#he side of the deal is he just sends them med supplies now and then]

[dragonofthestone]

(For Tim's father) (@experimentalfma )

The most recent roll of film had finally been developed, and Hughes held the packet of brand new family photos close to his chest, a warmth already blossoming inside him at the prospect of seeing all of those recent memories brought to life. He'd planned on reviewing them with Gracia once he got home, but a quick peek on the way back wouldn't hurt.

After a quick glance upward to make sure he wouldn't walk into anyone, he gave in and dove into the packet, his smile growing with every photo he flipped through. Unfortunately, however, he was sidetracked enough the didn't look up as he automatically rounded the corner and bumped straight into a man on the other side of the sidewalk, scattering photos all around them.

"Sorry, guess I got a little distracted there." Hughes smiled apologetically and bent down to gather the fallen photos, breaking into a wider grin as he held one up for the stranger. "But how could I not be? Adorable, right? She just turned four last month, and we brought her out to the field to pick flowers for her party. My wife was trying to teach her how to make flower crowns, and I still have the one she made me. Have you ever seen someone working so hard on making one so beautiful?" In the photo, Elicia wore an exceptionally concentrated expression as she tried to figure out how to weave a few flowers together. As far as flower crowns went, it was barely wearable, but in his eyes, it was perfection he couldn't help but share, even with a perfect stranger.

--------------------

It had been a long time since Nikolaos had set foot in Amestris, let alone central. Back when he was a much younger man with quite a few less grey hairs, and not even a wife or kids to speak of. In truth despite the current problems between the countries he did miss traveling and had even missed Amestris itself.

The city had changed quite a bit many more buildings then last he remembered, many quite tall as well. Far different from the quite countryside town back home.

His cane lightly tapped against the stone sidewalk as he took in some of the sights, only wishing he was there on better terms. The chances of actually finding Tim seemed slim but he'd had to take the chance, while cautious to whom he spoke and what he said he still held some hope that someone may know something. Perhaps he should try getting in contact with the man from Dublith, he'd helped him once years ago before and if anyone knew anything.. he might.

Whump

Rather unexpectedly he found himself stumbling back a couple steps but managed to keep balance, photos flying everywhere and fluttering to the ground he placed his cane on top of one before a breeze could take it away.

Carefully he crouched down letting go of the cane to help the younger man gather up the photos, many of which seemed to have the main focus of a rather darling little girl.

"It's alright, no harm done," He smiled. Nikolaos could spot a new parent a mile away and this man fit the bill for sure, while every parent adores their children there was always that extra special something about ones first.

As the man continued Nikolaos paused from gathering to look at the offered out photo, the flower crown in question was clearly barely being held together and very well may have fallen a part not long after the photo, but one couldn't help but admire a child's efforts no matter how poorly the attempt end up. He couldn't contain a light chuckle quite endeared by the photo and reminded of when his own was that small,

"I see, if she keeps working like that I'm sure she'll be making plenty more in no time."

[chicknstripz]

∘₊✧ Fear & Doubt ✧₊∘

Pairing|| Fem!Reader X Echo Word Count|| 1383 Tags|| Self-Deprecation, Self-esteem & Confidence issues, Disabilities, Fluff & Angst Synopsis|| Anakin can't help but notice a certain someone likes his boy Echo, and he's not about to let the newly returned trooper talk his way out of it! 'Jedi' prompt for @clonexreaderbingo

Echo is used to feeling confident, to feeling like he can handle anything the galaxy can throw at him! But this? This has him wheeling! The sight of you smiling from across the room enough to send him into a mild panic. Fives would have known what to do, of that he was sure. His little brother had quite the way with the opposite sex back in the day. But Fives wasn’t here, he was dead, and Echo’s not sure what’s worse. That no one had told him he was dead for a good two weeks, or that he didn’t know how to say hi to a pretty lady. “Go on, say something.”  Anakin’s friendly nudge in the side didn’t help matters. Echo used to feel comforted by the Jedi’s behavior, used to feel deep comradery and trust. Now? Well, he’s not sure what to feel. There’s a massive disconnect, a chasm that has opened up between them, and he’s not sure if that’s normal for a former POW. He tries to smile at his old friend, tries to bridge the gap, but the opposite side keeps drifting further away. “She isn’t going to be interested in someone like me, sir.” Anakin laughs, a full bodied sound that draws your attention. “I wouldn’t say that Echo. Just look at that smile! She doesn’t react like that when she sees your brothers.” If he was being honest, which he wasn’t, he’d have said he hadn’t noticed. He didn’t have enough time to notice if a nat-born was smiling at him or not, but these past two weeks? Oh he’d had time and plenty of it. He’d gone weak in the knees when you waved at him from across the mess, stuttered his way through a health check when you delivered new supplies to the med-bay, and more then once caught you smiling at him from the corner of his eye. He’d have considered it a compliment in his prime, but those days were behind him and he was adamant he’d protect you from his robotic self.

“Doesn’t change that I’m -- well -- me.”

He gives his body a gesturing wave.

“And it doesn’t change that she’s interested. Look, I know how difficult it is - having to deal with changes to one’s body, but that doesn’t change who you are in here.”

The weight of Anakin’s hand is soothing, a reminder that he’s very much alive as the Jedi spreads his fingers to cover the handprint Rex had painted the day before. He might be leaving to join the bad batch on a permanent basis, but that didn’t mean he was leaving the 501st behind. He was, and always would be, Rex’s kih’vod.

“This. This is all she cares about.”

Anakin gives a slight push to make his point, his other hand resting over his own heart as he stares into Echo’s eyes.

“All you need to do is be brave enough to say hello. Think you can do that trooper?”

“Sir, yes sir.”

If only it turned out that way! The meek ‘h..h..h..hello’ is a far cry from his long lost confidence, and he ends up fleeing with a muttered excuse before you could say hello in return.

[ --- ]

Luckily Anakin isn’t one to ‘give up’ when it comes to the ‘welfare’ of his men.

He orders flowers via the holonet for his battered friend, asking Padmé for her opinion on what would make the most romantic gesture. Deep red roses complimented with delicate sprays of tiny white flowers. Colorful chrysanthemums, their hues picked to best represent the current season. Lilies, their delicate white petals standing out against the bluer shades of gilia and cornflower. Sometimes he felt bad about undermining his friend like this, but watching you thank him for his sweet gifts? It only spurred him on, the awkward sway of Echo’s body as you kissed his cheek bringing a smile to his lips.

He sends care packages to Echo, full of all the things Padmé sends to him. A selection of sweet and savory treats, carefully cultivated to appeal to Echo’s taste buds. Decent powdered caff, the blends changed up to see what one he likes best. A blanket, the deep blue a reminder of his days in the 501st as he transitions into the batch. And boy does he consider it a victory when you start sending them yourself, Echo’s delight as he shows flimsi photos of you in colorful outfits near contagious. Because, honestly, what was better than your ‘brother’ showing off pictures of the person he loved?

Then one day, one glorious day, Echo asks you out! He’s been thinking about it for some time, buoyed by your sweet smiles whenever his vode sends you flowers. Echo still hasn’t figured which of his brothers is doing it, and at this point he doesn’t particularly care. It’s brought you closer, allowed him to experience things he thought were beyond him, and he’s not about to let the opportunity slide. Fives would have been appalled if he allowed that to happen. He swallows at the thought of his lost twin as he knocks at your door, the matt surface reflecting his face back at him for the barest moment before you answer. You always meet him with a soft smile, your eyes dancing with sweet affection as you take the flowers from him. He knows enough from your ramblings to know you like the roses the best, the mix of yellows and pinks popping against your dark shirt as you gather them into your arms. “Oh Echo, they’re beautiful. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” He shifts his weight from foot to foot, the nervous energy settling in the pit of his stomach. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out for dinner? I -- ahh emm -- can’t afford much on a stipend but...” “YES!” You cut him off before he finishes the sentence, your excitement visible in your face as you wrap your arms around him. The self conscious part of his brain wants to push you away, wants to apologize for how uncomfortable his cybernetics must be, whilst the other? It wants to pull you in, to bask in your scent as you murmur sweet nothings about how much you longed for this. It's the later side that wins, his sigh deep as he settles his chin on your shoulder. “Should have done this months ago.” “What stopped you?” He swallows, embarrassed by the thoughts that had clouded his mind for so long. “Fear” It was a small word to describe the way he felt, but it suited it perfectly. Fear that you wouldn’t return his feelings. Fear that he wasn’t good enough. Fear that his body would sicken you. They’d compounded to an amorphous mess, to the point where he couldn’t pin down the reason why he’d been so afraid. But he had been, and it was embarrassing. He was an ARC trooper, a corporal. He wasn’t supposed to be scared! He exhales as he turns his head, a waft of your soap calming his nerves as he settles his hands on your waist. “Fear of what?” “Everything.” He shudders when your hand covers the back of his head, the way your fingers brush his headpiece making him want to apologize immediately. “Oh sweetheart ...” The softness of your voice chases away his forming apology, his mind blanking as he lets the warmth of it coat his nervous system. He’s never heard something so sweet, so loving, the moment so profound he’s sure it will stick with him until the end of time. “ ... You have nothing to fear with me.” The tone of your voice assured him that he didn’t need to worry about his looks or his trauma. You’d accepted him for who he was months ago, had smiled at him as if he was the only person in the galaxy. He sinks into you as your warmth draws him in, the fight leaving his muscles as he allows himself to accept your affections. He’d have to thank Skywalker the next time  saw him. If it wasn’t for him he’d have never known what your smiles meant! Would have never been able to take that first step into a life filled with warmth and love. 

[luffythinker]

Not very sure what I want but if you have any can you like rate it? My Lady Sero (possibly give any headcanons of your own based on this Au th ing me and my friend got going on? Shes with Kirishima, Me and my friend talk about them specifically I am in love with them and their lovelife) you seem so chill about everything so here are some of my headcanons

♠️ One sort of toxic headcanon for Sero is that she has a extremely hard to sharing her feeling and prefers not to unload any baggage cause it's easier not to talk about it. It's not that she cant but just would prefer not to even if she really should cause communication is key to a relationship but Sero just can't do it. Shes learning to open up a little.

♥️Sero has so many piercings. side of nose, nose to ear chain, 4 in one ear, 3 in the other, one in both eyebrows,tongue,bellybutton, anywhere you could imagine. Doesn't wear them all the time at first cause she thought he would think shes freaky. Offers to give him earrings when they get used to eachother.

♥️lots of finger rings. Possibly toe rings?

♥️ Kirishima somehow bagged himself a baddie who fights, wrap the tape around her hands throwing punches.

♥️WOMEN IS TALLER THEN HIM.

♥️loves to cook for him

♥️ Sero doesnt really know how to be silly but manages with ease.

♥️Makes alot of jokes. Jokes of all kinds. Mostly "bad" natured ones.

♥️push him up against the wall even though hes stronger, shes stronger in mind games which she loves to tease and mess with him.

♥️type of girl to hold his chin and say look at me. he loves it, she knows it.

♥️Golden retriever boyfriend Kirishima.

♥️ The kind of girl who is super bad, like every illegal thing let's do it, why not? Picks locks, knows how to forge a signature, has done it for him a few times.

♥️they never confirmed they were dating, just went from friends to kissing friends to ALRIGHT WE ARE A COUPLE NOW I GUESS.

♥️Sero skips other classes for Kiri. Not heroics.

♥️Kirishima on depression meds, Sero with smokers patch and withdrawal issues. \\ I apologize if smoker Sero isn't fun for everyone :( shes trying to stop//

♥️Sero has got addicted to medication before and has to be careful.

♥️they wrestle.

👉👈 👀 I'm sorry I just wanna talk about headcanons.

I would love to share headcanons with you!! it makes me feel so warm <3

I can see how she has difficulty with communication, I think she has tried to solve her issues alone most of the time so it's hard to open up and accept that she can share her worries with someone else :( she's getting better tho, bit by bit they will get there

piercings and rings!! i love this, I can see her and kiri buying jewelry together once they establish they're both into it (specifically silver)

now that you talked about the tape, just made me realize that sero could use her tape for binding chest, which would be so useful for transmasc people!! (like imagine transmasc kiri nervous about his chest and his gf is just an endless supply of binders) [we don't need to use trans kiri here but just for imagination]

I think sero is naturally silly and funny, it helps that kiri's sense of humor is very easy to please, so she can say anything and he will laugh

kiri would love to let his gf push him around, it makes her so happy so he will comply, she can be bossy at times especially if like he uses his phone when they're together she's like "look at me!!"

I LOVE BAD GIRL SERO PLS, she's down for anything, she's risky, kiri is nervous but he trusts her to know which limits to cross or not

I can see them being very uncomplicated, they liked each other, they kissed, they're a couple and none of that required extensive conversation, they're just on the same wavelength and know what works for them

sending a lot of love and strength to them, dealing with depression and addiction is hard, but i'm sure they will get through with the support of the other (and therapy!!)

not sure if I have more headcanons but I just feel like they would be such a feel-good power couple like everyone on campus knows them, they're very big on PDA, and their favorite thing to do is just lay down together and talk about life and random things, they make each other laugh like no one else can

[from-a-reckless-writer]

They were fighting.

In the DEO.

Again.

“Moms fighting again?” Nia casually leans on the desk next to Brainy, who is currently hunched over some screen. 

“It appears so,” He answers, not really paying attention. In the distance you can hear yelling and the tell-tale woosh of a cape. 

Nia had removed her comms the moment Supergirl spotted Lena Luthor on the field. She’s pretty sure half of the agents did the same. They all knew what was coming. 

And well, if the approaching bickering were any indication... 

“I had it covered!”

“Yes, because an on-coming missile with your name on it was you having it covered, clearly.”

“I saved ten lives today, Supergirl. Jealous you only saved three?”

“It isn’t about that and you know it.”

Nia sees Alex stride in, obviously going in for an attempt to pacify Supergirl. 

And also because it was partly Alex’s idea to send Lena with the Alpha team, in her defense Lena was the only person she could trust enough not to tamper with the device.

“Come on, Supergirl, Lena is more than capable in the field and she volunteered. She saved the day, you kno—”

“Butt out of this, Alex.” Supergirl grits out, too busy staring Lena down to even spare her sister a glance. 

“Sorry?” Alex scoffs, shocked at how easy she was brushed aside. She was tempted to pull rank and use the ‘I’m the Director, here.’ card, if she was being honest.

“No, Alex is right,” Lena points out, “I did save the day. Time for you to acknowledge that the both of us are just as capable as the other. And if saving the day means getting in the line of fire, then so be it.”

“This isn’t about you being incapable-”

“Then tell me what exactly is it about?”

Supergirl licks her lips, swallows and Lena braces herself for another retort but instead she fixes her with a stare that only Supergirl reserves for the bad guys and coolly states, “You are not to go out in the field and that’s final.”

She turns to walk out but Lena’s temper just skyrocketed tenfold. 

“Wow. You did not just say that to my face.” There was something in the way that Lena Luthor’s voice dropped that made Supergirl turn around. DEO agents are openly watching on now, not even bothering at subtlety anymore. The two women fighting in front of the whole agency certainly haven’t tried subtle at all. 

“Let’s make something clear here, Supergirl,” Lena fumed,  “This is my life and I get to call the shots. You don’t get a say in what I decide to do or not to do. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I don’t have a say? Rao, sorry my mistake! Forgive me for thinking that my sharing a last name with you means a cent to you as much as it does to me. You’re right, who the hell am I anyway? Sorry for wanting to keep you alive.”

Supergirl is breathing heavily two inches away from Lena’s face. Heat and anger rolling off the both of them in waves. They’re in a world of their own now. A world in which Lena is having trouble deciding on whether she should scream some more or pull Supergirl’s lips into her own. 

“Im sorry- Last name?” 

The voice wakes them to reality. A reality that makes both of them sober up and realize they’re in the middle of a very exposed DEO headquarters; makes them aware of the collective gasp that has just happened. 

Supergirl backs away. 

“Please, fucking tell me that I heard you wrong. Or I swear to God-”

Alex heads straight for Supergirl and Lena quickly realizes the implications of what Supergirl had just said. She essentially confirmed to the entire place that they’re— 

“Alex, I can—”

“Yes or no, are you or are you not married?”

So, this is how Alex Danvers makes criminals confess. Lena had never seen Supergirl cower before, but by the looks of it, if Lena had been the one in the hero’s boots she’d also be shaking. 

“Yes.”

Oh, no. 

“Alex, listen,” Lena starts and Supergirl looks at her—no, not Supergirl, Kara—Kara looks at her and Lena sends her a reassuring gaze that screams, ‘I’m with you.’

In that instant it must’ve looked like a switch had been flipped. From Lena attacking Kara to Lena defending Kara in a split second. 

“Listen, we were going to tell you. It isn’t like what you think—“

“Oh, no no,” Alex quickly dismisses Lena, “I’m not going to listen to you. This is between me and you,” Alex hissed not even looking at her, directly glaring at Supergirl instead. 

“Alex, just—” Lena tries but she does the mistake of moving her shoulder in an attempt to put an arm on Alex and she cuts off with a, “Fuck.”

The Danvers sisters look up at her yelp of pain, concern flickering through their faces. Supergirl swiftly speeding to her side, and the shoulder wound she was so trying so hard to keep Kara from seeing, is now out in the open, bleeding profusely. 

“You’re hurt.”

“Fuck,” Lena says again as she tries to take in a breath, pain shooting down her entire right side. 

“Take her to the Med Bay,” Alex orders, eyes briefly tracing Lena’s shoulder before turning to Supergirl again, “If you think this discussion is over, you’re sorely mistaken. You and I have a lot to talk about. And I fucking mean it.”

Lena watches as Supergirl swallows in fear at the sight of the DEO director walking out. 

“Everybody, back to work! Show’s over, morons!”

As if somebody had hit the play button, a buzz resumes almost exaggeratedly; DEO agents immediately flailing to get back to work, embarrassed at being called out so blatantly. 

Lena tunes back in to Kara, “C’mon, hold on to me,” she mumbles, quickly bending down to put an arm around Lena’s knees and pulls her to a bridal carry. 

She doesn’t point out that it’s her shoulder that was injured, not her legs; doesn’t point out that she can walk absolutely fine. Lena can clearly see how Supergirl needs to be as close to her as possible right now. 

So, she clings tightly and presses harder back against her chest.

*** 

Lena’s mind is running a mile a minute right now, she needs to know what’s going in her wife’s mind and she needs a plan on how the both of them are going to do damage control. 

Kara lays her down softly on a Med bed and without a word Lena strips herself off. 

Both of them silent as Kara gets supplies on a nearby table. She sits behind Lena and cleans the wound wordlessly. She’s patched Nia up in secret, way too many times, to know how many stitches Lena needs.

“I’m still mad at you.”

Are the first words that Kara utters.

“Good. I’m still mad at you too.”

She hears Kara sigh and she doesn’t need to turn around to know that Kara’s face is scrunched up in a pout and a crinkle. 

“But...that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you against Alex.”

“I don’t need protection from Alex.”

“Really?”

“Okay, fine she scared me a bit.”

Before Lena can reply she hisses in pain and Kara brings her lips near the wound and “Sorry,” she whispers. 

“We have to talk about this don’t we?” Kara sighs out, finally addressing the elephant in the room.

“Yes, darling, we do.”

“We also have to reach a compromise about this, don’t we?”

“Yeah, Kara, yeah we do.”

Lena hears another sigh and she can guess what Kara would say next.

“Just so you know, I hate this. I hate this very much. If I could have my way, we’re not having this discussion and you’re staying put and staying safe and not running off to danger. Hell if I can have it my way you won’t even be stepping inside the DEO. But...I can’t have my way can’t I?”

“No, darling, I’m sorry.”

Kara sounds so helpless and Lena just wants to make all the complications in their relationship go away. But that’s not how real life relationships work. Relationships are hard and messy and work. God, they are so much work, but being with Kara is worth all the work in the world. They’ve come a long, long way for this. 

If this had happened two years ago, the both of them would not even think about compromise. Kara would just push through with what she believes is the best way to keep Lena safe and would have insisted on keeping Lena locked in a safe house somewhere. And she guesses past Lena wouldn’t even consider the merits of communication with Kara, either.

“I just want you safe.”

“I know.”

“Never want to see you hurt.”

“I know, baby. But Kara you can’t always keep me safe, do you understand that?” Lena says carefully, she wishes she could turn around right now and cup Kara’s face.

“I know it’s hard for you, but this is what the both of us signed up for. Do you think I’m happy whenever you fly off to God knows where, when I see getting shot at in the news, when you leave in the middle of the night? I’m just as scared as you are, Kara.”

But that’s the price the both of them have to pay for falling in love when one is a super hero and the other is a world saving genius.

Kara bandages her neatly and Lena turns around to face her, moving a bit up in the bed and pulls gently at Kara’s wrist to join her.

“I know,” Kara breathes into Lena’s hair as she positions herself,  “I’m sorry. For fighting, for yelling, for...accidentally telling everyone that we’re married.”

Lena tries not to laugh at how Kara pouts at the last one. 

“Forgiven already. I’m sorry too.”

“I love you, you know that?”

She feels more that hears as she fits herself underneath Kara’s chin, tucked tight beside her. 

“I love you too, so, so much. So much that I agreed to a secret wedding,” Lena tells her, “And as much as I would love to continue our little heart to heart, I really think you should go to your sister now.”

“Nooo, Lena noo,” Kara groans out, “Come on, we can just stay here and cuddle and I can kiss your shoulder better and maybe you can give me a kiss too and I don’t have to talk to Alex.”

“Oh, but you do.”

“Have I mentioned I also hate when you’re right?”

“Once or twice.”

“Mmph. Fine. But half an hour of cuddles first and then I go talk to Alex, deal?” 

“Deal.” 

Lena agrees, greedy for Kara’s warmth and also thinking that Alex certainly needs more than half an hour to cool off. Kara certainly needs more than that to think about the words she’s going to tell her sister. She’ll probably die by the end of their conversation but at least she died knowing that the whole world knows Lena Luthor is her wife, right?

***

“Alex, I know you’re mad-”

“Oh, I’m not mad, I’m livid, Kara. Livid.”

