#AND THEN HE HAS TO SPEAK TO THEM ON A CRATE CAUSE HE TINY

[emeraldbabygirl]

The fuckin manager and the end of Tokyo Noodle Factory:

[luna-writes-stuff]

Unforgiven II, Kaz Brekker

Song link

Fanfic, female! reader

Angst, but a with a tiny sprinkle of fluff

Word count:

Tw: typical soc stuff, explosions, blood/injuries, description of drowning/recovering from drowning., description of dizziness/losing consciousness, Kaz is fighting demons to save your life, Nina doing heartrender things, Kaz nearly crying, use of Y/N (I deserve hell)

Summary: You have been friends with Kaz for as long as either of you can remember. Even before all the “Ketterdam is my mother” talk and trauma. So when you get caught up in an explosion during a heist, Kaz loses his shit. He becomes an anxious wreck, doing his best to get you out of danger. And in order to do so, he has to make certain sacrifices for himself.

No - this is not a pt. 2 to anything. The song is called Unforgiven II. This fic is based off of a song.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Lay beside me and tell me what they've done.

And speak the words I wanna hear to make my demons run.”

“Kaz, come on!” You ushered, running towards docks, Kaz short on your heels, though his pace slowed with every step he took. You knew his leg was bothering him, but at the moment, you needed to get out of this place.

It had been your casual “let’s steal something and get money for it” heist. Everything had gone exactly according to plan. Wylan’s bomb went off at time, Inej got the necklace without being noticed, Jesper was a great distraction, Matthias had been on look-out as Nina had joined Jesper in being decoy. You and Kaz had been making sure the rendezvous point remained safe. You had been in Dime Lion territory, so the risk of being caught was great. Yet, there had been no issues. That was until Jesper, not so subtly, managed to sneak a look towards you and Kaz, alerting others of your location.

So now you and Kaz were on the run. Trying to get away without getting injured or being discovered of stealing things. It had been five minutes now and you knew Kaz’ leg would no longer hold up.

“The door is locked now but it's open if you're true.

If you can understand the me then I can understand the you.”

You spared another look behind you, noticing you were no longer being followed closely. You halted your steps, simultaneously causing Kaz to stop too.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, obviously supporting all his weight on his cane.

“Where did they go?” You wondered aloud, referring to the gang members that had been so set on catching you earlier.

Now Kaz looked behind him too, noticing the empty streets.

“Something isn’t right.” He noted, making you nod in agreement.

“Lay beside me, under wicked sky.

Through black of day, dark of night, we share this, paralyzed.”

“We should keep moving, just to be safe.” You decided, now setting a normal walking pace, trying to give Kaz the opportunity to recover. As you walked past the crates and empty ships, something weird suddenly occurred to you.

“You hear that?” You whispered, holding a hand out towards Kaz to stop him.

“Hear what?” He questioned, now keeping his ears open.

“Sizzling.” You observed. “Like firework being lit.”

At those words, Kaz’ eyes widened. He looked around to find the source of the sound, but he could not bring himself to locate it.

“The door cracks open but there's no sun shining through.

Black heart scarring darker still but there's no sun shining through.

No there's no sun shining through, no there's no sun shining.”

“Bomb.” He managed out, before grabbing the loose fabric of your sleeve, tugging you with him as he ran.

You followed suit quickly, the danger of not knowing where the bomb was, making your adrenaline race. You released your sleeve from Kaz’ hold, running behind him to make sure you could drag him with you in case he’d slow down again.

In the distance, you could see the rest of the crows waiting, but they had yet to notice you and Kaz. No Dime Lions were spotted near them yet, which had been a relative good sign.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Turn the pages, turn the stone.

Behind the door, should I open it for you?”

“Kaz, turn around!” You warned. The sound of the walking fire seemed nearer than before, alerting you of the fact you were running in the wrong direction.

“We’re only nearing it!” You explained without hesitation.

Kaz spared you a quick nod, before running along the coastline, no longer running away from the shores. You followed his every step. Your breath had started to appear colder than before, your shirt uncomfortably clinging to your back, but you knew you’d catch your breath later. Stopping now might only increase the chances of becoming injured.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Sick and tired I stand alone.

Could you be there?

'Cause I'm the one who waits for you.

Or are you unforgiven too?”

Your attempt for cover came too late; before either of you could properly process it, a big explosion ignited only a few feet from you. You could have counted yourself lucky for not being too close to it, not having received any burning flesh. The force of the explosion - however - was something you couldn’t escape.

Before you could even realise what was happening, you were flying through the air, rocketing towards the shore lines in an inhumane speed. You could only briefly register Kaz’ body on the floor before the ice cold temperature ran over you.

Your body impacted on top the water, the weight with the added speed rapidly pulling you under. You weren’t on time for any of it. When you had already fallen, it still felt like you were flying, and when you were flying, you hadn’t even properly heard the explosion. It all happened with the blink of an eye.

“Come lay beside me, this won't hurt I swear.

She loves me not, she loves me still, but she'll never love again.”

When you finally realised you had been submerged in the freezing canal waters, you had to force your body to work again. Your limbs felt heavy, whilst your head felt lighter than it even been. An unknown weight settled on your waist as you were pushed further down.

Looking down at it, you were faced with a huge piece of wood, tearing a hole in your coat as it forced you down. In blind panic, you reached down, trying to get the wood from the coat. But the longer you fought it, the deeper you sank, and the more pressure build in your ears.

You weren’t going to go down like this - sinking because of a heist gone wrong. No, you were meant to go out in a tub of money, rolling in the debts of your enemies.

The looming threat of imminent death and hopeless made your efforts worsen, your brain cloudy, unable to think straight as you kept tugging on the coat.

“She lay beside me but she'll be there when I'm gone.

Black hearts scarring darker still, yes, she'll be there when I'm gone.

Yes, she’ll be there when I'm gone. Dead sure she'll be there?”

On the coast line, Kaz had recovered from the blow, seemingly fine, save for a handful of bruises and a loud ringing in his ears. The crows had neared him, Jesper and Inej immediately working to keep the Dime Lions at a distance. Nina looked over the edge, still seeing the waves of where you had fallen earlier.

“Shit,” she cursed, before clumsily fumbling with the ends of her dress. Wylan and Matthias looked at her in a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. She didn’t seem to notice.

For Kaz, it felt like time had frozen. You had been with him ever since you were children. You’ve known him before Ketterdam - before Dirthands. And now you were sinking to the bottom of the canal, left to your fate in a lonesome embrace.

He had lost everything he had, and always associated it with the freezing temperatures of the lakes. He remember the chilling air, the cold water and the hard bodies of the people who had died due to illness. He remembered how he fought back until he had returned to Ketterdam. To look for you.

And now he’d lose you to those same damned waters.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Turn the pages, turn the stone.

Behind the door, should I open it for you?”

Nina took too long. Wylan and Matthias might not have noticed, but he did. A thousand thoughts and fears were swirling his mind, but there was one that stood out the most.

He was losing you.

The thought seemed so hopeless and bitter, but it was the truth. He could stand there and think about everything that had happened to him, or he could act on it. He could wait for Nina to finally get that cursed dress off, or he could jump in himself and hope his body wouldn’t fail him.

You still hadn’t resurfaced.

Swinging his coat from his shoulders quickly, he dropped the cane to the floor, before diving into the waters, not even giving him a second to think everything through.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Sick and tired, I stand alone.

Could you be there?

'Cause I'm the one who waits for you.

Or are you unforgiven too?”

The water was more horrible than he had remembered. The cold was gnawing at his skin, the familiarity of it cutting him where it hurt most.

This is where you lost him, Kaz. You lost yourself.

In front of him, a body passed him, the face almost an exact replica of his older brother, save for the swollen structures of his face. The sight frightened him. Almost automatically, he reached out, but the figure faded in front of him.

This wasn’t real. He wasn’t there.

He needed to get out. He couldn’t get any air to begin with, but the capacity his lungs had held had started to fail him. There were too many reminders of what went wrong. This was a terrible idea.

“Lay beside me, tell me what I've done.

The door is closed so are your eyes.

But now I see the sun, now I see the sun.

Yes, now I see it.”

He had to go back up. He wouldn’t make it if he didn’t. But then, as if fate had somehow still been smiling upon his that day, a hand came into his vision. He couldn’t see it really well - everything was blurry. But this hand wasn’t swollen. And it seemed real.

Spending his last few seconds, he tugged on the arm, surprised by the sudden weight of it. When he looked down, he found the culprit hanging from your coat, your other hand still entangled at the hole.

Without a second of hesitation, he shrugged the coat off of you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he swam back up.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Turn the pages, turn the stone.

Behind the door, should I open it for you?”

It was disgusting; the cold temperature, your limp body, the inability to breathe. It was too much. He couldn’t help but fight for his hold on you as he forced you up. His leg had been screaming at him to stop to begin with, but with your body in his arms, a whole new level of revolting coursed through him.

This was so wrong. He should never have had to hold anyone’s body to drag out of the sea again. This was cruel, even considering all that he had been through. There was some sick irony here that he hated. He knew Pekka would be laughing at it.

You didn’t make any effort to help him. He had no way of telling whether he had been dragging a dead body back up or not. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about anything. He just needed to get back up.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

So sick and tired, I stand alone.

Could you be there?

'Cause I'm the one who waits,

The one who waits for you.”

When he finally resurfaced, a huge gasp of air came from him, taking in all oxygen he could.

“Kaz!” Nina called, leaning over the docks with Matthias, reaching out for him and you. They could see the sheer panic and terror on his face. The boy swam towards the pair, handing you over to Matthias, who easily pulled you out. Nina immediately began to work on getting the water out of you, leaving her boyfriend to help Kaz get out, much to his reluctance.

He could still feel the cold touch, the unmistakable feeling of a hardened figure. He recognised it. And the second his feet met solid ground again, he fell down, breathing heavily, dragging his knees across the dock to reach you.

He could hear Nina mutter assuring words under her breath - both to you and to herself. The way you simply laid there, not noticing the mayhem happening because of you. Something about it made everything worse for him.

He was not going to lose you. Not like this.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Turn the pages, turn the stone.

Behind the door, should I open it for you? (So I dub thee unforgiven)”

A loud cough cut through the tense air as your chest suddenly began to move. Nina was quick to place you on your side, leaving you to cough out the remainder of water, inhaling the air greedily, tears making their way over your face. An obnoxious sigh of relief came from the heartrender as Kaz quietly copied her move.

He stood up at the sight of you getting rid of all the water in your lungs, the sight amplifying everything he had just experienced. Shakily, he accepted the cane from Wylan, using it to support his weight as he watched Nina kneel over you, trying to calm you down.

He needed to be the one to do that, to make you comfortable, even if he wasn’t. But he couldn’t. He was having a hard time keeping everything together in the moment. If it hadn’t been for his cane, he would’ve fallen straight back to the floor.

“What I've felt.

What I've known.

I'll take this key and I'll bury it in you.

Because you're unforgiven too.”

You watched him from your seat as you regained your breath, no more water coming from your mouth. The feeling in your stomach was still heavy, but you had no more need to cough everything back up.

You knew who had dragged you from the canal. You blacked out a moment after that gloved hand touched yours, but you knew who it was. You saw the way he was staring back at you, furiously blinking back tears, hoping no one had noticed. You saw the way his hands were clutching that cane as if his life depended on it. He didn’t want to be there.

But he had jumped into the canal after you had fallen in. He had dragged you from the bottom back up. He had gotten you onto the dock whilst he had sworn he would never get into touch with water if he could help it. And he might not have been able to place a comforting hand on your shoulder as Nina did, but you knew what he had done.

You just nodded at him, still in shock. Of the fall, or due to the fact Kaz dived in after you - you couldn’t tell. But when the boy nodded back, you knew it was enough.

You knew he’d do it over again if he had to.

“Never free, never me.

'Cause you're unforgiven too.”

[withered-tears]

Ratchet knows he is a great doctor.

Is not a matter of pride, that's simply a fact.

Bulkhead was a brute with a surprisingly good taste for the fine arts, Arcee could and would kick anyone's aft if provoked enough, Bumblebee had a violent streak that he desperately tries to hide, Optimus has a thing for fliers, and Ratchet is the greatest grumpiest doctor to come out off of Cybertron.

But that medical knowledge was reserved for cybertronians only.

When organics were involved? Ratchet knew only the barest of basics.

Boiling down to "don't step on them" basics.

This was by choice.

It was bad enough to have to spend time in this dirt ball of a planet, with their tiny locals crawling all over the place like nanobots with no processor power to speak of.

He was not going to waste his time learning about their primitive biological bodies, much less how to treat them.

They had their own doctors, they can make due. He had his own people to look after.

Then the sparklings, the children moved into their base.

They were somehow worse than the few humans he was already forced to interact with. Too loud, too tiny, too curious.

Too reckless.

The smaller one, Rafael, was in one of the balconies the humans built around the base, a pointless attempt to be closer to optic level. He was standing atop of a small crate, leaning over the railing to get a closer look at Ratchet's hands as they typed away.

Apparently, the human was interested in learning cybertronian glyphs, ha! As if an organic brain had the memory capacity to learn such advanced language.

Then the human's foothold slipped from under him, making him slam his faceplate on the metal railing.

Immediately, the human started wailing. Apparently, humans came with some sort of imitation siren alarm installed.

Ratchet ignored the sound and continued working.

Jack, the tallest of the kids (but still diminute), rushed to Rafael, seemingly in a panic. Bah, the railing was just hollow metal, and he'd seen some humans punch each other in the face out of boredom. A simple tap should not be cause for such urgency.

Then Jack gently lifted Rafael's head, and Ratchet froze.

Rafael was leaking a lot of energon.

Ratchet couldn't really tell if it was coming out of his nose or mouth, but his entire lower face, neck, and part of his shirt was already covered in the stuff.

Jack picked him up with little effort, same style of carry thay he'd seen soldiers carry injured allies, and ran out of the room.

Ratchet stood there, work momentarily forgotten.

He leaned down to take a closer look to the railing, now also stained with organic energon, but otherwise intact.

Careful, he poked the point of impact.

The railing bent under his finger.

He didn't see Rafael till the next day.

The kid didn't seem to be in any pain, only mild discomfort, as he explained to a worried Bumblebee (who was absent yesterday) about an emergency trip to a dentist office.

Apparently, the hit had not only broken one of his teeth but also made him bite his lip hard enough that he needed some stitching.

And Ratchet had ignored him.

If the injury needed a trip to a professional, it must have been more serious than he realized. Not to mention the amount of lost energon (blood, it's called blood).

How much blood can a human lose before it's lethal? Specially such a tiny human like Rafael.

If Jack hadn't been in the room, would Ratchet just stand there as the kid died?

Later that day, Miko stood precariously on top on some crates, and Ratchet gave her a lecture on how fragile human skeleton were, the dangers of concussions caused by falling on one's head, brain damage, etc.

Human medical knowledge was easy to find and download.

And human medicine and medical tools were already ordered through the proper channels and on their way to the base.

Ratchet was a great doctor.

And no great doctor just stays in place while someone is injured.

[tailorvizsla]

A small intro to my current fic.

Title: The Diplomatic Incident Rating: M Universe: The Orville Pairings: Human f!OC x Krill m!OC Note: tfw when there is no more Orville so you decide to write a 150k+ fic so you can have a hot Krill husband

Under the cut for length. :D

The door swished open, startling her from her reverie. She managed to not drop her tea.

"Morning, Ensign," Captain Mercer said. "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh, not really," she admitted. "You?"

"Not at all," he said with a shrug. He looked down at the coffee. "You are a lifesaver." 

He grabbed one of the mugs and sat down before drinking it down. Once he appeared properly caffeinated, he spoke again. 

"Your report?"

Nia swallowed anxiously as she forwarded it to him. Captain Mercer picked up his pad and started skimming through it.

"I have read over Ambassador Crovrel's notes, and everything seems okay," Nia said. "I genuinely cannot tell what she could be doing that would be causing offense to the Za'ari. However, body language is quite important, so there may be subtle cues that she's missing or weird vibes that she's giving off, so to speak - "

"Captain, we will be rendezvousing with the Sarakev in eight minutes," came a voice over comms.

"How are we an hour early?" Captain Mercer asked.

Her stomach dropped through her feet. She hadn't even gotten through the first paragraph. She had no idea if her plans were even acceptable. What if she had made a mistake? Nia felt her heart starting to race.

"We have not altered course. The Sarakev has chosen to meet us here. They must attend to another incident."

"I see," Captain Mercer said. He gave her a look. "Well, let's go meet our guests, then."

Nia nodded in silence. She followed after him obediently, her stomach twisting tighter with each step. Commander Grayson came to join them about halfway there. She had a frown on her face, and her lips were set in a thin line. Nia noticed that her mug of coffee was much larger.

"Did you get a chance to review everything?"

"Nope," Captain Mercer said. "It should be fine."

Nia gave him a look of horror as she trotted along behind them. Commander Grayson sighed and finished the last of her coffee.

"Ensign Hreevan, could you do me a favor?" she asked. "Can you throw this into the recycler?"

"Of course, Commander," Ensign Hreevan said, giving them a curious look.

All too soon, they came to the shuttle bay, where a Krill vessel had just landed. The back ramp dropped, and a group of four Krill stepped off. A few more unloaded some boxes and crates behind them. They exchanged a few words. 

Just as quickly, the shuttle left, leaving the four individuals and a pile of crates behind. Captain Mercer stepped forward. Nia shuffled forward a step, trying her best to hide behind Captain Mercer and Commander Grayson without actually looking like she was trying to hide.

"Hello," Captain Mercer said, putting on his most welcoming smile. "Welcome aboard the Orville, gentlemen."

"Captain Mercer," said the Krill who looked like he was in charge. "My colleagues and I thank you for assisting us in our diplomatic mission."

Oh my God. The holographic videos had not done his voice justice, Nia thought to herself.

"It is our pleasure to help," he said. "Please allow me to make introductions. This is Commander Grayson, my second in command." Captain Mercer seemed less than impressed when he realized she was trying to hide behind him. "This," he said, shuffling her forward, "is Ensign Bridges, our resident expert on Za'ar and her people."

Nia suddenly felt tiny as they scrutinized her. She swallowed and tried to give them a welcoming smile. 

"Hi," she managed to say.

Their eyes met, and she suddenly felt like she could not breathe, an odd electric feeling starting at her toes and working its way up. He tilted his head in acknowledgement and diverted attention from her. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest. Her hands and knees felt oddly shaky after that brief encounter.

[boyakishantrinity]

Click, clack, clunk.

BANG.

Firing across the range, gun loaded and striking targets kilometres away. Somehow, the conventional weapons were not the actual reason he were there.

He'd paid a pretty penny, an anonymous individual named "Boyakishan" had taken a bribe to someone with links related to the underground of humans.

Nobody explained anything, one moment lowering into a dunny, pushed into a shop, then a cell before being lifted out of a truck by a large man. Then a brunette human was now walking him towards a bunker door, closing the door behind the Galv as the elevator moved. Lowering, glass panels showing the massive warehouse. What looked like crates of portable black hole generators just casually placed near the elevator. Levels flowing past him, flames erupting out a level, people testing gear near the elevator space.

Anti gravity weaponry, the edge biospheres, entrances to further sections.

The Galv might as well have been moving between worlds, the humans had spatial technology, already jumping leaps and bounds in the thirty years of recognising the UFA. An action that was more than a little insult by an individual known as "Beta".

Whoever it was, the humans remained tight lipped, with their underground practically an extension of their UEN. Well, as an ambassador. He could not not appreciate how much control the UEN had over their inner workings.

Humans has disseminated through the underground, with whispers of a new organisation conducting business. "Wolves".

Whoever they were, their links stretched across the systems. Spreading out like pollen, guards, weaponry, setting up stalls with associated groups.

Highly efficient, but largely passive. Barely a few branches of a greater organisation. "Mercenary Guild".

Alongside several names, a cabal of the best in the dark and light. Thirty years...

Looking up, the elevator growing dark as it seemed to switch gears.

"Watch your head."

Reva Galvi amongst froze in place, that. That was his local language. Looking towards the marked out camera, the big metal box largely for show as the door opened up.

He dropped to the ground, sliding onto the floor with a dazed look, the woman around the space all wearing masks, guns, blades, eyes turning to look at the alien. Reva looked back, getting to his feet as one of them stepped forward. Dark haired, a black covering mask over her face as a voice called out.

