy tails, right?”

“I mean it’s not like I ever did it!” Ryder defended. Vetra continued to look repulsed.

“Why are humans so gross?” she moaned. She spent most of the shuttle ride sitting as far away from the Gross Human as possible.

Ryder, meanwhile, spent her time bracing herself for the Mom Coalition, and the snarky looks she’d probably have to endure from Vetra, Chief Audience Member.

Upon arriving at the Tempest, however, Ryder realized she’d made a mistake. She’d assumed Lexi wouldn’t have adapted her tactics. Vetra had already settled into a comfortable vantage point against the wall when Lexi, smiling beatifically, said only, “Oh, Ryder. Your brother’s expecting you.”

“What.” Ryder said. It was not really a question or even an accusation—more like an instinctive, deep rejection. Lexi sniffed.

“I do have the authority to notify next-of-kin in states of emergency. Like, when you go missing.”

“Oh man,” Vetra chortled. “You’re gonna get it.”

“What.” Ryder said again. This wouldn’t do. She cleared her throat. “What did you tell him?”

“Probably just that his sister’s fucking a gang leader,” Vetra whispered gleefully, then in her normal voice, “I mean you are though, right?”

Like Ryder really needed a reminder of how much she wanted to punch a hole through the wall right now. She glowered at Vetra. And Lexi. And the whole damn universe. Assholes. Her arm buzzed. She had four missed calls from Scott—meaning her upcoming conversation with him had officially reached natural disaster levels of bad.

“I hope there’s something left of me after all this,” Ryder said pointedly, now shuffling to her cabin. “I hope you’ve all picked out your new positions of authority following my death. But just remember: someone’s getting a bot downloaded into their head. No movie nights while the mourning period’s on. You’ll be sorry. You’ll all be sorry.”

“Stalling is unattractive.” Lexi snapped. Vetra nodded. Heartless bastards.

Ryder sealed the door to her cabin, walked to the middle of the room, and simply stood there. She gathered her courage. Scott was still 14 seconds younger than her and, also, had once dated three Krogan at the same time, so his opinion on her love life was PRETTY RICH IF YOU ASKED HER—!

Her omni-tool throbbed, interrupting her outrage. Reyes? Scott. Oh, god, it already was Scott. Five missed calls meant she might as well start setting up his guest room. “No, no, no, no,” Ryder whispered. “SAM, put him through. Shit.”

“Shit,” Scott echoed back at her, with venom. SAM had transferred the call to her room’s main terminal, making her brother’s (furious) expression five times life-size.

“Scott!” Ryder laughed nervously. Her brother was glaring. He glared like their mom. Why was everyone in their family so much scarier than her? “Hey! You look tan. It’s good. A good look. I mean, it suits you better than being frozen for hundreds of years. The coma thing was not awesome either. But at least it beats acne! Right?”

Shit. Shit shit shit. So Scott had clearly not forgotten being fifteen. Ryder laughed nervously, now loathing herself. “So, how are the Krogan?”

“I don’t know,” Scott said flatly. “Probably fine, since they can survive nuclear fallout.”

“Yep. Nuclear fallout. Gotta love aliens!” Ryder babbled. She looked frantically for some sort of plausible interruption: the Kett attacking, a sudden loss of gravity, a hull breach, her pet space rodent’s sudden mutation?

All very manageable problems.

“The Krogan have been aggressively expanding their territory on Elaaden by building roads and aqueducts,” Scott said coolly. “Also, shooting things.”

“The tried and the true.”

“Cut the shit,” Scott snapped, his eyebrows shooting up even as his voice lowered—an intimidation tactic he’d copied from his mother. Ryder could feel herself physically shrinking.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but the Nexus sent me here—”

“Don’t start,” Scott interrupted. The video feed of him wavered, and for one glorious second, Ryder thought she might be able to avoid The Conversation. But he was back, snarling, “Do you seriously think I’m going to hang out in a desert while my sister acts out her own Shakespearean tragedy in Andromeda’s asshole? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Ryder coughed. “I think calling it a Shakespearean tragedy is pretty strong.”

“Is it?” Scott screeched. So the feed was definitely not flickering, as she had previously thought. That was just her brother’s rage-spit. “Because from my point of view,” Scott yelled, “I’m watching my last family member ignore procedure because she thinks playing detective for some shady-ass flyboy is more important than her life.”