Maybe it was a bad idea to talk to Alex in an empty DEO training room where her sister could easily turn on red sunlamps and deck her for keeping things secret.

“What, did it not occur to that, oh I don’t know? ‘Oh I’m having a wedding maybe I should text my sister an update? Leave her a note maybe? Dear Alex I’m getting married today!’” Alex roars and Kara flinches. Rao how could she be this stupid?

“Anything would have been fucking nice, than to hear about it in the middle of a heated fight. Tell me, if you didn’t slip up just now were you even going to tell me?” Alex tries to coat the words in anger but she doesn’t miss the way it wavers on fear and insecurity.

“Rao, yes of course I was going to Alex! I- we-” Kara tries.

“Save it.”

“Alex please,” She begs her to listen as she steps in front of her and reaches to hold Alex’s hands.

“When?” Alex snarls and Kara gulps because her sister definitely would not like the answer.

“Remember that time that Lena and I broke up? Then we ran to each other in the rain, made up? And then two weeks later she got assassinated by those CADMUS wanna-be’s and we had to use the Fortress’s tech to track her down?”

Alex remembers that one so clearly. It was funny at the time, how Jess had caught them making out in the middle of an ‘interview’. How Kara was so happy that she won Lena back.

“Yes and?” Alex quips, eager to know the answer.

“And well, remember how I asked to have some time alone with Lena once we rescued her? And made all of you guys leave?” Kara croaks out, fear apparent and Alex just stares at her clearly impatient at how Kara rambles.

“Well, I uh-kinda suggested we get married on the spot because I didn’t want to spend another day not being married to her when people want to kill both of us, every day.”

Alex lets out a heavy, shakes her head and pinches the bridge of her nose. 

“You know this is the part where I say, ‘Not even surprised.’” She states dryly, “Of fucking course you’re the kind of people who would pull this kind of shit.”

 Kara tries to get a word in but, “You fucking owe me a wedding and Mom and J’onn and Alura-”

“Oh my god! Kara! Your Mom deserves to see the daughter she whisked off to another planet, get married! You fucking owe Clark a wedding-”

“Actually…” Kara starts off sheepishly, knowing full well Alex will explode from what she’s about to say.

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Clark knows doesn’t he?!”

Kara flinches again. Good thing her superhearing is dampened here. 

“Well, uh,” Kara wrings her fingers when she realizes there are no glasses to fiddle with.

“Lena said she wanted a Kryptonian wedding so we had Kelex call Kal and uhm he officiated…”

Alex doesn’t say anything to that, just clenches and unclenches fists at her side. 

“I’m sorry!! Okay! I was going to tell you immediately but we kinda got carried away sneaking around and then it just completely slipped my mind because you guys keep pointing out how we’re an old married couple anyway! And and and—“ Kara is grasping for words, anything just to make this all better. 

“Damn it, I messed up haven’t I?” She whispers, realizing  now that the only thing to make this better would be them admitting their mistake and going for amends. 

“Yeah, you did, Kara.”

Kara feels shame course through her.

“I am so mad at you right now for denying me the privilege of seeing you walk down the aisle.  You know I don’t even want that, I just wanted to see you have your dreams come true and see you have what I have with Kelly, god damn it Kara, I love you and I wanted to be there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate your pout. I hate your stupid pouty face. Your billionaire wife better pay for a grand wedding for all of us.”

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Mom’s not going to let you down easy though.”

Her sister doesn’t really need to point out the obvious.

“I know. Could you maybe be the-”

“Nuh-uh. No. You tell her yourself or have Lena tell her. I’m not doing that shit for you.”

“Fine.”

Kara will take what she can get. 

“I love you, Alex.” She breathes in relief when she sees Alex affectionately roll her eyes at her.

“I love you too, you stupid alien.”

***

“It’s official then? We guys get to call you Moms now?”

Lena never really expected that to be the first words Nia says to her when she enters the Med Bay.

“Yes, Nia. And also, yes, you’re a bridesmaid,” She answers immediately knowing that Nia was going to ask.

Nia lights up and Lena shakes her head at how similar she and Kara beams. 

Yeah, ‘Moms’ really is a fitting term.

“Alex making you do another wedding huh?”

“Yes, she is.”

Nia snorts, “You say that as if you don’t want the world to know Kara Danvers is wholly and solely yours.”

Well, she isn’t wrong, not that Lena is ever going to admit that though.

“Can I please plan your wedding? I have prophetic dreams. I can totally tell you what would look perfect on that day oh, oh, oh! I can even tell you if it’s going to rain, if you want an outdoor wedding that is. Oooh, maybe I could even see who’d catch your bouquet— “

“Nia, slow down,” Lena mutters before Nia plans out the whole wedding then and there.

“Kara and I will talk about it, but I think she’ll agree, you don’t really need to convince us.”

“Yes-yeah uh right sorry, you should definitely do that. Sorry it’s just I’ve been shipping you and oh my this is so exciting!” 

Trust Nia to say ship is now endgame in regards to their marriage.

Nia jabbers on as Kara walks in and gives the both of them a big grin, Alex trailing behind her. 

“I guess, congratulations are in order, Danvers.” Alex rolls her eyes and it takes Lena a moment to realize that she was referring to her.

She tries to calm down the happy flutter in her heart and the emotions bubbling out of her as she utters a weak, “Th-thank you, Alex.”

“Actually, Luthor-Danvers, we hyphenated,” Kara clarifies, which really doesn’t help the happy flutter at all, just adds to it. 

Alex just sighs and mumbles an ‘Of course you did.’

Before walking towards the bed and surprising Lena with a tight embrace.

“You do know, now you have two Danvers worrying for you every time you walk out in the field now, right?”

 And Lena just laughs. Because for the first time in forever she’s got people genuinely wanting her to exist. To the point that they’d do anything to keep her safe. 

She’s got family now and if it means overprotective Kryptonians and fierce blaster wielding older sisters, she really wouldn’t have it any other way. 

***

They’re fighting. 

In the DEO.

Again. 

“Moms fighting again?” Nia doesn’t really know why she keeps asking, this is like a daily occurrence now. Agents don’t even bat an eye when bickering echoes off the halls, nowadays. Apparently, this is what happens in the CatCo bullpen and L-Corp offices too. 

Alex appears next to her. 

“You know you really should stop calling them that, especially since—“

“WE ARE NOT NAMING OUR KID, POTSTICKERS!”

[bimormondisaster]

Four times Crosshair helped his brothers and one time he did the best he could.

Hello! This is my first time doing something like this so I hope you enjoy it. I'm still very new to writing and I suck at editing so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

Word count: 2,781

Warnings:

Wrecker- Mentions of blood, violence, Hurt character.

Hunter- Mentions of overstimulation and migraines

Echo- Nightmares

CT-9904- That scene from s1 e1 tbb

Wrecker (Cadets, age around 16)

The feeling of the clone’s face against Crosshair’s fist was satisfying. Even after the blood started to cover his knuckles, he kept punching. It wasn’t until the cadet’s eyes closed that he stopped. He let the boy’s tunic go, and he hit the ground with a dull thud. He would wake up eventually and Crosshair would inevitably get punished but right now he didn’t care.

He was alone when he got the com. He was getting cleaned up after some private training., about to meet his brothers in the cafeteria but when Hunter told him that kriffen reg had landed Wrecker in the med bay he changed course.

He made his way to the medbay. Stopping only to wash the blood off his hands. Looking in the mirror he noticed his hair was getting grayer. He wasn’t sure why his hair was graying so early but he didn’t mind it. Wrecker always teased him about it but he thought it made him look more mature.

The med bay door slid open revealing Hunter sitting beside a bed as Tech paced. A droid was hovering over the bed occupied by Wrecker.

Hunter stood as he walked over. “What took you so long?”

“I was busy.” He forced himself to look away from Wrecker’s bloody and bruised form and to Hunter. “How is he?”

Tech answered first. “Under these conditions, there is a 15 percent chance that he will wake up in the next hour, Every hour after that the chance goes up by 7.5 percent until hour five where if he’s not awake by then the chances lower by-”

“He’s going to be fine.” Hunter supplied, sending a comforting smile to Tech. The droid left without a word and the boys settled down. Wrecker’s face was swollen. The left side of his face was covered in bandages, including his eye. Every moment that he watched, that he saw his brother in this state, his fury grew.

“What happened?” He asked through clenched teeth.

Hunter and Tech shared a look and Tech adjusted his goggles.

“No one knows yet,” Hunter said.

His hands tensed into fists. The quickly bruising knuckles protested but he didn’t care. That’s when he saw it. Lula, tucked in beside Wrecker, was looking almost as bad as its owner. One of the ears was hanging on by a thread and a leg was missing.

Without saying anything Crosshair stood up and grabbed the stuffed toy.

“I found the leg in the hall.” He pulled it out and offered it to Crosshair who took it without a word.

Crosshair didn’t know how to sew but he tried his best with the supplies he could find in the med bay. They all waited. Hunter as still as possible, trying to keep the squad as calm as possible. Tech buried himself in his padd and tried to distract himself. Although every hour Crosshair could hear him whisper the new odds of Wrecker waking up.

Crosshair folded in on himself completely focused on fixing Lula. His long legs protested being forced into the chair, his back ached from being slouched, but he didn’t mind. After two hours Lula was all fixed up. It wasn’t what Crosshair would call a good job, but it was the best he could do. He just hoped it was enough.

Tech

If Tech wasn’t dead at the end of this Crosshair was going to kill him. Not surprisingly the job went bad and now they were in a shootout. His scope allowed him to see the chaos in the warehouse from the hill he was nested on. Amongst it all was Tech. Who disobeyed orders and abandoned his cover; running like a kriffin idiot trying to get to the computer.

“Tech get under cover!” Hunter’s voice came through the comm.

“No can do Hunter. If I can just-” Tech was cut off as more droids entered the warehouse, open firing.

Crosshair cursed under his breath and started to pick them off. There was little chance of this mission succeeding but that’s where they worked best. In the midst of the blaster fire, yelling, orders being called, and explosions he noticed something. Another blaster was shooting into the warehouse at Tech who had, so far, dodged the fire purely by dumb luck. He watched carefully, tuning out the bickering in his ear.

A streak of a blaster shot through the air heading for the very clueless Tech who was pinned down. Without thinking he aimed. Time slowed as he watched the bullet fly through the air. His finger tightened on the trigger and in the time of a heartbeat he fired. The bullets collided and went wide, missing Tech who was quickly getting surrounded.

He aimed again, this time at the chains holding up the large doors. He shot. The first chain broke. Reaming at the other chain he fired again. His brothers could handle the droids, He’d handle the sniper. He shot again. The chain rattled but stayed in place. Another shot and the door dropped crushing the few droids underneath.

“Cross what’s happening? Was that you?” Hunter’s voice broke through the wall of concentration he put up.

“Little busy” He replied, moving positions to aim where the other nest would be and waited. One breath, two, three, there. Movement caught his eye as someone poked their head up. His finger tightened and he felt the familiar kick of his gun. The figure dropped and He stood.

By the time grabbed a speeder and made his way to the warehouse the fight was over and other than a few burns and cuts his brothers were safe.

Hunter

Hunter was having another bad day. He didn’t have them as often as he did when they were cadets. He had learned how to suppress it better. Or, Crosshair suspected, how to hide them better.

However, he still had days where he was easily overwhelmed. They all knew the signs. Talking quieter, flinching more, headaches, tensing at the smallest sound, not wanting people to talk or touch him, sitting further away from the group. Crosshair had had migraines before and remembered how awful those were, he was glad that he would never have to deal with increased senses.

Hunter was in the cockpit looking out the window. Everyone had tried to give him as much space as possible so they were making themselves busy elsewhere. He set a steaming cup of the tea he always drank when he had bad days down as gently as possible in front of Hunter and sat across from him. They sat in silence for a time. He watched Hunter slowly sip the tea.

“Thank you,” Hunter whispered

“You should go lay down. I’ll keep the others quiet.” Although he had lowered his voice Hunter still winced.

“I’m okay, We’re almost to the mission anyway.”

Stubborn as always. Wordlessly Crosshair checked the computers, there was an uninhabited planet not far from them. He entered the coordinates and the ship changed course.

Hunter raised a questioning eyebrow and he just gave him a smile.

“Where are we going?”

“Jargon. It’s quiet.”

“Cross I-” He glared at the dash that beeped and sighed. “Thank you”

He hummed in acknowledgment. The mission could wait a few hours, or even a few days, as long as his brothers were okay.

Echo

Crosshair couldn’t sleep. He and Echo had just gotten back to the ship after a week away. Tech, Hunter, and Wrecker were still away and weren’t expected until at least the next day. Why Hunter decided to make him go alone with the new guy was beyond him. He wasn’t interested in making friends. He had his brothers and that was more than enough.

He laid in his bunk staring up at the ceiling. The ship was eerily quiet with everyone being away. As much as he wanted to enjoy it, it filled him with dread. He had grown to love the noise and chaos that came with the bad batch and missed it when it was gone.

He heard movement and was pulled from his thoughts.

“No… No” Echo was murmuring. He sat up and got out of bed to see what was going on. Quietly making his way over he could see Echo tossing in his bunk. His first instinct was to call for Hunter. This was more of his thing. However, that wasn’t an option.

Kneeling beside the bed he put a hand on the clone’s shoulder. “Echo,” Echo responded by getting louder.

“No! Please!”

“Echo!” He shook him. “Wake up.”

The tossing stopped and his eyes opened with a deep breath. He tried to sit up but the hand stopped him. “Rex will come back for me!”

“He already has.” He removed his hand and leaned back to give the man some space. Dealing with nightmares wasn’t anything new. They all had them.

Clarity came into Echos eyes. “Crosshair?” He sat up, still breathing heavily.

“You had a nightmare.” It was a fact and yet Echo looked down ashamed. Crosshair watched carefully as Echo looked everywhere but him. “I’m sorry I woke you.” With that, he laid back down. Crosshair internally cursed both the regs and Hunter.

Nightmares were a part of life for the clones however the regs had something against talking about them. They preferred to keep the pain a secret, pretend it wasn’t there. Why they were taboo to talk about was beyond him. He had spent many nights listening to his brothers talk about theirs and he had spent almost as much time sitting up with at least one of his brothers because of his own nightmares.

While he understood why and even accepted bringing Echo aboard he still wasn’t that close to him and didn’t plan on getting close. He was, after all a reg. A reg who had special abilities now, but a reg nonetheless. He knew that Hunter wanted him to let Echo in the way he had let in his brothers. He also knew that he didn’t care what Hunter wanted. However, as he watched Echo close his eyes and pretend to fall back asleep his heart twisted.

He stood. “Come with me.” Without waiting he walked out of the ship. On his way out he grabbed a blanket.

A few moments after he walked out onto the ship’s ramp, Echo joined him.

“Crosshair? Is there a problem?” He still looked scared. Like any minute he’d be sucked back into his dreams never to return.

“Sit.” Echo did as was ordered. Sitting on the ramp. The black sky was filled with twinkling stars. Cross put the blanket over Echo’s shoulders and sat next to him.

Crosshair was looking straight ahead. “If you are going to be a part of the bad batch you need to learn to accept help.”

“I don’t know what you-”

“Fresh air is the best remedy for nightmares.” He turned to look at Echo. “There is no use in keeping them bottled up.”

They sat there most of the night. Echo told him about his time before being taken, his brothers, his commanders. He told him about Fives and Rex. He told him about his time as an unwilling traitor to the republic he loved.

They both silently promised to not talk about that night again. Echo didn’t want to be embarrassed and Crosshair didn’t want this responsibility any more than he needed to take it. Or at least that’s what he would say if pressed.

The next morning Crosshair was woken up by his brother’s arrival. Their part of the mission was a success. And as the five of them walked into the ship and Crosshair figured that maybe four brothers wouldn’t be so bad.

CT-9904

Good soldiers follow orders.

The rest of the bad batch was in the hanger. Predictable. They always thought they were a step ahead. Now he would show them how flawed their thinking really was. They were cowards trying to run away.

Hunter walked out from behind the crates. Reckless a small part of him thought. He ignored it. He had eyes on Wrecker, Echo, and Omega. All behind the crates. Tech was most likely in the ship.

“Best stand down Sargent,” He said. They were in a standoff and Crosshair knew who would win when the time came. The traitors wouldn’t hurt him. “Make it easy on yourself.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Hunter replied.

Yes

‘Quiet’

“We should’ve killed that Jedi. You disobeyed orders” Why didn’t Hunter follow the orders? If he had just been a good soldier, a good leader, then none of this would be happening.

“I did what I thought was right.” Hunters snapped, stepping forward.

“You never could see the bigger picture.” He shrugged. “Now surrender.”

Let them go.

Hunter glanced back at the group as they prepared for a firefight. Wrecker put his helmet on.

These are your brothers.

“Is that an order?” Hunter looked back at him.

He let out a chuckle. “I guess it is.”

Don’t do this.

“Well, I guess I’m disobeying that one too.”

They stayed staring at each other. Waiting to see who would make the first move. He spat out the toothpick.

Stop, please, no.

‘Quiet,’

His finger tightened as the thunder rumbled. He wanted Hunter to come peacefully. Why did Hunter never listen? He didn’t want to hurt them.

But he would do what he must.

In one motion he lifted his arm, set the blaster on it and fired. Hunter ducked and it hit the ramp of the ship. A part of him was screaming that this was wrong but he continued. The clones he was with open fired. Clone force 99 returned fire and two smoke bombs were thrown. They moved in.

He took aim again. This time using a heat sensor. He let off a few shots then waited. They needed to clear the smoke and when they did…

The sound of metal hitting metal rang through the air as the smoke cleared. Wrecker was in the middle of it and through one of the container lids, knocking some clones down.

Taking aim all he could see was the second one coming for him. He rolled out of the way as the containers fell where he was moments ago.

He aimed.

NO!

He shot, hitting Wrecker’s armour. He’d survive.

This time Wrecker fell. His brothers wouldn’t fall for it but the girl might and if he got a clear shot on the girl Hunter would soon follow.

Sure enough, a blonde head poked out from behind the crates and he fired again. He missed as she was pulled back undercover.

The ship started up. They couldn’t go. They needed to stay, needed to see that this was the right thing.

“Seal the bay doors!” He ordered. The clone to his right. He ran for the panel on the wall.

A light started flashing and a warning alarm beep. The door didn’t shut.

“Sir! Someone is overriding the controls.”

Tech.

He took aim once again. Hunter was giving Omega orders. She would be his target as they tried to leave.

“Only one way out Hunter. Your move.” He said.

Traitor.

The voice was loud and annoying. He shook it off.

He put his finger on the trigger.

“Go!”

Hunter and Echo stood and fired. Moving into the walkway, towards Wrecker. Towards the ship. Moving forward to cover he fired. He made it behind the crates and mentally kicked himself. Why wasn’t he aiming properly? This should be over already.

The last clone fell, hit by the oncoming fire. He turned his head to try and see where they were but couldn’t see them. Only the blaster bolts. He stood and took aim. Hunter was in his sights. This time he wouldn’t miss and he wouldn’t have mercy.

Stop!

His finger tightened on the trigger when suddenly electricity ran through the gun. He watched it drop and looked to where the shot was fired. Standing on the ramp was Omega. Blaster in hand.

He could swear he heard laughing from somewhere inside of him.

He pulled the blaster off of his hip and aimed. Omega shot first. Both the shots missing as he ran for cover.

You’ve lost. Let them go.

The ship lifted off and he ran towards it. Firing. None of his shots hit and soon the door was shut.

He stopped running once they were in space. He put the blaster away and took off his helmet. He looked into space as the mix of emotions bubbled inside of him. They left him. He failed his first mission. He knew Wrecker would live and his brothers would be okay. That’s all that matters.

[thebookreader12345]

Collision

Pairing: Matt Casey x Sibling! reader

Summary: Y/N, who is Matt Casey’s younger sister and also a member of Truck 81, is hurt badly when the firetruck gets into an accident

Requested: No

Warnings: mentions of a car accident and severe injuries, plus some light swearing

Word Count: 1,537 Words

Note: This is taken from Chicago Fire S3 Ep3, Just Drive the Truck

“Hey boys,” I say cheerfully as I walked into the break room. “What are you guys doing?”

“Looking at a food truck for Molly’s II. Look at this baby. She’s a beauty,” Joe exclaimed and showed me a picture of the food truck.

“Wow. That looks pretty nice. How much is it?” I ask.

“Only $12,000,” Joe answered.

“No,” Otis interjected. “That 12K at the top is how many miles the truck has. The price is right here. $79,000.”

“Oof. Better luck next time.” Mouch responded and Joe’s shoulder. Just then, the alarm sounded throughout the firehouse.

“Engine 51, Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61. Structure fire, 16th and Wabash,” the dispatcher spoke through the intercom.

“Duty calls,” I mumble and turn back around to head to the apparatus floor. I put on my gear pretty quickly and climbed into Truck 81. My seat was against the back wall of the truck, so when I was looking forward, I could see out the windshield. Out of the 3 seats in my row, I was the one furthest on the inside of the truck, mainly because I was the smallest out of Otis, Mouch and I. On the way to the fire, I kept my gaze trained ahead. I liked watching our surroundings pass us by. Suddenly, the truck jerked, and we began tipping over. The last thing I remember before blacking out was a wave of pain rolling through my entire body, and the sound of sirens.

Matt’s POV

“How’s every looking?” I ask my crew.

“Mouch has a pretty big cut on top of his eye. And Lieutenant, Y/N, she’s unconscious. It looks like she’s bleeding pretty bad,” Otis replied. I turned around to get a look at my younger sister, and when I saw her, my face paled. A decent sized pool of blood was puddling around his side, and she had a large cut on her forehead. As for the side of her body that was pressing against the floor, I couldn’t tell if she was hurt, but because of how much she was bleeding, I had to assume it wasn’t good.

“Hey!” Kelly shouted and scaled up the side of the truck. “Any injuries?”

“Mouch is bleeding,” I answer. “And Y/N-” I choked up on my words. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.