"Reva Galvi?"

He'd been let in, the woman ignoring his questions, the robotic voice tinged with an Australian accent as she sat down.

"How do you want your data?"

"I- You speak Gav?"

Looking back at him, flipping a radio device to her hand, a pool of something, specially tempered glass as the woman sat onto the desk.

"... This. This is-"

"Level 8 tech, that's like. Uhhh. Rose?"

Several drones popped out of sockets as the girl stumbled, low range light emitters flickering as the tiny cloud projected a woman beside her. Legs crossed, also wearing a mask.

"50000 credits. Moron."

The cloud smashed into her nose, flickering to rise back towards the wall, what took second causing him to pause.

"... that- Are you part of the Wolves?"

"... Uh huh. So, what do you want? CD? Floppy Disk? Cassette? Text? PNG? Paper?"

Tapping the window behind her, the tech displaying the images as he looked at the increasing ways to store the device.

"I. You. How-"

"... Uh huh, USB it is."

Pulling down a painting, tossing the small metal item to the man as she flips over the table. Flipping to sit backwards, twirling to slap her legs in front of him.

"I. You. What kind of organisation is this??"

Looking up at the woman, the masked individual putting back the various items she'd toppled pausing as she looked back at him.

"... Oh, right. You wanted an interview too. Uhhh. Mercenary Guild company."

"... You're a union?"

Shaking her head, the Galvi taking a seat as she looks down to him.

"Not really? We're more like. Streamlining the criminal underworld."

"... How do you streamline-"

The woman kicked open a hidden drawer.

"crack?"

The wooden panel showing the white drug, the alien looking at it.

"uhhh."

"Benzoylmethylecgonine?"

"... Uh, no thanks."

"Your loss."

Kicking the drawer shut, nonchalant as the man lifts the USB.

"... A few questions. So this contains all the data?"

"Yep."

"... And how much does this 'USB' have in total?"

"the data's. Terabytes if you only count the key data."

"... How much data can this data storage device hold in total, and the data I have requested?"

"... Uhhh, a little under half a petabyte. And like. 8 Petabytes?"

"... Excuse me?"

The woman shrugged.

"Hey, Mo- Boya commissioned us, we added all the context around the event since all you asked for was information on the Knights, Bitches and Wolves."

"... So, I could ask for anything and you'd send it?"

The woman paused at that, hesitating.

"... Technically yes, ask and after a little paperwork you should be able to get it."

"So, slaves?"

"... Yeah. We've got a few markets, but you will need to sign an NDA."

"... NDA?"

The man looked at her, sitting on the chair, relaxing on the couch, as she continued.

"I mean, yeah. Our facilities and allies have a right to privacy, plus it just swear so long as you know the knowledge you tell anyone who doesn't have an NDA or similar-"

"And what if I wanted to not sign one?"

"... Well, if anyone did find out about this and it got public, we'd have to end you, your line from history."

He paused, looking at her. The girl hadn't stated her name, and here she was casually talking about ending anyone...

"I refuse to believe that."

"hm?"

Looking at me, eyes looking straight as he continued.

"How about you ambitious little girl-"

CLICK.

"... I'd suggest you leave."

Something nudged his back, the woman getting up as she held open a door to a hall leading to an elevator.

"And why should I? I have links to the Marlins-"

"Who?"

The woman behind him spoke up, mentally noting.

... Royale French. Brighton British.

"The Marlins. Y'know, the largest bandit group. Wait, you've never heard of them?"

The two looked at one another. Watching the pair as they exchanged facial expressions, a silent conversation.

"Those people who've been giving us a little trouble in the new areas?"

"... Oh, the Fish."

"... Fish?"

"yeah, easy to bait and kill. Now out."

Kicking the man's chair out, forced to his feet as the woman held his back at gun point. Despite both wearing masks, barely possessing any strength, they forced him out.

10:40pm.

Kitty: You bastard, you tricked me.

Beep Boop: You mad mate?

Kitty: They gave me a piece of tech that's not compatible with my tech! What quality service

The man paused, his phone freezing as the message sent itself. The keyboard covering with a greyed out symbol.

Beep Boop: Mate. You probably pushed into something you didn't need to look into. I said my contacts were interesting, I've paid my part of the deal. But hint. Press the button on the side before you try pushing the storage device into your fancy port.

10:45pm

Kitty: ... How?

Beep Boop: Hell if I know, I'm a betweener. Not the company. Anything else before we ditch these burners?

Kitty: ...

10:50pm

Kitty: Can your contacts find a meeting of the leaders of the triage of figures?

Beep Boop: ...

Click, clack, clunk.

BANG.

Firing across the range, gun loaded and striking targets kilometres away. Somehow, the conventional weapons were not the actual reason he was there.

He'd paid a pretty penny, an anonymous individual named "Boyakishan" had taken a bribe to someone with links related to the underground of humans.

Nobody explained anything, one moment lowering into a dunny, pushed into a shop, then a cell before being lifted out of a truck by a large man. Then a brunette human was now walking him towards a bunker door, closing the door behind the Galv as the elevator moved. Lowering glass panels showing the massive warehouse. What looked like crates of portable black hole generators just casually placed near the elevator. Levels flowing past him, flames erupting out a level, people testing gear near the elevator space.

Anti gravity weaponry, the edge biospheres, entrances to further sections.

The Galv might as well have been moving between worlds, the humans had spatial technology, already jumping leaps and bounds in the thirty years of recognising the UFA. An action that was more than a little insult by an individual known as "Beta".

Whoever it was, the humans remained tight lipped, with their underground practically an extension of their UEN. Well, as an ambassador. He could not not appreciate how much control the UEN had over their inner workings.

Humans have disseminated through the underground, with whispers of a new organisation conducting business. "Wolves".

Whoever they were, their links stretched across the systems. Spreading out like pollen, guards, weaponry, setting up stalls with associated groups.

Highly efficient, but largely passive. Barely a few branches of a greater organisation. "Mercenary Guild".

Alongside several names, a cabal of the best in the dark and light. Thirty years...

Looking up, the elevator grew dark as it seemed to switch gears.

"Watch your head."

Reva Galvi froze in place. That was his local language. Looking towards the marked out camera, the big metal box largely for show as the door opened up.

He dropped to the ground, sliding onto the floor with a dazed look, the woman around the space all wearing masks, guns, blades, eyes turning to look at the alien. Reva looked back, getting to his feet as one of them stepped forward. Dark haired, a black covering mask over her face as a voice called out.

"Reva Galvi?"

He'd been let in, the woman ignoring his questions, the robotic voice tinged with an Australian accent as she sat down.

"How do you want your data?"

"I- You speak Gav?"

Looking back at him, flipping a radio device to her hand, a pool of something, specially tempered glass as the woman sat onto the desk.

"... This. This is-"

"Level 8 tech, that's like. Uhhh. Rose?"

Several drones popped out of sockets as the girl stumbled, low range light emitters flickering as the tiny cloud projected a woman beside her. Legs crossed, also wearing a mask.

"50000 credits. Moron."

The cloud smashed into her nose, flickering to rise back towards the wall, which took a second causing him to pause.

"... that- Are you part of the Wolves?"

"... Uh huh. So, what do you want? CD? Floppy Disk? Cassette? Text? PNG? Paper?"

Tapping the window behind her, the tech displayed the images as he looked at the increasing ways to store the device.

"I. You. How-"

"... Uh huh, USB it is."

Pulling down a painting, tossing the small metal item to the man as she flips over the table. Flipping to sit backwards, twirling to slap her legs in front of him.

"I. You. What kind of organisation is this??"

Looking up at the woman, the masked individual putting back the various items she'd toppled pausing as she looked back at him.

"... Oh, right. You wanted an interview too. Uhhh. Mercenary Guild company."

"... You're a union?"

Shaking her head, the Galvi takes a seat as she looks down to him.

"Not really? We're more alike. Streamlining the criminal underworld."

"... How do you streamline-"

The woman kicked open a hidden drawer.

"crack?"

The wooden panel showing the white drug, the alien looking at it.

"uhhh."

"Benzoylmethylecgonine?"

"... Uh, no thanks."

"Your loss."

Kicking the drawer shut, nonchalant as the man lifts the USB.

"... A few questions. So this contains all the data?"

"Yep."

"... And how much does this 'USB' have in total?"

"the data's. Terabytes if you only count the key data."

"... How much data can this data storage device hold in total, and the data I have requested?"

"... Uhhh, a little under half a petabyte. And like. 8 Petabytes?"

"... Excuse me?"

The woman shrugged.

"Hey, Mo- Boya commissioned us, we added all the context around the event since all you asked for was information on the Knights, Bitches and Wolves."

"... So, I could ask for anything and you'd send it?"

The woman paused at that, hesitating.

"... Technically yes, ask and after a little paperwork you should be able to get it."

"So, slaves?"

"... Yeah. We've got a few markets, but you will need to sign an NDA."

"... NDA?"

The man looked at her, sitting on the chair, relaxing on the couch, as she continued.

"I mean, yeah. Our facilities and allies have a right to privacy, plus it just swear so long as you know the knowledge you tell anyone who doesn't have an NDA or similar-"

"And what if I wanted to not sign one?"

"... Well, if anyone did find out about this and it got public, we'd have to end you, your line from history."

He paused, looking at her. The girl hadn't stated her name, and here she was casually talking about ending anyone...

"I refuse to believe that."

"hm?"

Looking at me, eyes looking straight as he continued.

"How about you ambitious little girl-"

CLICK.

"... I'd suggest you leave."

Something nudged his back, the woman getting up as she held open a door to a hall leading to an elevator.

"And why should I? I have links to the Marlins-"

"Who?"

The woman behind him spoke up, mentally noting.

... Royale French. Brighton British.

"The Marlins. Y'know, the largest bandit group. Wait, you've never heard of them?"

The two looked at one another. Watching the pair as they exchanged facial expressions, a silent conversation.

"Those people who've been giving us a little trouble in the new areas?"

"... Oh, the Fish."

"... Fish?"

"Yeah, easy to bait and kill. Now out."

Kicking the man's chair out, forced to his feet as the woman held his back at gunpoint. Despite both wearing masks, barely possessing any strength, they forced him out.

10:40pm.

Kitty: You bastard, you tricked me.

Beep Boop: You mad mate?

Kitty: They gave me a piece of tech that's not compatible with my tech! What quality service

The man paused, his phone freezing as the message sent itself. The keyboard covered with a greyed out symbol.

Beep Boop: Mate. You probably pushed into something you didn't need to look into. I said my contacts were interesting, I've paid my part of the deal. But hint. Press the button on the side before you try pushing the storage device into your fancy port.

10:45pm

Kitty: ... How?

Beep Boop: Hell if I know, I'm a betweener. Not the company. Anything else before we ditch these burners?

Kitty: ...

10:50pm

Kitty: Can your contacts find a meeting of the leaders of the triage of figures?

Beep Boop: ...

The man looked at the message, USB plugged into the mobile device. He'd gotten a date, location and a simple message.

Be warned. The underworld here is a lot more intense than your fancy space one. Humanity's been through a lot of shit. If you're not dead or tell anyone where you got the data. You can get your little signal to that station orbiting Pluto.

[beepiesheepie]

Engineer headcanons from moi:

-loves summer, favorite season. Not just because it was the one time of year he got a break in his 10+ years of uni

-master barbecue man it's in his Texan blood. Makes his own sauces

-hates hates hates hot dogs because thats what he ate 24/7 as his meals in uni. His parents and grandparents never gave him money for uni so he would learn independence and boy howdy did he learn (derogatory). Because his diet was mostly hotdogs, pasta, and jello he actually couldn't eat anything else for a while after graduating- he would get sick, his stomach wasnt used to anything else. He's fine now though but it was pretty scary at the time. If you ask he will grill you a hot dog but you can see his blood freeze when you do.

-does cookouts for the team when it's a nice enough day on a weekend. They love him for it. He often serves ribs, steak, and chicken wings, his one vegetarian option is a salad.

-can and will stay up into the night working if he isn't persuaded to bed

-in uni engie slept 4-5 hours a night and crashed on the weekends, so if you're under engie and he's asleep you are NOT getting up

-knows how to ride a horse, has done it plenty of times

-sometimes he takes off the gunslinger or any prosthetic cause after a while the weight of it hurts his shoulders and back. Oftentimes when like this he forgets its off and tries doing things with his right hand only to go "Oh yeah, right"

- very bad with literary analysis on a deeper level. Flirt talk is fine, basic analysis is fine (this character represents the rich, this conflict is about being greedy), but if you ask him to go deeper he'll start getting stuck, hates when things are open ended like that, how are you supposed to solve anything?

-emotionally intelligent when it comes to knowing how other people feel and how he feels but when he snaps he snaps

-likes being up early to watch the sun rise

-has some old college merch that he keeps with him but it's really old. Has a little flag he hung up in the workshop. Kept his graduation cap and he has his PhDs proudly hung above his workbench in the workshop.

-speaking of, I imagine the workshop is a huge basement area, pretty large room but you wouldn't know with how much stuff is in it. It's filled to the brim with crates and mechanical parts and junk and somehow he found a way to have a tiny living area- its just a mini fridge, a table with food on it, a stool, and a radio next to a bed he has for when he wants to crash and not walk up stairs to his room. (I hc they each have individual rooms, but the size of them is, uh, puny. Basically broom closets +)

-god tier at cooking

-calls all soda 'coke' even if that isn't the specific soda he wants

-he was super scrawny and acne ridden upon entering uni. Sometimes he shows his old ID or a photo before he got on the train to uni to people and they just go "who the hell is this, did you have a brother"

-the words "Remember, you're a Conhager!" Are seared into his brain like a cattle brand

-goes outside and takes pictures of the tornado when the sirens go off, everyone but Soldier and Medic think he's insane for that

-has never slept in a comfy bed. Maybe one night at a hotel for something but he's never really owned in and slept in a comfy bed.

-is besties with most people on the team. Tries to be a dad figure for Pauling but Spy filled that niche before he did

-not a headcanon but did you know engie is 5'7". He is a normal height. What the fuck. This means Sniper is 6'4" and Heavy is 6'5". Soldier is 6'. Everyone on this team is fucking gigantic.

[draconic-ichor]

Hey, I'm kind of new to this, so sorry if this comes off awkward, but I was wondering if I could put in a request for Radahn?

I'm a simp for enemies-to-lovers or friends-to-lovers trope and also unlikely romances, so I was wondering if you could do something along the lines of Radahn and a shy/pacifist reader? Mostly fluff with a bit of spice.

If not, that's totally fine of course. Feel free to ignore this if it isn't your style. Take care.

It’s ok! Don’t feel awkward or embarrassed to ask questions or make requests :3

I haven’t given much thought to Radahn, and the size difference alone causes some difficulties…

But I took a wack at it! A collection of a few fluffy tidbits with a shy female tarnished and Radahn. I know this isn’t much, but I hope you enjoy them all the same…

Little Bird

Radahn/female tarnished

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, scarlet rot

Summary: a little collection of some interactions throughout a blossoming relationship

Starscourge Radahn was a giant beast of a man, largest of the demigods and a fierce general upon the field. He would shake the resolve of even the most formidable warriors.

So it was to his great surprise when he saw a small tarnished dart around his garrison. She was a delicate thing with a mess of brown curls.

He’d seen her in passing, but never it long and definitely never caught her uttering a word.

Now she seemed to actively try to avoid detection while at the same time getting quite close. She tentatively snuck out with an outstretched hand, Radahn’s noble steed investigating. The horse, Lenard, snorted happily, the tarnished smiling.

Radahn’s head tilted a bit, golden gaze catching the interaction. The little tarnished felt a bolt of fear, scurrying the hide behind some large crates.

Lenard whinnied after her, tail swishing.

The little display made Radahn throw his head back in laughter. It was deep and clear, echoing over the sands.

The tarnished blinked, realizing the demigod wasn’t angry. She poked her head out, cautiously.

“A shy one, for a tarnished.” His laughter petered out into a chuckle, large hand drifting down to gently stroke the horse. Lenard leaned up into the contact. “What was thou doing to dear Lenard that sent thee running off so?” He asked, no ill to his tone.

The tarnished bit her lip, looking down. She slowly emerged from hiding, keeping her head low. The demigod dwarfed her in every sense of the word, casting a shadow that would make a dragon blush. She tiptoed forward still, showing her hands.

Lenard whinnied excitedly, Radahn has to shift very forward to see what the tarnished held. She shivered as he got closer, using every nerve not to scurry away again.

There in her small palms were raisins. Lenard was very excited, nosing into her hands soon after.

Radahn straightened, chuckling again. The sound made the tarnished blush, a little smile tugging at her lips.

“Spoiling my steed?” He grinned.

She gave a little nod, petting the horse now that her hands were free.

His smile widened at that.

~

They interacted some, from time to time, the tarnished gathering enough courage to speak. She was a shy little thing, Radahn enjoying the contrast to the usual folk he surrounded himself with.

He found himself enjoying the moments of quiet with her, even more so the deeper the rot inched into his body. He’d never been one to focus on death, giving little thought to the more mundane fractals of life. The rot send a sudden appreciation for the little things.

He lay on his back along the red sands, gazing up into the blanket of stars. Caelid was a wasteland, yet the view of the nights sky was breathtaking. Radahn was silent for a long while, truly feeling small under the cosmos.

“Did you truly do it?” Came a small voice, stirring him from his ruminating.

“Hm?” He shifted a bit, glancing down at the tiny little tarnished next to him.

“Did you truly?“ she asked, rolling onto her side, “Halt the stars?”

“Aye..” he chuckled, laying back to look into the sky again. His eyes twinkled, “…Even now.”

He heard a sound of awe leave the tarnished, smiling widening with pride.

~

His hand was outstretched, unmoving, in an offering. Radahn was crouched down on his knees, almost unmoving.

The tarnished bit her lip, worrying her hands in her skirts. Her gaze shifted up to his, heart skipping a beat.

Was he nervous?

She moved closer, reaching out to touch his fingers. His hand was almost the size of her whole body. The tarnished eased more into the contact, leaning into his palm.

A smile bloomed over his face. The tarnished could feel his heart beat through him, deepening the contact.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved his hand to cup her safely. Lifting her up, he gently brought her closer to his face. The tarnished clung to a finger for balance, falling on her butt into his palm.

Once he stopped, worriedly leaning in to make sure she was alright. He cradled her like a little bug, the situation making her giggle.

The sound warmed his heart, joining in on the laughter.

~

The Starscourge began to call the tarnished ‘Wren’, for her small size and flighty demeanor. It made the tarnished blush when he would say it. The name also gave her an idea…

“Radahn!” The tarnished exclaimed, running over the hill and waving excitedly.

The large man turned a bit, face instantly lighting up when seeing her, “My little Wren!” He unfolded his arms as he spoke, “It has been too long.”

“I know…” her face fell a bit, coming closer, “Iv been traveling. I have something to show you!”

“Ah?” He began to lean closer but paused when she raised a hand to halt him. Confusion filtered over his face.

Pulling her seal from her belt, the tarnished cast an incantation. Shifting light of golds and blues burst from her back, forming great wings. She flapped them a bit in practice before jumping into the air. Still very new to flying she almost smacked right into Radahn’s face, the demigod scrambling to catch her like a fledgling bird.

Wren fell into his palms, a mess of spectral feathers and curls. She righted herself a bit, beaming up at him.

Radahn smiled wildly, impressed. “Thou is truly a wee bird!” He chuckled, bringing her closer.

“You won’t have to reach down for me anymore!” She smiled, carefully standing in his large hands.

“Aye.” He nodded, smile softening as she kissed the tip of his nose.

“I missed you…” she murmured.

“I missed thee too.” He nodded, darkened veins starting to snake over his face, a cruel reminder of the rot that festered below the surface.

Art of Wren

[random-snippetss]

Whumptober 2022

Day 4: Hidden Injury

Tw: Injury, some very negative self thinking, panic attack

The 'fresher was too small to be used as a makeshift medbay, barely large enough for the toilet, sonic shower and tiny sink. Too bad Delta couldn't use the real medbay. The boys would see, or Omega, and they would ask questions she didn't want to answer.

Twisting to peer into the mirror hurt, but she needed to get a better look at her side, where the multicolor bruise spread over her ribs. She winced as twisting caused them to throb, but brushed it aside. She couldn't show any weakness.