Ryder squirmed as the familiar Familial Guilt began chewing up her insides. “Look, Scott—I don’t know what you’ve heard, and I get that this has you freaked out, but everything’s fine. It’s seriously fine. I’m not doing anything outside of mission protocols—I’m not, like, running off on my own—,” guilt levels were now overwhelming, Ryder swiftly changed direction, “—and anyway, I don’t think half the people here even know I’m the Pathfinder.”

The angry lines in Scott’s face grew deeper with every word she spoke. For a long moment, he was silent, only glaring at her. She could see him chew the inside of his cheek—an old habit. When he spoke next, his anger had been muffled into resolution. “You shouldn’t be there,” Scott said calmly. “And you know it. You should be with me. We should be continuing Dad’s work, our work—together. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“It is, Scott!” Ryder burst, “Of course it’s what I want!”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Then wrap it up, and leave. Or I’ll come to you. You might be the Pathfinder, and maybe that means that the others can’t stop you, but you’re my sister. The Nexus can go to hell.”

“Scott—!” Ryder started to protest, but he’d already ended the call. She stared at the screen for over a minute, seething. This was too much. He wasn’t even the older twin! There was a line between concern and controlling and why did no one seem to observe that?

Without another outlet, Ryder simply shrieked. It was sharp, and loud, and none of her crew apparently thought it sounded urgent enough to warrant investigating. Ryder threw herself upright, pacing angrily. It wasn’t enough to have Aya, the Nexus, and her entire crew riding her ass for doing her job, now her baby brother was joining the fray. Great. Just great.

Ryder stormed out of her quarters, brushing past a jittery Kallo, who was lurking near the Med-Bay.

Wait.

Ryder turned around. “Did Suvi eat something?”

“She ate three!” Kallo wailed.

Ryder shrieked again.

[wordshappensometimes]

Ghost in the Sun Pt. 1 (Steve Rogers x Enhanced Reader)

Summary: Just because you can make yourself invisible doesn’t mean you can keep yourself from getting a nasty sunburn, and after a grueling mission in the Moroccan desert that’s exactly what’s happened. Luckily Steve is more than willing to help you put aloe on those hard-to-reach places once you get back.

A/N: This was originally supposed to be some post mission fluff, but I started writing about the mission itself and couldn’t stop (I love me some ass-kickin, what can I say). Parts 2-4 coming soon! BTW this is my first ever fanfic- so feedback would be A++, thanks.

Words: 2,556

Warnings: swearing, violence, blood 

You weaved your way through the crowded medina, keeping a close eye on the target you’d been tracking for the past week. He was about 10 meters ahead of you and moving through the crowd quickly. The marketplace was packed with vendors peddling spices, livestock, brightly colored fabrics, pretty much anything you’d expect to find in a Moroccan “suk,” and as much as you’d have loved to take in the sights and brush up on your Arabic with some locals, you were on mission, and your target was doing an annoyingly good job at using the most crowded areas of the market to his advantage- dude had clearly been trained on how to lose a tail.

After the deal that had just gone down you weren’t surprised your target assumed he was being followed: three female hostages in exchange for a semi full of RPG’s, grenades, and more guns than honestly should exist in one place at a time. As worrisome as the arsenal was, it wasn’t the reason that your target had gotten on the Avengers’ radar or why you were now trailing him; it was the hostages. The Avengers had been tasked with finding them and bringing them home safely, and as soon as one of Nat’s contacts got wind of the trade, Steve sent you in to do what you did best: trail, observe, and stay out of sight.

The target ducked out of the market, took a few quick turns through the alleys of the medina and chuckled to himself as he cast a glance over his shoulder. Only locals knew how to navigate the maze of the old city; he’d officially eluded anyone trying to follow him, or so he thought. You sighed to yourself as you brought your finger to your ear “He’s separated from the crowd, do you have eyes on him up top?”

“He went underground, sorry (Y/N), Redwing’s blind up here” Sam voice buzzed in your ear.

Cap cut in, sounding slightly annoyed “A good portion of the medina is made up of tunnels under buildings, we knew this was a possibility”

“S’all good guys, I got this” you retorted with a smile, to be honest you were kind of hoping it would come to this, it was your favorite part of the job. “Initiate radio silence: I’m going ghost.” You quickly threw off the scarf you’d been wearing and disappeared- literally disappeared.

It was an ability you’d had for years and used for all sorts of dubious activities as a teenager, but things only got more extreme after you’d gotten caught up in working for a Mexican cartel. It was a long story, and not one you were particularly proud of, but let’s just say it doesn’t take a whole lot of imagination to figure out why a drug cartel would hire/kidnap someone who could make herself invisible. You liked to call it your “Spring break gone wrong,” but Clint preferred “you evaded the authorities for like 3 years and then I nearly shot you.” (“eh, tomato tomahto” you’d say).