“It’s going to be okay. Nobody touch Y/N. If she’s got a neck injury, I don’t want you guys jostling her. Lets get you guys out of here,” Kelly said. I groaned and climbed out through my shattered window, wincing as I moved my joints.

“Severide, you have to get Y/N out of there,” I plead. “Promise me you will.”

“Casey, protocall say’s we’ve got to save those likely to survive first,” Kelly explained.

“Are you serious? You’re always the one breaking the rules, and now when my sister is is danger, you want to follow them? Screw you!” I shout and climb over to the doorway leading down into the back of the truck.

“Casey, stop. Go and help Molina. I’ve got this. Mills! Capp! Get over here!” Kelly called out. Peter and Capp ran over to the truck, and Kelly looked down at them. “Y/N’s pinned in here pretty bad. I need you to get a neck collar and a board ready. We’re going to do a lift,” Kelly told them. Capp and Peter ran off to grab the supplies just as Chief Boden arrived.

“Take care of her, all right?” I ask.

“Yeah. Of course,” Kelly said as I climbed down from the truck to meet Boden.

“Is everyone okay?” Boden asked. 

"Mouch’s eye is messed up. Dawson's taking him to Chicago Med. And Y/N is stuck at the bottom of our truck. She’s bleeding pretty bad, Chief, and I don’t know how long it’ll take to get her out,” I respond.

Boden cursed. “Cruz, what happened?” 

“I don't know, Chief. They came out of nowhere,” Joe replied as Chief Tiberg appeared.

“Who had the light?” Chief Tiberg asked. 

“We did,” Joe spoke confidently. "And if it wasn't green, then it was yellow. There's no way it was red.” 

“You don't know what color it was?” Tiberg questioned. 

“Cruz, did you see the light?” Boden asked. 

“I must have. I know I did,” Joe confessed.

“Lieutenant, did you see the light? Tell me you saw the light,” Tiberg demanded.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t see it,” I answer.

“Someone else had to have seen the light,” Tiberg insisted.

“Y/N did,” I admit.

“All right. Then lets speak to her,” Tiberg ordered.

“You can’t. She’s stuck in the truck still and uncons-” I cut myself off and took another deep breath, attempting to keep tears from making their way to the surface. Just then, I heard commotion coming from behind me, and when I turned around, I saw that Squad 3 had managed to get Y/N out of the truck. They were now loading her on a stretcher. “Y/N!” I shout and run to the gurney’s side, grabbing her hand in mine. I was now able to see Y/N’s injuries to their full extent, and it didn’t look good. Along with the cut on her head which I had already seen, there was a huge chunk of metal sticking out of her side. It looked like it came from the inside of the truck. Her arm was also broken, and I knew that because one of the bones in her lower arm was protruding from her skin. Y/N’s skin was also getting deathly pale, meaning she was losing too much blood. We had to get her to the hospital now. As soon as the paramedics loaded her gurney into the back of the ambulance, I climbed in with her, and then we sped off to Chicago Med.

Y/N’s POV

When I woke up, I felt groggy, and my whole left side hurt like hell. I opened my eyes, but closed them immediately after. It was very bright in here. Finally, I was able to open my eyes, and I squinted a bit to adjust my eyes to the lighting. That’s when I realized that I was in a hospital room, and I remembered the accident. I glanced down at myself, seeing my left arm in cast, and my left side was patched up. I could also feel some stitches on my forehead, meaning I was pretty banged up when I was brought in here. At that moment, Matt walked into the room, and he practically ran to my side.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” my brother asked me.

“Like shit,” I reply softly. “Everything hurts.” Matt laughed, but something about it seemed off. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“The time it took us to get you out of the truck and how much you were bleeding, well, you should be dead. You crashed once on the way here, and once in surgery. I thought I lost you,” Matt explained and clutched my hand. I squeezed his hand as hard as I could, which wasn’t too hard considering I had just woken up from surgery.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. Is everyone else okay?” I question.

“Mouch had a bad cut on top of his eye, but he should be fine. Everyone else got away with a few cuts and bruises. And Cruz, well, he was suspended,” Matt told me.

“What? Why?” I ask.

“He admits to the light being green, but he doesn’t remember that well, and I didn’t see it. So, Tiberg suspended him,” Matt said.

“I think you should get Tiberg and Boden down here. I’ll tell them what happened. I saw everything,” I murmur.

“Y/N, you should be resting,” Matt insisted.

“I can rest later. Right now, I need to tell the truth,” I say.

.......................................

“All right, Y/N. Tell us everything you saw,” Boden declared.

“Every time we get a call, I stare out the front windshield. It calms me down before we get to a fire, where sometimes, hell breaks loose. Anyways, yesterday, it was like any other call. I climbed into my seat, and I stared out the windshield like always. Just before the crash, when Joe was passing through the intersection, I saw the light. It was yellow, meaning it was our light. Molina was the run who ran through the light, not Joe Cruz,” I exclaim.

“We’ll definitely take that into consideration. Thank you,” Chief Tiberg informed me and left the room.

“Uh, the rest of the firehouse is in the waiting room. Do you want me to send them in?” Boden asked.

I smiled. “Yeah. Send ‘em in.” Seconds later, the rest of the firehouse swarmed into my room.

“Man, you look like hell,” Kelly told me.

“Please. Even though I look like shit, I look better than you do on your good days,” I counter, causing the whole room to laugh. “But thank you for saving me. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.”

“It was no big deal. Now, who’s got some playing cards? I think it’s time someone beat Y/N at poker,” Kelly spoke.

“So you think that because I’m injured I’m going to lose? Fat chance. Pass me those cards. Kelly, you’re on,” I say.

_________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13​ @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @anotherfan07 @giagma

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Four

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 4 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: reference to past sexual assault (very minimal); misogyny/sexism; mention of Infinity War deaths/Endgame deaths; abusive parental relationship; canon violence; heavy drinking; reference to cocaine use

Word Count: 13,900+

~

Tony’s Cabin, 2023, 8:56pm

      “Uh…”

You and Steve stared at the little girl in front of you, bouncing up and down with excitement as she held up one of Tony’s repulsors, the safety on but pointed right at the two of you. Steve instinctively pushed you behind him, the obvious fact being that a blast would most certainly kill you and not the super soldier himself. You were having difficulty holding in your laughter, watching as the girl kept poking at the metal, awaiting its true power. 

“Can I have that, Morgan?” Steve asked, his voice raising ever so slightly to try and seem nicer to the kid. 

“Talk to her with your regular voice, Steve. She’s five, not a toddler.”

“Yeah!”

Now you laughed at Morgan’s declaration of approval, still standing behind Steve with your hands braced on his back. 

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes playfully, “Alright, Morgan. Can I please have that back? It’s not a toy.”

“But daddy left it for me!”

You smiled at her, “Yeah, but he didn’t expect you to use it so early! Wait until you’re like… ten, then you can look through his things!”

“Y/N, ten?” Steve gave you a bewildered grin, eyes bright and laughter restrained. 

“Okay, twelve.”

His shoulders sagged with a heavy laugh. He reached over and took the chance, grabbing Morgan’s wrist softly and ejecting the glove from her small hand. 

“There we go!” you cheered, stepping out from behind Steve and scooping her up in your arms. Morgan started laughing loudly, kicking her legs to try and escape your hold. “Ah, don’t kick me!”

You had offered your time to Pepper whenever she needed it. You didn’t expect that she would call so early asking for a huge favor, her husband’s funeral not even four months ago. But you didn’t hesitate and packed an overnight bag, reassuring her that nothing would explode on your watch. On your way out of the temporary safe house, Steve had caught you just in time. A quick question of your future whereabouts and he was joining you, a tiny twinge of guilt in his chest from not seeing Tony’s daughter in so long. He was one of her godparents after all, just after Happy and Rhodey, beating out the third crowned position from Bruce. 

He had been hurt by that initially, asking why he wasn’t even considered. 

‘Bruce, the first time she comes into your room and stands over your sleeping body to let you know she had a nightmare, you’d scream.’

‘I wouldn’t be angry, just scared!’

‘Okay, after Cap here, you get custody.’

‘Oh, yay. Drafted fourth.’

Steve was happy to go see her on such short notice though, racing back up to his room to gather some overnight supplies as well. But you didn’t think anything of it - it was just a godparent wanting to see his godchild. 

“Ouch, that hurt,” you laughed and placed Morgan down in her bed. “Nighty night time.”

“Daddy said he left things for everyone, not just me.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up with curiosity, a sudden interest to know what his gift was exciting him. He had already given him the shield back... but then Thanos broke it. Maybe, another shield? No, T’Challa had already offered to send him a new one.

“Ooo, that’s interesting! I wonder if he got me that pretty bracelet I saw in that department store window that one time,” you gushed, pulling the blankets over Morgan. You fluffed out her hair, smiled at her, and told her goodnight. 

“Night night!”

Both you and Steve called out from the doorway of her bedroom, “Night night!”

Several minutes had passed before you brought up the prospect of secret gifts again, knowing Steve was just as interested as you were. 

“Want to go find them?”

Steve immediately stood up, clapping his hands together and giddy with excitement. “I won’t tell if you don’t!”

“Deal.”

You searched everywhere - living room, the garage, kitchen cabinets - even racing into the master bedroom, stealthy and secret, shame rising as you carefully picked up items around the room. “This feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Steve chuckled from outside the door, “Hurry up!”

But you found nothing. There was only one more spot to look - his office. You almost didn’t want to intrude any longer, this being his most sacred space, but the mere chance of Tony giving you a gift from the afterlife made you extremely happy. So you and Steve searched, stacking and restacking random papers and pushing away gadgets and books in the bookshelf. Finally, a small opening in the third shelf alerted you of your mission success. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” you cheered, reaching in and pulling boxes and clipped pieces of paper, all different colors and sizes, from the compartment. They were labeled with various names - Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, Clint, Thor, Steve, Nebula, you - and Natasha. 

Steve sucked in his breath, his gasp similar to yours. “He got these before…”

“Yeah,” you nodded, handing Steve his labeled box. It was light blue, a white ribbon delicately wrapped around it, and with a cute little red ribbon with Steve’s name on it. It wasn’t big, but it was more than enough. 

“Open it,” you said. 

Steve shook his head, “Let’s open ours together.”

You agreed to his terms, taking your folder into your hands. It was one of those same art folders you had when you bought some new planners or notebooks. It was black, custom-made it seemed, as it had your name on the front in gold, cursive writing. 

On the count of three, you both opened your presents. 

Steve pulled out two sets of dog tags from the box, the sound of them clinking together reminding him of the times he would hug his fellow soldiers on the battlefield, cheers of victory mixed in with the smell of sweat and dry blood. He read the names on the metal. 

‘Steven G. Rogers

987654320 T42 O

Brooklyn, NY. P.’

‘James B. Barnes. 

32557038 T41 42 O

R. Barnes

Shelbyville, IN. P.’

He had not known they recovered his dog tags, faintly remembering clutching them tightly as he flew the plane into the ice. But SHIELD must have kept them for the museum, and Tony had recovered them. Bucky’s, however, were lost as soon as Bucky fell from that train. They were more rusted than Steve’s, almost as if HYDRA kept them underwater or stored for the majority of Bucky’s sentence. But no matter how Tony had gotten them, he was eternally grateful. 

“Wow,” Steve said, clearing his throat. But you were too caught up in your reading. 

      ‘Target whereabouts discovered mid-May of 2017. Only T. Stark and N. Romanoff approved for mission.

      Transport at 20:00 hours. Target(s) confirmed and exterminated at exactly 0802 Pacific Standard Time.’

You choked on the sob that suddenly broke through, hand instantly reaching up to cup your mouth. Steve put his tags back into the box, shushing you to get you to calm down. “What is it? What’d he get you?”

Four pictures accompanied the short report, each face crossed out with red paint. A tiny laugh escaped and tears of joy started to flow. To say Steve was confused was an understatement. 

“He… he got me justice.”

Steve took the file from you, reading over every word to somehow understand what you meant by justice. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and he looked up at you for more explanation.

You brushed your hair back and rubbed at your cheeks, the smile on your face now straining. Whether it was a sudden change of mind or the closure of your trauma was just that satisfying, you told Steve exactly what Tony and Natasha had done for you. 

“After I joined you guys in New York, Fury sent me on a mission to infiltrate and bring back information about this dude my father was trying to literally destroy. But I had to play both sides  - the good and the bad.”

Steve set the file down, his full attention on you.

“I got the information but for some reason, it wasn’t enough for my father. I had forgotten to get the most vital piece, something he thought I would automatically know,” you scoffed, your smile faltering at the next part of the story. 

“I cost him ten million. And to teach me a lesson, he let these men do whatever they wanted to me. Anything.”

Steve’s breath hitched as he understood what you meant. And it was no longer a mystery why you had been planning to kill him ‘again’ after everyone came back from the snap.

“I returned to the compound in such bad shape. I only told Natasha. She cleaned me up, she took me to med-bay in the middle of the night, she brought me breakfast in bed,” you chuckled at the memory, hand reaching out to hold Steve’s. 

“And Tony’s gift was murdering the men that hurt me.”

Steve let a few tears slip himself, his hand gripping yours tighter. “Y/N, if I would have known-”

“Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t know, though. I thought only Natasha knew. She promised me she would take care of it. I just didn’t think she would actually find them.”

“I think we know that Natasha could find literally anything and anyone,” Steve said. 

You agreed with his statement, a smile returning to your face. 

You jumped from your sitting position and went back to retrieve Natasha’s gift. “Hey, should we?”

Steve eyed the small, black box in your hand. He sighed as he walked over to you, eyes returning to the box. 

“It was meant for her.”

You frowned, “Yeah, and I’ll ask Pepper if we can give these to everyone else.”

You paused and shook the box near your ear. It felt heavy in your hand, and the contents gave a little jingle. 

“But this one was for Nat. I think she’d want us to at least see it.”

Steve chuckled and just nodded, awaiting the reveal. You pulled the ribbon and opened the box, surprised that Tony had given her a piece of jewelry. “Oh.”

Steve took the bracelet from the box, oblivious that the movement would unlock the charms from their heavy chests. In a matter of seconds, charms of similar size but different designs dropped to encircle the silver band. You inspected them in Steve’s hand - a red/white/and blue shield, Mjollnir, a pair of wings, two arc reactors, a singular arrow, a silver arm, a spider, an emerald heart, the letters ‘W’ and ‘V’ intertwined, a black cat, an ant - and your symbol, an intricately carved silver charm no bigger than your thumbnail, of your face. Tony knew no specific object or symbol was tied with your Avengers status, no one had ever given you one, but this was perfect. 

“Wow,” Steve whispered, examining each charm closely with a lazy smile on his face. 

“We were her family. This was an ode to that.”

“What do we do with it?” Steve asked.

You just shrugged, “Frame it? It would feel wrong just taking it for myself.”

Steve agreed. Later that night when Pepper returned home, you showed her what Morgan led you to. She let you keep your gifts and take the others, absolutely loving the idea of framing Natasha’s bracelet in the new compound being built. 

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

     The bright light from the open windows hadn’t hit you as suddenly as the random throw pillow that connected to your face, startling you with a quick gasp and causing you to choke on your spit. You snapped up, belly down and hair wild, eyes still half-lidded as you searched for the aggravator. And he stood there with a stupid grin on his face, already dressed in his stupid old man clothes, and stupid blond hair perfectly pushed back. 

“What the fuck was that for?” you tried to yell, voice cracking at the end and just the slightest hint of drool threatening to spill from the corner of your mouth. 

“I ordered room service. Plus, we have to leave in an hour.”

You grabbed as many pillows as your one free hand could hold, the other still tucked into the pillowcase below your head. You flung them wildly, none actually hitting the super soldier directly. His chuckle pulled a deep groan from you, and no longer wanting to look like a fool, you stumbled out of bed and pushed passed him roughly. 

“You could have woken me up the same time you got up.”

“But you looked so peaceful.”

His sarcasm was not helping your souring mood. Steve headed over to the monitors to turn them on, already setting up the morning video chat with Bucky and Sam. “Do you always sleep like a mounted spider?”

You flicked him off, “Leave me alone so I can take my morning piss in peace!”

You slammed the door and made your way to the toilet. Now, you were no morning person. But it was simple enough for you to crawl out of bed with only minimal protest when your awakening was a peaceful one. Having a pillow thrown at your head while mid-dream was practically excruciating and no one, not even the grandest morning person in the world, could possibly awake happy from that. And to top it all off, you couldn’t even remember what you were dreaming of. Just another thing to blame Steve for. 

After you had done your morning routine and slipped into a really comfy outfit, the breakfast finally arrived. You muttered a quiet thanks to Steve for ordering your favorites and damn him for knowing you preferred waffles over pancakes and a variety of creamers to choose from, and quickly filled Bucky and Sam in on what the plan for the day was. 

You had been on missions with Steve before, but no matter how many times you regrouped in the mornings, you had never actually seen him wake up. After your rude awakening, you wondered at what point during sunrise he opened his eyes - ‘cause you’ll be standing over him with a pillow of your own. 

“Torres has the air footage scheduled for around five today, then he’ll link you to the camera for the remainder of the mission,” Sam clarified. 

“Is it possible to link earlier?” Steve asked. 

“Not unless you can get the Wi-Fi password of the estate.”

You chuckled, still funneling mouthfuls of waffle into your mouth. “So, we can hack the Pentagon whenever we feel like it, but we can’t hack into my father’s estate without the Wi-Fi password?”

Sam cleared his throat, “You are so lucky this is a secure line.”

“Wait until she finishes her breakfast and her head will be screwed back on straight,” Steve joked, taking a long sip from his tea. 

Almost immediately, your phone dinged with a new message. You angled your phone away from Steve but your smirk was enough to alert him of a side conversation happening under his nose. 

Bucky: Ouch, I wouldn’t mind if you hit him upside the head.

Y/N: he threw a pillow at me to wake me up :(

Bucky: hit him

Y/N: bet

“Stop talking about me over the phone.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve grumbled, the rough sound catching Sam’s attention as well. His eyes flashed back and forth between the two of you - Steve desperately trying to catch a quick glance at your messages, and you leaning away from him with thumbs moving at a rapid pace. 

“Y/N, how you feeling?”

You put your phone down and pretended to not notice how Steve was trying to get a glimpse of your screen. 

“A little queasy, in all honesty.”

A myriad of emotions were present and coiling in your body, each trying to sprout and bloom and gain their five seconds of fame. And for the past several years, it was easy to downplay their true power. Because the power they held wasn’t one of distressing strength, but rather one that tip-toed to the front of your anxiety driven worries. It planted itself there, up front, but ever so silent. For it to finally meet its match, to possibly be freed of such a coil - well, you were more worried about not succeeding in its erasure than its final blooming. 

“We’ve come up with a system to make sure we both don’t go overboard or to tell the other that we’re alright,” Steve said, eyes on the monitor but hands loading bullets into your trusty handguns. 

“Alright, that’s good,” Bucky spoke, finally. He typed away on his keyboard, “Give us a word we all use in case we need back-up immediately.”

“Mm, you should ask Steve. He loves his safe words.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Something Avengers related? Or something no one would ever say?”

“Pick anything you want, just don’t let it be awkward to repeat out loud,” Sam joked. 

Steve pondered for a few seconds before he settled on his chosen word, a hint of a smile forming. “Widow.”

You nodded, “That’s sweet. She’d like us using her alias for a dirty little safe word.”

You huffed suddenly, shoulder colliding with the carpet, the realization that Steve pushed you from your chair causing you to stare at him with your mouth hanging open. “Hey!”

“Steve, every single day I accept your fate from her murderous hands,” Bucky grumbled, Sam’s loud laugh causing the speaker to give a quick halt of static. 

“She’s okay- hey!”

You flew across your chair and onto him, lunging your body as your main weapon in taking him down. You both tumbled to the floor, the sofa chair you collided with scraping along and pushing the coffee table with it. A lamp shattered on the floor right when you wrapped your arm around Steve’s neck and hooked your legs from underneath him and around his waist, his back to your front, both his arms coming up to tug yours out of reflex. 

“Yield, you little shit,” you grunted, the grip of your arm remaining loose on purpose but your legs tight, heels now digging into his slim waist. 

Steve groaned, both from your pointy heels and the sudden impact his body made with the ground. “I’m letting you win.”

“You seriously got a mouth on you.”

You let him go anyway, choosing to save your strength for the mission and not waste it on a petty little fight. Besides, you could always smother him with a pillow in his sleep. 

“You two done?”

Both you and Steve stumbled getting up, faces back in your teammate’s view as you smoothed down your clothing and wiped at your foreheads.

“Now that that’s over,” Sam continued, clearing his throat. “The only task for today is to get a feel of the place, establish a legit backstory providing you some leverage, and to swipe those ID’s.”

“Got it,” you acknowledged, standing again to begin hooking your weapons in discreet locations in your clothing. 

“And we’re not responsible for that broken lamp so it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

     California really wasn’t like any other state. There was a vast difference from Northern and Southern, the difference being the amount of green fields visible. In Southern California, the mountains and desert areas took up most of the landscape, with an industrial complex here, a growing city there, and then nothing for a good ten miles. Since most of the landscape was below sea level, the atmosphere was almost always dry, modest dust storms forming only to quickly pass a freeway and disintegrate once it found the other side. It was more urban, more lively with people. But Northern California, even if it experienced the same weather patterns as the south, was mostly humid during the winter season. The mountains here were covered in lively agriculture, livestock roamed freely in the gated areas near the freeways, and the overall environment provided a rural look. 

 And the differences just stood out to you, your excitement for the livestock starting to annoy Steve as you kept pointing out every cow you drove past. He threatened to stop the car and dare you to tip one. 

“So, how did we meet?”

Steve chuckled, “We’re coworkers, Y/N. Thought that question was obvious.”

You whined, “Steve, we have to put some drama into it! How about we say we met during one of Tony’s parties after Fury assigned you to this?” 

“And what? I asked you to dance?”

You leaned over your seat and poked his arm, teasing him. “Would you have asked me to dance?”

Steve shrugged, “I mean, sure.” 

He glanced at you and then back to the road. “Can’t we just be honest? I like the way we met.”

 You pouted, “The way we met is a matter of national security.”