It was bad enough that she had let the bounty get away. He had hit her hard, but there was no reason to collapse the way she did. None of her ribs had even broken this time. Probably. The scanner was in the medbay, so she couldn't exactly check to be sure.

Her eyes burned, staring at herself in the mirror, but she refused to let the tears come. She closed her eyes instead, taking in a slow breath as she forced those feelings into a dark corner of her mind, leaving behind the usual hollow ache burning in her chest. This was fine. She couldn't let her feelings interfere with the mission anymore than they already had.

She scowled and dropped the hem of her tunic, taking satisfaction in the way the bruises disappeared under the black fabric, like they were never there. She barely brushed her fingers over her side and stars flashed bright over her vision.

She sucked her breath in sharply, biting back the grunt that tried to escape. Hunter would hear and know. Hunter could never know. Her hands shook, but she forced them to still as she shouldered her pack and brushed the sensor for the door.

She stopped abruptly to avoid running into Tech, who had his hand raised to knock. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither moving nor speaking. Finally, she broke the silence.

"Did you...need something?" She asked. She gripped the strap of her pack with one hand and tucked the other in her back pocket to hide their shaking. Had Tech heard her? No, he didn't have enhanced hearing like Hunter. But what if he had? He was standing right there. It was possible to hear someone from outside the door.

So why didn't you hear him walk up?

She ignored the voice to focus on Tech's words.

"Ah, well, Hunter has called a team meeting to discuss the next plan for the bounty," Tech answered. "You had not returned from the 'fresher, so I believed it would be beneficial for someone to retrieve you so that we may get your input. You are our best strategist, after all."

That was an exaggeration, she was decent at best. No matter how much she studied and planned and practiced, she'd be nowhere near as good as Echo or Hunter. She let out a sigh, twitching when her ribs twinged, but Tech was rambling too much to notice, which she was grateful for.

"Yeah, I'll be right there," she said when he paused to breathe. "I just need to drop my pack in my bunk."

Tech nodded and turned to make his way toward the galley. She waited until he disappeared before she turned toward her bunk. Her bunk was less of a bunk and more a cot in the engine room, but she didn't mind. The sounds of the engine meant nobody was woken by her screams, not even Hunter. She had no privacy, but she didn't care. She was used to it. Brothels had very little privacy, after all, especially for the slaves.

She shook her head violently to break away from that train of thought, digging her fingers into her ribs until the only thing she could focus on was the pain. This was good. This was focus.

She brought her breathing under control and dropped her pack on the cot. She didn't bother unpacking, she'd just need it again later. She glanced down at her armor piled on a crate at the end of the cot, debating whether she should put it on now or wait until after the meeting. Her ribs twinged at the thought and she turned away. It would take too long, Hunter would be angry enough that she was making them wait this long.

She dragged her good hand through her hair, wincing as her fingers caught on knots she hadn't gotten a chance to comb out yet. It was time to cut it again, the longer hair was difficult to maintain and shorter hair was better with helmets anyway. She made a mental note to do it once the mission was completed as she entered the galley.

Something smelled good, her stomach twisting violently in response. She swallowed down the sudden nausea and dropped down into a chair beside Omega, trying not to hurt her ribs while not looking too stiff. None of them needed to be suspicious right now.

"Food," Hunter grunted, waving a hand toward the stove.

"Not hungry," she answered. You didn't earn it, yet. "Wrecker can have mine." He was always hungry and there was no reason to waste food, especially since credits and rations were both in short supply. They wouldn’t be so short if they weren’t forced to waste it on you.

“Yeah,” Wrecker cheered, bouncing up to fill his plate once again. At least her existence was good for something else.

She watched him dig in, crossing her arms over her empty stomach. It had been two days, but she hadn’t earned it yet. The dizziness wasn’t that bad and the weakness hadn’t hit yet. Well, a certain definition of weakness, that is, she thought, frowning at the memory of her last failure with the bounty. If she hadn’t been so weak, she would’ve captured him.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled and she looked up, meeting Hunter’s eyes. His face was carefully blank, as it always was when she was involved. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking when he was watching her.

She carefully schooled her expression to match his. “So, what’s the next plan, Sarge?” she asked. Hunter was quiet for a long moment, before turning away to speak to the others. She forced herself to pay attention, nodding along where appropriate. Once planned out, they separated to get ready for the mission.

“Delta.” She tensed at Hunter’s voice behind her. She clenched her jaw and forced herself to relax. “Come here for a minute.”

“Sure, boss,” she said easily, hiding the urge to shift nervously. “What do you need?”

“I need you to stay behind and keep the engines warm,” he answered. “If this op goes like any of the others, we’ll be coming in hot and need a quick getaway.”

“Why can’t Tech do it?” she asked.

“We need him to hack the database and get the plans for the base.”

“Echo, then.”

“He needs to keep the doors open and the guards away.”

“Omega?”

“Can’t fly the ship.”

“What about Wrecker?”

Wrecker looked up at his name, but Hunter didn’t acknowledge him. “I need you here, on standby, in case we need it,” Hunter said. “That’s an order.”

She clenched her jaw and looked away. “Yessir.” she bit out. WIthout waiting for dismissal, she turned on her heel and made her way to her bunk. Her eyes burned as the anger faded, but she refused to let them come. She dropped onto her bunk and her vision flared white.

She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, but stayed silent as she waited for the pain to dull. She took slow, careful breaths until it did, then sighed and reached down to pull her kit onto the cot. They would still be in hyperspace for at least two hours, which would be plenty of time to clean up.

The familiar motions helped clear the static in her head and silenced the voice to a mere whisper. She cleaned both blaster pistols and her rifle and was just fishing out her rag and oil for her knives when footsteps brought her back to herself. She looked up to see Omega. “Need something, kiddo?” Delta asked, tucking away the knives to clear room for the kid.

Omega took the invitation and settled on the cot beside her, studying her with an intensity that made her chest ache. “You’re hurt.” It wasn’t a question, but nothing ever was when Omega got like this. The boys often underestimated her because she was a kid, but Delta had noticed that Omega was observant. She watched more than they thought and just seemed to know how people felt before even they did.

Delta couldn’t meet her eyes and looked away, working at the rag in her hands. “I’m fine, kid,” she said.

Omega was quiet for a long moment. “You don’t like yourself very much, do you?” she asked, gently.

Delta scowled and glanced at the door. The last thing she needed was for someone to overhear that. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She picked up her rag and started cleaning her knife. The durasteel was cold against her fingers, the rag catching on the calluses of her fingers. “Don’t you have something else to do?” she asked.

“Echo and Tech are on watch in the cockpit, Wrecker is taking a nap and Hunter has his headphones,” Omega answered.

Delta’s shoulders relaxed a bit at that. Hunter’s enhancements meant that his senses sometimes got overloaded, so Tech had adjusted some noise cancelling headphones to work for him and he used them pretty regularly to avoid meltdowns, especially in the middle of a battle. This meant that he likely hadn’t heard anything Omega had said. “Why are you here?” she asked, suddenly exhausted.

Omega reached out to rest one of her hands on Delta’s. The small movement shouldn’t have made her chest ache the way it did, but it did and she had to swallow hard against the sudden lump in her throat. “I care about you, Delta,” the girl said softly. “And so do the others. You’re family.”

Those words drove the breath from Delta’s lungs and her head spun. She closed her eyes, sucking in her next breath, suddenly feeling like she was drowning. “Omega,” her voice broke and she clenched her jaw, taking in another, slower breath. When she spoke again, her voice was steadier. “I think you should go find something else to do right now.”

Omega sat there for a moment longer, then squeezed her hand and stood. Neither of them said anything as her footsteps faded from the room. Delta’s eyes were wet and she wiped them dry, refusing to let them stay that way. She lowered the knife and dug her fingers into her side, letting the pain drive away the static that had returned during the conversation. Finally alone in her head, she let out a slow breath and picked up the knife again, returning to her cleaning.

By the time the sublight alarm went off, she had finished her kit, cleaned and polished her armor and had fully kitted up. Even though she had been assigned guard duty, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be prepared for a fight. Knowing this crew, she would need it. An added bonus was that her helmet hid her face and her cuirass helped support her ribs, as long as she didn’t bend the wrong way.

She was the last to arrive and she mentally cursed herself for keeping them waiting for something as important as this. “Sorry, I’m late,” she drawled lazily. She offered no excuse, knowing it wouldn’t do anything to stop them from being angry at her.

“Everyone remember their assignments?” Hunter checked. The boys nodded affirmatives and he shot a look at Delta. “Delta?”

“Keep the engines warm and stay prepared for a quick getaway,” she answered, trying not to let her irritation from leaking into her voice. Relegated to a glorified babysitter. She should be out there, making up for her kriffing the last plan. She ground her teeth together and shifted her weight. “I know my jobs, boss.”

“Then why’d you kriff up the last one,” she heard Echo mutter. Hunter shot him a look, but said nothing. She didn’t acknowledge either of them as she brushed past to settle in the pilot’s chair.

“Coming out of hyperspace in 3...2...1,” she announced, dragging back the lever to slow the engines. The blue walls of hyperspace faded to lines, then to tiny pinpricks of light from stars. Flying gave her something to focus on other than her thoughts as she settled the ship in a clearing in the forest at the edge of the city. “Go get him, boys.”

They pulled on their helmets and filed off the ship, leaving her alone in the silence. Omega had been ordered to bed and been tucked in just before they had arrived, so not even the girl was around to distract her. She leaned back in the seat and blew out her breath, wincing as her ribs twinged. Man, this was starting to get annoying. They had to be broken to be bothering her this much for this long, or at least cracked.

She sat up to glance at the door to the medbay. She could probably get them scanned, now that she was alone. She bit her lip and looked over at the com on the console. That would take a few minutes and it had already been -she checked her chrono- fifteen minutes. She did a quick calculation in her head. It was about five minutes into the city, then maybe ten or fifteen to find the target, depending on how reliable the information was. She could probably slip in and be back before they commed. But what if they checked the med droid? Or the scanner? It would have proof of her weakness.

She could wipe the data, maybe. She'd always been good with droids, it should be easy enough. Mind made up, she spared one last glance at the com as she stood. She had just barely made it to the door when it chimed.

"Outlaw 7, keep the engines warm," Echo's voice called out. "We're coming in hot with Imps on our tail."

Cursing, she dropped into the seat again and started through the flight checklist. "I copy, Outlaw 5," she replied. "We'll be ready for you."

After five tense minutes, the boys burst onto the ship, the mark thrown over Wrecker's shoulder. Delta caught a flash of Tech supporting Hunter before they disappeared into the medbay, but was distracted by the ships that had begun firing on them.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to focus on the battle ahead as she lifted off. Echo manned the guns while Wrecker went to secure the target in the hold. A few tense minutes of dogfighting passed before she saw an opening and hit hyperspace.

She slumped back in the chair for a moment, watching the blue walls, then stood to go check on everyone. Echo seemed uninjured, so she left him to monitor the trip while she checked on the others.

Wrecker was fine, if a little banged up. Nothing permanent and he was literally built with a thick skull, so the hit he took to the head hadn't even fazed him. Still, she ran a concussion check, which came back normal. No concussion.

The target, though, was still unconscious, bleeding sluggishly from a cut at his hairline. "I'm gonna go get some supplies to patch him up," she said. "Com me if he wakes up before I get back. Don’t," she stressed. "knock him out again. Got it?"

"Can do, kiddo," Wrecker said, baring his teeth in a grin.

"I'm not-" she cut herself off with a sigh. "Just keep an eye on him." She left without waiting for a response and headed into the medbay.

Hunter was just pulling on the top of his blacks when the door slid open, the edges of what promised to be a nasty bruise peeking out from under the bacta patch spread over his chest.

"I thought this was supposed to be an easy op," she said, frowning under her helmet. "What happened there?"

"The hut'uun had a pulse rifle," Hunter said, wincing as he snapped his cuirass into place. "Just clipped me, but he managed to crack a couple of ribs."

A pulse rifle? So that was what he had gotten her with. Made sense why it hurt so much, too. "Who hit him?" She asked, ignoring the throbbing in her own ribs as she crossed the room to dig through the cabinet for bandages.

"Wrecker," Tech and Hunter said at the same time.

Delta snorted, tucking the bandages into her utility belt. "No wonder he's still out." Her com chirped and she glanced down at it. It was Wrecker. "Looks like he's awake now."

Hunter nodded and stood, pulling his helmet on, but not before she caught the wince he was trying to hide. "Let's go pay him a visit."

"Lead the way, boss," she answered, stepping back to let him through.

The target was bound at the wrists and ankles, but looked up when they entered. Hunter hung back while she crouched in front of him to clean the wound. "Good to see you again, sweetheart," the target said. "How's the ribs?"

She scowled and grabbed his chin to turn his head, but also to shut him up. She started dabbing at the blood to get a clear view of the wound.

"Oh, don't be like that, darling," he replied. "I didn't hit you that hard."

"Shut up," she growled, jerking his head up a little harder than necessary. He hissed when the antiseptic soaked cloth touched the wound. Ice filled her veins and she hoped, uselessly, that neither of the boys in the room had heard.

"What's he talking about?" Wrecker asked. Kriff, she knew it would be too good to be true. Now they knew about her weakness.

"Nothing," she answered. She didn't look away from the wound as she cleaned it, perhaps a bit rougher than she needed to. "I'm fine."

"Sweetheart, nobody who gets hit with a pulse rifle and falls off a roof is fine," the target said. "I'm just saying, unless you've got a military grade bacta tank on board, you have to have some cracked ribs at the very least."

"I said shut up," she snapped, slamming him against the wall. He yelped and blinked hard when his head hit the wall, but raised his bound hands in surrender, going silent as she finished bandaging him up.

"Outlaw 7, go take over watch," Hunter ordered once she was done. His expression was unreadable through his helmet, but his arms were crossed, shoulders tense. She mentally cursed, but nodded, casually sauntering out of the room.

Once the door was closed, she ripped her helmet off and took big, gulping breaths, trying to stave off the drowning feeling. This was it, they would finally know how weak she was, how useless. They'd realize just how much of a burden she was and kick her off the ship.

She choked on a sob that bubbled up from her chest, stumbling to the engine room. She dropped to her knees beside the cot, pressing her forehead to the edge, trying to remember how to breathe. Her face was wet, tears falling for the first time in a long time, since before she had joined the Batch.

Her hands shook as she released the clasps of her cuirass, digging her fingers into her ribs. The pain didn't help this time, just drove what little breath she had from her lungs. She pressed her back against the wall, curling her legs up to bury her face into her knees.

She didn't want to leave. It had taken her almost three years to finally admit it. This was her home, her family. She'd tried so hard to prove to them that she wasn't weak, that she was worth having around. She'd never failed a mission, never wasted their bacta, never took more than she needed to survive.

She'd always earned her keep, but it all ended today. All it took was one bad op and now she was going to be all alone again. Her worst nightmare, the horrors she lived every night in her sleep were finally coming true.

There were hands on hers, drawing her attention to them. Hunter was crouched in front of her, brows pinched together in what had to be pain. He was speaking, but she couldn't make out his words through the static in her head, drowning out every sound and blurring her vision. Lips still moving, he took her hand and pressed her palm to his chest.

It took a couple of exaggerated deep breaths for her to realize he wanted her to do the same. It was then that she realized just how fast she breathing, how the rapid breathing set her ribs on fire. Choking on her next breath, she curled her free arm around her ribs, vision whiting out for a second until she forced herself to breathe through it.

She matched her breaths with Hunter's and the pain faded, taking some of the static with it. Though still slightly muffled, her hearing returned, bringing Hunter's voice.

"You're doing great, Delta," he said softly. "You just need to keep breathing, just like this." He took another exaggerated breath and she copied him. "Yeah, just like that. Just keep breathing."

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, able to speak once again. "I'm so sorry, Hunter. I tried, I tried so hard, but I'm not- I'm not good enough, I know, but I'll try harder, I promise. I'll be better, I will, just please don't leave me. Don't leave me alone again, please. I promise I'll be better, I promise-"

"Woah, Delta, slow down, breathe," Hunter interrupted. She copied his next few breath until the static had faded even more. She ducked her head, silent, trembling, waiting for his reprimand, for his disgust at her weakness. "Delta, what are you talking about?"

She closed her eyes, shrinking back against the wall. "I was weak," she whispered, ashamed to be admitting it. "I failed the op."

He let out a heavy sigh and she flinched, expecting a blow. "Can you walk?"

She paused and slowly lifted her head to look up at him. "What?" She asked, voice hoarse.

"You need the medbay," he answered. "I don't think I can carry you," he cradled his own ribs with his arm. "but I can get Wrecker to carry you if you can't-"

"I can walk," she blurted out. She wasn't actually sure if she could, but she needed to prove that she could be better than her weakness. "But I-I don't need-"

"You do," he said, his voice hard in an order.

She ducked her head again. "Yessir," she answered automatically. He sighed again and her stomach flipped, bordering on nausea that she had caused him more stress. Why couldn't she do anything right?

A tug on her hand brought her out of her head and she looked up to realize that Hunter had stood and that he hadn't let go of her hand. Her eyes burned at the realization and she looked away, jerking her hand back. She didn't need help to do something as simple as stand.

Using the wall as a support worked for a moment, but when she took a step, her weak knees buckled and Hunter had to catch her. She mumbled an apology, trying to shake off the spinning in her head. He sighed again and wrapped his arms around her, supporting her as they made their way to the medbay.

She dropped onto the bed with a hiss, pressing a hand to her ribs. They knew how weak she was now, there was no reason to hide it. Still, she refused to make a sound as Tech manipulated her arm so he could get an accurate scan, even though raising her arm set her side on fire. She breathed through the pain, letting it drown out the static.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Hunter asked.

Delta chewed the inside of her lip, debating what to tell him to make him not be angry at her. “I haven’t earned it, yet,” she said carefully. Maybe knowing that she wasn’t wasting their supplies would make up for her weakness. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, quickly looking away at the pinched look on his face. “But-but I can earn it on the next job, if you’ll let me. I won’t fail this time, I promise.”

“You won’t be going on a job for a long while,” Tech said and her heart dropped. “You’ve sustained four cracked ribs, hairline fractures in your tibia and radial bones and a dislocated elbow. I suspect you’ll need eight to ten weeks to fully recover, seeing as we lack the supplies for a proper bacta treatment.”

Delta’s head swam. Eight to ten weeks? There was no way they would want to waste credits or supplies on her for that long. “Just say it,” she said, voice hoarse.

“Say what?” Hunter asked, leaning forward in the seat he had settled in while Tech worked.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “Say that you want me gone,” she said, voice steadier than she felt. “Tell me that I’m a burden on a good day, a waste of credits and supplies unless I can work to earn my keep.” She dropped her eyes to her hands, watching her fingers pick at the edges of her sleeves. “We all know it’s true, so just say it so it’ll be easier when I leave.”

“You said ‘when’, not ‘if’,” he pointed out softly.

She shrugged, feeling exhausted, shoulders slumped with the weight of her uselessness. “It was only a matter of time,” she whispered. “Everyone leaves me eventually.”

Hunter sighed. “Kriff, kid,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “C’mere.” The bed shifted under his weight, then his arm was thrown around her shoulders, pulling her close. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

She shrugged silently, tense under the touch. Every inch of her screamed for her to lean into it, but she refused. She shouldn’t get used to the touch of someone she wouldn’t be seeing again after today.

“You never answered my question,” he pointed out. “When was the last time you ate? And I expect an honest answer.”

She sighed and shrugged. “I’m not sure,” she answered, tugging at the fraying edge of her sleeve. “A couple of days, maybe.”

Hunter looked up at Tech, who nodded and left the room. "Kid, I need you to listen and listen good," he said once they were alone. He pulled away, shifting to look her in the eye. "You are not useless, you are not a burden. You are family. You don't have to earn your keep."

The intensity in his eyes, the force behind those words, made her eyes burn and this time she let them fall, throwing her arms around him. She buried her face into his shoulder with a sob, surprised by how much she had needed to hear those words.

[frenzyjinx]

The Watcher (mono x reader)

Chapter 4

Y/N Pov

She slowly nodded at me "y/n... interesting name im six." I raised an eyebrow in surprise wishing I could write down in my notebook all these new details, but unfortunately I think my bag fell down somewhere to be forgotten

'Man all that hard work..' I rubbed my face slowly "your name is definitely more interesting" I spoke calmly devising a plan in my head 'I could always follow them for a bit.. and then disappear when they are resting..'