Now completely invisible- thanks to the specially designed clothes Tony had engineered for you- you took off running through the red clay alleys of the old medina to catch up to your target, he couldn’t have gotten far, and Redwing had been able to track his path until he’d entered a tunnel so you knew you’d have no problem catching up to him.

Everybody on the team knew the drill: you’d track your target in silence until he unwittingly led you to his hostages, at which point you’d take him out and call for backup. This was your specialty, you were a master tracker and covert tail, all you needed was: 1. radio silence to ensure that your target (or anyone else for that matter) didn’t hear you or the transmission being made, and 2. to not draw attention to your position by making any noise or disrupting the environment around you (you’d more or less mastered not kicking up stones, but fallen leaves were still a serious pain in your ass).

All the team had to do now was stay out of your way and wait in the jet for your signal.

Steve swiped anxiously at the screens in the jet and bit his lip in thought. He turned to face his team “Remember, any interference from us could give away (Y/N)’s position and compromise her mission.”

“Is that reminder for us or for you, Cap?” Sam smirked as he plopped down on one of the seats in the jet.

“Yeah, if I remember correctly it was you who insisted last time that we go in and rescue (Y/N) and you who instead blew her cover and nearly got her killed” Nat chimed in.

Steve frowned at his teammates “We hadn’t heard from her in 12 hours!” Steve raised his arms into the air as he tried to defend himself, but it was no use, he knew they were right.

“Dude.” Sam tilted his head down slightly and gave him a knowing look.

Steve let out a huff “Alright alright, fine.” he sighed again, “I just get anxious waiting around for her. I don’t like not knowing what’s going on.” He looked back at the monitor which was tracking her position and swiped at it to zoom in. “Where is this guy going anyway?”

You had begun to ask yourself the same thing; your target had taken you through the heart of the old city, up and out past the newer, more modernized part of town, through the residential area and towards the slum that marked the southern edge of the city and the beginning of the desert. He’d been traveling on foot for about 2 hours, which was odd, usually for a journey this long most people would find a car or bike or something, but the target continued walking until he reached the last row of shacks in the slum. He entered the alleyway between the last two houses and pulled at a tarp to reveal a dusty ATV.

Mierda (shit), you thought to yourself

He got on the ATV and revved the engine, you looked around desperately for another vehicle, but as he turned and drove out into the rocky terrain of the desert you knew that that wasn’t an option cause it would give away your position. You quickly drew out your gun and screwed on the silencer. “Shit shit come onnnn” Finally once the silencer was in place you took aim at the ATV and fired. ¡Toma! (take that!) The back right tire immediately deflated and the ATV crawled to a halt. You crouched and watched as your target angrily jumped off of the ATV and raised his weapon in your general direction- expecting to see whoever it was who had just sabotaged him. His eyes desperately searched among the shacks and rubbish, but he found nothing. You smiled to yourself, pinche pendejo (fuckin’ dumbass). You couldn’t help but get a little bit cocky every time something like this happened, you also couldn’t help from slipping into Spanish. To be fair you’d honed most of your skills working for the cartel, so no one could blame you for either habit, as they kind of came with the territory.

Your target turned and looked at the tire again, noting that it hadn’t exploded, but just deflated. He kicked it out of frustration, as he muttered something about it being a “worn out piece of shit.” The target grabbed a pack from the now useless ATV and took off walking in the direction he was originally headed. Before heading out, you took in the terrain: rocky, wide open desert; a few grass plants here and there, but nothing substantial to provide cover. Further out (maybe 4-5 miles if you had to guess) there were some small foothills that turned into mountains, and in all likelihood that was where your target was headed. You decided to give him a wide berth, given that there was literally no cover out here, you’d have to keep your distance in order to remain undiscovered.

You’d been following your target through the desert for nearly 3 hours now, and you had just begun to ascend the trail that you presumed would take you into the mountains, and while you were grateful for the small bottle of water you had on you, it wasn’t nearly enough for a trek like this. The rocky trail zig-zagged up the steep mountain side, and you had to be careful to not kick any stones as you worked your way quietly up the path. Staying about 50 meters behind your target, you continued to push forward, but the heat and rigor of the hike were starting to wear on you. Suddenly the target stopped and turned around, his eyes narrowed, hand hovering about his holstered weapon, you froze.