   “You brought that thing back to an unguarded planet?” Loki seethed, his voice still a whisper as he followed Thor through the hallways of Avengers Tower. A tower he had been prisoner of for a few weeks now, but would soon be released from once Thor decided to return home. Besides, it had been more than a year since his unfortunate attack and after thousands of apologies, brainwashing excuses (which were true!), and quite a few long labor hours equivalent to Midgardian community service, his leash was extended somewhat. 

“How am I the more level-headed one right now?”

Thor grumbled in response, now on his hands and knees as he searched for the tiny animal that had already eaten its way through the plush of the interior walls. “It couldn’t have gotten far. And how was I supposed to know the oxygen levels here would cause it to go crazy?”

“You couldn’t. In fact, I don’t know why it’s here in the first place!”

“Keep screaming, Loki. I bet that would make it come to us quicker!”

Loki was about to come up with another quick quip, but was interrupted by a quiet mumble down the hall. 

“Oh?”

You rocked back and forth on your heels as you stared at the two brothers - one sweeping the floor on all fours and the other ducked down to scream into his brother’s ear. “Whatcha looking for?”

“Now, don’t be alarmed, Agent. But I may have misplaced my dog.”

“Dog?” Loki tilted his head, hands now cupping the side of his head in disbelief. 

Your eyebrows shot up from his reaction, “Not dog?”

“It’s… an animal from Asgard.”

“Okay, what does it look like?” you asked, now more interested than ever. 

Thor cleared his throat and rose to his feet slowly, “Like a dragon.”

You stepped back, almost tripping over your left foot. An involuntary laugh escaped from your lips and you brought a hand up to try and stifle it. “You brought a dragon into the tower?”

“He brought a dragon back to Midgard,” Loki clarified as he walked over to the wall and pressed his ear against it. 

“Oh, yeah. That’s much worse,” you agreed. “Fury’s gonna shove his foot so far up your ass-”

“Yes, yes. I know what awaits me. Now, help us find it!” Thor begged. 

This wasn’t how you expected to spend your first day as an Avenger. After all the training and promoting, the paperwork and oaths, you thought you would have a pretty chill afternoon. Arrive at the conference room, get the name badge and a rundown of your new field suit, and meet the rest of the team. Freshly nineteen and energetic as ever, you accepted this as a test. Find the dragon, make a good impression. 

It only took a few more minutes before you three stumbled on an otherwise empty hallway, staring down the colorful creature as it licked one of its paws. 

Your eyes widened, “It looks like an alebrije.”

“You have these creatures on your planet?” Loki asked, surprise written over his face. 

“Nope, alebrije’s aren’t real. They’re fantasy.”

“Nevermind that, help me catch it!”

Loki began shushing his brother, hands swatting his massive shoulders in the process. You leaned down to the floor and tapped it with your fingernails, hoping the nice gesture would cause the creature to meet you halfway. 

“Hey, buddy,” you cooed. “Can you come here please?”

The creature raised its head, colorful eyes on full display. Similar to rings of fire, but face like a fox, and fur as soft as silk. It titled its head, interested for only a second, before it kicked back and rushed toward the three of you at full speed. 

“Oh, shit-!”

As he was the closest, Loki pushed Thor to the wall and lifted you from the ground. But before he could throw you out of the way too, the creature leaped. Loki shielded you with his body, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up as the creature kicked his back and sent the two of you flying through wall after wall. Loki was taking the force of it all, his chest angled in a way to protect your head. It was about ten walls you two flew through before you landed in what seemed like conference room B… or C… or A. Loki rolled you over and groaned in pain. You landed on your back, bright lights blinding you as you tried to adjust. Then a figure came into view as your blurry vision cleared. 

You blinked rapidly and stared up at your new Captain. You smiled, a bit delirious, and raised your hand up for a handshake. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, new recruit!”

Steve just stared, eyebrows scrunched, an expression resembling a scowl and bewilderment painted on his face. He took your hand in his and shook it. 

“Forgive us, Captain,” Loki spoke, coughing as he turned over. “But you might want to get that shield of yours.”

    “When did we become a couple?” you continued once you agreed on the ‘party meet-and-greet’ as your previous answer. 

Now, this was a question Steve was wondering about since before you mentioned the necessity of such answers. Although he didn’t fantasize about being your significant other, he did wonder what possible event could jumpstart it. If anything, and he would take this to the grave, he assumed a line would be crossed during a particularly tempting mission. Bucky had admitted to him that on one mission, and Steve promised to take this to the grave as well, Bucky had to kiss Wanda to keep their cover. The feelings subsided soon after the mission was over, but Bucky confessed to real feelings developing. So if Steve had to bet, a particularly tempting mission. 

“When we were searching for Bucky?”

You nodded, “That works. We can say the fall of SHIELD basically led to us to realize how weak the system was and how we could easily manipulate it.”

The road veered off to the side, now dirt and unevenly layered. You checked the directions Torres gave you just to make sure. 

“And when is my birthday?”

You didn’t expect Steve to answer so quickly, and to get it right. Perhaps he looked over your file and remembered, because you were certain only your little friend group knew it. It was Bucky, it had to be him, the little shit, he told- 

“Surprised?”

“A little. How do you know it?”

“Nat. Who do you think sends you those chocolates every year?”

You were overjoyed, really. “Wha-? Natasha said she did it.”

Steve smirked, “She covered for me.”

“Why?”

“Because for five years after the snap, you and Nat did nothing for yourselves and did everything for everyone else.” He had been witness to the two of you pulling all-nighters, washing the sheets of your fallen teammates as if they were going to return that weekend, celebrating their birthdays in secret with a small candle and a prayer. Moving from the compound and into his own apartment was hard enough, but seeing his remaining teammates wallow in cursed self-determination was worse. So, he asked Nat about your birthday to send you chocolates and a lovely handwritten note, careful to write in a font different from his natural one, and he would fold tiny paper airplanes and leave them around the compound where only Nat could find them, providing her a sense of playfulness in her busy day. Little joys to make up for such an impact.  

“If it makes you feel better, I sent gifts to Nat and Bruce, too.”

But because Bruce had no forwarding address at the time, Steve settled for quick text messages here and there. 

“And here I was thinking I was special.”

Steve laughed at your statement. He reached into the middle compartment to grab the mics you would be wearing. “By the way, make sure to hide this behind your neck. My mic will blend in as a button.”

You inspected the flat, button-like mic, awed by how intricate their design was. “They connected to Bucky’s?”

Steve clipped his onto his shoulder, the camouflage effect throwing you off. Yup, you loved science. “Yeah, they record everything and immediately send it back already transcribed.”

You unfolded the sun visor and watched how the mic picked up the color of your skin and blended naturally. “Remind me to send T’Challa and Shuri a gift basket.”

“And more.”

The estate was exactly how you remembered it. Modern and simple all at once, a brown exterior to easily blend into the surrounding forest, and massive front gate that only opened with a specific code. You leaned out the window and typed it in. There was no speaker this time, probably evidence of newly installed cameras. 

“It’s beautiful,” Steve muttered, pulling into the long driveway and following the brick road. 

It truly was. Even from where you were, you could see into the mansion as the walls were all practically made from glass. The walls in the back were normal, however, as that’s where most of the business was conducted. There were no swing doors, only large and heavy double doors made from cooled lava rock. And even though your father was a very organized man, the house was littered in trinkets of all origins: professionally stuffed exotic animals, roman and oriental statues, porcelain eggs, multiple pianos, and first editions of some of the most popular books in the world. There wasn’t any set theme for this house, but it was screaming ‘money’. 

Steve parked the car away from the others, careful to leave enough room around it to ensure an easy escape if needed.

“Remember what I said - play the part. Leave the smart mouth to me, they know me. It’s what they’ve come to expect.”

Steve clicked his seatbelt and sighed heavily, “I apologize in advance.”

You gave him a small smile, “Nothing to apologize for, Steve. Like I said, this is a mission. Don’t stress about it.”

He shook his head, “Still.”

The sincere look in his eyes sent a tingle down your arms. You cleared your throat, “I feel dirty saying this, but know your place. You may be a Captain but you’re not manning this boat.”

For some reason Steve felt that he truly needed to apologize in advance. For the past several years, it wasn’t entirely real to him. He had not been directly involved. But now that he was here, parked and staring at you - the one person who had a first hand account of the horrors inside - he needed to make sure you understood he would never actually hurt you, or you him. “I trust you.”

You removed your seatbelt and opened the door, “I trust you, too.”

It was windy today, the ruffles from the trees almost disguising the labor coming from the back. You assumed they were still building the reception area. Steve jogged over to your side and hooked your arm in his, his body tenser than yours. Someone opened the heavy doors, immediately swallowing the oxygen for miles with merely their presence. You couldn’t help yourself from a small grimace, lips spreading into a straight line as you forced any other expression besides hatred. 

Seda, standing at barely six foot and a smug look plastered on his aging face that worried even Steve. This was the man that had shot you when he was on the run - the man that would most likely do it again. 

Seda quickly stepped down the stairs, “Y/N, so lovely to see you again!”

You let go of Steve to walk ahead, arms extended to match the idea of a grand entrance. “Really? Because the last time we saw each other, you shot me in the gut.”

Steve swore he saw Seda’s upper lip twitch. “You hold too many grudges. I was just following your father’s orders.”

You rolled your eyes and finally came to a stop in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. “Obviously.”

“And I’ve finally got the chance to meet Captain America! You’re much larger in person.”

No matter the acting skills one must obtain for this line of work, it was still obvious Seda was speaking through clenched teeth. He scanned Steve up and down, somewhat intimidated.

It was such a sudden shift, one you obviously knew was coming, but the deepness of Steve’s voice still caused unnatural goosebumps to rise. “I get that a lot. Helps in this business, though.”

Seda let out a low chuckle, “I would think so.” He turned and instructed the two men who had followed him out to reopen the heavy doors.  “This way.”

Steve tried not to gawk at the amount of decorations and old-timey artifacts he swore should belong in a museum. So much furniture, so much history that shouldn’t mix but somehow worked. And was that… was that a stuffed polar bear?

“So, how you doing, Seda? Besides the usual,” you asked, hooking your arm back with Steve’s. 

Seda walked with his head held high, only tilting his head downward when giving a silent greeting to those who walked by. You tried to memorize faces or see if there was anyone you recognized. But your father barely kept the same team for more than a few years. They either left voluntarily and luckily, or were simply never heard from again. 

“Excited for the wedding. Jackeline has been running around nonstop on her finishing touches,” Seda responded. 

You huffed out a laugh, “I bet she has. She used to have a scrapbook that outlined six different wedding themes.”

“And I haven’t seen the end of it.”

Only a few more twists and turns and you were finally near the familiar hallway that housed your father’s darkest work. The interior design was purposeful, no windows and no cameras. Steve unhooked your arms, opting for a more formal presentation between the two of you. Seda was difficult to please, but your father was near impossible. Better to not have his hands all over his daughter during their first meeting.  

“Hey, what’s the wi-fi password? I’m expecting a few important emails today,” you asked before Seda opened your father’s office door. Steve had to restrain himself from blessing the ground you walked on. Bless you for remembering. 

“‘Guadalajara’.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sending the password to Torres as quickly as you could. 

It wasn’t the grand entrance you expected, truly, but you didn’t expect to see your father simply chilling behind his desk signing a few papers. He usually paced, was in a random meeting, or on the phone. Here, he was just… strangely normal. 

He looked up, eyes locking with yours for the first time in seven years. “Now, I haven’t seen you since your little weekend trip to Jalisco!”

Yeah, since you had me shot. 

Stepping into the office, the smell of cigars was heavy. Musty and daring, enveloping you like the times it did before. But now you had Steve - sweet Steve whose warmth you could feel behind you. 

You shrugged, “I’m not traveling much outside the country these days. Too much shit going on.”

Your father stood up and let out a dry laugh, “No lie about that. Seda was telling me how loose the borders were when half the world croaked.”

“Emigration was common, yup.”

He smiled at you, walking over and placing his hands on your shoulders. You did your best not to tense your muscles. “I wish I could have been there. You guys made millions those five years.”

You swore you heard Seda scoff near the corner of the room. 

“It’s about time we met! Ernesto Vega,” your father introduced himself, holding out his hand for Steve to take. 

It was instant, the change, and you found yourself pushed softly to the side as Steve stepped forward. “Steve Rogers, sir. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Your father was practically beaming, “Y/N isn’t giving you a hard time with all the business, aye?”

Steve chuckled, “None at all. She steps back when asked.”

Okay, maybe he was a better actor than you took him for. 

“I can’t believe you even have to ask,” your father hummed, glancing back at you with a disapproving look. 

Steve shrugged, “More like ‘ordered.’”

It was scary how easily Steve was making your father laugh. “So, she listens to you? I wonder what that’s like.”

You interrupted, scoffing quietly. “I have literally done everything you’ve asked.”

And without glancing at you this time, your father quipped. “Everything but learn how not to complain.” 

You rolled your eyes and met Seda’s stare. He always enjoyed the torment your father caused you. When he ordered you do something sketchy and you objected, Seda always had a front row seat to the slaps and harsh language spit in your face. He had a way of bringing up the abuse in almost every conversation he held with you - like it gave him some form of sick satisfaction.

“Regardless of my daughter’s inability to listen, I was still surprised when she named you as her partner.”

“The whole hero game was getting boring. I needed excitement.”

Your father agreed, “Don’t we all?” 

Before he continued, he squinted his eyes at Steve and scanned him once more. Almost like he was double checking his initial choice. 

“And you’re fine with breaking the laws of the country you’re the mascot for?”

“America has changed over the last hundred years. Trust me, I should know.”

Steve was answering exactly how you two practiced. You couldn’t help the small tinge of pride that it ignited. 

“Oh, I can’t believe you’re older than me. I mean, look at you.”

“The positives and negatives of being America’s science experiment, sir.”

“But here you are now. Working for me.” Your father stepped back to sit behind his desk again. “I’m very happy.”

“Likewise, sir,” Steve replied as he shuffled closer to you, trying to not seem so suspicious. Last time Steve wanted to crawl out of his own skin was when he was barely being introduced to the new world. Times Square really was a concrete jungle, his and Bucky’s old apartment building had been demolished in the fifties, and inflation… don’t get him started on inflation.  

“I’d like you to meet my two friends.” Your eyes widened. No, you weren’t supposed to meet them today. You hadn’t planned for this. 

“Friends and competition alike.”

You tried to keep your voice steady, “Shouldn’t you warm them up before you invite them in? They’re gonna take one look at Steve and freak.”

Your father motioned for Seda to open the door. “Then prepare your speech quickly.”

Before you or Steve could come up with a game plan, your father called out to the new arrivals. “Amigos! Me gustaría presentarles al hombre detrás de toda mi operación.”

The men summoned were completely different from the last time you saw them. Given you saw Ramirez long before the snap and White even before then, change was destined. Ramirez was skinnier, no more protruding stomach, wrinkles almost nonexistent and eyes lively. He hadn’t disappeared with half the world, but one of his daughters did - so getting her back definitely helped his overall health. White, on the other hand, aged overnight. His hair was now gray, eyelids sullen but eyes wide, and his nose was tilted awkwardly, like a surgery to counteract the powder he sniffed. You couldn’t remember if he was dusted or not.

“Tienes que agradecer a mi hija por esto.”

He did not just give you credit for this. 

“No fucking way?” Ramirez spoke, almost like he was out of breath. 

Curse your father for not preparing these two. You quickly reminded yourself where your gun was hidden in case things got out of hand. 

White stepped forward, circling you and Steve as if you were displayed in a museum. “Do we each get our own Avenger?”

“Maybe in the future. But this one’s mine.”

“I’m an Avenger, too. But okay,” you mumbled, offended by his singular statement. Steve’s lip twitched slightly but the look he threw at you let you know he wanted to smile. 

“¿Cómo lo hiciste?”

“Ya sabes cómo es... La gente simplemente sigue mi ejemplo.”

You decided to speak, anything to get White to stop inspecting you like some ancient artifact. “Steve green lights the routes and passages. He’s been a main player all along.”

White squinted at you, “And how long has this been going on?”

“For almost ten years,” you answered. 

White shook his head in surprise, eyes wider than you thought possible. His accent was more slurred than you remembered. “And you’re telling us now because-?”

Your father cut in, “The world is still in ruins. If we combine our forces like we discussed before that unfortunate disappearing act, we’ll be unstoppable.”

This seemed to catch Ramirez off guard, as if he truly didn’t remember the conversation your father brought up. You shoveled his reaction deep into your memory. Maribel would have to look into it.

Still, Ramirez played along. “And you’ll be loyal to us, too? Not just Ernesto?”

Steve nodded, his posture straightening. “I would.”

Now, the two new arrivals looked at you. You raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t look at me. I do what he says,” you admitted, nodding your head toward Steve.

They seemed to accept that answer. 

“And he’s here to help us move the shipment this Saturday?” White asked.

“That’s the plan,” your father confirmed.

It was time for Ramirez to circle you both. But he did so more casually and without the intent of kicking you in the shins, it seemed. He went to sit on the couch nearest the door, away from the crowd. You could sense Steve tensing up, so you turned your body slightly to the side so you could see Ramirez through your peripheral.

“How do we know we can trust him? What those stars and stripes have to do with us?”

“You hear that Captain?” your father asked, leaning back in his chair with that twisted smile that always made your stomach drop. “Time to prove your loyalty.”

“Are you seriously going to haze him?” you spoke, a hint of a teasing tone on your words. It was time to liven up the conversation, for both your sake, or else your father was sure to go overboard. His hand… where’s Steve’s hand?

“Does she speak for you?”

Steve stepped forward, “No, she doesn’t.”

“Prove it.”

You should really punch your chest to get your heart beating again. Was he going to make Steve try the product? Record something as blackmail? Kill someone?

“Wha-” you began, but were immediately silenced as an arm wrapped around your neck and held you in place. The coldness of the gun’s muzzle tickled just below your chin, still and steady, but nonetheless terrifying. Your father had held you in this position before - hell, most of his men did when asked. But it wasn’t any of your father’s men threatening you under orders - it was Steve.  

“Obviously, I’m not going to kill her. You need her for this whole operation to work. But a little roughing up never did any bad.”

He removed his other arm but kept the muzzle under your chin, grabbing both your arms skillfully and pinning them behind your back. 

You had never seen your father so pleased. “Why are you dating my daughter?”

Steve chuckled and clicked the safety. No, no. 

You scrambled to open your right palm and squeeze what you could reach. Steve seemed to understand right away, and he loosened his grip and placed his other shaking hand into yours. You squeezed tightly. 

“Now, that’s like asking a man why he breathes air.”

No matter the position he currently had you in, you still praised his acting skills. 

“Perhaps. But I know my daughter. Why you?”

Steve kept a firm grip. “Luck?”

“It seems so. Let her go.”

He released you immediately, clicking the safety back on. Seda was in front of him before Steve could place it back on his person, grabbing the gun and emptying it. Seven rounds tumbled and scattered to the floor. This seemed to please both men, as Steve wasn’t presenting himself with an empty threat. He really could have killed you. 

“I’m assuming Y/N has told you stories about me. About my men.”

The floor beneath you was uneven, it seemed, but once your mind stopped playing tricks on you, you settled. You shot a quick glance to Ramirez, his eyes closed and hands clasped in his lap. He seemed distant.

“Only the ones worth repeating, sir.”

“Oh? And which are those?”

“Orders and the like.”

“So, you don’t know much? Nothing interesting? Nothing that could make me seem like the bad guy?”

The room grew hot, whether it was the natural air or the bubbling anger boiling in your stomach.

“Like I said, sir. I ask her what I want to know and she tells me. Other than that, it’s your call.”

The room fell silent as they debated their other questions. 

“How much do the other Avengers know?”

You were about to respond when Steve spoke instead. “Oblivious. I’m still the stars and stripes for them.”

White scoffed, “Those symbols don’t mean shit in this new world. Ridiculous of them to still assume you’re the same man.”

Steve’s jaw tensed, “Exactly right, sir.”

This seemed to be enough for your father. He stood from his chair, walking over to shake Steve’s hand again. So righteous and personal, almost like he hadn’t just ordered the assassination of an old friend a few days ago. “I like you, Captain. You’ve boosted my business, you’ve handled my daughter, you’ve made me a lot of money.” 

He looked away from Steve to look at you now, laying eyes upon a person he hadn’t bothered to reunite with in person. You had fought so hard not to be in the same room ever again, but now you were. A small little office, holding whatever air you were forced to share, on a mission that could change everything. You hated him, absolutely detested the ground he stood on, blamed him for the fallout, the change, the hurt. 

“Seda, you trust him?”

Seda opened the office door and started ushering the other two men out. “I’m getting there.”

Your father laughed, “Always so cynical.” 

Ramirez stood from his seat behind you, already gunning to make a good impression on your Captain. He shook Steve’s hand, “Until next time.”

“Sir,” Steve returned the handshake. Ramirez only adjusted slightly, and held his hand out to you. You looked down at it, momentarily stunned from any attention, but shook it in the way you were taught. Firm, short, and ready for business. You grinned at him and he returned the same emotion. 

“Two Avengers. Wow,” he mumbled, and tilted his head in a farewell. You watched him go, a silly smile on your face. 

You went to take your leave, cautious of being left alone with your father. But as fate had it, he stopped you from leaving so simply. 

“Oh, and Y/N?” 

You turned on your heel, lips plastered in a straight line. You raised your eyebrows at him, already annoyed from the request he most certainly had, no doubt. “Meet me in a few minutes. Alone.”

You forced yourself to nod, turning quickly and leaving the room. You shuffled down the hallway, Steve hot on your trail and reaching for your hand. 

“Hey, hey. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

He tugged you back to him, but you pushed him into the corner room you were originally heading for. You shut the door softly, and allowed Steve to grip your hands in his. 

“Well, you gotta. Link our mics. You’ll hear everything.”

“Safe word?”

You chuckled lowly but retracted the teasing attitude when you saw genuine worry written on Steve’s face. “Widow, Steve.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you back there. I couldn’t think of anything else to do-”

You shushed him, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I fuck with you all the time but I would never take it that far.”