I could feel a stare on me so I glanced over seeing mono looking directly at me "...h-hey?" I stuttered out, he responded "thats a pretty name, im mono" you nodded 'I already figured that out.. hehe'

Six looked behind her at all the cages being held up by ropes "thats some strong rope" she commented "we should keep moving.. I don't wanna be in this creepy forest any longer" mono stated after looking at the cages too

I hummed in agreement, this forest had always been creepy but I was sorta use to it seeing as I built my shelter here and all, I kept behind them walking slowly I noticed a random shovel sticking up out of the ground.. right next to a bunch of cages

As we continued to travel forwards I heard the hunter in the distance making loud footsteps 'man he is determined to get us' the others heard it has well slowing down the quicker pace

Mono stopped moving watching where the hunter was, he slowly looked back at me and placed his hand out to keep me still 'fine by me-'  There was a small slope that we could slide down, I doubted we would go unnoticed though

We all slid down I accidentally slid against mono's side which caused a tiny pink blush to form on my face but it quickly left when a crow cawed out alerting the hunter where we were

In haste we all hid behind the crate has he aimed his gun shooting it to pieces as wood chunks flew by

Running faster I was just behind them as the hunter shot at the next crate I had been using for cover, I let out a yelp and used my strength to climb up the wood bars of the building, six and mono were already climbing up

A strangely placed TV was on the side but not for long, it was shot at and broken through by the hunter, mono was pulling himself up near the roof through an opening, I hurried up and climbed faster feeling a shot just inches away from my feet

Pulling myself in I noticed that they were both on the other side mono reaching his hand out and frantically speaking "don't worry just jump I have you!" Sighing I mustered up my courage and jumped towards him for the second time that day

And for the second time he caught me once again, pulling me up with ease he latched onto my hand and started running after six who was calling for us to hurry, The hunter was relentlessly shooting below us, blowing holes into the floor that we were running over

Mono tightened his grip on my hand and ran faster taking me with him, we both leaped through yet another opening sliding down the rooftop, he gently grabbed onto my waist and held me against him as we fell

Hitting the mud we both popped up as we heard six speak "over here! Quick!" I waded over under the tiny area of cover just as mono did too, the hunter bursted through the door huffing out in anger using his lamp once again to search

The smell of the mud just wafted into my nose and I almost gagged out, the flies buzzing around eagerly most likely loving the horrid stench, peering over I watched the hunter walked across the dock very slowly

Once he was out of sight I looked to my right at mono and six breathing out in short relief, six was the first to speak "you guys almost didn't make it, stay closer we need to stick together"

Her words made me see her in a different light

At first she had seemed kinda uncaring but now I could tell that she did care under that cold personality, I nodded at her in understanding just as mono spoke up "I had to make sure y/n didn't get shot, the hunter was getting too close to her"

I moved hair out of my face and twiddled with my fingers a tiny red hue forming on my cheeks, six looked over at me and smirked a bit noticing what was going on

I shook away my blush in embarrassment and looked down "uh yeah thanks for helping me.." I spoke to him without looking up, Feeling his stare I peeked up and he nodded "Anytime, lets keep going"

The three of you waded through the thick mud, for some reason they didn't seem that fazed but I felt like throwing up, my h/c hair was getting muddy and I knew it would smell bad, hopefully water would show up soon

Up ahead there was a small opening but nobody could fit unless they ducked under 'oh are you kidding me.. this is gonna suck' taking a deep breath of air I went under and popped up as soon has I knew I was on the other end

Mono grabbed my shoulder gently and pointed to a tree stump that we could see sticking out in the mud, it would make good cover I nodded at him in agreement and glanced to six who also noticed, she already knew what to do

Hiding there we waited until the hunter pointed his lamp away to start wading in the mud once again, I was behind mono and about halfway towards the next stump when the light headed my way

I quickly ducked under the mud once more, moving quickly to reach my destination, I felt someone tug me out of the mud, it was mono he looked at me and wiped some mud away from my face

I was definitely blushing again but thankfully the mud on my cheeks covered it up, six was pulling herself up onto a small chunk of land that had a bigger stump residing on top of it

Mono followed her and turned around pulling me up as well I silently nodded in thanks to him, six hummed in thought and slowly started to push against the bigger stump, Mono and I joined in effectively pushing it over into the mud

But unfortunately the hunter had heard and was aiming directly in the area of the sound which meant that We had to once again duck into the mud to reach what looked like another ladder of sorts

Once arriving in front of it I wiped my face getting rid of all the mud that I could and caught my breath to relax my pounding heartbeat, six started to climb up the ladder 'damn she is always ready to move'

Some crows had flew away and made noise, I awaited for the hunter to notice like he usually did but nothing happened 'strange' I shrugged and followed her up, mono stayed behind me climbing up right below me

This time I turned around and lended a hand down to him, he grabbed on and I pulled him up, maybe a little too hard because he fell down onto me trapping me to the forest floor 'oh- he's super close-'

I was definitely getting too attached to him I needed to remember my plan.. it was just hard to when mono was so distracting.

[laeorinel]

FFXIV Write: 01 - Cross

(God, I am so rusty at writing, and I may have gotten a teeny tiny bit carried away with this…set post 5.3-ish. Also I regret writing with Urianger in mind with this. I love that man, but my god the way he speaks is hard to write clearly.)

As the crisp air from Coerthas blew down from the mountains to the North, Urianger could not stop the shiver that ran up his spine as he crossed over the threshold of the Rising Stones. Sleep evaded him this night; too many thoughts and theories on his mind to allow him to rest. The late hour likely did not help either. 

He and the others had only recently returned from the First, most of them still recovering from their long slumber. Some of the Scions faired better than others in that recovery. He found it difficult to fully gauge the passage of time or the placement of the stars in the heavens. Everything felt different to the First, but not so different as to cause alarm. It was almost akin to seeing the world while drunk. Everything was ever just so slightly off, but you could not exactly explain how. 

It made the small moments where one could ground themselves all the more critical, and the Scions devoted Warrior was a large part of that. Not that Urianger was looking for them in particular at this moment. Quite the opposite. He did not expect nor need any companionship right now other than a cup of freshly brewed tea and a good book. A small moment of calm before the oncoming storm broke through. 

Or at least…that was the plan. As Urianger moved over to the bar to gather what he needed, he heard something akin to a snarl towards the rear of the rising stones and saw a book flying across the room before smashing into the opposing wall with some force. He heard some quiet yet irritated sounding muttering in a language few could speak, the old tongue of the Auri people.

Urianger cannot help the faint laugh that leaves him before he wanders over to collect the poor abused tome from the floor. 

“I see I am not the only one devoid of repose.” he glances down towards the cracked leather of the book, one detailing the history and beliefs of the Twelve divinities, a book commonly given to children in Sharlayan as part of their studies. He glances to his right at the abuser of the said tome, a Xaela woman sitting upon one of the larger crates, looking more than a little bit cross. Her silver eyes glared daggers at the book, barbed tail whipping against the crate every so often. While anger was a common emotion for his friend, this level of vexation at an inanimate object was somewhat rare.  

“Might I enquire what this poor tome did to receive such a furious response from you, my friend?”

“Why must all of you scholarly types use such big words in your books? How is a child meant to read that?!” Urianger watches as Samara crosses her arms, black claws half digging into her scales in frustration. 

“Ah, I see….” He keeps the book as he walks over to sit beside her, noticing scratches on the wood of the crate she sits on. How long had she been sitting here struggling to read this book that the sharper scales on her tail have left a mark? 

Before joining the Scions, Samara was largely illiterate; the Echo facilitated any communication needed in the moment and any reports and the like she would pass over to another, always claiming there was some other important matter that needed her attention. It is a sore subject she dislikes bringing up in front of her allies, even those closest to her. As far as she knows, most of the Scions are unaware of this “flaw” of hers, as she sees it. 

As she has told Urianger in the past, the Xaela people have no formal written language; all of their history and wisdom is passed down through tales and songs in their native tongue. While some tribes had started including some form of written language, typically Doman, in their daily lives, particularly those who often deal with outsiders, the majority still stuck to the old ways. 

Urianger was one of the privileged few who knew this little detail of their vaunted Warrior of Light. He may well have been the first to notice, though he sometimes wondered if Minfillia knew as well, given she would always have reasons for Samara to leave any reports undone if she could find no excuse to make herself. 

Regardless of who discovered the secret first, Urianger was the first to attempt to teach her how to read and write in the common tongue. Progress was mixed. It is hard to teach someone when they are being pulled in a hundred different directions, and that was before his little sojourn into the First. 

“I take it thine studies have faltered in recent months?” 

Samara lets out a loud sigh of resignation before lying back on the crate, her black hair, which for once is not tied up out of the way, looking more than a little messy. “Of course they have. I hardly have time to learn all your fancy words in between everything else.” Urianger watched the emotions dance across her face, the typical anger is there, but it is closely followed by confusion, frustration and bitter disappointment. 

“Does thou wish to learn still? 

Samara huffs again before looking up at Urianger and nods. He did not expect any other answer. Samara was frighteningly stubborn at times. A trait that caused him and his companions no small amount of grief but also immense pride when she yet again surmounted the insurmountable. 

He places the book down to the side before standing again, reaching a hand down to the woman. “Then might I suggest a change in approach?” 

Samara raises a brow before taking the offered hand with a sigh. “Sure. Though you’ll have to forgive me if I doubt whatever you have planned will get through my thick skull.” 

Urianger shakes his head at the disparaging comment as he guides her back towards the tables near the bar area. “Tis not a lack of intellect that causes you to struggle so, my friend. Far from it. I fear your struggles are more a consequence of mine own failings.” He gestures for her to take a seat at one as he goes about collecting a few items from the shelves behind Tataru’s desk. 

“Come again?” she says as Samara leans back on one of the chairs, looking towards Urianger’s back quizically. 

“I taught you as I would teach a child of Sharlayan. A place where there is nought but peace and tranquillity, where scholarly pursuits are the norm, not the exception.”

“Thy people lead very different lives. Thou are driven by a need to perfect skills that will ensure your continued survival. For example, thy preternatural ability to read and harness the flow of aether to learn formidable magics instead of the required scholarly studies thy fellow practitioners depend upon. The tales and songs thy people tell evoke emotion and connection to the past and present, a cultural practice born out of necessity to form close-knit bonds among kith and kin-. 

“I still have no idea where you are going with this….” Samara already knows where this is going in part. If she does not stop him now, he will be talking until the sun rises.

Caught out as he was mid-tirade, Urianger pauses and turns to look at Samara, a quill, inkwell and pieces of parchment in hand and that look of eternal patience. 

“To speak plainly. Instead of teaching thee the “correct” way, I would teach thee all thou needs to put thine own words and feelings to parchment, pure and true. Thou does not need to know all the “big words” as you put it.” Samara continues looking at him, her brow still arched, as he walks over. 

Urianger places down the inkwell and the pieces of parchment in front of Samara, watching her expression keenly. He can see she is still agitated and now looks at the parchment with the same amount of vitriol visited upon the book. “What I propose is thus, through the Echo, thou can speak and understand spoken common. I will help thee transcribe what thou speaks; if memory serves, thou had a relatively solid understanding of the basics of the written form.” 

Samara wipes a hand over her face and looks up in the direction of the heavens with a sigh. “I do, though I also seem to remember you struggling to read any of it...” 

“I can assure thee, thine handwriting is not the worst I have seen. On the subject at hand, however, I do have a suggestion for the topic of the first letter.” Urianger casually says as he holds out the quill for her. He knew this suggestion could backfire, but something needed to be done. His friends were hopeless at making their feelings known, and he already knew one-half of this budding romance committed their untold feelings to paper.  

“Many struggle articulating words and feelings in person, so they commit to parchment what they struggle to say with their voice. Might I suggest thou writes of thine feelings for a particular comrade?” He cannot stop the smirk that spreads across his face when her cheeks begin to turn a slightly darker shade of grey, and she starts and fails to articulate words.  

“I…I have no idea what you are talking about, but...it would be nice to do that...you know, as a hypno...hypo...whatever that word is.” 

“Hypothetical?” She snaps a finger at him and nods before going quiet. For a few minutes, she stares at the piece of parchment in front of her and the quill in her hand. As he awaits her honest answer, Urianger busies himself with making some tea. He glances back at his student every so often, watching the conflicting emotions on her face fondly. He eventually returns to the table and places two freshly brewed cups down before he makes himself comfortable in the seat next to her, leisurely drinking his own. He is in no rush. 

Eventually, she looks up at Urianger. She speaks in a hushed tone, unsure and almost frightened. “I think I would like that, though. Will you help me get it right? To say what needs to be said?” 

She hated asking for help. To be unable to stand alone and do something unaided frightened her, even if it was to do with something as unthreatening as writing. Urianger found these moments endearing. Times where the mask of an unyielding warrior Samara Kha donned ever so slightly slipped and showed the woman behind it. 

Urianger smiled at her, settling back into his position as her teacher. “With this and more, my friend.” 

[katnissmellarkkk]

Elllow! Today’s bookcomb consists of Peeta being protective of Katniss. Could have been much more implied moments but here’s some explicit ones 🤗

-

But it’s too late to run. I pull a slimy arrow from the sheath and try to position it on the bowstring but instead of one string I see three and the stench from the stings is so repulsive I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it.

I’m helpless as the first hunter crashes through the trees, spear lifted, poised to throw. The shock on Peeta’s face makes no sense to me. I wait for the blow. Instead his arm drops to his side.

“What are you still doing here?” he hisses at me. I stare uncomprehendingly as a trickle of water drips off a sting under his ear. His whole body starts sparkling as if he’s been dipped in dew. “Are you mad?” He’s prodding me with the shaft of the spear now. “Get up! Get up!” I rise, but he’s still pushing at me. What? What is going on? He shoves me away from him hard. “Run!” he screams. “Run!”

-

I trip and fall into a small pit lined with tiny orange bubbles that hum like the tracker jacker nest. Tucking my knees up to my chin, I wait for death.

Sick and disoriented, I’m able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life.

-

I jump as Peeta grips my shoulder from behind. “No,” he says. “You’re not risking your life for me.”

“Who said I was?” I say.

“So, you’re not going?” he asks.

“Of course, I’m not going. Give me some credit.”

-

Anger flushes my face. “All right, I am going, and you can’t stop me!”

“I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I’m yelling your name, I bet someone can find me. And then I’ll be dead for sure,” he says.

“You won’t get a hundred yards from here on that leg,” I say.

“Then I’ll drag myself,” says Peeta. “You go and I’m going, too.”

-

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building.

-

Peeta steps up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers me a hand while he scans the square. I’m halfway up when he suddenly blocks my way. “Get down. Get out of here!” He’s whispering, but his voice is harsh with insistence.

“What?” I say, trying to force my way back up.

“Go home, Katniss! I’ll be there in a minute, I swear!” he says.

-

“He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man.

“He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.”

-

When we’re outside, I turn to Peeta. “You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob.”

“I’ll go with you,” he says.

“No. I’ve dragged you into enough trouble,” I tell him.

“And avoiding a stroll by the Hob . . . that’s going to fix things for me?” He smiles and takes my hand. Together we wind through the streets of the Seam until we reach the burning building.

-

“Peeta’s argument is that since I chose you, I now owe him. Anything he wants. And what he wants is the chance to go in again to protect you,” says Haymitch.

I knew it. In this way, Peeta’s not hard to predict. While I was wallowing around on the floor of that cellar, thinking only of myself, he was here, thinking only of me. Shame isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel.

“You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know,” Haymitch says.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say brusquely. “No question, he’s the superior one in this trio. So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Haymitch sighs. “Go back in with you maybe, if I can. If my name’s drawn at the reaping, it won’t matter. He’ll just volunteer to take my place.”

-

The reaping takes only a minute. Effie, shining in a wig of metallic gold, lacks her usual verve. She has to claw around the girls’ reaping ball for quite a while to snag the one piece of paper that everyone already knows has my name on it. Then she catches Haymitch’s name. He barely has time to shoot me an unhappy look before Peeta has volunteered to take his place.

-

“And I’m not saying I’m not going to try. To get you home, I mean. But if I’m perfectly honest about it. . .”

“If you’re perfectly honest about it, you think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in the arena anyway,” I say.

“It’s crossed my mind,” says Peeta.

-

I check over my weapons, which I know are in perfect condition, because it makes me seem more in control. “I’ll take the lead,” I announce.

Peeta starts to object but Finnick cuts him off. “No, let her do it.”

-

No one’s thrilled with the idea of me going off alone, but the threat of dehydration hangs over us.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go far,” I promise Peeta.

“I’ll go, too,” he says.

“No, I’m going to do some hunting if I can,” I tell him. I don’t add, “And you can’t come because you’re too loud.” But it’s implied. He would both scare off prey and endanger me with his heavy tread. “I won’t be long.”

-

Nothing. I find nothing. Not so much as a dewdrop. Eventually, because I know Peeta will be worried about me, I head back to the camp, hotter and more frustrated than ever.

-

I know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently.

-

While Johanna collects water and my arrows, Beetee fiddles with his wire, and Finnick takes to the water. I need to clean up, too, but I stay in Peeta’s arms, still too shaken to move.

-

This is when Beetee reveals the rest of the plan. Since we move most swiftly through the trees, he wants Johanna and me to take the coil down through the jungle, unwinding the wire as we go. We are to lay it across the twelve o’clock beach and drop the metal spool, with whatever is left, deep into the water, making sure it sinks. Then run for the jungle. If we go now, right now, we should make it to safety.

“I want to go with them as a guard,” Peeta says immediately. After the moment with the pearl, I know he’s less willing than ever to let me out of his sight.

-

I’m so light-headed I’ll black out in a matter of minutes. I’ve got to get away from this tree and —

“Katniss!” I hear his voice though he’s a far distance away. But what is he doing? Peeta must have figured out that everyone is hunting us by now. “Katniss!”

-

Caesar leans in to him a little. “I think it was clear to all of us what your plan was. To sacrifice yourself in the arena so that Katniss Everdeen and your child could survive.”

“That was it. Clear and simple.” Peeta’s fingers trace the upholstered pattern on the arm of the chair.

-

A hush has fallen over the room, and I can feel it spreading across Panem. A nation leaning in toward its screens. Because no one has ever talked about what it’s really like in the arena before.

Peeta goes on. “So you hold on to your wish. And that last night, yes, my wish was to save Katniss.”

-

“When that wire was cut, everything just went insane. I can only remember bits and pieces. Trying to find her. Watching Brutus kill Chaff. Killing Brutus myself. I know she was calling my name. Then the lightning bolt hit the tree, and the force field around the arena . . . blew out.”

“Katniss blew it out, Peeta,” says Caesar. “You’ve seen the footage.”

“She didn’t know what she was doing. None of us could follow Beetee’s plan. You can see her trying to figure out what to do with that wire,” Peeta snaps back.

-

Peeta’s on his feet, leaning in to Caesar’s face, hands locked on the arms of his interviewer’s chair. “Really? And was it part of her plan for Johanna to nearly kill her? For that electric shock to paralyze her? To trigger the bombing?” He’s yelling now. “She didn’t know, Caesar! Neither of us knew anything except that we were trying to keep each other alive!”

Caesar places his hand on Peeta’s chest in a gesture that’s both self-protective and conciliatory. “Okay, Peeta, I believe you.”

-

Gale’s expression darkens. “Peeta might have done a lot of damage tonight. Most of the rebels will dismiss what he said immediately, of course. But there are districts where the resistance is shakier. The cease-fire’s clearly President Snow’s idea. But it seems so reasonable coming out of Peeta’s mouth.”

I’m afraid of Gale’s answer, but I ask anyway. “Why do you think he said it?”

“He might have been tortured. Or persuaded. My guess is he made some kind of deal to protect you. He’d put forth the idea of the cease-fire if Snow let him present you as a confused pregnant girl who had no idea what was going on when she was taken prisoner by the rebels. This way, if the districts lose, there’s still a chance of leniency for you. If you play it right.” I must still look perplexed because Gale delivers the next line very slowly. “Katniss . . . he’s still trying to keep you alive.”

To keep me alive? And then I understand. The Games are still on. We have left the arena, but since Peeta and I weren’t killed, his last wish to preserve my life still stands. His idea is to have me lie low, remain safe and imprisoned, while the war plays out. Then neither side will really have cause to kill me. And Peeta? If the rebels win, it will be disastrous for him. If the Capitol wins, who knows? Maybe we’ll both be allowed to live — if I play it right — to watch the Games go on. . . .