“Hello?” he called out in Arabic. He took a few steps downhill towards you, his eyes still searching for what he could not see, but had apparently heard. “I know there is someone here, I can hear your footsteps.” He continued to slowly make his way down hill, drawing his weapon as he did; you lowered yourself into a kneeling position, preparing yourself in case he decided to shoot (a trick you’d learned pretty early on: people don’t generally shoot at the ground when they’re aiming for a person they can’t see). You watched as the man got closer and closer to you; there were a few ways you could play this, depending on what he did, but your best bet was to stay absolutely silent- no movement, limited breathing even- and wait for your target to slowly convince himself that he had heard nothing, that the heat was starting to get to him and he had imagined it. In reality that was your only option that didn’t involve completely blowing your cover, so you were really hoping that there’d be no need for plan B.

You knelt on the side of the path as your target continued to call out to the air, he was just about level with you now, and any noise from you would be easily detected. With a painfully slow and careful pace, you reached your right hand down to the ground and picked up a small stone, as soon as your target walked past you down the hill, you chucked the stone up the path to where he had been standing when he first stopped. The stone collided with a crash onto the other rocks, and your target turned on his heel and fired a shot at the source of the noise. You held your breath and waited to see if he would take the bait. After what felt like an eternity, he made his way back up the hill to investigate where he had shot. You breathed out shakily.

He reached out to blindly feel for a body, (you would have laughed at how ridiculous he looked had it not been for the adrenaline currently coursing through your veins and the life or death situation at hand) but upon finding nothing he straightened up and shook his head slightly. He looked around one last time and then continued up the path. You let out a quiet sigh of relief and stayed where you were for a moment. Now that he had been spooked you really had to be careful to keep your distance and keep silent.

You also had to hope that Cap would actually maintain radio silence this time.

After waiting a moment you rose from your position and continued to quietly make your way up the path. You had lost sight of your target but you knew he was far enough ahead of you on the path that once you rounded the next corner you’d have a clear view of him.

As you worked your way up and around the next turn you felt something tug at your toe. You looked down. Is that a fuckin trip wire? Your eyes widen but before you can process what’s happening you’re brought to the ground with a thud. Ese hijo de puta (that son of a bitch) had been waiting on the next level up of the path, and as soon as he saw the trip wire move he pounced. You maintain your invisibility and throw your arms up in front of your face to start defending yourself as he straddles your torso. The assailant pulls two six inch blades from their holsters and stabs and swipes blindly at you. He leaves cuts on your arms, and even manages to stab you in the shoulder as you struggle to deflect his attacks and wriggle free. The assailant yelps out an almost insane laugh as he sees red streaks and drips of blood appear out of the nothingness he’s fighting. You finally manage to roll over onto your stomach and push yourself up with you arms and legs, lifting him up with you. He slashes a long gash into your back as you buck him off of you and stand up straight, grabbing your own knife to defend yourself. Having lost track of where you are, el cabrón (the asshole) lunges forward, knife-first towards you, you easily avoid the attack, grab his arm and force one of his blades from his grasp so you can chuck it down the mountain. He slices at you with his remaining knife, this time leaving a long gash down the front of your torso. You separate yourself from him to give yourself some distance and regain the advantage. He lunges blindly towards you again, this time you move around behind him and kick him in the back so he falls down the path, he loses his grip on his other knife and it falls over the cliff side. He turns back to you with a rage in his eyes, he pulls out his gun and desperately starts searching for any sign of you. You’re about to take out your gun when you remember the mission and exactly what’s at stake. You still needed to find those three hostages, and they could be anywhere in these mountains. If you were to take out your target now, your mission would be a failure. You needed to let him win, or at the very least make him think he’d won if you ever want to find those hostages.

Your attacker’s face drops into a sinister smile, the blood from your wounds had given him a nice little “x marks the spot”- you’d been made. He empties his clip in your direction, you drop to the ground with a thud, roll to the edge of the path and let gravity do the rest as you fall over sharp rocks down to the next level of the zig-zagged trail. You let out a loud moan and try to curl as close to the mountain side as you can when as he leans over the edge to see the results of his work. He reloads his gun and fires three more shots down towards where you’ve landed and waits. He sees a small pool of blood forming and sighs with relief. Just as he’s about to turn to continue moving uphill he stops himself and spits down towards you, muttering “serves you right, demon.”

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part 2 coming soon! please let me know what you thought for a first try at writing fanfic (seriously plz let me know haha)