Where was this coming from? Steve looked like he was about to start hyperventilating. “I’m good. You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine, see?” you placed his hand on your chest, making sure he could feel your heartbeat. “I’m good.”

“You’re good?”

“I’m good.”

Steve removed his hand and placed it over his own chest, rubbing slightly. “I’ll be right outside when he talks to you.”

“I know you’ll be. Now, stand guard, whistle low to alert me.”

“This the room? You know the code?”

It was a simple office as well, but resembled more of a library than a workspace. It was dimly lit, cluttered, smelled of the wooden cabinets and the dust collecting on the books, and lacked any windows as well. You nodded to confirm Steve’s question, heading over to the farthest bookshelf and pushed it away from the wall. The loose dust swooped from the wood surface and into the air instantly, and you had to pause to sneeze down your shirt. 

You wiped your nose, “I’m third in command. My father may have some things hidden but I have to know the codes to shit like this.”

Steve leaned his ear on the door gently, “You’re clear.”

You gave him a thumbs up and fiddled with the outside of the safe. It was built into the wall, black in color and definitely made way before you were born. It was quite rusted, the gold numbers on the lock almost faded. 

“Let’s hope he didn’t change it.” You turned the dial - seven, thirty-three, eighteen - and it clicked on the first try. “Bingo.”

“Did you have a backup plan if that didn’t work?”

You snorted quietly, “Smash?”

Steve rolled his eyes and pressed his ear back on the door. 

Everything inside had been recently rearranged. You figured your father used some of these ID’s when entering the country for the wedding and left them stacked on one another for the quick heist on Saturday.  “We’re in luck! Both my father’s and Seda’s ID’s are here, along with-”

You cooed, taking out your phone and opening the camera app. You snapped multiple pictures, with and without flash. “Stacks and stacks of cash.”

You pulled your purse in front of you and pulled out your wallet to make room, shoving it into your back pocket instead. 

“Help me put this in my purse.”

Steve left his post to help you shovel the ID’s discreetly into every pocket your purse provided, shoving things into corners so nothing protruded. 

“Damn, we gotta leave the money,” you pouted. 

Steve chuckled, “What a horrible thing.”

A sudden, boisterous laugh right outside the door caused you to rip your arm away from the safe, thankfully pulling the last of the ID’s with you. You pushed them into your purse, zipping it up. Steve reacted quickly as well, shutting the safe and rotating the dial, pushing the bookcase back into its original position. 

“It’s Ramirez and White,” Steve whispered, looking around the room for any help. “What do we do?”

“Ramirez…” you blinked, eyes wandering around the room as well. Think, think, think. The doorknob jiggled. “Trust me.”

You ripped your purse off and threw it to the nearest couch. You hooked your arms around Steve’s neck and jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Oh my-”

In any other scenario, the whimper that left your throat would have been caused by a surge of ecstasy. But you were frightened of being caught, the whimper a blatant signal to just follow your lead. 

“Slam me into the wall, Captain.”

The door flew open just as Steve did as he was told. 

“And I told him it was ridiculous - oh my…”

You lifted your head from Steve’s neck, wide eyes to accompany your surprised state. “Oh! I thought we locked the door!”

Ramirez covered his eyes bashfully, turning around and staring at the wall. “Don’t mind us, we were just looking for loose smokes.”

Opposite to his intruding partner, White laughed at the scene before him. He dipped low, hands on his knees as he joked. “Didn’t think Captain America had it in him! Been a stiff ever since the ice, huh mate?”

You could feel Steve tense against you, and he froze entirely. You drew your hand up to play with the strands of his hair, putting on your best flirty tone possible. “Oh, trust me. He’s pretty stiff right now.”

Steve seemed to calm under your touch, so he turned his head over his shoulder and gave an embarrassed smile of his own. 

“Excuse us again, Y/N. You two enjoy your time,” Ramirez apologized, pulling at White’s jacket to guide him out of the room. Once you heard the click of the door, you jumped from Steve’s grasp and immediately began patting his back. 

“I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckled, his blush rising from his shoulders to his cheeks. “It’s okay, you saved us.”

You inspected him closely, a little embarrassed with yourself. It was a bold move, but one that needed to be done. You stood in silence for a few more seconds, each of you adjusting to such a sudden change of breathing pattern. 

You shut your eyes and groaned silently, “I need to speak with him.”

“Can I wait outside the door?”

You picked up your purse and swung it around your torso, “No, you need to wait in the car. Or smother Ramirez and White, your call.”

The lines on Steve’s forehead deepened, “Y/N, I can’t leave you alone with him.”

You wanted to argue further because Steve really over exaggerated. You fought a whole army of aliens, robots, and even the infamous Winter Soldier. Sure, you lost the battle with Thanos on the first try, you lost a teammate with Ultron, and gained a collapsed lung from Bucky’s insane roundhouse kick, but you were positive you could take your father. “You’re gonna have to. I’ve been alone with him before.”

Steve placed his hands on his hips and gave you a blank stare. “He shot you last time.”

“Ehh, Seda did.”

“Y/N.”

You laughed softly, “Then wait in the living room.”

“The shield’s in the car. If you need help, I may not have enough time-”

Steve and that goddamn shield. The guy was acting like he wasn’t a super soldier. You were annoyed. Annoyed with a pinch of salt?

“You whip that shield out to save me and I swear to god-”

“Okay, okay. I’ll link our mics.”

He fumbled around on his phone for a few seconds before you heard the softest beep from below your ear. 

     The last time you had entered that room alone, you left with a bullet lodged deep in your abdomen and with the threat of having it done again. Stumbling and crashing into the walls and random trinkets, leaving your blood stains on anything you used to steady yourself. This time would be different - it had to be. Your father wouldn’t shoot you with the Captain America waiting in the other room. Then again, your father always seemed to top himself each time you were forced to interact personally. In an instant, he dropped the good guy act. Or, hyped joy. 

Now, his stare was cold and calculated, posture upright like he was awaiting your arrival. You couldn’t help but smile and roll your eyes, a tiny scoff breaking the silence as he returned it. 

“You’re one damn good actor.” 

He chuckled deeply, “We do what we have to do in front of the people who threaten our reign.” 

You kicked the leg of a nearby chair to turn it toward you. Sitting down, you retorted with a chuckle of your own. “You’re not royalty.” 

“We are... you are.”

Third in command. Daughter of the biggest drug lord south of the border? In most cases, you could be considered goddamn royalty. Did you want to be? No, because the title that seemed to fit was ‘a chess piece in the middle of a mad supremacy’. But that was too long.  

“So, what is this? You scared my Captain is gonna knock you off your feet and take your place?” 

His hands slammed the desk. His little basket of pens and pencils toppled over and spilled onto the floor. “I have waited seven, long years for you to bring that man to me. And each time you defied me. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now!” 

You remained seated, a blank stare boring into your father’s. “Uh, probably because he would avenge me. Get it?” 

He wasn’t one for jokes, though. “It would be so easy.” 

Aggravating him further was not the smartest thing to do. And Steve had the same thought as he fumbled with his own thumbs outside, hearing the conversation from afar. He almost wanted to barge in just to put your ass in time out. 

But you had seven years to make up for - a little joke here and there shouldn’t hurt much. 

“You do know I’m an Avenger, right? Trained by Natalia Romanoff herself?” 

You worded your sentence carefully, her alias need not be spoken out loud unless you needed backup. 

“Answer me.”

When his nostrils flared, you knew better than to twist the knife. 

“Steve didn’t sign the accords. He was on the run for two years before you asked me for him. This is public knowledge.”

He pointed his index finger at you, shaking it wildly. “You lie. Why you lie?”

You had to blink multiple times through your shocked state, mouth agape and involuntarily racks of laughter spilling. He couldn’t be serious. You could only repeat the same thing so many times. 

“Like I said all those years ago - He. Was. On. The. Run. No contact. I had no way of contacting him!”

He struggled to grab whatever on his desk to raise toward your face. In this case, he pointed his phone in a threatening manner. “Excuses! Remember the last time you made such a poor excuse?”

The laughing stopped, your mouth immediately shutting. You clenched your jaw to work through your murderous impulses. 

You wondered how your hands would look wrapped around his neck. Red and angry, tightening as each desperate second passes, nails forming crescents as they pressed in his skin. If there was a window, you would definitely kick him out of it. Wave goodbye as he fell dramatically. But the mansion was one story high and you couldn’t magically conjure up a window. God, this would be the absolute best time to have Wanda or Loki here to use some of that dark magic. Either way, you just wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face right now. 

“He. Was on. The run.”

“And I thought you learned your lesson.”

You stood from your seat and leaned on the desk, arms holding you up and face inches away from his. “You gonna send in your men to remind me? With my Captain a few feet away?”

His lips were trembling as much as yours were - face blotchy with silver droplets of sweat and an angry blush now reaching his forehead. For a seventy-five year old man, he still had such a rage in him that didn’t risk a heart attack. Lucky bastard. 

“He best not interfere if it’s what I choose to do.”

Outside, Steve gripped the back door handle to the point it squished in on itself, metal twisting awkwardly and splintering the paint. His free hand was balled into the meanest fist, even his stubby nails wreaking havoc on his pale palm. He was making himself bleed by the restraint. He took slow breaths, eyes closed but ears fully alert. He wouldn’t cry. Not right now. 

“I called you back alone to invite you to breakfast the day after tomorrow.”

Whether it was because he knew you were only a few seconds from lunging yourself across his desk to break his neck or because he was tired from all the energy he had just exerted, your father slumped back into his seat as he spoke. 

“The hotel has free breakfast.”

He shook his head in complete astonishment, “You’re not getting out of this. I have important business to discuss with each of you.”

You continued to stare him down, “Over coffee?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t leave the estate so close to the wedding. Your sister is flying in tomorrow and I have to make sure construction is done by then.”

“Right, ‘cause you’re the best father in the world.”

Being in the same room was suffocating, but you couldn’t help but be fascinated by the man. How unbelievably thoughtless yet calculated he could be. How unbelievably fake yet so damn real in all his hidden meanings.

“Jackeline likes to think so.”

Your sister was sweet, sure, and there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not fight one another, being the only daughters and all. But you were eight years old when she was born, already tainted by the world in which she was just born into. Forgive your lack of sisterly bond. When you were sixteen, you dipped. Now, at the sprouting ages of twenty-six and eighteen, you two couldn’t be more different. 

Actually, yes you could. If she thought your father was a good man, she was entirely ignorant of the world she lives in. 

“Good for her. Why don’t we discuss the shipment transport during the most important day of her life?”

“Nice try. That’s what the rehearsal dinner is for - rehearsal.” 

You gave your father a sad smile, “You really won’t trust me. After all these years of following your orders.”

“Now, let’s not go bringing up the past.”

You interrupted, “Why not? You’re trusting my Captain and I to help you move that shipment but won’t trust me enough to tell me where it is right now?” 

He was back to standing but he was much calmer. “Right now, I trust your Captain more than you. What kind of man would leave everything moral behind for a bunch of criminals? A bad one.”

“You’ve known him for like, two seconds.”

Your father searched his pockets for loose cigarettes. “He left everything moral behind for me. For you. And you left me behind for everything moral.”

Rolling your eyes, you backed away from his desk and headed for the door. “Sometimes you don’t make any sense. Is that it? Are we done?”

“You accept my invitation?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“No.” 

     The mansion seemed larger than when you entered, the hallways longer, the walls closing in, the trinkets reaching out to stop you by the wrist. The longer you stayed in this hell hole, the more likely you were probably going to unleash the rage attached to your body in the form of your favorite weapons. Bomb the hell out of this place. 

You marched to Steve’s car. He was already waiting, leaning along the passenger door like he was going to open it for you. If he did, you might kill him too. So, you repeatedly snapped your fingers at him and pointed around the car, silently but angrily motioning him to get in. He didn’t need to be told twice. In fact, he thought it might be therapeutic for you to throw the door open and slam it yourself. It was. 

Steve started the car. He didn’t need to ask, there was no reason to since he heard everything. And so did Sam. Bucky. Scott. It was being transcribed as you swerved out of the estate. God, you wanted to throw up. 

“I’ll tell you when to stop.” 

Steve choked on his breath, “Stop?” 

You rolled down the windows to breathe in the crisp cold air, teeth becoming sensitive as it passed into your lungs. “Once we get past the cameras and nearby neighborhoods.” 

“Did you need-“ 

“When I say stop, stop. Fucking damn, Steve! Listen to me for once!”

Steve didn’t know why he was challenging you. Your father had just brought up one of the most traumatic moments of your life, basically called you a hypocrite and a coward - he tried to tear you down. And here you were, holding it all together like the champ he found you to be. But he never handled your outbursts well, even if they were completely justified. 

“Don’t fucking give me orders if you won’t tell me what they’re for!”

“Stop the fucking car!”

He slammed on the breaks, instincts still kicking in during your argument and he reached his arm out to your side to hold you back from the powerful surge. His body lunged forward, however, chest hitting the steering wheel and horn. 

You scrambled out of the car and ran into the woods, feet guiding you through mud and prickly bushes until they reached a more secluded spot. Steve stumbled along after you, nearly tripping over the same rocks you had avoided masterfully. 

Before he could ask what you were doing, you pulled your gun from its hidden holster and clicked the safety. Steve’s eyes bulged out of his head just in time to see the first round sound off mid-air. He crouched down to the floor and shielded his head. You shot away from him, obviously, until all seven rounds were dislodged, aimed in the sky diagonally. 

Once the last bullet exited, you simply packed everything up. Now calm and collected, you turned around and headed back for the car.

Steve’s voice cracked as he spoke, “Seriously?”

You pushed branches away from your head as you walked, “Seriously.”

“Do you know how dangerous that is? Those bullets don’t just disappear into thin air,” Steve scolded, jogging up to speed walk beside you. 

“So fucking what? I’m keeping the rent low in this area, then.”

Steve sighed in defeat, “Talk to me.”

“Sorry, I’m shutting down.”

“Y/N-”

You groaned, tears of frustration not entirely formed, but in their beginning stages. “You already know what’s stressing me out, Steve. Do you need it in writing?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve lowered his voice. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just,” you paused, stopping to face him. You opened and closed your hands mid-air as if that would help you formulate your sentences better. “I don’t know. But when I find out, I’ll let you know.”

This Steve could accept. So he simply nodded, guiding you the rest of the way with his hand gently placed on your lower back. 

     The drive back to the hotel was fairly silent. The radio provided a calming relief from such drama. Steve would glance at you every so often to check on you, but you were always resting your eyes. This was only the first day of the mission - officially. If you were this drained from one encounter, Steve needed to rethink this whole operation. Whether it was healthy to keep you on, or if the threat was just too large. But no matter the alternatives, Steve understood that this week was going to be difficult either way, and you needed to be present. This was your mission after all. He was just your partner. 

Even with a thousand things on your mind, you were still conscious enough to check your surroundings, check-in with the agent posted behind the front desk, and reconnect your mic with the teams. 

Steve pushed open your room door and threw the car keys on one of the nearby tables. “Nap time?”

You ignored his initial question, “I didn’t think seeing them in person again would be so draining.”

Steve watched you carefully, somewhat scared that you would pull out your gun again and shatter a window. “It was pretty cramped.”

You started to disarm yourself, tearing off your sweater and holsters clumsily. “And they acted like we were all on good terms! Around you, at least. I know they’re acting for my sister’s sake and then we can go back to hating each other after, but really?”

Steve sat on the edge of his bed, eyes sorry. “I really don’t know what to say.”

You threw yourself onto your bed, burying your face into the pillows. You continued speaking, albeit muffled. “You don’t have to say anything - just let me rant.”

“You’ll tire yourself out, Y/N. C’mon, we gotta draft up this report-”

You lifted yourself up and started smoothing down your hair, “I need a drink.”

Steve pointed to the computer, “The report.”

“A drink.” 

“Y/N, it’s getting late. The sooner we draft it, the sooner-”

You grumbled out again, already opening the door and shoving your boots on. “Steve, I need a drink. You know what they do to me, what they’ve done to me, what they continue to do every single day. Now, join me or not but I am going downstairs for a drink.”

Steve paused for a moment, looking around the room hesitantly. “Can I at least take the laptop?”

You threw your head back and walked out the door, “Take the goddamn laptop, jesus fucking christ, c’mon.”

     If there’s one thing you were happy about today, it was that you booked a hotel with a mini bar on the second floor. It wasn’t an outright full bar, but it was low lit, clean and the counters were made from fine wood, and there was a variety of flavors to choose from. There were only a few hotel guests spread out and a single bartender. You and Steve took seats at the counter. 

“Whiskey sour,” you called for the bartender, trying and failing to give him the nicest smile you could. 

Steve settled in his bar stool, “Thought you wanted to drink to drink hard.”

You chuckled at him and extended your arms in a stretch, “I’m mad, not depressed.”

He grinned at your movements - as if just sitting in a bar already loosened you up. “In that case, get me a beer.”

     Natasha had called Steve for help after your fourth beer and fifth whiskey. Her coaxing proved to be pointless, each request of a safe passage home seeming to enter one ear and leave the other. And you’ll end up killing her when you were sober enough for sending unwanted reinforcements, but even she didn’t want to fight you. If you wanted to drown in liquid courage, that courage churning itself into raw despair, then she would allow it. 

Steve stared at you for a few moments. Head hanging low, a deep frown etched into your tired expression, index finger tapping your glass as if you were debating whether to down it in one go or to leave it. Steve had never seen you like this, guard destroyed and face practically pale, just begging to be left alone. And it seemed the whole bar felt the same way, as there was no music playing and everyone was wallowing in their own grief. 

“I can spot you from a mile away, you know?”

Your voice immediately pulled Steve from his own mind and he was surprised you could still form coherent sentences given the amount of empty glasses in front of you. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt.”

You scoffed, leaning away from him as he sat down in the stool beside you. “Natasha sent you. Don’t tell me otherwise.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Good.”

Steve ordered a beer for himself, and although he was driving, one beer wouldn’t impair him anyway. It wouldn’t even cause a dent in his 20/20 vision. 

“Fucking ridiculous, it’s fucking ridiculous!” 

The bar patrons seemed to wince simultaneously and the bartender simply gathered a few of your empty glasses to wash. Steve didn’t hush you, didn’t touch you, didn’t try to reassure you. If you needed to cause a scene, it was time. Your silence for the past week had been frightening, but when Tony returned last night, half dead and without the kid, it seemed to be your breaking point. 

“Wanda destroyed it. She destroyed the fucking stone and all he did was use another to bring it back.”

Steve took a sip of his beer to disguise his quivering lip, but his eyes had no curtain. His waterline swelled with fresh tears, eyes instantly reddening, an undesired sting pinching the corners. 

“Strange must have had a reason. He must’ve, but - how can that reason include the death of trillions?”

“We’re going to find a way-”

“And if we don’t?”

Steve kept his lips on the bottle, incisors biting down only slightly as he took in your rhetorical question. You continued speaking.

“He destroyed the stones.”

“Carol is looking for answers.”

You shook your head and pulled out your wallet, leaving whatever cash you had on the counter before standing up. You stumbled but Steve latched onto your arm and pulled it to hug his waist. 

“Loki?” you mumbled, raising your head to lock eyes with Steve. He didn’t know if you were calling him another name or if you were asking for the God’s whereabouts. “Bucky?”

“Hey, stop, stop.”

“Peter?”

Steve could only nod. What use was it to lie to you? Your new vertical position seemed to magnify the true extent of your intoxication as your eyes finally glazed over and limbs trembled. 

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

Gripping his shirt, you apologized each time it would crumble and you would accidentally tug it downward. But Steve didn’t care. You were practically limp in his arms, heavy and without proper use of your legs. 

“You’re a good man, Steve.”

Steve sighed sadly but couldn’t help the small smile that formed as he looked down at you and found you sporting a silly one of your own. 

“A really good man. I’m happy you’re still here.”

Steve paused for a moment, taking in your words and holding back his own tears. If there was a time he wanted to be drunk off his ass, it would be now. He was somewhat jealous of the brief relief alcohol had given you, loose and not fully aware of the drama of the world. “I’m happy, too.”

“No, you’re not,” you slurred, allowing Steve to guide you to his car. You slumped against the passenger door as Steve searched his pocket for his key. “I heard you crying last night.”

Steve halted his search mid-pat, a hard crease forming between his eyebrows as he lifted his head. “I wasn’t-”

“I cry too,” you admitted, a drunken pout on your face. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Perhaps it was a dirty thing for him to do at this moment because you wouldn’t remember a single word of this conversation in the morning, but he figured there was no immediate harm. He found his key, unlocked the car, and helped you inside. Only once he entered the car himself did he take advantage of your blurry mind. 

“I cried for Sam and Bucky. Who do you cry for?”

You clicked the seatbelt on, mind clear enough for safety precautions it seemed. “Poor Wanda.”

Steve nodded and started the car. “Anything else?”

“Did I ever tell you about the time Loki asked me on a date?”

Steve immediately shut off the car and turned to you. “Huh? When?”

You grinned, small giggles bubbling from your chest. “A few months ago. He was so shy, too. I said yes.”

Steve ignored the twinge in his chest, “How was it?”

You leaned your head back and tilted it towards him, your smile faltered slightly. “Never went on it. And now he’s dead.”

The urge to lean over and wrap you in a much needed hug was there, eating away at him since you called him a good man. But he had taken advantage of this situation far too much, so he simply nodded in understanding and started the car again. 

“I’m sorry.”

You barely heard him, but you mumbled a quick response before letting the alcohol fully consume you. “Me too.”

     You thanked the bartender when they slid you your drink. “I hadn’t seen him since before the world went to shit.” You took a quick sip. “Kinda strange.”

Steve nodded, wondering if he should dive deep into the issue at hand. Instead of outright saying his outdated spiel, he eased into it. He gave you a few needed sips of your drink, at least.  “Y/N, can I ask an honest question?”

You hummed, “My toes are already tingling. You could probably ask me what my kinks are and I’d tell you.”

Steve suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, “You never could handle a sip of alcohol.”

Your eyes rounded at his reaction. Perhaps the alcohol affected him in other fun ways that he didn’t know. “Nope, I’m a lightweight.”