-

Caesar and Peeta have a few empty exchanges before Caesar asks him about rumors that I’m taping propos for the districts.

“They’re using her, obviously,” says Peeta. “To whip up the rebels. I doubt she even really knows what’s going on in the war. What’s at stake.”

-

He asks Peeta if, given tonight’s demonstration, he has any parting thoughts for Katniss Everdeen.

At the mention of my name, Peeta’s face contorts in effort. “Katniss . . . how do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you . . . in Thirteen . . .” He inhales sharply, as if fighting for air; his eyes look insane. “Dead by morning!”

-

“Katniss!” He whips his head toward me but doesn’t seem to notice my bow, the waiting arrow. “Katniss! Get out of here!”

I hesitate. His voice is alarmed, but not insane. “Why? What’s making that sound?”

“I don’t know. Only that it has to kill you,” says Peeta. “Run! Get out! Go!”

-

[leavingkamino]

dark red; chapter seven - definitely not worried

Chapter Summary: Now that you’ve decided to lend a helping hand by fixing their shuttle, Crosshair, You and Plink are introduced to more of the Togruta colonists that have hidden themselves away from the capital city on Kiros.

Pairing: Crosshair/Reader (GN), Crosshair/You

Rating: T

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Thank you for waiting! Here is the next chapter. I made some of my own OCs for this arc specifically, I hope you enjoy them. Idk what else to say lol :)

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Read on ao3 (if you’d prefer)

Tag list: @lackofhonor @leia-saveourskins @sammercxx @why-not-movies @that-one-beannnn @lightning-wolffe @dwarfnip @imalovernotahater (tag list form is in my bio!)

Crosshair heard the sound of the waterfall before he actually saw it. The path they were following became more narrow and rocky. The trees scattered along the edges of the cliff were more clumped together, obscuring the view past the edge. The wildlife in the area greeted them with miscellaneous chirps, buzzes and low hums.

"The entrance is just up ahead." the head of the group called back.

Plink was on top of the skiff, her dome rotating around as she observed her surroundings in awe. You looked just as enraptured by it all and some of it wore off on Crosshair as he gazed at the enormous waterfall up ahead. He could see the entrance the Togruta mentioned off to the side of it. A literal hole in the wall that was hidden only by the branches of the trees on either side of it. Two more Togrutas stood guard by it with blasters in hand. The head of the group greeted them and they stepped aside to let them pass. The roar of the waterfall was muffled as they entered a cave that branched off into wider open spaces. The spaces were separated by pillars of rock that stretched from the cave floor to the ceiling. Natural light filtered through window-like openings in the walls.

The crates on the skiff were retrieved as another group of Togruta came over. They were led by a Togruta woman with long blue and white patterned head tails. Crosshair noted the beaded necklace she wore and the air of determination she held.

"I see that along with the supplies you’ve brought new friends, Kuli. Welcome. I am Lahna.” she greeted the group with a smile.

"They’ve delivered the supplies to us and have now offered to help repair the ship as well." Kuli, the head of the group, told her.

The Togruta woman's eyes widened and her gaze shifted to you, "We have already caused an inconvenience by asking you to come here instead, are you sure?"

Crosshair kept his eyes trained forward on Lahna, but he felt yours quickly flicker over to him and then back to Lahna.

"It wasn’t any trouble really. We’re more than willing to help with this if we can." you smiled at her.

Before Lahna could open her mouth to speak again, she was interrupted as a tiny mass of purple, white and green came rushing towards Kuli. Kuli's expression softened and he wrapped arms around a tiny Togruta child, lifting them up into his arms.

"Have you been good, Hara?" he asked the child.

"She has been wonderful, Kuli. She just missed you." Lahna smiled.

"I was only gone for a short while." he chuckled and Hara responded to that by hugging him tighter.

Crosshair watched as you smiled and waved at the child, but she only buried her face in the crook of her father’s shoulder shyly.

"Hara is my daughter," Kuli explained, "I was fortunate enough to have her with me when we left, but my wife...my wife is still in the city."

The Togrutas' expressions shifted into ones of sadness. Lahna bowed her head and then raised it to speak again.

"It will take time, but we will reunite with our people again. We must have hope." she reassured them.

Though the sadness still lingered, Crosshair noted how much her words settled them. Lahna turned to them once again.

"Shall I take you to the ship now?" she asked.

"Oh! Yes, lead the way." you smiled at her and began walking behind her with Plink.

Crosshair started to follow when he felt a pair of eyes on him. He turned to find the Togruta child staring at him. Her father set her down and was surprised just as much as Crosshair was when she immediately jogged over and came to a stop right in front of him. Crosshair looked down at her with a scowl, but she didn’t move to do anything else except look up at him with wide, curious eyes. The rifle still rested in his grip and with the way he was dressed, he'd assumed a child would definitely be intimidated by his appearance. He was proved wrong when she slowly walked forward and rested a small hand just above his knee. He tensed and his eyes widened a fraction, but otherwise he didn’t move.

"Hara." Kuli called to her and she turned her head.

"Let the man go with Lahna and the other two." he told her.

The girl looked up at him one more time before bounding over to take her father's hand and they walked off to another part of the cave. Crosshair didn’t understand what had just happened, but a second later he heard a chuckle from behind him. He turned around to see you grinning at him. Lahna looked like she was trying to withhold one too.

He narrowed his eyes at you before walking on as they were led farther into the cave. They passed by an area that looked like it was used as a makeshift medbay. It wasn’t full, but quite a few seemed to be injured. They all looked tired, but were still smiling as they chatted with the others around them.

“When we learned that the war had ended we were overjoyed. We’d been on our own for a short time since the former Galactic Republic had recalled its forces that were stationed here.” Lahna started explaining.

“They had stayed to help us learn how to properly defend our home after what happened with the Separatists. We were still in the middle of rebuilding, but our people were already starting to heal…” she paused and sighed, “Then about a few standard weeks ago, this new Galactic Empire decided to send a little over a dozen soldiers here. For what reason, I do not know, but Governor Roshti respectfully asked them to leave us in peace.”

Lahna turned to the right and walked through another opening in the wall that led outside.

“They refused and sent even more soldiers. ‘For our safety,’ they claimed. But we became anxious because of how restrictive things seemed to be getting. Governor Roshti tried to negotiate, but they still didn’t leave. One day, a group of us decided to do something about it, but the end of that resulted in us having to flee. Only a small handful of our people escaped.” she stopped walking and turned to face them, eyes full of pain.

As Crosshair stopped beside you he noticed the way your eyes looked glossy with unshed tears. Plink had been silent the entire time, but now she let out a sad, slow beep. Suddenly, he was reminded of Ryloth and something inside of him unsettled. In what way, he couldn’t tell. But he did know that the Empire would sooner subjugate every single planet for its resources rather than leave even one to its own devices. Kiros would be no different.

“We were not warriors by choice. Our colony had decided to focus on art and beauty instead of the crudeness of war, but we recognized the need to protect our home should the Separatists come back, so we decided to do what we must. And now we must do the same again. A lot of us here are in no shape to fight though, which is why we sent for supplies. But I have to believe that soon we can retake our home and unite our people again.” Lahna finished and that air of determination was back.

“I believe you will and I’m glad to help where I can.” you told her.

Lahna smiled at you warmly, “Thank you.”

“There is a clearing straight through here where we keep the ship.” she gestured ahead of her. “I shall send a few more hands to help. Will you be needing anything specific?”

“Oh, I brought the tools with me,” you gestured to the bag over your shoulder, “And Plink.”

Plink let out a confirmatory beep and her head swiveled around. Lahna chuckled and then nodded politely to Crosshair before walking back in the direction of the cave. The three of them walked into the clearing and were met with a small transport ship that clearly had seen better days.

“Huh,” you gazed at it, “It’s a lot better off than I’d thought it’d be.”

“That’s better?” Crosshair gestured to the damaged front end of the ship, “You should give up on it now.”

Plink suddenly jammed one of her clamps into the back of his knee. He grunted in pain and turned around to kick her in retaliation, but she was already beeping and running off towards the ship. He groaned and shook his head.

“It might take a few hours, but we can fix it.” you smiled at him.

He looked up at the ship and huffed, but didn't voice his protest.

“Hey, at least it’s not like trying to repair the front of a light freighter.” your face scrunched up, “During my first run with The Gizka it got so busted up.”

He turned slowly to look at you, “I’ve been with you for almost two standard weeks now and I’m just finding out that your ship’s name is The Gizka?”

“Well technically it’s The Effervescent Gizka.” you answered.

Crosshair didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that revelation. You couldn’t be serious.

“You named your ship…The Effervescent Gizka?” he asked.

You blinked at him innocently. Oh, you were serious.

“That sounds like the name of some bar in the Red Light Sector on Coruscant.” he smirked behind his mask.

You scowled at him, “No it doesn’t! It’s also not a bad name!”

“Oh, it is.” he said as he tried to keep himself from laughing.

You huffed, “Whatever. I like gizkas, alright?”

You grumbled something unintelligible and went over to start helping Plink. He huffed out an amused sound at your retreating form and then made his way over to a smattering of tall rocks he’d spotted when they entered the clearing. Perching himself on top of one, he faced away from the ship and threw back the hood of his cloak. He ran a hand over his head again absentmindedly. A few minutes later his silence was interrupted.

“When I said ‘we can fix it’ I meant you too.” he heard your voice call out from behind him and he turned to see you walking towards him, hydrospanner in hand.

“The sooner we get it done the sooner we can leave, since you seem so worried.” your attempt at compromising wasn’t the best, but it unfortunately worked.

“I said before that I wasn’t worried.” he scowled at you and slid from his spot and to the ground.

“You did, but that’s the feeling I’m getting from you.” you told him.

“So now you can suddenly read my every emotion.” he frowned at you and every single muscle in his body tensed.

“No,” you seemed to realize how that sounded to him and you shook your head, “I can’t and that’s not what I meant. You’ve wanted to leave ever since we got here, Crosshair. And I know why, but I’m telling you it’ll be fine. We made it past their scanners and we’re nowhere near the city.”

“I’m going along with this like I agreed,” he glared at you, “However you think I must be feeling, it doesn’t matter, so why don’t you just leave it alone.”

Then he wrapped the rifle up in his cloak, leaving it resting against the rocks before brushing past you. He caught your eye as he did and worry of your own was reflected at him, but you didn’t say anything else. The only reasons he spoke with you again during the next few hours consisted solely on how to fix the ship.

  By the time they were done, it was just after the sun had started to set. Crosshair stood back with you, Plink and the other two Togrutas—siblings they said—who’d pitched in and studied the handiwork done. The front was fixed, the damage seemed to be mostly superficial with only a few parts needing to be replaced. The hyperdrive was surprisingly intact still, but the shields and scanners needed fixing. You and Plink also mentioned something about retrofitting a cloaking device. How you had the means to make one on hand was beyond him, but knowing you now, it wasn’t surprising. One of the engines was the worst off. Whichever imperial that had shot at the shuttle had terrible aim. Either that or they only wanted to cripple the ship. Did they even bother to check the crash site? Crosshair decided to ask.

“When you recovered the ship, how long had it been since it was shot down?” he turned to the Togruta next to him.

“Not long,” they said, “I was with the group they sent out almost immediately.”

“That doesn’t mean one of them couldn’t have gotten there before you arrived.” he stated.

The Togruta shook their head, “We didn’t see anyone there and no one was around the area when we sent lookouts.”

Crosshair’s brow furrowed and he surveyed the outside of the ship again. Then he walked up the open ramp and into the shuttle’s cockpit. You came up behind him as he scanned the space and ran his hand underneath the console.

“What are you looking for?” you asked.

“A tracking beacon.” he checked under the seats.

“We would’ve noticed it and I already did a general sweep when I was in here earlier.” you told him.

He gave you a look and walked past to start searching the rest of the ship.

“Crosshair.” you called his name gently and he paused.

Footsteps sounded behind him and you came to stand in front of him. He expected another hand on his arm or shoulder, but you simply looked at him with understanding.

“I’ll check the back.” you said and made your way there.

Some of his tension dissipated and he took a moment before going back to sweeping the middle of the ship. A few minutes later he and you both came up with nothing. He was ready to hear an “I told you so,” but you said nothing at all. He walked back out of the shuttle with you to find Lahna there speaking with the two Togrutas. Their heads turned to them.

“You’re lucky they weren’t tracking the ship.” he told the Togruta he’d spoken with prior.

Their eyes widened in realization, “I should’ve checked when we got there.”

“It was an emotional time. I don’t blame you for not thinking about it.” Lahna placed a gentle hand on their shoulder.

“Still…” they trailed off, a pained look in their eyes.

“It’s alright,” Lahna squeezed their shoulder reassuringly, “Why don’t you head back with your sister and rest before dinner?”

They nodded and their sister took them by the arm and guided them back to the cave. Lahna turned her attention onto the ship.

“You shouldn’t have an issue getting past the scanners now.” you smiled at her.

“Thank you for doing this, you've helped us greatly.” she said, turning her head.

“I’m glad we could.” you replied.

“Why don’t you stay the night? We’re having dinner in a short while, let us thank you by providing food and shelter.” Lahna offered.

The tension in him was suddenly back again. You looked at Crosshair immediately and then back at Lahna. He knew you wanted to, it was obvious how conflicted you felt about saying no to the offer. But you had also promised him that they would leave.

“Please? The others wish to say thank you this way.” she said with a hopeful expression.

Crosshair almost audibly sighed as he made up your mind for you.

“Alright.” he agreed and he missed the look of shock on your face that was quickly overturned by the way Lahna’s lit up.

“Wonderful! I’ll let the others know so they can gather extra blankets.” she grinned at them excitedly and then turned around and left quickly.

“Apparently she likes sleepovers.” you joked with a chuckle and when he didn’t acknowledge your words you stopped abruptly and looked at him sheepishly.

“I thought you said that you wanted to leave as soon as the ship was fixed?” you asked.

Crosshair walked over to the rocks where his cloak and the rifle rested. He unwrapped the rifle and handed it to you as he put on the cloak again.

“I did.” he answered you stiffly.

He went to take back the rifle, but you held onto it firmly while smiling. He frowned at you and tugged again.

“You didn’t agree to this because of me, did you?” you asked.

He scoffed, "It's already getting dark, I don't want to have to drag you tripping and stumbling back to the ship because you can't see a damn thing in front of you."

He tugged the sniper rifle out of your grip finally.

"Whatever you say." you laughed at him before retrieving the bag you’d brought with you and walking back to the cave. Crosshair started to follow you when he heard Plink beeping from behind him. He turned around to see her staring out into the forest on the other side of the clearing.

“What is it now?” he asked her in annoyance.

Her head swiveled around to him and she beeped twice before looking back into the forest. Crosshair narrowed his eyes and looked in the same direction. He saw nothing except for one of the Kiros birds nesting in a tree. It chirped quietly to itself. He rolled his eyes.

“Did one of the birds scare you?” he taunted and Plink let out an insulted beep while running towards him to barrel into his legs, but he side stepped just in time.

He snorted and Plink beeped angrily before stomping her way back to the cave, Crosshair trailing after her.

+++

End Note: The Reader/Chip to Crosshair: saw a gizka today...effervescent.

Some tunes I listened to while I was writing this: Gilded Lily by Cults, Where Do You Go by Day Wave, Stuck With Me by The Neighbourhood

Feedback is much appreciated if you feel inclined to give any c:

Thank you for reading ❤️

EDITED: 4/9/2022

re-wording and fixed sentence structure

minor grammar and punctuation fixes

[alfredosauce50]

Of beasts and men [Hybrid 2p! America x reader]

Synopsis: And to think that godforsaken animal rescue center was to blame. You were supposed to find a dog to adopt, not a creepy furry who showed up naked at your door! Turns out, his shapeshifting abilities got him in some hot water with the police. And the rescue center owner. It’s pretty self-explanatory. Wordcount: 3, 290 The reader is referred to as she/her.

“You’re fired!” A gruff voice screamed outside a diner a few blocks down. “And don't come crawling back to me when you need my help! Not again!”

The shouts caused his ears to prick up, so he turned his head to the sound and flipped the man off. Though one had to wonder if he was a man. Yes, he stood on two legs, but he was covered head to toe with shaggy brown fur, and he had the head of a bull.

“No, I quit! Nobody fires me. Your loss, baby!” He yelled, baring his canines in a wide smile. When the other fumed in response, a jet of steam shot through his nostrils to blow his gold nose ring forward. Then, they stomped their foot and kicked the dirt below. He froze. “Oh shit.”

“I'll skewer you like a kebab!” They roared, rearing their head back before lunging forward to start charging at him. A single glance of those sharp horns was enough to send him running. So he fled, dashing through the narrow marketplace while gritting his teeth. Pushing past members of the public, he never stopped knocking over random objects in his way.

Crates, baskets, and fruit stalls in his path were bulldozed, alerting nearby swordsmen in blue jackets.

“Hey, you there! Stop running!”

He could hear their paws and hooves hot on his tail, so he lowered himself onto all fours and morphed. Sprinting all the way to the edge of the city, he disappeared into an alleyway. His life was a culmination of terrible decisions, but this probably took the cake. He knew exactly where this system of alleys led to, but he never slowed down to look back.

There was nothing left for him in the beast kingdom.

Dashing out of the enclosure of walls, he rammed into a dumpster and fell to the ground with a heavy thump. “Ah, shit...” He rolled onto his back and outstretched a paw to stare at it. “Maybe it isn't too late to be adopted. Ha!” The thought made him laugh, but it came out as a high-pitched wheeze. “Who am I kidding? I'm not a damn pet.”

“Hey, is that a red Doberman?”

He widened his eyes and sprung up on all fours. Pricking his ears to the two men standing at the street outside, he shook his head in regret. Like a deer caught in the headlights, they shined their torch on him and lit up his black irises with fear.

“Wow, you're right! Look at its fur! It's got a beautiful rusted color to it!”

“I can't believe it's a stray. We should take it back to the rescue center.”

The next thing he knew, he was sitting in a small cell. A metal gate slammed shut and locked him in. A few minutes later, he was still processing everything that had happened. He just got caught by a bunch of humans. “Did I jinx myself?” Jumping up and scrambling to the gate, he pressed his snout against the wires and held it with his paws--a rather human-like action and odd sight.

“Let me out, let me out dammit!” He yelled, pulling the wires back and forth to make it rattle. “This is a beast rights violation! I demand a lawyer!” What should have been coherent sentences left his mouth as a string of violent barks.

An attendant entered the hall and smashed a baton against a pole. “Oi, settle down! Keep that up and nobody will want you!”

The dog pulled away and fell onto his behind. Then, it let out a defeated scoff. “Nobody would want me anyways. Just do yourself a favor and let me rot on the streets.”

Upon hearing those soft whines, the attendant lowered his arm and walked off. “Atta’boy. Now go take a nap or something.”

And nap he did, having given up on escaping--for now. Laying his head on the cold, hard ground, he fluttered his tired eyes to a close. The next morning when he came to, his nose twitched to an unfamiliar scent. It radiated in waves from the fingers on the other side of the gate. Human fingers.

When he glanced up, someone was crouching in front of him and holding out their hand. “What about this one, Jerry? Is he up for adoption?” They asked with a small smile decorating their lips. Sitting up excitedly at that, he wagged his tail. Anything to get out of here. I'll figure out where to go later. “Aw, I think he understands me!”

“Hm, I suppose he is. But he's got a nasty temper, that one. You might wanna rethink your choice.”

He watched the hope fade from their eyes. “Oh, seriously? That's too bad...” Then, they stood up with a sigh. His tail swished to a stop and slumped. That attendant was right in the end, after all.

“And I thought I could get scary dog privileges. Maybe I should stick with smaller sizes...”

The pair made their way down the hall to look at the other species the center housed, much to his disappointment. “Cheer up! We've got tonnes of other big dogs for you to consider. Not all of them will be fussy living in small spaces. You said you lived alone, didn't you?” His ears perked up at that.

“So long as you take them out on walks, they'll be fine.”

“Maybe. But I might have to go home and take some measurements. These dogs were a little bigger than I expected.” Soft laughs echoed, followed by a door creaking open.

“Totally understandable. You come back another day, eh?”

The door clicked shut, leaving him to his own devices. A single thought occurred to him, and it repeated in his head over and over until it drove him mad. He needed to get out of here. Before some other human set their eyes on him. But how? That question was promptly answered when a chill ran down his spine.