Steve contained himself before clearing his throat, “The question…”

“Go ahead.”

He rolled his shoulders and took a sip of his beer. Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice. “If it comes down to it, and god forbid you’re incapacitated, do you want me to kill your father?”

Your mouth opened slightly, the words stuck behind your tongue. You looked down at your drink, as if some special response was swimming in it. You knew your answer, but the way to phrase it was lost. 

“I don’t want his blood on your hands.”

“But if it was the last choice?”

You sighed, “If you pull that trigger, they’ll never stop coming after you.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched together, “But if you pull it?”

You shrugged and raised the glass to your lips. “That’s my life, Steve. Let me deal with the consequences.”

“That’s just it - you don’t have to. At least, not alone.”

God, you hated how perfect Steve sounded all the time. Whenever he was annoying you, fighting you, or protecting you, his syllables were stretched in the most glorious way, dipping into every crevice of the person they were delivered to and warming inches of body slowly. You wanted him to have somewhat of an evil side for once in his life, but no matter how many times you thought he would explode, he didn’t.

Two years ago, when he dropped you from his life in an instant, you had assumed you finally caught a glimpse at this evil side. It was the only time you were truly scared of him. 

“You really are a good person.”

Steve swished his beer bottle around, “I wish everyone would stop being surprised by that.”

“I’m not surprised. I guess I just want to hate you, and I can’t.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped like crumbling mountains and you couldn’t stop thinking about how vulnerable he looked. You wanted to pull him closer and rest your head to his chest, hear his heartbeat and apologize for theorizing a possible hatred. 

“Why do you want to hate me?”

“When you wouldn’t sign the accords, part of me saw that as the mascot of America not caring if he invaded and pillaged everything in his path.”

“But I-” Steve interjected, but you stopped him by raising your hand and waving it gently. 

“I know why you didn’t. Hell, I helped you escape.”

“Why did you help if you hated me?”

Being vulnerable with Steve wasn’t anything new. You were each other’s support system for those lonely five years, but it all changed the moment you defeated Thanos. So, for the last two years you didn’t quite get along. But here, now, you could always tell when Steve was being honest and open. 

“Guess I thought that if you were willing to help me with my family, I should help you with yours.”

His therapist desperately tried to rationalize the experiences Steve would tell, instructing him to look past hard exteriors and accept help from others. That his old friends were still friends, and enemies should never be compared to those he loved. And he knew he was easily blinded when something or someone had the slightest mishap, instantly writing it off as harmful. 

He spoke of you often during his one hour sessions - stories of your blatant silliness and crude jokes; how you would poke your finger into his sandwiches when you thought he wasn’t looking; how you almost beat up a kid and his little gang for baiting Peter after his identity was exposed; and how you and Sam had gotten into a bar fight over something so trivial, so unnecessary, that it was almost unbelievable to see you innocently scoot away from the body on the floor in the police video, as if you had nothing to do with it and those few feet of distance automatically cleared you. 

His therapist would just listen. 

“Did I ever thank you?”

You smiled sadly, “You went into hiding soon after. Then we went to battle, lost everyone, went to battle again, and then…”

“And then.”

‘And then’ wasn’t really something you two liked to bring up. It was still a fresh wound, somewhat patched up, but still open. 

You spaced out for a few minutes, both of you enjoying your drinks. You were no longer drinking to get drunk, not that it was your original goal to begin with. You just sat in comfortable silence, reliving the events earlier that day and drafting an internal report. 

“What are you thinking about?”

You pursed your lips and thought, clicking your tongue when it finally dawned on you. “This was the first time I saw Marcus White sober.”

Steve sat up straighter, “Are you sure? He didn’t look it.”

“Yeah, he usually speaks quickly and he fidgets. But he was coherent this afternoon.”

“Should that be a red flag?”

You took out your phone and sent a quick text to Torres for him to monitor White closely for the next few days, just in case. “A big one. My father referred to him more often than he did Ramirez.”

Steve tackled every idea in his head quickly, speaking as a new one popped up. “They could be planning a move against Ramirez. He’s close to overthrowing your father.”

You raised your head from your phone, “And the wedding would be a perfect distraction.”

“He would kill his greatest rival on your sister’s happiest day?”

You let out a low chuckle, “This man has nothing to lose. It won’t matter who he topples along the way.”

Steve opened the laptop, silently congratulating himself for bringing it despite your insults, and began drafting the report. The two of you worked for the next hour, nursing a couple more drinks before you sent the final copy to Bucky. 

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

[pl-panda]

The vines that bind us - Chapter 6

Chapter 1 || Previous || NEXT

Elevator took her all the way to the highest floor. When she exited, the floor was back to perfect condition and several more plants were awaiting her. She promised them silently to check on them soon and went to the main office. She knocked several times on the doors, but nobody answered. Hesitantly, she pushed the doors open, but no one was in the office. After double-checking with security, it turned out that Tim Drake did not show to work. She sighed. Looks like more work for her… Just like Nathalie said.

“Didn’t you cause enough drama…” Lila never got a chance to end that sentence, because Mari delivered a straight one strong enough to send her flying several feet back before she came crashing down. Blood pouring from her nose.

The girl was about to launch herself at the liar and pound her into the ground when two strong arms grabbed her. She noticed the characteristic spikes on the sides of black gloves and stated to trash around. “Let me go you overgrown furry!” She screamed. “I will mix her face with the concrete until it’s nice and even!”

She tried to wiggle herself out of his grip. Most of the class surrounded Lila and were trying to help her. It only served to irate Mari more. She kicked her leg back, hitting Batman’s shin. It was finally enough to let her go. The girl fell down... right into the embrace of Chloe and Adrien who managed to get to her on time. The two blondes hugged her tightly. 

“There. It’s alright Goldie. You got her good. Rest.” The girl cooed and pressed her best friend to her chest, muffling the sobbing. Adrien was just silently there and hugged them both. When Batman tried to approach again, the boy sent him an angry glare. The warning was clear and the vigilante didn’t really need anything from the girl right now. 

After a bit, Mari fell asleep in their embrace. The stress finally caught up to her and she couldn’t hold exhaustion at bay any longer. Chloe easily picked her up and started to walk toward a taxi that was conveniently parked nearby, waiting for them. 

“What!?” Angry Alya looked from Lila who was now being cared for by a pair of paramedics. She turned to Commissioner Gordon who was discussing something with Batman. “You!” 

The policeman looked at her curiously. Alya continued her shouting. “You’re letting her go just like that? She just assaulted Lila! She might’ve ruined her modeling career! Arrest her!”

“Miss.” Gordon shook his head. “These are some of the braves men and women in Gotham, but I doubt any of them would dare to try and arrest her right now. They don’t get paid enough.”

“What?!” Several kids started to protest, but Gordon just ignored them and directed Harvey to start taking statements. He wasn’t paid enough to deal with these brats. 

--------

Bruce sighed as he exited the Batmobile. Almost immediately, he was swarmed by the rest of his family. Jason and Dick practically carried him, still in the suit, to the movie room. 

“Now, Ladies and Gents, we have some of the greatest shows for you. We call it… The Demon Trashing!”

What followed was a clip taken from monitoring in the anteroom of the CEO office in Wayne Tower. He watched as Damian, dressed in civilian clothing, and carrying a simple ninjato on his back entered the room. He walked around for a moment before knocking on the main office doors, but whatever answer he got seemed to have irritated him given the scowl that formed on his face. He walked over to the PA’s desk that stood there, but no one was here. After a short moment, one could see the elevator doors open again and a small girl in a smart outfit walked in. Damian dashed to the shadows before she had a chance to notice him. 

Bruce resisted the urge to facepalm. He could already see where this was going. 

When the girl started to walk to the desk, his son suddenly reappeared with the sword drawn. He pressed the blade to her neck. From the angle, it was impossible to see either of them expressions. The man did not expect his son to kill a civilian for trespassing, but the amount of glee on Jason’s and Dick’s faces was suggesting that his headache hadn’t really started.

The girl suddenly grabbed the blade and pushed it away. Damian, probably acting on instinct, tried to cut her, but she just walked out of the way and disarmed his son before knocking him out. There was a short skip to when Jason and Dick entered the room. The small girl was clearly very much irritated with them from the start and when she reached her limits, she used a pencil as a projectile to open the elevator doors. 

A small smirk made its way to Bruce’s face when he saw her storm past his three sons, carrying the ninjato through a tissue. The video ended with Damian waking up.

“And that’s how Drake’s new PA trashed a certain Demon Spawn. I swear, she could probably give Luthor’s bodyguard a run for her money when it comes to being a badass” Jason commented on the silent video in his typical fashion. 

“Tt. She stole my sword.” Damian huffed.

“You mean the sword she later used to stab Riddler’s man before disarming him?”

“I still consider the best part of today when she called B. an overgrown furry,” Dick said trying to hold back on laugher.

“Wait. I have a new personal assistant?” Tim asked half-awake. 

“Yeah. She was supposed to be an intern, but apparently, Sarah hired her on the spot and quit.”

“Oh… Cool.” Tim said and took a swing from his gargantuan cup. 

“Did you manage to pull the video of her taking down Riddler?” Bruce asked.

“The cameras malfunctioned before she even entered.”

“It was me,” Tim confessed. “I was still in my office when the alarm sounded. I keep a separate copy of my suit in a hidden compartment. To save time I dressed there, but I had to disable the CCTV…”

“Yeah yeah. Whatever.” Jason shut him up. “I also got the part when Damian’s eyes roll back as my new screensaver.”

“Tt. You’re lucky I don’t have my sword.”

“Don’t think you’re getting it back any time soon,” Bruce said in a stern tone and sighed. “What exactly do we know about her?”

“She is from Gotham, but she lives in Paris for some years. She said she was practicing martial arts since she was five.” Dick started

“She is also one bada…”

Jason was interrupted by Alfred, who entered the room with a plate full of cookies and tea. “A young woman just called. She asked me to forward a message to young master Damian.”

“Tt. What is it?”

“I quote. ‘Good luck getting your sword back now. Police took it as evidence. Suck it, Wayne.’ I believe the woman was young miss Chloe Bourgeoise.”

Dick, Jason, and Tim were literally rolling on the floor laughing. Bruce just facepalmed.

“No, you can’t break into the evidence room. You might jeopardize the whole investigation if you taint the evidence.” Bruce said in an exasperated tone. 

----------

It was late after midnight (or even early morning, depends on your definition) when the vigilantes returned from the patrol, only to meet Tim and Barbara working on something on Batcomputer in tandem. Whatever it was, they were completely devoted to it since neither realized they had company until Bruce made a coughing sound.

“Not now.” 

“What exactly are you doing?” The father inside Bruce resisted the urge to force-feed Tim some sleeping meds. 

“We’re doing the background check,” Barbara said while typing frantically.

“On my new personal assistant.” The boy supplied.

“oh?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Like… from what we found she is either the worst bitch on the block or strongest badass around.”

“Langauge master Tim.” Alfred scolded him. 

“Sorry. But like seriously! There are so many contradictions.”

“Check this out.” She pulled out a scan of a letter. It was largely creased, but still perfectly readable. “Her adopted parents one day disappeared, leaving her everything they owed sans some of their clothes. It was like they packed and left.”

“You suspect a foul play?”

“I’m not sure. The investigation was a joke and so was the follow-up proceeding. The interesting part is the custody battle that followed.” 

“Jagged freaking Stone and Parisian Mayor.” Tim interrupted Babs. “It ended with a compromise that Jagged was lawfully named her uncle and Mayor became her guardian. She was the one who suggested it.”

“How can one be lawfully named someone’s uncle?”

“Apparently one can in France. Or they just made some concessions to a celebrity. Seen weirder things.” He shrugged. “She was also his designer for years now. You remember that mysterious MDC?”

“The one you used to fawn over?” Bruce asked.

“She is brilliant so sue me.” The boy huffed. “Also, it stands for Marigold Désign et Création. She runs an internet boutique where she takes commissions from both commoners and celebrities.”

“What does it have to do with anything?” 

“I’m getting to that. Gee.” 

“Maybe I will get there?” Babs tried to take over. “She’s been working part-time as a babysitter to get funds to buy materials for new clothes and received nothing but praise. She also became a class representative. A successful one at that. She also holds the national championship in U-17 Mechastrike.”

“How is that important exactly?” 

“You wanted to know everything about her B., so we are giving you everything.” Tim sassed

“Just… get to the important parts.” He shook his head. What did he do to deserve this?

“Fine. Her school records are a mess. Skipping that they wouldn’t hold to any official inspection, they straight-up contradict each other.” Tim waved his hand in some undefined gesture. “On one hand, she receives nothing but praise from the teachers, but at the same time, there are multiple bullying reports and even several assaults in here. Most of them were met with harsh punishments.” Tim opened a separate file. “Too harsh according to the school charter.”

“It didn’t help that the letter from her parents also mentioned these kinds of things.” Babs chimed in, trying to regain control of the tale. Bruce just gave an exasperated sigh. He just gave up and allowed them to solve it, mentally already cataloging the information. 

“Except! There were statements from several people that contradicted this. Especially Chloe Bourgeois. She said, ‘Puh-lease! Mari is the kindest doormat in the world. I was mean to her for years and she still welcomed me back with open arms.’ Given her track record, I’m inclined to believe it.” 

“There was also this Drama, capital ‘D’, with MDC stealing designs. Several tabloids caught the wind of it and it even led to the police investigation. Only after Jagged Stone intervened, the thing quickly shut up.”

“Now onto the juicy parts!” Babs smiled. 

“And that was what? An introduction?”

“Yup. She has a certified black belt in two different martial arts, is a master gymnast, has an IQ of over 130 and owns two separate businesses in Paris.” She quickly read. “As we mentioned, she is the honorary lawful niece of Jagged Stone, but also designed for Clara Nightingale, Nadia Chamack, worked with Gabriel Agreste, was offered an internship from Audrey Bourgeois before she became her ward. She was seen hanging out with Kagami Tsurugi, world-renowned fencer, and Luka Couffaine, the rising star under Jagged Stone’s tutelage.”

“That was fast.” Tim summarised. 

“Yeah. Also, she was adopted some nine years ago. She originally comes from Gotham.”

“Do we know her biological parents?” Bruce asked, getting serious.

“That’s where it gets juicy. When I tried to pull out her adoption files, the computer shut down to avoid detection. There is some serious encryption on it. Probably due to who her father is. We got some of it. She described her mother as ‘wearing an outfit that showed more skin than her beachwear’, so we suspect she was a prostitute.”

“Hm… It’s not unheard of. You say she was with her mother until she was eight?”

“Between seven and nine the file said.”

“Hm… Do you think she is a threat?”

“No. But I have a different question. Why didn’t the league investigate Paris’ supervillain?”

“We were made aware of him only recently, after what our satellites mistook for Poison Ivy attack,” Batman said in an irritated tone. The fact that there was a supervillain running around for close to four years completely undetected grated on his nerves. “Diana Prince has been investigating for some time now. She has it under control.”

“The only problem I see is that she is only sixteen,” Barbara pointed.

“I mean I’m barely seventeen and I ran this company for two years now. And don’t act high and mighty. You started playing Batgirl at fifteen.”

“Played?!” She screamed. 

“You wore a hoodie and carnival mask at first.”

This quickly developed into an insults contest until Bruce finally had enough. He just shook his head and left. Alfred silently followed him, carrying a plate of sandwiches. 

-----

The next morning, Mari woke up in her bed, with Chloe and her curled together in a mess of limbs and clothes. Of course, she panicked and jumped up, waking the blonde.

“Honestly, Goldie, five more minutes. I need my beauty sleep!” She murmured.

“Um… Why are we in one bed?”

“Because you fell asleep hugging me yesterday and refused to let go at any point. I swear I wanted to get a crowbar. Ridiculous!”

“Sorry…” Mari gave her a sheepish smile.

“None of that! You ruined Lila’s face in one punch. Adrien texted me that in the end she lost seven teeth and will require plastic surgery for her nose not to look like a mashed potato.”

“No…!” Her eyes widened. 

“Yup.” Chloe grinned, popping the ‘p’. 

“That’s awful! I can already imagine how much the class will hate me now! And the employees that saw this! There were cameras there!”

“Some people actually applauded you. It could be also because you called Batman an overgrown Furry though…” Chloe’s voice wandered off. Mari collapsed onto the bed, head buried in the pillows.

“Kill me…”

“Can I kill you with hugs?”

“Fine…”

When the panicking bluenette finally calmed down, Chloe got her to sit down and showed her the headlines.

Brave WE employee saves dozens of lives!

A hero without a suit!

Civilian stopped Riddler!

Personal Assistant takes down a dangerous criminal!

They were all overly positive and showed much support. Only one tried to vilify her based on Lila’s comment and her being punched, but it quoted Ladyblog as a reliable source, so it was dismissed. The majority of the comments were also positive. The ‘overgrown Furry’ was already trending too. 

Only one of the articles contained the list of names of people killed in the attack.

Ted Black - a security guard, put himself between the bullet and another employee Sigfried Osborne - a security guard, died when he tried to stop them from entering Molly Bishop - a PR specialist, called the police when she thought the guards were busy Heidi Dickson - a security guard, killed in crossfire Craig Lloyd - an HR employee, wrestled the gun from one of the henchmen before he was shot in the back. Ethel Arson - A lawyer, killed in crossfire Christian Thorn - a security guard, shot two of the riddler’s henchmen in defense of a group of hostages.

Their room had several live plants on the rail. Mari walked to them and allowed her powers to flow. Slowly, the flowers bloomed. She picked seven beautiful flowers and put them on the table.

“Mari… I’m sure they will understand if you don’t come to work today…” Chloe placed a hand on her best friend’s shoulder.

“No… No. I won’t be scared into hiding by Riddler of all people.” She said with determination and some coldness in her voice. She stood up and walked to her suitcase. From there, she gathered a different outfit. Now she would wear a red shirt, a black blazer with the Ladybug logo on her right breast, a black pencil skirt, and black leather ballet shoes (she still hated heels). But the greatest change was her hair and eyes. She let go of her twin pigtails and allowed her wavy hair to run free. It was no longer black, instead turning dark blue with purple highlights. Her eyes also changed. Her bluebell eyes also changed. The iridescent green she used to suppress was now mixed with the normal eye color, giving an entrancing effect that was hard to stop looking at.

“It’s time to rock this place.” She smiled at her best friend.

------- (Play ‘Confident’ by Demi Lovato) --------

Marigold and Chloe entered the Wayne Enterprises in full stride. Flashing her pass, she got them through control without the queue or checking, much to the shock of the class (who still had no idea Mari was now technically their boss). Adrien showed the girls thumbs up. Lila was seething, but neither Chloe nor Marigold paid her any mind and guards didn’t let her follow them and straight-up kicked her to the back of the queue. 

Mari gave a nod to the receptionist, but they didn’t slow down. Elevator was about to close, but one of the employees held it for her. Once they entered, she quickly checked her tablet and the to-do list she had for that day. First stop: PR. Chloe was going to HR to receive a new mentor after… the previous day.

When she entered the Public Relations department, Mari didn’t stop to chat with the employee that looked at her in awe. Her goal was the department’s head office and that’s where she would go. Gently knocking on the doors before entering, she pushed the doors. While she was smiling kindly, her whole posture screamed professional. 

“Hello. Mr. Drake will need the Friday press conference plan adjusted in response to what happened yesterday. There needs to be a mention of the event, as we won’t want to sound too detached. The press would tear us apart. Some gesture to show the public that we care…”

“Maybe a memory board in the lobby? And perhaps schedule Mr. Drake to visit each of the families somewhere next week?”

“I think it will be okay…” For a short moment, Mari allowed her confidence to drop, but she quickly gathered herself and made a note in her calendar. 

“If that’s all…”

“I will also need a press statement no later than by lunch.” She said quickly. “Make it a priority and forward it to me to read before you post it.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The man smiled. Mari was about to leave when he spoke again. “And thank you for yesterday. Many people owe you their lives.”

She stopped in her tracks, unable to say a word. Finally, she regained her composure. “Thank you. I… I’m coping.” 

As she left the office toward the elevator, Lila and Alya, who were interning in that department, tried to speak with her, but she didn’t even spare them a glance. Alya tried to grab her, but she was stopped by one of the older employees. As the elevator doors closed, Mari could see the girls receive a serious scolding. A grin made its way onto her face. Lila and Alya would have a really hard life for the next two months. Especially if she had anything to say about it. 

Her next stop was the security office. She entered it with a neutral expression, but it lasted only maybe five steps from the elevator. She didn’t tear up. She was a Gothamite inside. Right as one walked out of the elevator, there was a small bar, behind which a board was filled with pictures. Some looked really old, black and white or even sepia, while some others were high-quality and new. Roughly half of them were the clean pictures one would attach to a resume. The other half were profile pictures from social media. Or a photo that was taken in the forest. One was even a detailed drawing of a person. There were maybe fifty of them in total.

“It’s a reminder. Guards who lost their lives since the founding of WE” An older man said. “Silas Wayne started the tradition after he served in the Great War. You’re here for something miss?”

“Oh… Yes. The security on Friday press conference. We must increase it by about fifty percent. And make sure that only those with invites can enter.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her.

“Um…” Mari suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable. 

“Don’t worry. It wasn’t your fault.” He said in a comforting voice.

“Thank you, sir.” She allowed a weak smile to enter her face before she left. Only two more stops. 

The elevator next took her to the Legal Department. She had many things that needed to be done here. Chloe met her as soon as she exited the elevator. Mari managed to regain her professional posture and once more emanated the aura of confidence. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep it up, but she was determined to show that she was okay. 

“I already forwarded your requests. At first, Madame McKinsley was reluctant, but apparently, our entrance is already the top corporate gossip. Good job Mari-bear.”

“Good. Thanks, Chlo. Now get back to work before someone sees me get friendly with an intern. I have a plan.” Before they separated, Marigold let a smile ghost her face. “One more thing. You’re free to unleash the foxes of war.”

Chloe lit up at that. Her whole demeanor changed to almost beaming light. She immediately started planning. Mari left her to the devious scheming and instead went to McKinsley office. The head of the Legal Department was a middle-aged woman with short, slightly graying brown hair and no-nonsense composure.