His fur shivered and puffed up as he slowly grew in size.

“Oh crap, I'm out of juice!” As his limbs began to stretch, so did his paws. Soon, they began to resemble fingers, and his panic reached an all-time-high when he realized he was standing on two feet again. That wouldn't have been a problem if he wasn't where he was.

He was stranded in the human world in his beast form.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Looking down to the spot between his legs, he gawked at another unwelcome discovery. Not only was he locked in a tiny cell, but he was also buck naked! It was only a matter of time before the attendant returned and found him like this. Regardless of his appearance, he was more than certain this warranted the police getting involved.

He already screwed up enough as it was. He definitely couldn't afford to get in trouble with the law in the human world too.

So he resorted to escaping by force. Taking a few steps back, he rammed into the lock. After a few attempts, he smashed through the gate and skidded to a stop. Without a shred of hesitation, he whipped his head to the door and charged right through it. Bursting into the front office, the receptionist screamed at his sudden arrival.

Then, they screamed even louder when they processed just what they were seeing. A humanoid dog.

The sheer volume of their shrieks made his ears tremble. “Oh my god, would you shut up already? I have good hearing, you know?”

Upon hearing him speak--a surefire sign he was indeed human--they reached for the phone beside them. Then, they talked frantically into the speaker, mentioning something along the lines of a naked creep in a fursuit. Now, he had no idea what that strange device was, but he was pretty sure they were alerting the authorities.

“Uh oh.”

For the second day in a row, he was chased by cops through a public sphere. That was one thing that didn't change, even if his setting certainly did. Towering buildings and skyscrapers loomed over him from all directions. Strange lights, posters, and moving pictures bombarded him with seizure-inducing colors.

Even then, he had no chance to take it all in when he was too busy fleeing. “Gah, get out of the way, get out of the way!” He barked.

Shoving through the people crowding the edges of the wide street, he stumbled right in front of a heavy-duty truck barreling at him at thirty miles an hour. He had been so determined to get away from the hoard of humans, he never realized where he wound up.

Before he could be sent flying, he gritted his teeth and jumped out of the way while it swerved into a telephone pole.

Briefly turning back to process the damage he'd done, shock filled him to the brim as he processed the scene of devastation that unfolded before him. But he couldn't linger on it for too long.

“That's the guy! Get him!”

He had to get out of here. But where was he supposed to go?

His nose twitched to a familiar scent. It was the person from this morning! And if he wasn't wrong, he recalled that they lived alone. So he followed the smell, finding himself standing outside of an apartment complex of some kind.

Setting down your things after that short and unproductive trip, you flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. Police sirens wailed in the distance, but you paid them no mind. Whoever they were chasing, the fugitive was sure to be caught soon enough. Little did you know, you were about to become their accomplice.

A few crisp knocks sounded on the other side of your front door. Without tearing your gaze from the screen, you slid on your slippers. “Coming!” You called. Slowly making your way to answer it, whoever it was that decided to bother you on this fine Sunday morning, you peeked through the peephole to see a pair of tall red ears. Dog ears.

“Huh?” Unlocking the door and creaking it open, albeit only slightly, you poked your head out in confusion. Standing there in all his glory, or its glory, was an anthropomorphic Doberman. If it weren't for these circumstances you met them under, you would have noticed they were a spitting image to the red Doberman in the rescue center. Instead, you were more compelled to fixate on other details.

When he realized where you were staring, he covered himself and grinned sheepishly.

“Uh... Happy birthday?”

The color drained from your face until you were paler than a sheet of paper. Then, you screamed.

He reflected a similar panic, and before you could shut the door in his face, he lunged forward into the frame and pried it open. “Wait, just hear me out! I'm in a bit of a tight spot here!” Given his physical advantages, he triumphed rather easily and forced himself into your home. All you could do was watch, but that didn't mean you couldn't keep screaming.

Rearing his head back as he covered his trembling ears, he shot his arms around you and clamped a hand over your mouth. “Stop screaming for God's sake! I've had it enough with the screaming today!” When you felt his fur against your lips, you only struggled and thrashed harder out of fear.

Regardless of his strength and stature, he couldn't do this all day.

So he tried morphing again. Rather than changing into the dog you saw earlier in the morning, he assumed a form closer to yours. His rusted red fur disappeared along with his tail. The long snout that pressed against your face shortened, and eventually, the arms that held you hostage were human. Or at least, they gave off that impression with his tanned, hairless skin.

You could argue that his transformation made the situation a little less bizarre. A little more manageable. So yes, you stopped moving. Now that you weren't resisting, he assumed you calmed down enough for him to let you go. What a big mistake that was.

The second you were freed, you punched him square in the jaw.

“Gh-!” An explosion of pain spread through his cheek. Turning back to you with teary eyes, he gripped the spot you took the liberty to abuse. “What the hell was that for?!” He spluttered.

“For being naked, you idiot!” You fumed through a blush.

“I thought we already moved past that!”

“We'll move past it once you put some clothes on!”

A little less bizarre? Who were you kidding? His sudden change in appearance only signaled to you he wasn't just your typical creep in a fursuit. As you mulled over the thought, a grim expression contorted at your features. Was this karma for changing your mind about that Doberman? A supernatural reckoning you so deserved for walking away? Needless to say, it was something worth discussing over some food.

“Thanks for the sweatpants, by the way! I'll return it to you later.” Kicking back in a chair, he started snacking on what he found in your pantry.

You avoided his gaze. He stood at least five inches taller than you, and he was certainly bigger than you were. And in more ways than one. “... You can keep it.”

Watching a dog munch on chocolate was not the most comfortable thing to see, either. The same could be said for his hands that picked through a candy box. “Wow, these are great! We don't have stuff like this back where I live.” He mused, throwing another chocolate-covered almond into his mouth. You tensed up.

“Wait, are you saying you've never had chocolate before?” Leaning forward and slamming your hands down on the dining table, you darted your eyes over his unreadable expression for any signs of discomfort. “I can't believe I let you eat it! Just because you can talk and everything!”

“Wha'dya mean I can talk? Of course I can talk!”

Maybe letting him rummage through your pantry was a bad idea.

He licked around his snout and huffed. “Anyway, sure I've eaten it before. Just nothing this good. What did you guys do to this, huh?” You breathed out a sigh of relief at that and sat back down. So you didn't accidentally poison your guest. Some guest he was, though. His name was strangely more down-to-earth than his otherworldly origins.

“Well, it's processed.”

“Processed, huh? I have no idea what that means.” He turned the box over and squinted at the label. “Huh? What language is this?”

“Japanese.”

His brows knitted together and he looked deep in thought. “Hm. I don't know what that is either.”

You laughed under your breath. “Duh. From what you've told me, it wouldn't be wrong to say you were born yesterday.”

“Oi, I'll have you know I was born at least a year ago!”

Allen, the runaway beast, had left his homeworld for the human one. Though chased out was the more accurate way to put it. There was nothing left for him back there, and his only hope of starting over was to take refuge in a foreign land. Perhaps not forever, but at least until he figured out where to go from here. That was what he had in mind.

“I'm not too concerned about you learning anything new. You'll be leaving soon, so.” Standing up with a content smile, you made your way to his side and patted him on the shoulder. The action prompted him to glance up at you with a full mouth. What you said next, however, would make him spit everything out. “You can't stay the night, Allen.”

He spewed almond bits all over the table, much to your disgust. “Wait, what?! I thought you were gonna let me stay! And not even just for a night, maybe for a week or two!”

You gawked in disbelief. “Are you crazy?! I'm not taking you in just because of your sob story. I'm not made of money, you know!” But that wasn't quite it, either. You were prepared to raise a dog, a big one at that, for protection purposes. The problem wasn't money.

The problem was that he wasn't human.

His ears drooped and he shot you his best puppy dog eyes he could muster. But you stayed strong. It was what he later added that jabbed at your strong resolve. “Aw, come on. Weren't you planning to adopt a dog like me? What's the difference?” Allen pouted. The sound of him reiterating exactly what was on your mind made you freeze up.

“It'll be the same as having a pet, I swear! Maybe even better--I know how to use a toilet!”

“Of course you know how to use a toilet!” You interjected, pulling away shortly to let out a sharp, frustrated sigh. “You're not a pet, Allen. You're a person, well, a dog person. You're not helpless without an owner! And what if somebody hunts me down and for keeping you here?” As much of a point you had, he didn't stop there.

Everything in his life boiled down to this moment. If he couldn't convince you to let him stay, there was no saying where he would end up. So he would do everything in his power to give you that one last push.

Standing up from his chair, he morphed into a human. Or tried with what was left of his energy. While his red ears and tail remained, there was nothing else reminiscent of the beast he was. “If you're worried about what I am, then I'll stay like this. Without the ears and tail, I mean.” His furry appendage swished at that.

“And I'll help you with house chores. I'm more capable than I look, I promise!”

You furrowed your brows and sighed for what felt like the tenth time that day. You couldn't believe it, but he was steadily chipping away at your resolve. So you turned away. “Mm, I don't know. This is a lot to ask from someone, especially if you aren't helping with the bills.”

Allen lit up, sensing your change of heart. So he jumped in front of you. “I'll do anything to make up for it!” He grinned, his energetic outburst catching you off-guard. There was something about his body language and attitude that perfectly embodied a loyal dog eager to please its owner. It was probably because of that tail of his that wagged with great gusto.

Among other things, you supposed.

“I'll be everything you need! A pet, a bodyguard, househusband, whatever you like!” Your attention was piqued at the mention of bodyguard. But when you processed the rest of his sentence, you lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Who said I needed a househusband?” You frowned.

Allen blinked. “Was that too much?” He grinned toothily. “Then how about a live-in boyfriend?”

With every shred of your willpower, you held back the urge to punch him. You already bruised him enough for today. “If you want me to consider taking you in, make me something for lunch! If it's acceptable, I might let you stay.” Shoving him into the kitchen at that, you pulled your apron off its hook and tossed it his way. “And do the dishes, too!”

“Alright, alright, jeez! Have some faith in me, won't you? I used to work in a diner, ya know?” The man swatted you gently with his tail. But you only pulled it much to his surprise.

“Used to. You probably got fired.”

Allen ignored that comment. “Watch where you touch, babe. You're moving a little too fast, even for me--Ow!”

[doopy-n-loopy]

YOU BEST BELIEVE IM BACK AFTER THAT AMAZING WRITING!

I need me some yandere pyro. I need yandere pyro in my life

We all need some yandere pyro in our lives 😔 This time I'm gonna do a short story since I felt like it

Yan!Pyro × reader

"Unexpected savior"

// Violence, blood, gore, meanie head spy

I tried to make this gender neutral so anyone can enjoy this

French laughter peirced your ears as you choked back scared and pained sobs. Your throat had became dry and scratchy after so much yelling. Your legs were weak and tired, ready to give out at any point.

You felt pathetic. Being backed into a corner by your rival, Spy was the most ego-wrecking thing to happen to you. You hid behind a couple of crates in the dark warehouse where the battle took place. Your team mates are too busy capturing point B to notice that you were gone. Leaving you all alone to fend yourself against the sadistic french man.

You kept looking over the crates you leaned against, squinting into the darkness to see. You popped open your portable ammo pack and pulled out your sniper rifle to reload. Knowing that the clanks of the metal would echo against the walls, you sought to quickly load your gun and find that damned spy to put a bullet in his head. Ignoring the intense pain your cut shoulder was in, you put a new magazine in and hugged the rife against you as your chest heaved.

Quickly jumping out of hiding with your gun up, ready to shoot, you peered around to find your enemy. Only to be met with silence. The dust inside the warehouse swirled in the air tickling your nose to tempt you to sneeze, but you held back. Knowing that he would take any chance he has to dominate you.

Before you could blink, your rifle was knocked out of your hands and you were pinned down onto your chest with a knife up to the back of your throat. Your eyes slammed shut as your uv protection glasses were shattered by the impact on the dirty concrete floor. You heard soft chuckling from above you and slowly opened your eyes.

The spy was on top of you with a smug look that boiled your blood plastered onto his face. He leaned down to your hear and whispered

"aww come on, you should give me a smile. I took my time coming all the way over here just to see you"

His smooth voice rang through your ears, it felt like a million tiny needles stabbed your eardrums all at once. You hated this man.

Awhile back, before he had taken an interest in seeing you suffer, you were dominating the hell out of him on the battlefield. Every time you noticed an odd glimmer in the air, you shot, killing him instantly. Every time you saw steam arise from someone, you shot. You had an eye for the man and seemed to know where he was every time. It irritated him, but intrigued him too. But this time, you were in the mouse trap. This time you were the one being dominated. It all happened to fast, one moment you stopped to reload and the next you were running while bleeding out.

You gritted your teeth, you could see the satisfied expression in his eyes as you were finally beneath him for once.

"fuck....you"

You groaned out in pain. Spy scoffed

"mon cherè, I haven't even taken you out to dinner"

He mocked, the sharp blade that he held ran across the nape of your neck leaving a trail of blood as it sliced open your skin. You held back a pained moan, gritting your teeth.

"oh it hurts when I do that, doesn't it?!"

He sneered, letting out a manical laugh

"The only thing you'll be eating tonight... Is this knife!"

He yelled, lifting his arm up, raising his blade so he can thrust down and strike at your neck. This was it, you were gonna die. You closed your eyes to make it easier on youself.

Except nothing came, you heard him scream as the weight of his body was lifted off of you. You could also hear heavy breathing, as if it was through a mask above you. You slowly opened your eyes to be greeted by the energetic pyromaniac, who slammed the enemy spy against the wall. You lifted yourself off the ground into a sitting position and watched as pyro tore the spy from limb to limb, his shrieks filling the empty space in the warehouse. The way pyro moved told you that they were obviously upset, and chose to take it out on the poor Spy.

Blood and guts were flying as pyro ripped them apart, soon spy became quiet and limp. But Pyro wasn't done. They took out their flamethrower and with a final blow, they lit the spy on fire. The orange glow reflecting off the walls and Pyro's blood soaked uniform. You even caught a glimpse of Pyro's squinted eye through the mask. Paralyzed with fear, you sat there with your mouth wide open in shock.

The ashes of the enemy fell to the floor like leaves on a windy fall day. Pyro then turned their head to you, causing you to suck your breath in due to fear. They slowly approached you, their heavy breathing becoming more audible with each step until they bent down and their face was inches away from yours. You could now see Pyro's eyes somewhat again, and you saw how their pupils dialated upon being this close to you.

Pyro brushed their hand against your cheek, before they decided to speak.

"Mphmph?"

Pyro mumbled, pointing to your slashed open shoulder. You broke eye contact to peer down at your damaged shoulder.

"Oh yeah ahaha, I'll go see medic for that"

You said nervously, unsure of why Pyro was acting this way. Pyro gave a satisfied grunt. When you were getting up, Pyro pulled you into a deep, affectionate hug. As if to say "I'm glad you're okay"

Time seemed to slow in their warm embrace, you forgot how touch starved you've been since you've joined Mann.co. Melting into their hug, you wrapped your arms around them and whispered into their ear.

"Thank you"

This was fun to write, and as always, you can pop into my asks to request more!💕

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (3)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Fun fact: the final scene of this chapter is part of my original brainstorm for this fic. The rest of the scenes I initially dreamt up won’t come until much later, so I’m thrilled to have at least one of them come early on in the story. 

To Carrie and Anna, the lights of my life: I named the neighbor after you two. She’s annoying as shit and nothing like either of you, but I needed a name and decided if anyone deserves to have their name as an Easter egg, it’s the two of you. 

*****

Despite the storm, Matty has the shipment of borrowed guns delivered to the Port of Houston in the middle of the night. While they eat breakfast, Mac and Riley study Matty’s excruciatingly detailed directions for navigating the port and finding their shipping crate. She certainly didn’t make it easy on them. 

Riley leans back in her chair, looking around until her eyes land on Harley. “Time for you to earn your keep,” she says between mouthfuls of toast. 

Supposedly, this is what Harley specializes in—sniffing out weapons. The dog should be able to confirm which shipping container the guns are stashed in without Mac or Riley having to check themselves. Theoretically. 

Mac finishes his own plate of eggs and toast in a few ravenous bites. “Thanks for making breakfast.” He gets up to clear the plates and start rinsing dishes. After living with her for more than a year, Riley making breakfast is routine, but Mac still thanks her for it every day. 

Living in the apartment together, they fall right back into their old habits. Mac wakes up early and goes for a run. By the time he returns, Riley is awake and making breakfast. After they eat, Mac showers while Riley goes on her own run. And so on and so forth. 

While Mac was out this morning, he wove through the whole neighborhood, making sure it’s safe for Riley to go out alone. She can handle herself, but Mac has no delusions about the overall quality of men on the streets, and even though he can’t fix that, at least he can help minimize her chances of encountering creepy dudes. 

Before they leave for the Port, Mac and Riley scour their car for a bug or any other surveillance equipment the organization might’ve hidden while they were inside the warehouse talking to Conrad yesterday. They find none. Thankfully. 

Once again, they’re going in armed, and the weight of Mac’s gun feels just as foreign and unwelcome as it did yesterday. He tries not to fidget with it while Riley drives, but she notices his discomfort anyway. “You’ve got to relax,” she says. “All your squirming is stressing me out.” 

“Sorry.” Mac stills, even though his whole body screams to put the gun somewhere else. 

Anywhere else. 

Once they arrive at the Port, Mac guides Riley through the maze of cranes and crates and warehouses until they find the one Matty had the guns stashed in—dark green and otherwise nondescript. 

Unfortunately, there are multiple shipping containers that fit that description at the location Matty provided. As they get out of the SUV, Riley glances between the boxes nervously. “Uhh, which one is it?” 

Mac doesn’t have a clue. “I guess that’s for Harley to tell us.” He looks down at the dog standing obediently beside him. “Find it.” 

He releases the leash as Harley takes off like a rocket, sniffing each container and the surrounding area. She inspects more than half of them before sitting and looking back at Mac. He waits for her to bark, but she doesn’t. Whoever trained her clearly did so with stealth in mind. 

“Do we open it to double check?” Riley asks. 

Mac opens his mouth to say yes, but he doesn’t get a chance to answer before a muddy, dark-blue diesel truck parks beside their SUV. Conrad jumps out of the driver’s seat, accompanied by two younger men, wearing matching scowls and Carhartt jackets. He walks with that same entitled swagger, and a cheap smile spreads across his face. 

“Mr. Turner!” Conrad exclaims, shaking Mac’s hand. His grip is too firm to be friendly. Stepping back, he sneers at Riley, acknowledging her just long enough to impatiently say, “Genevieve.” Mac doesn’t miss the way Conrad’s eyes drop to Riley’s chest, nor the way Riley bristles beside him, wrapping her jacket more tightly around her and crossing her arms to hold it in place. Mac clears his throat. “Sorry,” Conrad says, not sounding sorry at all, “but your wife is very attractive.” 

Riley rolls her eyes so hard they nearly fall out of her head. 

“Your order is this way,” Mac says, cutting off Conrad before he could make another gross statement, “Follow me.” Mac puts a hand on Conrad’s shoulder, squeezing hard as he steers the man toward the shipping container. Harley is still sitting beside it, waiting patiently, and Mac scratches her head with his free hand. 

Riley whistles, a single sharp note that sends Harley running back to her side. Mac buries his relief that she’s not alone, although he’d still much rather the hulking bodyguards were closer to him than Riley. 

Focus, Mac reminds himself. Riley can hold her own. Just get this over with. 

Mac opens the container, revealing two nondescript wooden crates. Still sneering—at this point, Mac’s starting to think that’s the only expression Conrad is capable of—Conrad waves over his bodyguards, gesturing for them to open the crates. 

For just a second, Conrad’s sneer edges toward a smile. Inside the crates lie exactly what he ordered: military-grade, semi-automatic rifles and enough ammo to kickstart the apocalypse. Mac’s gut churns. He hates this. He hates everything about this. He hates that he’s arming terrorists. He hates how these men look at Riley like dogs drooling over a steak. He hates that he can’t do anything about any of it, that he has no choice but to play along. 

Mac wishes he could bury his feelings the way Riley does, locking them behind a carefully controlled mask. Instead, his linger just beneath the surface, waiting to make themselves known at the first available opportunity. 

Counting backward from five, he steels himself to finish the game. Just as Conrad brushes a reverent finger down the barrel of a rifle, Mac chides, “We followed through on our end of the bargain. Did you?” 

“Of course.” 

One of the bodyguards pulls out his phone. In a deeper voice than Mac expects, he says, “We can wire the payment to your bank account right now.” 

“Good. My wife will help you set that up.” Mac gestures to Riley, and the bodyguard walks over to her. 

Conrad extends his hand, and Mac takes it, trying not to wince when his arm brushes his concealed gun. “Pleasure doing business with you, James,” Conrad says. 

“I hope this is the beginning of a long and prosperous partnership.” Long and prosper? Who was he, Spock? 

“Indeed. Welcome to the Patriots.” Conrad gestures for his men to start loading the guns into their truck. “Expect another order within the week.” 

Mac doesn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully he doesn’t have to, because Riley waves him over, apparently having finished her conversation with Conrad’s lackey. “I’ll leave you to it,” Mac says, then turns his back on the terrorists and rejoins Riley. On instinct, he reaches for her arm as he murmurs, “Are you okay?” 

Riley tenses under his touch, but doesn’t pull away. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Good.” He said the same thing to Conrad just a minute ago. Good. But the word is light years different from before—soft and caring, not curt and vaguely challenging. Bozer pointed it out to him once, how he talks to Riley differently than he does anyone else. 

Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t get distracted, no matter how much his mind only wants to think about Riley. Releasing her arm, he says, “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

Back at the apartment, Riley settles in on the couch to dig into the Patriots' bank records. By wire-transferring the money instead of paying them in cash, Conrad practically offered up the organization's entire digital footprint on a silver platter, at least to someone like Riley. She doesn't speak as she works, so Mac listens to the melody of keyboard clicks while he makes them each a grilled cheese. 

Contrary to popular belief, he's not completely incompetent, although Bozer has nearly everyone convinced otherwise. Mac will never be able to cook something fancy, but he does make a mean sandwich. 

He even spreads mayo on the bread, the way Bozer does, because Riley prefers it that way. 

The sizzle of the sandwiches hitting the hot pan joins the keyboard clicks right as Riley announces, "I hacked into their bank records." 

"What've you got?" 

"From the look of it, the shell corp they used to pay us has only been around for four months. Before that, they must've either paid in cash or used personal accounts." 

"That makes sense though, since the Patriots haven't been around all that long." 

"That's what I thought at first, but come look." Mac does, leaning over the back of the couch so his head is right beside hers. Riley points at the screen. "The first three transactions were all big deposits, each one two weeks apart." 

Frowning, Mac squints at the tiny numbers on the screen. "One hundred thousand dollars?" 

"Times three deposits," Riley adds. 

"Where the hell did they get that kind of money?"

"I don't know. The deposits were cash." 

“Damn. Did you at least figure out who their previous arms dealer was?” 

“Yeah.” Riley shifts, causing her hair to tickle Mac’s nose, and he brushes her hair to the opposite side of her neck without another thought. “Turns out their previous dealer has Mexican cartel connections, which explains why the Patriots only paid them twice. I’m guessing they found out about the cartel part and broke it off before they made a long-term deal.” 

“At least they’re not complete idiots,” Mac mumbles. Tired of squinting, he leans closer to better see the screen. 

Except now they’re cheek to cheek, and Mac suddenly can’t focus on the screen at all. 

Riley twists to look at him, and it takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower not to glance at her lips. "Are you burning my grilled cheese?" 

"No." He straightens, simultaneously disappointed and relieved by the space now between them. Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t keep getting distracted like this. 

"Uh huh. Sure." 

Retreating to the kitchen, Mac calls, "That was one time!"

*****

As expected, they don’t hear anything from Conrad or the Patriots the following day. Mac doesn’t know what to do with all the downtime on this op. There are plenty of books in the apartment, but he’s too restless to sit and read. He opens the fridge, more out of boredom than actual hunger. 

They’re on day five of the undercover op, and it’s starting to feel an awful lot like quarantine. With nothing to do but hurry up and wait, hanging out in the apartment and doing nothing is starting to make Mac go a little stir crazy. 

When Riley emerges from the bedroom wearing workout clothes, it’s clear she feels the same way. “I’m going for a run,” she announces. 

“Want company?” He hopes she says yes. Anything to get out of the apartment for a while. 

Riley unplugs her phone from the charger and slides it into her pocket. “No offense, but no.” 

Dammit. Mac shoves down his disappointment. “None taken.” He closes the fridge. Nothing in there looks good. 

“Tell you what,” she says. “After I get back we can go to the space museum, okay?” 

His heart skips a beat at her offer. “Is it that obvious I’m bored?” 

“Yes.” Riley gives him a pitying smile. “So do you want to go?” 

Mac smiles. It feels like she just asked him out on a date. It’s not, but it feels like one anyway. Be cool. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.” 

“Okay then.” Popping in her earbuds, she walks out the door. 

“Enjoy your run, muffin!” Mac calls, stealing Bozer’s go-to pet name for when he’s undercover with Riley. She reaches back inside to flip him off before slamming the door shut, and Mac chuckles. Riley really hates that nickname.

Now it’s just him, Harley, and this tiny apartment. 

Resuming his search for food he’s not even hungry for, Mac opens the pantry, and Harley comes running into the kitchen. She must’ve learned the sound of the door opening since they keep the dog food in there. Harley looks up at Mac expectantly. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” She whines, and her pleading expression reminds Mac of the wide-eyed look Bozer mastered as a kid while begging his parents for something. Neither are very effective. “You just had breakfast an hour ago,” he insists.  

Harley glances at the open pantry, then back at him. 

Mac doesn’t give in, but he does kneel to pet her instead, scratching Harley’s neck and ending up with a handful of hair. Frowning, Mac digs through every drawer in the kitchen in search of a dog brush. No luck. He checks the bedroom and bathroom, coming up empty once again. Who even organized this house? It makes no sense. His gaze lands on the laundry room door. 

Ah. 

Sure enough, there’s a dog brush on the shelf above the washing machine. 

Leash and brush in-hand, Mac calls out, “Alright, girl. Let’s go de-floof you.” 

Harley takes one look at the brush and sprints in the other direction. 

Well this is going to be harder than Mac anticipated. 

He ends up chasing Harley throughout the apartment, zig-zagging from one room to the next. Every time Mac gets close, Harley slips by, just out of reach. After the fourth time she sends Mac stumbling into the furniture after lunging for her and missing, he realizes what she’s doing. 

Harley is playing him. This is a game to her. And, so far, she’s winning. 

Mac stares the dog down, and she seems to narrow her eyes in response. “Challenge accepted,” he tells her. 

This time, he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for—peanut butter. He smears an unnecessarily large glob into Harley’s dog bowl, making sure she sees exactly what he’s doing. Harley’s stubborn, and does a good job of appearing not to care, but Mac has a hard time believing any dog would turn down peanut butter. 

Harley, it turns out, is no exception. 

She follows him to the door, and Mac rewards her with a few licks of peanut butter while he clips on the leash, careful not to let her eat so much that there’s not enough to last while brushing her. Despite Harley’s obvious enjoyment of the peanut butter, Mac is no fool. She let him win this round, no doubt about it. 

He leads Harley down the stairs to the small lawn in front of the apartment building, where it wouldn’t matter if he left dog hair everywhere. The brush pulls away thick chunks of her undercoat with each pass, and it doesn’t take long for the lawn to look like something died there. 

The peanut butter, unfortunately, doesn’t last nearly as long as Mac hopes. 

Mac figures out pretty quickly that Harley does not like her tail being brushed; she turns away and tucks her tail and generally makes it impossible for Mac to reach it. He sits back on his heels, formulating a new strategy. “If I don’t brush your tail,” he says, “you’re going to look like a squirrel, and neither of us wants that.” 

Harley’s ears prick at the word squirrel. 

Mac tries again, and this time Harley lets him…sort of. It’s not perfect, but at least she won’t be leaving hair all over the apartment anymore—hair that he needs to vacuum, because Riley asked him to last night and he’d completely forgotten until now. Tucking the brush into his back pocket, Mac scratches Harley’s ears the way he learned she likes, and when she leans into his touch, Mac’s heart swells. 

“Good girl.” He kisses her head, and Harley licks his chin in return. “See? We’re not so bad.” Mac sighs. “I know we’re not who you wanted, but we’re going to take good care of you.” 

Riley made the same promise in the war room. Even if she doesn’t stay with them after the op, Mac will make sure Harley ends up with people who will love her for the rest of her life. 

“I promise,” he murmurs into her fur, kissing her head again.

Mac startles when a feminine voice calls, “You could make a whole other dog from all that hair.” A middle-aged woman stands in the walkway, oversized blue purse on her shoulder and car keys in hand. She smiles at Mac. “I haven’t seen you before. Did you just move in?” 

“Yeah,” Mac says, standing up. “My wife and I moved in this week.” 

“Well, welcome. My name is Carrie Ann, and my husband and I live in apartment 317. Feel free to stop by anytime. I think you’ll like living here, though I must warn you that it gets pretty loud during football season.” 

Mac nods. “Nice to meet you. I’m James.” He expects Carrie Ann to keep walking—presumably to her car—but she doesn’t, and Mac suddenly gets the feeling this conversation is about to be much longer than he wants. 

“And who is this cutie?” she asks, directing her attention to the dog. 

“This is Harley.” 

Carrie Ann sounds like a squeaker toy, greeting Harley in a voice so high-pitched it’s almost inhuman and petting her without bothering to ask for permission. Harley eyes the woman warily but surprisingly sits still. “I love dogs,” she says at a mercifully normal decibel. “Sadly my husband is allergic.” 

“That is unfortunate.” Mac shifts from foot to foot, eager to escape the small talk. He’s never really had the patience for it. 

Carrie Ann, it seems, is completely oblivious to his discomfort. She prattles on, asking asinine questions about what he does for work, if he’s been to the coffee place down the street, and when she can meet his wife. 

Mac doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse when Riley appears in his peripheral vision, as if on cue. “Actually,” he says to Carrie Ann, “you can meet her right now.” Mac flashes Riley a wide, bright smile that she returns half-heartedly, chest still heaving after her run. Sweat glistens on her body, and a few wispy curls that escaped her ponytail are now plastered to her face. “This is my wife, Genevieve.” 

Giving Harley a quick scratch, Riley stands beside him, close enough that Mac can feel the heat radiating off her body. Instinctively, he starts to put a hand on her back, but he quickly pulls away. She’s not wearing a shirt—only a sports bra and those stupidly tight leggings—and the intimacy of putting his hand on her bare skin is too much to handle. “Hi,” she says, completely oblivious to Mac’s internal panic. 

Carrie Ann introduces herself again, and Mac is only half-listening while she and Riley chat. Riley’s so much better at small talk anyway. 

He’s much too focused on how Riley grabs his shoulder to use him for balance while she stretches. She’s so casual about it, like she’s done it a million times before. His skin burns under her touch. 

Mac wants to feel more of her, wants his whole body to feel like that. 

Stop it, he chastises himself. Stop thinking about her like that. 

He can’t. 

Even after Riley lets go, the feeling lingers, and Mac can’t stop thinking about that too. She’s standing slightly in front of him now, almost as if she’s protecting him from their nosey neighbor.

“When are you having kids?” Carrie Ann coos. “An attractive couple such as yourselves would make such beautiful children.” 

Shit. He and Riley never talked about that. 

Before Mac can come up with an answer, Riley pulls his arms around her, a smile blooming on her face. She guides his hands to rest low on her abdomen. “We’re actually trying right now.” 

Mac’s brain short-circuits. 

He blushes, both at the casual intimacy of Riley wrapping herself in him and at the implications of what she just said. Pressing her body fully into Mac’s, Riley looks up at him, smiling like he’s her whole world, and Mac’s heart stops. He’s not breathing. 

His whole body burns, and the feeling is so much more intense than he imagined just seconds ago. 

Alight with mischief, Riley’s dark brown eyes draw him in, and suddenly Mac is picturing Riley with that exact same expression while wearing far less clothing. 

Mac thinks he might die from spontaneous combustion. 

You are so beautiful, he barely stops himself from saying. His blush deepens as he’s snared in the mental image of him and Riley doing said “trying.” 

Their neighbor has the audacity to laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it, Genevieve. Your husband looks like he’s ready for another round.” 

That makes it worse. So much worse. If he doesn’t spontaneously combust, then he’ll definitely die of embarrassment. It’s not how he wants to die, but it’s better than explaining his reaction to Riley. Because she’s going to ask him about it. Mac knows this—knows this like he knows grass is green and gravity is what keeps his feet on the ground.

As soon as Carrie Ann leaves, Riley does exactly that. She extricates herself from his grasp, putting her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow the way she always does when she knows something’s up. “Are you okay?” she asks. 

Mac’s voice is strained as he replies, “Yeah. I’m good.” 

He is not good. He is definitely not good. 

And Riley knows it. 

This op feels like all Mac’s worst nightmares coming to fruition. Simultaneously. 

Riley can’t know. Her knowing would ruin everything—their friendship, their work, their trust. Mac can hardly look her in the eye. How is Riley supposed to trust him when he’s secretly thinking about her like that? He’s her friend; he’s supposed to protect her from guys who want her like that, not become one of them. 

But god does Mac want to be one of them. Not one of them, he corrects himself. The only one. 

He’s screwed.

.

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[justletmeplayminecraft]

ex finds a stowaway. what happens next may surprise you.

set in @martuzzio‘s space outlaw au, as ever. this was one of the fics i wanted to write early on and i’m super chuffed i’ve finished it. a faster pace to my previous few, but still 5.5k. 

featuring: ex goes on a journey of character growth feat. someone who definitely isn’t zedaph, ex actually learns to use the word ‘friend’, some tense brotherly discussions, emotions, ex basically holds zedaph up like ‘whose child is this???’, also try not to think of zedaph as a pack creature on his own for that long with only his shawl for comfort cause that hurts a lot.

warnings: tbh if you’ve read my other fics then you’ll be fine, this is tame. very brief shoot-out. emotions. that’s all i can think of.

In all of Ex's (too many) years alive, it's never taken him this long to notice a stowaway before. He's had them, of course. It's usually kids sneaking onto ships that don't know better. They're looking for adventure. Though, they stop looking once they see him. Dropping them off to their parents or kicking them off his ship is easy enough. When it's more serious... Well, he figures it out. He's not Xisuma, but he's not heartless either. Up until now, he's always found them before he took off, or a few hours into flight.

He finds the blond in the middle of deep space.

It's not like he's hidden well, either. He's curled up tightly in the storage hold, tucked in the corner behind some boxes. His arm acts a pillow, a woollen shawl draped over his shoulders. There's only a small rucksack tucked close to torn robes. From the slow rise and fall of his chest, he's sound asleep. Ex sighs, unsure how to proceed from here. It's too late to turn back and drop him off. He doesn't look very threatening, at least. Ex nudges the guy with his toe, watching him rock back and forth. The guy whines.

"Hey. Get up." Ex gets a frown, blue eyes blinking open. He looks ahead of him tiredly, reaching to rub his face before freezing, bolting upright.

"Wh- oh. Um." Ex reaches for the gun on his hip, twirling it before pointing it at the ground. The blond's mouth falls open. "Oh, that's not good."

"Who are you?" Ex asks, keeping his sentences short. This guy looks flighty as anything, shoulders drawn in so he can lean away.

"Woo- William. My name's William." Ex narrows his eyes, tilting the gun closer to him. The guy squeaks.

"I don't believe you." Ex stares him down.

"That's it, that's my name, I'm not lying. Why would I lie to the scary man with a gun?" He swallows, tacking on, "Please don't kill me." Ex keeps his expression neutral and harsh.

"The hell are you doing on my ship?" He demands. Hopefully he'll be smart enough not to lie about that. The guy twists his hands in front of him.

"I just needed safe passage! That's all. There's some people that don't particularly like me and I just- I had to get away!"

"And what's stopping me from giving you to them?" The look of fear that enters those blue eyes would be enough on its own. The blond, Ex might as well call him William, looks devastated. His whole expression crumbles.

"You-" His eyes dart around the hold. Ex can see his arms tense, ready to push himself up.

"There's nowhere to run. We're in the middle of deep space." William doesn't even look at him anymore. He tugs the shawl tighter around his shoulders, beginning to look very small. His breathing has turned into small puffs. Ex sighs, slotting his gun back in its sheath. "What have you been having to eat? To drink?" He asks. William blinks in confusion, glancing up to him. He doesn't quite make eye contact.

"Um, there's some food in one of the crates. Biscuits. I'm really sorry- I was hungry." Ex sighs, making a decision he's pretty sure he's going to regret. He holds his hand out.

"Come on. Get up." William pulls his shawl closer, eyeing him with apprehension. "I'm taking you to the kitchen, idiot. Unless you want to fade away down here."

"Oh." William quietly releases his shawl, hand hovering. "Can I take my bag?" Ex can't imagine anything dangerous being in a bag like that, but he's no fool.

"Give it here."

"Do I have to?" Ex scowls at him. William visibly pales. He gathers up his bag, pushing it into Ex's awaiting hand.

"You can have it back after you eat. And I make sure there's nothing dangerous in it." Ex slings the bag onto his shoulder, taking some care with the contents.

"Okay. That sounds fair." Ex avoids commenting, offering his hand again. William takes it this time. He's as light as Ex expecting, falling into his front with a panicked, "Sorry!" Ex shakes his head, pushing William in front of him. As harmless as he seems, Ex knows better than to take unnecessary chances.

-

He was right that William looked starved. He's tall but tiny, barely any weight on him. The robe hangs off his frame shapeless, a sash wrapped into a belt keeping it on. William tells him in a quiet voice that he's vegetarian, and then eats the food Ex cooks like he hasn't eaten in a week. And if he's been in the hold only eating biscuits, maybe that's accurate.

"Thank you so much," William pushes the plate away, dropping his hands into his lap. Ex nods, only halfway through his own plate. "I- um. Can't actually remember the last time I had a cooked meal. That was really nice." Ex raises his eyebrows. He's not even going to ask. He has a feeling he won't get a straight answer.

"Did you have a destination in mind?"

William shrugs, "Wouldn't have gotten on a random ship if I did."

"Good. Because I'm not going off course for you." William laughs very gently, pressing back against the chair.

"That's- that's okay. I'll probably just find another ship. That's what I've been doing." He can see William tug at his robe. It shows how thin the fabric is. Ex furrows his brow.

"How long have you been running?" He asks. William looks surprised at the question. He tugs the robe tighter, shifting his shawl from its position. He resets it quickly.

"I don't remember." William's voice is incredibly small. Ex silently curses. He swore to himself a long time ago he wouldn't get attached to humans. He's never understood Xisuma and his ever-changing entourage. Their lives are so short. Blink and you miss it. But, here, this one, sat across from him. Ex knows how exhausting running is.

He's growing attached. Damn it.

-

He's proved right when Ex shows him to his room. He gives William's bag back. There was barely anything in it anyway. A spare robe, empty water bottle, a broken thread bracelet, a notepad (detailing his travels, Ex thinks), a de-tangling brush and a tiny amount of change. He's pretty confident this guy isn't a threat to him. He'll keep the bedroom door locked anyway.

"Um." William pauses at the door, cradling his bag. Ex crosses his arms. "Thank you. Again," he says, "You've been really nice to me. I appreciate that."

"It's a few weeks until the next port," Ex tells him. William nods.

"I can help out where I can?" He suggests. "I can... Clean or cook, maybe? I'm not very good at it but-" Ex holds his hand up and the rambling trails off.

"Tomorrow. I'll find something." William's shoulders relax.

"Thank you."

-

True to his word, Ex finds him something to do. Sure, it's dusting, but it's an easy way to keep an eye on him. Ex is no idiot. He's thought things through. He doesn't need to let William near any dangerous chemicals, he can steer him from important machinery and he's not going to do much to Ex with a duster.

He doesn't think he'd be able to do much anyway with that little muscle.

Ex tries to remember what he's learnt about humans. It's not like he's unfamiliar with them, the damn things are everywhere. Fragile yet resilient, they find their way into everything. Ex did his best to avoid them. Now, he has no idea what to do with this one on his ship.

He's pretty sure this is an adult human, at least. The children are usually smaller and talk in higher voices. Far more annoying, too. William listens to him. He stays out of Ex's way, always on the edges. Ex feels slightly reassured he's not accidentally kidnapping a child. That's the last thing he needs. His bounty is high enough. Sure it isn't kidnapping if he came onto the ship himself, but like the authorities care.