“Miss Bourgeoise informed me of your visit. I already had several documents prepared, but I will need clarification on several things.” She offered the young PA a chair, but Mari refused with a shake of her head. She opened her tablet and started to go through the list.

“First of all, the video that caused the attack was leaked by an intern. What actions exactly can be undertaken in response?”

“There are several options. We could terminate their contract entirely, but as it’s their first offense, it could’ve been seen as too harsh. It would also require to terminate all internships.” The woman was clearly unamused by the situation. Mari just raised her eyebrow and gave her a quizzing look.

“I’m not sure who in their right mind wrote their contracts, but when I track them down they are gonna get their ass demoted to toilet cleaner. It’s one big mess.”

“Don’t I know it…” Mari deadpanned. “So, other options?”

“We can move them between departments, so having them demoted to Toilet cleaners could also work, but it’s not exactly a legal punishment. The fact that it was Riddler really threw a wrench in any legal proceeding as he is clinically insane and the video was not directly calling him out and only speaking about him. I could give you the legal mumbo-jumbo, but the gist is that they are somewhat protected.”

“What about revoking their privileges?”

“Take that to HR.” 

“Will do. Now, about the next matter.”

“It was much easier. She can’t do anything to you, not even forward the bill. You were in shock and there are several recordings showing her taunting you. If she pushes it, she will lose. You’re a public hero right now. Good job by the way.”

“I was only doing what had to be done.” Mari brushed it, doing her best to keep a professional face. 

“Sure…” It was clear that McKinsley did not believe her.

“Now about the last thing?”

“Ah. The slander. I already directed it to our French and Italian departments, but it’s slow-going. That witch made it an international case. It will definitely bite her, but we have to be patient.”

“Brilliant. Thank you for your time.” Mari left the room with a grin on her face. Now onto the HR.

As she strode through the floor, people turned their heads to look at her. In the killing outfit, she looked older than she was and the aura of confidence and professionalism made her seem like a powerful woman. They had no idea just how powerful she was, but the way she carried herself was enough to make them shake in their shoes. 

----

When the doors of the elevator opened, Juleka and Rose were waiting for her. Both looked furious. Before either got a chance to say anything though, Marigold silenced them with a murderous glare that took away their voice. She strode past them looking fabulous. Any other employee removed themselves from her path to avoid her ire. The rumors were already circulating and the fact that she took down Riddler before Batman even arrived did wonder to her image. 

“Hello. I had an appointment.” She said when she entered the head of the department office. 

“Yes. Miss Dupain-Cheng. I was told you forwarded a list of topics, but an intern lost it.”

“Was this intern from my class?” She asked in a cold voice.

“Um… Yes actually.” The woman said after checking a small post-it.

“Then it was probably sabotage.” Mari spat the words. “I asked to have a list of possible punishments in regards to the newest intern group prepared. Two of them were responsible for the leak. Sadly, as one of them is the class representative, she is quite popular.”

“Ah. Well…”

“First of all, both Alya Cesaire and Lila Rossi are to have all possible privileges revoked for breaking the rules. They leaked or were involved in the leak of video. Neither of them is to be handed anything more important than refilling a stapler or bringing someone coffee, to ensure they are no further threat to this company. They will also receive an official warning and an entry to their acts. They are also restricted to the lower floors. If possible, I want their access to electronic devices restricted. Maybe assign them a pager each so it doesn’t negatively impact their work.”

“Hm… I will see what can be done, Ma’am.” The woman replied, already going through her notes.

“Good. Onto the next business, while it pains me to do it so fast, we need to hire more security as soon as possible. But make sure to triple check their backgrounds.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And the last thing. Why was Damian Wayne allowed to bring a ninjato into the building?”

“There is actually no restriction on bringing swords ma’am. We’re trying to fix it, but we’ve been blocked at every turn even when Mr. Wayne was the CEO.”

“And whose permission is needed?” Mari allowed a small grin.

“Yours would do. Sarah was always too stuck up to even leave her desk unless forced so she didn’t care that much.”

“Consider my permission granted. Forward the paperwork to me.”

“And if Mr. Drake disagrees?”

“He can try.” She said coldly, remembering how close she came to being cut in half.

“Oh…”

“Last thing. When is the top floor scheduled for repairs?”

“It should be done already. It was made to withstand an assault from a much larger force, so we only had to replace the furniture. Following the instructions that were left, we repotted the plants into bigger and more decorative pots. As per your request, we added some more plants.”

“Thank you. Plants always calm me down.”

“I prefer cat pictures.” She pointed at the wall where a cheesy calendar with a cat giving her thumbs-up was hanged. It took all of Marigold’s willpower not to burst into laugher at the image of Chat Noir posing for such a calendar.

“Good. Thank you.” With that, she left. This time, Rose and Juleka did not try anything. They were too terrified of her. 

Elevator took her all the way to the highest floor. When she exited, the floor was back to perfect condition and several more plants were awaiting her. She promised them silently to check on them soon and went to the main office. She knocked several times on the doors, but nobody answered. Hesitantly, she pushed the doors open, but no one was in the office. After double-checking with security, it turned out that Tim Drake did not show to work. She sighed. Looks like more work for her… Just like Nathalie said.

----

NEXT

[willadisastercry]

More than ‘just a little tired’: the aftermath part 2

tw: lil bit of gore described, burn wounds, collapsing, lots of pain described, muscle relaxer used and effects described, slight paralysis ensues, emotionally heavy towards end.

Keith finally let’s his friends help him but his adrenaline is fading rapidly and everyone is still focused on fussing over Pidge. Lance is distraught with how cold Shiro is being, he doesn’t understand why no one is listening to him while he’s literally supporting Keith with his own body as he crashes. Hunk needs to look at something other than the blood and gore so he tries to find Coran’s magic cream and is just proud he only threw up once.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

“Woah, Hunk! He’s going down!”

Lance dropped to his knee as he struggled to keep Keith from falling further out of his grasp, his face now deathly pale and pressed against his shoulder as he took in large, shuddering breaths to try remain conscious.

“We’ve gotcha bud,” Hunk’s hand snaked around his waist then as Lance righted himself and they brought him back onto unsteady legs, his right not even strong enough now to put much weight on without buckling.

“C’mon we gotta go...”

With his arms slung over either boy’s shoulders and their hands hoisting his hips up by the supply pack on his utility belt, they made their way to the med bay relatively quickly, a feat of which was only possible because at some point Keith had stopped trying to keep up and allowing himself to be dragged was surprisingly a lot faster.

The whooshing of the med bay doors after what felt like an enternity was what startled Keith into opening his eyes again.

“Oh, hey guys...” Shiro said, sparing only a partial glance their way before continuing to pour over Pidge with Coran and Allura. She was awake and fighting the helping hands.

No one seemed to notice Keith’s prone form held up entirely by his friends who stood frozen in the doorway, a bit at a loss for how to proceed.

“I think I’m fine, guys! Seriously. All that’s left is already half healed and not nearly deep enough to warrant a freaking pod!”

“Maybe, but you still lost a lot of blood that will need to be repelenished...” Coran pointed, his mustache twitching as he attempted to convey the necessity of the percaution and failed.

Keith’s legs hadn’t been contributing much to the effort of keeping him standing but admittedly had some part in it because the longer they remained where they stood the more they seemed to melt into jelly.

The adrenaline had almost entirely worn off by then, leaving his body buzzing as the pain slowly intensified.

“G-guys...” Keith whispered weakly, his voice was barely audible.

“What’s—“

“Need to sit... like now...” he managed before his legs were wobbling dangerously, suddenly devoid of all the strength that remained in them.

“Alright, that’s okay. Over there, Lance,” Hunk assured, his injured leg completely useless as he transferred even more of Keith’s weight onto his hip to make up the difference while they ushered him towards one of the chairs across the room.

“Uhhhh, how much longer you guys gonna be with Pidge?” Lance questioned nervously once they’d settled Keith down, his heart clenching with fear for how grey his face had gotten, his hands never leaving his drawn up shoulders out of fear of what would happen if he did.

Hunk was already across the room tearing apart medicine cabinets for the burn cream he’d mentioned and Keith was finding it increasingly difficult to support his own body weight.

“Woah! Okkay—that’s okay, just lean against me,” Lance offered when Keith couldn’t keep himself from swaying as he narrowly avoided leaning back against the chair, nearly tilting out of it before Lance righted him and guided his head to lean against his hip.

“We’ll be done as soon as Pidge stops being difficult... why?” Shiro asked, his eyes still scanning the partially mended slash across the smaller girl’s stomach.

“Just uh, Keith is sort of not doing so well.”

Lance wasn’t entirely sure he understood why everyone was being so curt and dismissive, not tearing their eyes away from a clearly fine Pidge, who yes, at one point had been not fine at all, but was now.

And Keith wasn’t.

The blasts on his back were... bad.

Bad enough for him to be in so much pain he was forced to accept his friend’s help. Lance also figured the haunting glaze of exhaustion in his eyes and purple bruises beneath them had a good deal to do with lowering his defenses, the realization of just how tired he was sending another jab to his chest.

The material of his suit looked like it had melted into his skin, lining the edges of the puffy burns with a smokey black. Some were larger than others but there were at least a dozen and they were all bleeding steadily, the constant rise and fall of his chest making it impossible for any of them to clot.

“I’ll come check him out once—“

The burns were so deep, like little caverns carved into his skin and Lance was suddenly concerned about how zapped the nerves must be that he didn’t even realize he’d been injured this severely.

They looked so painful.

Breathing looked painful. And sitting, and talking and the way moving air brushed against them.

Shit, Keith.

“No, Shiro...”

The words came from deep in his throat, his voice low and serious, a stark derision from his usually charming vibrato.

“I think someone needs to check him out now. We’re talking about Keith here! You should know better than anyone that when he’s says he’s not okay, he means it.”

Shiro’s shoulders dropped as he straightened up, Lance couldn’t even find it in himself to worry about getting told off for his tone with how angry he was, his irritation justifying itself as he watched Keith’s breathing devolve into something more and more erratic.

The room seemed to silence all at once after he’d raised his voice. The inflection of it, shrill with fear and frustration is what got Shiro to finally look their way, his already weary expression falling further at the horror of how Keith looked against Lance. Slumped and panting, his features tight in anguish as blood dripped steadily from somewhere and collected in a now sizeable puddle on the floor.

Pidge was being forced to lay back down when surging up to see what was wrong had her keening and clutching her middle, Allura remaining at her side while Shiro and Coran raced over to the boys.

“What the fuck happened?!” Shiro demanded, his eyes grey pinpoints that bored into Lance with a sort of accusation until the two men reached the pair, both gasping simultaneously when they got close enough to take in the sight of Keith’s back.

“I don’t-I don’t understand, you said you were tired Keith!”

“Plasma blast burns... most of them 2nd degree it looks like...” Coran offered, his eyes flicking wildly as they scanned the burnt and bloody skin.

“He is tired...” Lance assured, turning his gaze back to Keith’s shaking shoulders. His trembles seemed more like spasms then, each jerk prompting a fresh gush of red from the wounds.

“He’s fucking exhausted but was too stubborn to tell anyone he was hurt...” he continued as Coran left muttering to himself in search of supplies, joining Hunk in his endeavor of locating more than just the burn cream now.

“S-sorry... really thought it was just one...” Keith explained before Shiro shushed him, crouching down to run his hand through his hair even though it was slightly damp with sweat.

His eyes weren’t open so he tensed when the hand first fell into place but soon softened under Shiro’s touch, the cold weight of the galra metal oddly comforting.

“It’s not on you, bud. I should’ve checked in more thoroughly, looked you over myself...”

Lance seethed at that, Keith was feeling guilty when Shiro was the one who had fucked up by ignoring him. He didn’t even sound sorry.

“Damn right you sh—“

“What’s that?” Shiro entreated, cutting him off and lifting his head to face the younger boy with something so fierce in his eyes that Lance had to force himself to look elsewhere.

As much as he wanted to tell Shiro how royally he’d fuck up he knew it wouldn’t be productive. Knew full well that the last thing anyone needed was more chaos.

But before Lance had to take actual precautions to contain his anger, Keith made a noise as if he wanted to respond but all that came out was a defeated whine as his chest stuttered which pulled even more at the mess of his back, sending him into a fit of flinching and hissing.

“Hey, you’re alright—“ Lance cooed, the additional hand on Keith’s neck centering him while he tried to ride out the pain without causing more “—that’s it, just take a second to calm down...”

But Keith couldn’t calm his breathing in time to avoid the waves of agony that followed such harsh breaths, eventually becoming desperate enough to clamp his lips shut and hold his breath until his heart let up with its incessant pounding.

This admittedly made the general haze clouding his mind so much worse, sending black dots dancing across the floor as he stared at it against Lance. He hadn’t realized when his hands had traveled up to clutch at Lance’s stomach but they were there now, clawing at the unwavering material stuck to his torso like glue for something to hold onto.

There were so many hands on him but he couldn’t feel much of anything other than the heat on his back and strain in his lungs as he continued to restrict his breathing. It had come to hurt so badly he was afraid to even try to breath normally again.

“-ith!”

Voices sounded so weird and distant then, like they were calling to him from across a noisy room.

“KEITH!”

It wasn’t until someone was knelt down next to him and nearly screaming in his ear that he could understand anything.

“Stop doing that, you have to take deeper breaths or you’ll pass out...”

But he couldn’t manage anything other than short and rapid inhales that weren’t nearly enough. He didn’t care if he passed out. It wouldn’t hurt so bad if he were unconscious and it had gotten to a point where he sort of wished for that kind of relief.

Coran was speaking to Shiro over them then, of which Keith had only ascertained from the way Shiro’s hand left the base of his skull to rest more on the crown of his head just as a dull and disordered humming began.

His hearing had abandoned him again once Shiro left his position, reducing the conversation to unintelligible murmurs drowned out by the rumbling in his eardrums. The static spotting his vision not letting up as the blast wounds burned relentlessly on his back. It felt like there were literal flames licking up at even the slightest movement and marring deep as the fire only seemed to spread.

The entire expanse of his upper body had gone numb with it, his arms slack at his sides and his neck weak under the weight of his head as he put all of his concentration into slowing his breathing and keeping it as controlled as possible. He didn’t even feel the hands slipping under his armpits or fingers tugging at his supply belt, only the scorching stretch of his body straightening as he was pulled to his feet.

Lance and Shiro shifted around him with care, Shiro guiding his head to rest on his shoulder when it rolled limply, Coran hovering anxiously as they struggled to lift him to his feet without jarring his injuries. In reality, it was entirely unavoidable but hey, it’s the thought that counts.

Keith really tried to hold his own weight this time, but as soon as he was upright, his back lit with a new fury that had his vision whiting. Soon he couldn’t even be certain his feet were still on the ground as his body went lax and the darkness that had been teasing him descended quicker than he could process.

He assumed he had screamed bloody murder since his stinging throat was the only pain he could pinpoint as he lost consciousness, but by then he wouldn’t have been able to hear his own voice if he spoke so he wasn’t be sure. All he knew was that he’d pitched into a slew of arms like his bones had spontaneously emulsified, blissfully unaware as to how the whole room seemed to cry out when he did.

Pidge was near tears with Allura struggling to assure her that Keith would be fine, and Hunk was so startled by the commotion that he had nearly flung the supplies he was organizing on a sterile tray.

“Let’s get him settled comfortably before he comes to,” Coran ordered, his voice sharp and anguished as he motioned towards where Hunk was stood.

Together and with considerable effort the three dragged Keith’s limp body to the other side of the room, careful to keep his torso straight and his injured leg from bending so they didn’t inflame his wounds further, depositing his lifeless weight onto the table on his stomach where all of his injuries could be tended to.

“We have to get as much of the suit off as possible... some of it will of course take a little more effort,” Coran sighed as he poked at one of the darker blast marks with a wider radius than most of the other. There was a ring of molten black around it that looked like it had dripped into the pit of missing flesh from where the material of the suit had melted off. The sentry that shot him there must have been only a few feet away.

“Alaran...” Allura gasped out as she made her way to the group once Pidge had calmed down enough to be left alone.

“These are going to need extensive cleaning before we can put him into a pod.”

“I know, Princess. Let’s get started, maybe we can get the bulk of it finished while he’s still uncioncious,” Coran postured, distributing the supplies Hunk had gathered to everyone.

The task was harrowing and had everyone slightly queasy, but the urgency to complete the process before Keith woke up prevailed everyone’s gag reflexes, even Hunk’s.

Being enveloped by the black that had teased him so long wasn’t as bad as Keith had imagined it would be. It was warm like this, more absent of cold than possesing a distinguishable heat. Pleasant. Peaceful even. A more than welcomed improvement to the inferno he was slowly being consumed by when he was awake and alert.

Sounds started coming back to him slowly as his body recovered from the shock of his plummet in blood pressure. His friends’ words sharpening gradually to where he could almost make out what they were saying.

“...suction... yes, that bit has to go as well...”

He still felt floaty and numb from the pain but knew he was laying on his front and could feel a sensation of tugging and pulling on his back.

“...keeps moving... waking up...”

It wasn’t so much painful as it was uncomfortable in his state of semi-consciousness.

“...dangerous to... sedative before a prolonged stay in the pod...”

His brain was just too fuzzy, still replenishing the blood supply to his brain.

“...looks like he’s in pain...”

Each moment he remained in limbo he grew more restless.

“...Coran I can’t... this piece... tearing the skin...”

The in and out of everything was making him anxious, he’d rather just be entirely out or entirely conscious.

“...should will help with any discomfort...”

Whatever was meant to help wasn’t. He was aware he’d probably been given some sort of drug or medicine but still he couldn’t relax.

It didn’t matter that he was utterly exhausted, his body was reacting to the anxiety bubbling in his stomach whether he had the energy to support such a reaction or not.

“...easy Keith...”

That’s the thing, he couldn’t take it easy. His mind was wired and his body was going into shock once again as things clarified and he woke up more.

“You’re alright number four... steady now, just breathe...”

If he thought it was hard to breathe before it seemed like it was absolutely impossible now.

“-us? Keith...? Keith, can you hear us?”

He could. He could hear everything now. It was all so loud and piercing, everyone’s voices, the tools clicking, his heart beating, the tear of medical supplies packages. Everything was so crisp and right there, the smallest noises sending tingles down his spine that made him want to cringe and he struggled to surpress the urge to.

“Quiznak! Coran I’m gonna hurt him if he keeps squirming!”

He was panting now, his mouth hung open against the towel folded under his face that was catching the blood still leaking from the wound under his eye. A hand came down on the back of his neck and he jumped.

That did it for the pain that seemed to have been numbed, not gone, just too far away for him to register. It was just as close as all of the sounds were now.

Hands clutched at his shoulders and forearms and hips as he wailed, pushing him flat so his flailing didn’t make it worse. He sobbed loudly and unabashedly as the pain surged its way back to the forefront of his awareness, a strange warmth similar to the one he’d felt when he had passed out taking the edge off but not staving it much.

“Keith! Listen to me, you have to relax. I know this is torture, but you’re only going to make it worse if you keep struggling,” Shiro urged, his voice the closest.

Shiro was right, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t in control of his movements anymore, because if he was he would listen. He didn’t want to hurt anymore but his body didn’t seem to give a shit.

“Coran,” Allura said sadly, her eyes looking at him with a sort of heart breaking resolution.

“Okay, Princess,” he agreed, his expression falling dejectedly.

“What-what is it? What just happened?!” Lance asked worriedly, knowing something had seemingly been decided but no idea as to what.

“We’re going to have to give him a muscle relaxer to keep him still, but it won’t take away his pain. We simply cannot risk putting him in a pod while medically sedated, we couldn’t be sure he would ever wake again if we did.”

For the second time that evening a collective silence fell over the room, one filled with such aching and regret and fear that it was as if it wasn’t silent at all.

“Do whatever you have to,” Shiro advocated, handing the tools he’d been using to Hunk.

“But he’ll be in pain Shiro?!” Lance noted desperately, his indignation back in full force.

Shiro just looked at him sadly and moved to drag a stool over to the other end of the table where Keith’s head was, his face twisted up as his sounds of pain continued.

“How can you be so heartless? It wouldn’t be so painful if Allura had partially healed him too! If you had given enough of a shit to notice sooner! To notice at all!”

The sound of Lance yelling bore into Keith’s skull sickeningly, his body unable to contain the shiver that overtook his muscles at how bone deep the sound irked his now oversentive ears.

“Lance—“

“No, Allura. He’s right, this is my fault. I was too focused on the fact that Pidge was hurt to notice that he was too and now he’s worse off because of it. I didn’t listen to him when I should’ve. Administer whatever you have to Coran, I’ll help him through this, it’s the least I can do right now...”

Coran didn’t have to be told twice, skillfully pulling liquid from a vile with a syringe that he poked gently into Keith’s neck.

Hunk nudged Lance’s arm to break his death glare at Shiro and get back to freeing one of the wider wounds on his shoulder as the medicine took affect almost immediately.

“Sh-sh-shir-Shiro...”

“I’m right here, shhhh, don’t speak. Just relax, I’ve got you,” Shiro soothed, grasping Keith’s hand tightly as he took shuddering breaths that grew more and more shallow as whatever control he had left over his body slipped away from him.

With some last few twitches he sagged completely into the table. The hand clutching Shiro’s released its grip and the older boy started to thumb assuring circles into the limp appendage since he could still feel it.

“This is gonna suck, but just focus on me okay?”

Keith couldn’t nod, couldn’t move his exhausted body at all now, so he sighed instead. The tears that had welled at his eyes falling defeatedly and mixing with the blood staining his right cheek to make a slightly pinker mess on the towel beneath him.

“Just focus on me...”