Two days after Ex found William, the blond approaches him.

"Um." He's holding the front of his shawl, tugging it tighter around him. He's not changed clothes yet. Though, what would he change into? "I was just thinking I- uh. I don't know what to call you." William shifts from foot to foot. "You don't have to tell me, of course! That's fair! But I keep calling you scaryblueishman in my head which is kind of rude." Ex raises his eyebrows, staring down at the human.

"Ex." Blue eyes narrow.

"Ex?" William sounds confused. "That's just a letter."

"E-X," he spells out, with a dead stare. William still looks skeptical but he nods, mouthing the name before he speaks again.

"Okay. Ex." He nods again, a bit more confident. "It's nice to meet you properly." Ex grunts, turning away to focus on directions. William doesn't leave, his shadow moving awkwardly in Ex's peripherals. Ex finally glances to him.

"What else?"

William takes a deep breath, "Is there a way I could clean my robe? I mean, I'm happy to just do it in a sink with water, but I wanted to check first." Ex wrinkles his nose.

"Please do." William shrinks in, tugging his shawl tight. He focuses on the ground.

"Sorry, yeah. I'll- I'll do that." William skitters away quickly and Ex is left with the feeling he said the wrong thing. He frowns, before deciding it isn't his problem. If William has an issue, he can deal with it.

-

At dinner that night, William is dressed in his other robe, and his hair is heavy with water. With his face clean, he has a pleasant glow to his cheeks. Ex is surprised how much healthier it makes him look. He sits at the counter with him, in the routine they've silently established.

"I'll wash this one tomorrow," William tells him. "But I needed something to wear whilst the other one dried soooo...." It's the first time Ex has seen him without the shawl on. Part of him wants to ask where it is.

"Didn't you use the dryer?" Ex asks instead, pointing to his hair. William pats it, face opening up as he remembers it's wet.

"It's wool. I have to let it air dry or it shrinks." He pretends to shiver. "That's never fun, do not recommend." Ex's thoughts come to a crashing halt. He was fairly certain humans didn't have wool for hair. He knits with wool. Is this some kind of genetic tampering again? Humans always seem to do that.

"Wool?" He questions, seeing an opportunity to prod into William's past either way. William nods, pulling out a strand of hair. It reveals the tight waves in it. Then he seems to realise what Ex is asking and blanches.

"Oh- uh." The hands withdraw back, pressing into his lap now he has no shawl to fiddle with. "You thought I was human, didn't you?"

"You're not," Ex replies, keeping a blank tone. William shakes his head, hair swishing as he does.

"Most people think I am but- well, you're already doing me a big favour by not killing me." His eyes dart to him and back to his plate. "So, uh, I guess I'm related to humans? I'm mostly human. But I'm like... Also related to sheep."

"Sheep," Ex checks, "Those big fluffy things that humans used to farm?"

"Yes! Those!" William bounces in his seat. "I look human so usually I just pretend I am. Makes life easier. But, kinda slipped up here." He fiddles with his robe. Ex can understand that. He's often thought his life would be far easier if he was just a human. But his life would be far easier if a lot of things were different. Being a more common species is a star in the galaxy against his problems.

"Does this mean I get to know your name?" Ex asks. He's surprised how pleased he is when William laughs at his teasing. There’s not a hint of nervousness in it this time.

"You're still stuck on that, aren't you?" William leans forward on the table. "I'm gonna keep it secret. Give you a reason to keep me around."

"So you admit it's not your name."

"Ah." William looks to the side. "You got me there." Ex smirks, continuing to eat. He can't remember the last time he made someone properly laugh. Probably Xisuma. William, whatever his name is, he's... He's not bad.

-

He finds himself trusting William as more time passes. He's given him no reason not to. William follows him into the engine room to figure out why a light keeps flashing. He sits in the navigation bay as Ex redirects around a police stop. He watches and he learns. He talks, too. Ex is amazed someone can chatter so much.

The first few times he trails off once he realises he's doing it. So Ex tries to encourage the conversation. He grunts, nods, tries all those things you usually do. Things he's never cared for before. He likes listening to William speak. The way his brain jumps from topic to topic. He's surprisingly sharp for someone stowing away on an outlaw’s ship. Ex would never admit it, but he prefers it to the silence.

"You might be able to move that wire," William points out. The damn targeting system has stopped working this time. He should’ve known better than to take the cheap junk. "Connect it directly into the power source. Seems like the surge detector is malfunctioning." William rests his hand on his chin. "Actually, test the surge detector with something else first. In case it's a problem with the power source." Ex nods, before looking at William with suspicion.

"When did you become a technician?" William laughs quietly, scratching the back of his hair.

"Um, picked it up over time," he replies. "My friends used to be really good at it so I got the basics from them. Then I kinda needed to know to survive." There's something tight in William's voice when he mentions his friends, how he skips over it quickly and continues explaining what they should do. Ex doesn't comment on it any further. It's hardly like William will be sticking around.

-

Until they reach the next port. William quietly asks where he's going next. Ex tells him. He doesn't bring attention to the relief in William's eyes.

-

They become travelling partners after that. William is there with excited comments and a bounce in his step. He has a surprising range of technical know-how, with unconventional but surprisingly effective solutions. Ex finds himself enjoying the company. He thought he'd mind more. Silence is something he's used to. Something he could retreat into for safety. William never pressures him. He doesn't expect replies. He fills a space Ex didn't know needed filling.

And Ex learns things. William speaks fondly of his family, but he hasn't seen them for a long time. He has a wide knowledge of ships, various organisations and federations. He has a sharp wit, he enjoys watching comedies, he likes napping where Ex is nearby. It's been a long time since Ex has tried to learn about another person. He writes down each small fact so he doesn't forget.

He does ask one day, "You are an adult, right?" William looks up, his smile full of cheek.

"On paper!" So, he gives up on that enquiry. He'll just assume he is.

But William never brings up his friends again. If it weren't for the brief mentions of family, Ex would assume he didn't have a life before meeting him.

That changes, one night.

Ex stopped locking William's bedroom a long time ago. It's so rare he leaves his room anyway. Ex trusts him with far worse around the ship. He wakes up too easily for William to sneak up on him. Or doesn't sleep at all. Like tonight, Ex wanders the ship aimlessly.

He finds William on the bridge. The systems are powered down for the night. It's a piece of junk, but the windows still tower over them. William is sat against one, a shadowed silhouette against the stars. His shawl is slipping off his shoulder. There's something sad in his eyes, the stars reflected in the blue. Ex's footsteps are silent. He sits across from William and blue eyes turn to him.

"Sorry," William's voice is so quiet in the open space. "Did I keep you up?"

"I didn't know you were here," Ex replies. William smiles, resting against the window again. He looks small against the stars.

His next words are quieter, "It feels so lonely, sometimes." Ex watches William tug his shawl tighter, pull his legs a bit closer. "All of this space."

"I've been alone for a long time," Ex tells him. "I'm used to it." William looks at him closely and Ex feels more examined than he has in a long time.

"I'm not sure if I pity you or I'm jealous."

"I'm not sure if I should be insulted." William smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes.

"I wish I could just not care." He breathes out, shaking slightly. "I miss them so much. It's been years." Years aren't very long to Ex, but he doesn't mention that.

"Your family?"

"No-" William turns back to the stars "-My friends."

"Can't you see them?" William's laugh is more of a sob.

"I'm pretty sure they're dead." He stands, pulling his shawl tight. With the light on his face, Ex can make out the shine of tears. "I'm going to sleep. I'm sorry."

By the time Ex can find the words to reply, William is already gone.

-

The next day, whilst they sit together in the common room, William speaks for the first time since that conversation.

"My name's Zedaph." Ex turns to him quickly. "My real name."

"That sounds less real than William," Ex replies, furrowing his brows. William, well, Zedaph, now, gasps in mock surprise.

"Says the person with a letter!" He cries, prodding his finger forward. He can’t reach. Ex smirks. He'll write that down later. Zedaph.

-

Zedaph only gets more bubbly now he's revealed his name. It occurs to Ex he could use it to look him up. He could unwrap this mystery of a person. Yet he... Doesn't. Zedaph is- Ex doesn't want to betray his trust. Zedaph has brought something new to his miserable life. He's precious. Ex doesn't want to break what they have.

Except he messes up.

Zedaph doesn't even have armour as the authorities unload on them. Ex shoves him forward, putting up a shield behind them so they can run. Zedaph stumbles as a shot bounces off the shield. He grabs a table from outside the cafe, dragging it over onto the pavement. Ceramic shatters across paved streets, water spilling into cobbles. People are standing, with loud gasps and shouts. Zedaph looks to Ex, nodding before sprinting alongside him. Ex grabs his wrist, using his free hand to fire shots back at the authorities in the hopes of keeping them away.

They turn a corner and Ex doesn't hesitate to pull Zedaph down another side alley. He refuses to let either of them drop the pace, keeping Zedaph firmly beside him. It takes several more twists and turns until Ex is certain they've lost their pursuers. He still keeps a brisk pace, determined to get back to the ship before they're spotted. Zedaph is puffing beside him.

"I knew this was a mistake," Ex mutters. He still has his hand digging tightly around Zedaph's wrist.

"What?" Zedaph asks. His feet are dragging as he tries his best to keep up. Ex huffs, glaring at him.

"You," he spits. "You've got no armour, you could've died if they shot you. I should’ve left you at that port. This is my damn fault." Zedaph's eyes narrow into a returning glare. He tries to snatch his arm back from Ex but Ex holds fast.

"No, that's not fair," he protests. "To start with, they were after us because of me." Ex holds his arm still between them, halting them both. There's barely room to breathe in the tight alley. He hates these small towns.

"Why would they be after you?" He demands. Zedaph doesn't back down.

"They found me in their record room. I ran but they must've recognised me." Ex stares the blond down, watching as he breathes heavily. He finally yanks his arm, setting a quick pace.

"We're talking about this on the ship," he tells him, voice firm.

"Of course we will," Zedaph mutters. Ex doesn't dignify him with a reply.

-

"Why would you do something so stupid?" He never realised how tall Zedaph is until he's glaring back at him, hands bunched in his shawl. His bag has been thrown on the ground.

"I do it at every planet," Zedaph replies, voice raised but not shouting. "This is just the first time you've noticed."

"And you didn't think to tell me this?"

"I told you there were people after me," Zedaph retorts. Ex rolls his eyes.

"You didn't say that was the police."

"Well, they're one of them. Happy now?"

"What did you even need to be in the stupid record room for?" Ex can barely keep still for his frustration. This stupid, fragile idiot. "What's worth risking your life for?" Zedaph stalks to his bag, picking it up and clutching it in his arms.

"I have to try, okay!" Zedaph doesn't meet his eyes. He's curled around his bag protectively, twisted away from Ex. "For my friends! My best friends-" His voice breaks. Zedaph buries his face into the bag, shoulders shaking and oh god- he's crying. He's crying and this is all Ex's fault.

He barely gets his arms around Zedaph in an attempt at a hug for him to fall against Ex. The bag is squashed between them, and Ex does the best to rub his trembling back, unsure what to do or say.

"There there?" He attempts, thinking to parents and their children. A laugh bubbles out of Zedaph. He steps away but there's still tears in his eyes. He rubs at them with the back of his arm.

"You don't- you don't have to do that." Zedaph smiles at him, his cheeks still shining. "This is kinda stupid, isn't it? Oh my word, I feel like a kid all over again. Crying over things I can't change." Ex pretends that sentiment doesn't hurt.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks. Zedaph hesitates. He actually thinks before he replies.

"Sure-" he shrugs "-at this point, why not? "

He keeps his bag with him as they settle in the common room. He wraps his legs around it, pulling out the small book that Ex remembers. Ex sits on another chair entirely, crossing his legs.

"I should start at the start, right?" Zedaph asks, peering at Ex under damp eyelashes.

"That might help," Ex agrees. Zedaph nods, resting his head on his bag.

"I used to have a really close herd," he begins, speaking softly. "One of them I think is okay. Skizz. But I've not been able to find him." He rubs circles onto his knee. "The other two are- were called Tango and Impulse." Something pings in Ex's head. He tries to place why. "We were a team, you know? And then just- they were gone and dead and I didn't want to believe it. I don't want to believe it."

Zedaph holds his book out. Ex takes it, opening the pages and flicking through.

"Every time I reach a port, I try to see if someone matching their descriptions has gone through." He shrugs, simply looking sad. "They never have. But I can't break the habit."

"These are the two that taught you tech?" Ex asks, pieces coming together in his head.

"Yeah!" Zedaph brightens up slightly. "The two of them were incredible. They came up with such amazing designs. For everything. The three of us could fly any ship we wanted to." He squeezes his knee. "I was never really as good as them. I can't even fill their shoes."

Ex frowns, "Don't you see how impressive you are?" Zedaph blinks at him, blue eyes wide.

"Um? No?" Ex closes the book, giving it back to Zedaph. Zedaph strokes the cover before slotting it away safely. "I can't design massive machines. Or work engines. I'm just- I'm me."

Ex raises his eyebrows, "You've successfully evaded police and however many other groups. You've kept detailed records of where you visited. You're able to make things work I'd given up on. You’re funny. Don't you see that?"

"You don't know them."

"No." Ex doesn't change tone. "But I know you." Zedaph squeezes his shawl.

"I'm not going to change your mind, am I?"

"You could always tell me more about them." Zedaph smiles very slightly, sinking into the seat.

"Yeah," he agrees. "It's been... Too long. I'd like to keep their memory alive somehow."

Ex listens closely to every word that Zedaph says. He talks into the early hours of the morning, stories upon stories. Of Impulse and how he tried to keep them together but was really just as chaotic most of the time. Tango and his fire hair, it's really amazing and his crazy ideas he somehow made work. The farms they’d come up with together, pouring over schematics into the early hours of the morning.

And Ex has all the pieces.

He needs to contact Xisuma. Damn it.

-

Ex doesn't want to be selfish. The thought crosses his mind. He could keep Zedaph all to himself and he'd be none the wiser. Ex would have company. They'd both be happy.

But.

How long can he keep Zedaph safe? It would be his fault if those blue eyes no longer shone as he laughs. The people after Ex are far worse than those after Zedaph. And Ex, as much as it pains him, doesn't want to be selfish. He doesn't want to be the reason Zedaph never sees his friends again.

He types out the message in silence that night.

[Ex] ive got somebody for your crew.

-

"And you're sure I can't come with you?" Zedaph asks, for possibly the fifteenth time that morning. Ex nods, keeping his eye on the coordinates of Xisuma's ship. It's been a long time since he's landed in there.

"You don't even have armour," Ex replies. Zedaph scoffs, spinning around in the co-pilot seat.

"I don't have to leave the ship," he suggests. "I could just sit here and look pretty."

"It'll be safer," Ex repeats, for what also must be around the tenth time. "It's a much bigger ship too. More people than just me. You’ll have space to spread out." Zedaph sighs, sliding down in the seat until he's nearly lying down.

"But what if they don't like me?" He exclaims. "At least you do."

"For now." Zed sits up at that with a noise of protest.

"Don't you start being mean," he complains. "I just don't get it. We've been fine, this works. Then we get in one firefight and you freak out!" Ex sighs, checking as they get closer.

"I've not done anything dangerous around you," Ex tells him. "And I am a dangerous man."

"You literally let me sleep on you because you're too afraid to move me," Zed points out. "You're hardly- oh, that is a really big ship." Ex looks up as Xisuma's ship comes into view in all her glory. Zedaph stares, open-mouthed at the sight. "You're putting me on that?" He asks, his face a picture of shock.

"She's a good ship, with a good crew. You'll fit in well." Zed pulls his shawl tight.

"Do you think so?" He asks.

"I know so," Ex replies. He mentally prepares himself. "You're a good friend, Zed. They'll love you." The smile on Zedaph's face is brighter than any star Ex has seen.

"Will you see me on board?" Ex sighs, before shaking his head. He doesn't want to deal with the emotions. Seeing Zedaph reunite with his proper friends. Leaving Ex behind.

"My brother will look after you," Ex tells him instead. Brother is easier than clone. There's parts of his history Zedaph simply doesn't need to know.

"I trust you."

Has anyone ever trusted Ex before?

-

Ex is there as Xisuma enters the ship. Zedaph looks between the two of them, eyes squinted.

"You really do look alike, huh." Xisuma shoots Ex a look. Ex shakes his head very slightly. He knows X will get the message.

"You must be Zedaph." Xisuma holds his hand out, offering a friendly smile. "Ex has told me about you." Zedaph smiles, accepting the handshake.

"You must be Xisuma." Zedaph nods. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Ex snorts at the panicked look on Xisuma's face. His brother waves his hands quickly.

"Nope, none of that. Calling me sir makes me feel far too old."

"You are far too old." Ex throws his arm around Xisuma's shoulders, purposefully knocking him off balance. "You take care of the squirt, got it?"

"Hey!" Zedaph places his hands on his hips. "I'll call you a squirt if you're not careful." Xisuma laughs, shaking his head at the two's antics.

"Of course, of course. They're all excited to meet you. Are you ready?" Zedaph gives Ex a long look. He holds up a finger.

"One minute." He jumps forward, wrapping his arms around Ex and trapping him in a hug. He's gone from a twig to nearly dislodging Ex's footing. Impressive. He raises his arms, awkwardly settling into the hug. Zedaph's grip is tight enough to squeeze his lungs.

"You know I'm gonna miss you, right?" Zedaph steps back. He pokes a finger into Ex's chest. "You better stay safe out there. I want you to visit me."

"Yeah," Ex agrees, trying to hide the uncertainty in his words. "I will." He doesn't know which one he's agreeing to. Zedaph gives him a final smile. He turns to Xisuma with all of that boundless energy.

"Okay! Let's go." Xisuma nods, letting Zedaph take the lead. He pauses at the door.

"I promise to keep him safe," he tells Ex.

"You better."

It's barely two minutes until the feeling hits him. The ship feels so much emptier now.

-

"Why didn't you see him off?" Ex turns to find Xisuma standing beside him with his arms crossed. He stares into the distance, looking like a trademark wise old man. Ex scoffs at the sight, resisting the urge to cross his own arms.

"He won't have any trouble getting used to your ship," he replies. Xisuma looks at him, purple eyes trying to see into Ex's soul. Ex won't let him.

"That wasn't what I asked." Ex sighs, frustrating boiling over.

"How do you do it?" He demands, turning to Xisuma with clenched fists. Xisuma hardly reacts, his expression gentle as ever. "You let these people in your life knowing you're going to lose them. Again and again." It's with those words that Xisuma looks away in thought. Ex releases his fists, realising for once, he's asked something X doesn't have an immediate answer to.

"You want the honest answer?" Purple eyes lock with purple eyes.

"Why?" Ex sneers. "Are you planning to lie to me again?" For not even a second, Ex can see Xisuma flinch. It's such a minute shift in expression that the ordinary person wouldn't notice. Shame that Ex is looking at his own face.

Xisuma pities him. Even now.

"No." Xisuma bows his head. "Because you won't like it." Ex scowls at him. He gestures his hand out for Xisuma to continue. With that same gentle expression, Xisuma sighs. He takes Ex's hand into his own and lowers it between them. "I do it with great difficulty, Ex. Is that the answer you want?" Ex freezes, unable to reply as Xisuma looks directly at him with sad eyes.

Someone shouts for Xisuma inside the landing bay. The stupid admin glances in that direction, calling out a response. He squeezes Ex's hand as he faces him. Ex snatches it away.

"I'm going to send you his number," Xisuma tells him. He gives no room for Ex to argue. "It's your choice if you stay in contact."

"Why should I?"

"Having a friend isn't going to kill you, Ex." He doesn't appreciate Xisuma's dry tone. "Consider it." Ex huffs, a stray white strand flying from his face.

"Fine."

-

[Xisuma forwarded a contact: Zedaph]

[Xisuma] He speaks highly of you, you know?

[Ex] is this your way to convince me

[Xisuma] Maybe.

[Xisuma] And it's nice to hear that somebody else cares about you.

...

[Ex] shut up

-

[Ex] sup loser

[Ex] heard you missed me

[Zedaph] Ex!!!!!!!

[Zedaph] You absolutely knew, didn’t you? I hate you so much. 

[Zedaph] Oh, I have so much to catch you up on.

Ex rolls onto his side on the bed, content to watch the messages roll in.