[zaffrenotes]

[TRR x ES] Viewing Party

Book: The Royal Romance & Endless Summer Pairings: Liam x MC (Katrina Bailey), Drake x OC (Alyssa Devereaux), Jake x MC (Laurel) Rating/Warnings: G; mild innuendo Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * Katrina Bailey & Laurel are the MCs I use when writing fanfic for TRR and ES, respectively; Alyssa Devereaux belongs to birthday girl @burnsoslow​ * This is my submission for @wackydrabbles​​ Prompt 80: Stop looking at me like that. * Author’s Note 2: * This is a birthday gift for my cheesy, potato loving homegirl Burnsie, who requested her very first Endless Summer/Jake fic, despite having never read any ES fic until now 🙈 for the sole reason being that she and Jake McKenzie are almost birthday twins, and my favorite pilot turns 30 this year. If you’re unfamiliar with canon ES trivia, Jake can hold his breath for 9 minutes, and Estela can hold her breath for an astonishing 14. This isn’t entirely what I had in mind when I set out to write an ES/Jake birthday fic, but I wasn’t about to miss your day because I’ve hit a whole ass writer’s wall, Burnsie! I hope you have an AMAZING day and I’m sending you so many hugs! You’re one of the sweetest ladies here, and I am so very thankful that I can call you a friend 🥰 also my real, real gift to you is coming at a later date, as I still have to work on it 😬 * and yes, that’s DDT in the moodboard - just for Burnsie, again - since I use Barnes as Drake’s FC in my TRR fics, lol * Word Count: 2000 on the dot!

It was nearly 10:00 PM on Friday evening, when Burns arranged things around the comfiest chair in her living room. The rest of her family already retired for the evening, after a small but wonderful birthday celebration in her honor at home. Within easy reach, she’d arranged drinks and snacks next to her laptop - a glass of water, a hot mug of tea, a slice of homemade birthday cake to take care of any sugar cravings, and a small platter of cheese and crackers for something more savory. She grinned softly at the newest addition to her mug collection, watching the steam rise from the contents within. 

The lavender mug arrived in the mail earlier that day from one of her friends, emblazoned with a quote from David Rose. Burns took a sip of the warm beverage before setting it down on the small side table and situated herself in the chair. She flipped open the laptop and pulled up a browser window, smiling at a gift from another friend - there was a sticker next to the trackpad with a drawing of a wedge of Swiss, quoting another memorable line from Schitt’s Creek, reminding her to “fold in the cheese.” Burns glanced to the time on the screen and logged in to her Netflix account, clicking until she arrived at the viewing party, and began typing to join the group chat. 

She was greeted with jubilant messages from Donna, Ella, Brandy, Anitah, and half a dozen other friends, wishing her a happy birthday before the show started. They’d formed an ever-growing viewing party for a new series titled Stranded in the Orchard, which was an odd amalgamation of Survivor and Gilligan’s Island. Taking a cue from reality tv competitions, there were hidden cameras all over the island to monitor everyone and reduce production crew intervention, and in a nod to Hunger Games, there was an omnipresent host that would drop messages to signal when challenges were about to take place. After four episodes, the ladies in the watching party started picking their favorites from the two teams. 

Team Ruby consisted of a group that appeared to have been shipwrecked onto the island. Leo was dubbed The Rogue; his brother Liam was The CEO; Katrina was The Attorney; Alyssa was The Teacher; Drake was The Cowboy; Olivia was The Weapons Expert; Bertrand was The Grump; Madeleine was The Whiner; Maxwell was Bertrand’s brother and The Jester; Hana was The Jill of All Trades. Bertrand and Madeleine had already been voted off when Ruby lost two events. 

Team Catalyst consisted of a group of mostly college students. Jake was The Pilot; Laurel was The Mystery Girl; Sean was The Coach; Michelle was The Doctor, even though she was only pre-med; Craig was The Muscle; Zahra was The Engineer; Aleister was The Slick One; Grace was The Brain; Diego was The Entertainer; Estela was The Huntress. Catalyst lost the last two events, which sent Aleister and Grace packing. 

Everyone settled in to watch the opening credits as they recapped last week’s episode, where Ruby won the immunity challenge and fishing gear by building a makeshift stretcher to rescue and carry Katrina from a jungle crash site to a first aid station on the beach; Catalyst voted Grace out. Burns popped a cheese cube into her mouth as she and her friends watched the two groups deal with day-to-day chores in their respective camps on Day 14 of the show. They chatted about the team members and how much Burns wanted to see Drake take off his shirt to go in the water, despite the knowledge that there were clips of him cuddling with Alyssa; Donna, Ella, and Anitah would keysmash in the group chat any time Liam appeared on the screen, even though he and Katrina were clearly sweet on each other, while Brandy and Alyssa Lauren would ask what was happening or who someone was from the Catalyst team.

—

“Pillows and blankets are nice, but what we could really use is food,” Maxwell said, drawing an octopus in the sand with a piece of driftwood. “I don’t know how much longer I can last on coconuts and rice.” 

“Liam and Drake took the raft out this morning to try fishing with the gear, maybe they’ll get lucky,” Katrina suggested, stirring the pot of rice in the fire. She set the lid on top and stood up from her kimchi squat position, dusting some errant sand off her leg. They both looked out towards the water, as dawn stretched out across the ocean, making out shadowy forms of their friends as they bobbed in the water, just before one of them went under the surface. Behind them, the rest of their friends began to stir awake from the scent of rice cooking. 

Back at the Catalyst camp, Jake sat by the campfire with Estela; they were working on making their own fishing gear from bamboo and camp supplies after losing the previous challenge. Jake fed a length of twine through a handmade fishing pole while Estela sharpened tips on one end of a pile of branches she’d gathered. “Whatcha whittlin’, Katniss?” 

Estela glanced at Jake sideways. “Stakes. Hand over some of that twine, I need it to bind these to make spears.” With a begrudging huff, Jake unfurled the twine and ran it against the edge of the makeshift bench he was sitting on to cut it, before tossing the rest at Estela. 

“How fast can you tie those off? We’re losin’ daylight for a morning catch, if you wanna ride on the raft with me.” 

“Five minutes,” she answered, already working nimbly around a branch to secure the whittled spikes. 

The screen cut back to Ruby’s camp, where Liam and Drake stepped ashore, smiles brighter than the sunrise as Drake held up a fish trap with small rays flapping against one another. 

—

“kjsdhfksjhfksjhfks,” Burns smashed into her keyboard. “Look at my man! With the sea bounty!” 

“mevmnbvmnxb,” Ella smashed back.

“How do you know Drake did all the work? Liam’s just as wet, hahaha,” Donna chortled in response.

—

After killing their catch as humanely as possible - with Alyssa turning her face to Drake’s chest to avoid witnessing it - Leo and Olivia gutted and cleaned the rays before setting them on top of their makeshift grill to cook. Liam and Drake regaled the group with their morning under the water, as they took turns fishing. 

While Team Ruby enjoyed some protein with their rice that morning, members of the Catalyst team glumly spooned rice into their mouths as they sat around the campfire while Jake and Estela dried off; their morning fishing trip had been unsuccessful. 

Later that day, both teams received messages from the host to gather for a reward challenge. Each team made their way to a small lagoon, where they saw a structure floating in the water. A booming voice overhead instructed them to swim out to the structure and await further instructions. Once everyone from both teams had done so, a blue holographic image of the host appeared in the center to explain the rules. “The challenge is simple,” she narrated. “We want to see who can hold their breath the longest. There’s a bar you can use to keep yourself from floating up if you need it. Last one standing earns the prize for the whole team — an overnight trip at the Celestial Hotel, where our rotating film crew goes to rest. You’ll be treated to clean sheets and towels, hot showers, along with a decadent dinner and breakfast menu the next morning, before having to return to your camp.” 

Everyone’s eyes lit up at the incentive of a night away from sleeping on the beach, away from mosquitos, rodents, and the threat of being waterlogged by passing storms. Stomachs gurgled at the thought of hot meals that didn’t consist of rice, and the possibility of cocktails or wine. “Oh, we got this,” Jake murmured quietly to Laurel. “Bet I can hold my breath longer’n any of those Ruby kids.” 

“Is that so?” Leo taunted, overhearing Jake’s comment.

“Just call me Poseidon,” Jake smirked. 

“We’ll see about that,” Leo replied. “You know most of us are from an island, right? We’re basically merpeople.” 

—

“Bets! Bets on who wins this!” Brandy typed into the chat window.

“Sticking with Drake,” Burns typed. “Maybe Hana. She could have another random talent up her sleeve.” 

“My money’s on Liam. Look how broad his chest is,” Anya replied. “He’s got to have massive lungs to match.”

“That makes no sense,” Ella typed, adding a laughing emoji. “But I’m Team Liam anyway.”

“Don’t hate me,” Donna began. “Something tells me Jake isn’t boasting right now.” 

From her screen at home, Alyssa Lauren used Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe to choose Zahra. The rest of the group picked their favorites as the castaways donned goggles and got into the water. 

—

“Ready? Set! Go!” 

Sixteen heads dipped under the water’s surface, with contestants pinching their noses and puffing out their cheeks as an underwater camera filmed them. A handful of them - Olivia, Alyssa, Maxwell, Diego, and Michelle - tapped out under a minute. As the sand settled, thirty seconds passed before Katrina, Laurel, Sean, and Drake headed to the surface. Just after the two minute mark, Hana, Craig, and Zahra gave up, leaving Jake, Liam, Estela, and Leo under the water. 

Jake looked positively peaceful, sandy brown hair swaying with ease in the water. Estela tapped her fingers lightly across the bamboo rod, counting each second as it passed. Liam glanced over to his brother, who’d begun to turn pink. Half a minute later, Leo popped up to the surface, muttering to himself out of frustration. 

Three minutes in, Liam surfaced, gasping for air, leaving Jake and Estela to battle it out between themselves. Even though the hologram host blasted a horn to signal the end of the challenge, neither Catalyst member surfaced. Liam ducked down to check on them, and Jake and Estela both signaled that they were fine. Everyone continued to wait as the pair spent minute after minute under the water.

—

“Seriously? They’re on the same team!” Anitah typed. “They won already!” 

“They’ve been underwater for a scary length of time,” Brandy added. “What are they, Navy SEALs or something?” 

“I think Jake mentioned he was actually in the Navy before,” Alyssa Lauren replied. 

—

A digital clock appeared in the corner of the screen as the two Catalyst members continued to hold their breath underwater. With each passing minute, members from both groups began to worry. After eight minutes passed, the host’s voice rang out, advising them to pull Jake and Estela up from the water to end the challenge. Laurel and Craig ducked down, eventually pulling their teammates up. “Congratulations to The Catalysts!” the host exclaimed. “A boat will be waiting at your camp to take you to the hotel.” 

Laurel swatted Jake’s arm as they made their way to the shore. “What’s wrong with you!? You were underwater for nearly ten minutes! Who does that!?” 

Jake looked over his shoulder to her with a grin, mischievous sparkle in his bright blue eyes. “Ten would be a new record, my best is nine.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Imagine nine uninterrupted minutes of me holding my breath, Princess. My birthday is tomorrow, and I know exactly how I wanna celebrate,” he winked.  

Laurel’s cheeks flushed at the suggestion. “Stop looking at me like that, Top Gun.”

—

That evening at the hotel, after a sumptuous feast of lobster, crab, and an endless supply of beer and wine, the Catalyst members eventually went to bed. Much later into the night, Jake was seen sneaking into Laurel’s room. 

—

“I KNEW IT!” Burns typed. She laughed as her friends typed in responses full of lemon, fire, pepper, and eggplant emojis. She popped another cheese cube into her mouth and smiled, watching the rest of the episode play out.

[embeanwrites]

No Man Left Behind

Commander Cody x Reader (Star Wars)

A/N: Sorry I haven’t posted in a while, break is finally here and I’ve got some time on my hands to do some writing! (Also I suck at Star Wars lore and knowledge sorry!)

Masterlist

"I'm sorry, you want to leave?" (Y/n) practically yelled at General Kenobi. Shocked by his plan of retreat. The Republic was facing a heavy loss of soldiers and tech. (Y/n) knew retreating was the only way to stop more deaths from occurring, but the separatists had taken some clones alive as bait for the Jedi, Grievous was nothing if he wasn't cruel. He had taken Commander Cody and part of his squad, Boil, Waxer, and Trapper.

"If we stay any longer we risk losing more troops, we have to retreat. The council agrees." Obi-Wan attempted to reason with them. Except, while (Y/n) had a lightsaber and fought for the Republic, they did not consider themselves to be a Jedi, they didn't follow the Jedi Code and they also did not have to report to the Jedi Council.

"Leave me a ship." (Y/n) points at Kenobi and before he can attempt to reason with them anymore they've run out of the tent.

"Maker help me, they're going to get as all killed." He mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Taking a deep breath before complying with (Y/n)’s request.

*--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

(Y/n) kept their lightsaber off and used the shadows to their advantage, they knew breaking in would be easier than getting out, but right now all they cared about was finding the boys. Their heart was pounding in their ears, thinking about what Grievous could be doing to Cody for information.

Quickly, (Y/n) pressed themselves to the back of a wall and listened to the droids for any clue on where they were being held.

"The Jedi are retreating, the General says to execute the prisoners as we finish fortifying the barrier, another victory for the Separatists." Their robotic voices filled the hallway. Taking a deep breath, (Y/n) stepped out in front of them, taking them by surprise. Before the droids could even react they held out their hand and through the force began to speak.

"There's an intruder on the third floor, go raise the alarm." The droids turned towards each other and started running the other way. They didn't have much time, hopefully the droids will cause enough chaos that they would have enough time to find Cody and the others and get out.

"General!" They heard a voice whisper, whipping around they saw Boil, Waxer, and Trapper in a cell.

"Boys!" They smiled, pulling out their lightsaber, the green light clashing with the red sparks from destroying the lock on the door. Quickly, (Y/n) looked each over and gave them a hug. "Listen, General Kenobi left behind a ship for us. Waxer, I'm sending you the coordinates you three get there quickly and I'll go find Cody."

"But sir-" Waxer started.

"If we're not there in half an hour, leave and regroup with Kenobi and Skywalker." (Y/n) clapped Waxer on the shoulder and gave him a confident smile as they continued to run down the hallway, expertly avoiding droids.

It didn't take long before (Y/n) could hear Cody deny his torturer any information about the Republic's plans. (Y/n) slowly peaked their head just far enough to see Grievous with two IG-100 Magna Guards. Cody had his eyes shut and his head hung low, he was breathing heavily. They had striped him of his armor leaving him in only his grays.

(Y/n) quickly moved their head and pressed themselves firmly to the wall. If they ran now there was no way they would get themselves and Cody out of here in time, but there was no way that (Y/n) could beat Grievous and two guards. For a moment they thought about distracting them long enough Cody could get away, but (Y/n) knew Cody would rather go down fighting then leaving them behind.

"Kriff." (Y/n) murmured, focusing they closed their eyes and felt their surroundings through the force. Cody was going in and out of consciousness, much to Grievous' displeasure. He needed medical attention stat and rushing in wasn't going to help the situation. Before (Y/n) could figure out anything else the whole base shook and an alarm went off. Through the comms they could hear a droid panicking.

"General, there's a ship outside that just hit our communication tower and-" Before the message could finish (Y/n) heard the sound of lightsabers crashing through the console. Remaining against the wall Grievous and his guards left Cody's cell and headed down the hallway, the alarms distracting them enough they didn't even bother looking their way.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/n) rushed into the room and immediately started working on the restraints. Knowing that the boys were buying them as much time as they could.

"(Y/n)?" Cody's voice sounded hoarse and confused. (Y/n) finished undoing the restraints and caught Cody before he collapsed on the ground.

"Come on Commander. Your team is waiting at the ship, we've got to go." (Y/n) threw his right arm around them and place their other arm around his waist, hoisting him up as much as possible.

"You…should go…" He murmured, (Y/n) ignored him and pulled him along towards where they had come in. "Leave me."

"Sorry, Commander. I'm a big believer in no man left behind." (Y/n) grunted, as they pulled both of them flush against the wall as a couple of droids ran by, no doubt heading to the control center. For a moment (Y/n) thanked the Maker that droids were idiots.

"(Y/n)…" He murmured trying to wrestle out of their grip.

"Cody, dammit! Stop making this more difficult than it has to be!" (Y/n) pulled him up, by leaning forward. He groaned. "Cody, listen to me. I am not leaving here. I stayed behind to get you and your team home. Now they're waiting for us and if we want them to get to safety too then we have to move." (Y/n) looked Cody directly into his eyes. He looked exhausted and so defeated. (Y/n) felt their heart break for a moment. "Come on, we make it out of here and I'll buy you some drinks from 79's, okay?" He let out a low chuckle that caused him to grimace in pain.

They both started moving, a little quicker now, but (Y/n) could tell he was struggling. (Y/n) could only hope that Waxer had the ship nearby and that the ship Kenobi left had enough medical supplies to hold Cody over.

*--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

Once the two made it back to the ship, Trapper and (Y/n) had helped Cody into the medic area and started apply bacta patches. Cody remained unconscious the whole flight back to The Negotiator. (Y/n) refused to leave his side, wishing they had been quicker. How long had he been tortured? How had he stayed so strong?

(Y/n) sighed, running a hand through their hair as they paced the med bay. Kix was finishing up tests and wrapping Cody's wounds, but there was still apart of them terrified.

"(Y/n)." Obi-Wan's clear Coruscanti accent sounded behind them. (Y/n) turned around to face the General. He had his arms cross and a look of disapproval written all over his face.

"Look, I know I went against orders, but I am not apart of the Jedi council and I understand you're still my General. I just couldn't-"

"(Y/n), please." He calmly sighed and gave them a smile. "I have to deal with Anakin and Ahsoka breaking orders constantly, but you saved lives and even if you didn't listen," He sighed. "I'm happy you saved Cody and his men. However, I must request you reconsider joining the Jedi Council." (Y/n) laughed for the first time since this mission had started, Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile.

"I'm sorry General Kenobi. I'm just not one for the Jedi Code, there's just too much out there I want to do, but I will continue fighting along side you all during this war and helping anyway I can."

"I figured as much." He turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway. "(Y/n), please get some rest. I'm sure Commander Cody will wake up soon and be fine."

"Thank you, General." (Y/n) watched him leave and turned around towards where Kix had been examining Cody. Kix was nowhere to be seen and Cody was sitting up drinking some water. (Y/n) smiled gently and walked over to him. "I'm glad to see you awake, Commander." They smiled at him and sat down next to him, causing him to tense.

"Well, I owe that to you. Thank you for saving me, General." (Y/n) made a tsking noise.

"Not a general, Commander!" They reminded him with a smile and he let out a low chuckle.

"General Kenobi still hasn't convinced you?" It was (Y/n)’s turn to chuckle as they shook their head and looked around the med bay.

"I will never be able to agree with how the Jedi handle things, they'd kick me out before I could even do anything."

"I don't know about that, General Skywalker is still here."

"Yeah well, he's got that chosen one energy about him. Me? I'm a pest at best, but a pest that gets the job done." (Y/n) sighed and got up. "Get some rest, Cody. For real take some time and heal." (Y/n) put their hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the thought of almost losing Cody, but (Y/n) leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to Cody's cheek.

"I-" Cody started, but (Y/n) was already halfway out the door.

"Get some rest, so maybe you'll be the one saving me next time!" They shouted, causing Cody to chuckle as Kix came over.

"You both have it bad." Kix teased, causing Cody to roll his eyes and lay back down on the bed. Closing his eyes he could almost feel as if their lips were still pressed against his cheek.

[frightfurtabby]

HimiKiyo Week 2021 Day 3- The Streets are Long-Ass Gutters

Day 3! Time for a Cyberpunk AU. What is vice and what is virtue in a dystopian future where so many have turned to crime to survive in corrupt corporate states?

I forget if I mentioned this in the last post but all the amino crosspost links will be collected and posted at the end of the week on here. 

Word Count: 3,061

Content: Lots of murder, alcohol reference

Links-

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34139533

People were suffering, toiling away at shitty jobs for next to no pay, exploited by the powerful megacorporations. Back in the past it was only nations or gangs that went to war against each other, or against themselves. The trend now for the last 100 years was corporations fighting actual bloody wars against each other instead. Sending out all the low level grunts who they had no use for anymore to die. The worst, darkest parts of humanity were on full display every day whether it was something that made the news or not.

Still, technology progressed even when it seemed everything else had regressed into feudalism. Death and Life became ever more complex as people started being able to be downloaded and uploaded like AI with most if not all memories intact. So what truly counted as being dead now? Stuff that could have killed you before could be better dealt with enough credits to pay someone under the table.

In this backdrop is where Korekiyo grew up their whole life, initially being insulated from much of it. That all changed when they didn’t have my parents protection any more. One of them found it a “step too far” to put the chip with what remained of Sister’s brain in themself. Among other traditionalist qualms about how they dressed and wanted to modify about themself, such as the metal arm and enhanced nervous system. It wasn’t surprising, given how they reacted to people like them any time the topic was in the news.

So for the next few years they were travelling, studying how various people were dealing with their own conditions with a school anthropology department. And yet they weren’t allowed to publish some findings because the “education” megacorp that ran the colleges blocked it.

After becoming fed up with the state of things Kiyo quit and joined a gang, getting to delve in and know more about the so-called Underworld and its inhabitants. People from all walks of life ended up around them: drifters, ex-corpos, sex workers, mercenaries, people who were all of the above and then some. Almost none of it was surprising.

And just a couple weeks ago there was an incident that changed their trajectory again, though it seemed like it was just another in a long line of similar incidents..

A group of Yakuza, emboldened in their power by even more corporate money laundering, at the behest of a giant media conglomerate attacked the headquarters of a rival channel. They overheard that performers were one the upper floors which included one of the showrunners' nieces, this pulled Kiyo in to follow the hit squad. Spread throughout the floors were average people who hadn’t done anything wrong and not all of them were going to be saved.

They met Himiko Yumeno and saved her life because of being in the right place at the right time. As though it were destiny.

She was  holed up in a locked room and caught a glimpse of a metal arm holding a steady gun and assumed it was one of the attackers, taking Kiyo down suddenly as they searched for people to help. It took a few moments of pleading to clear up the misunderstanding on their part and help her open up an emergency door for the rest of the show’s cast. It was here they were properly introduced to each other.

“I’m so sorry about that. You can never be too careful.” she said. “So if you’re not with them are you, you don’t look like building security? A cop?”

Kiyo shook their head, they weren’t sure if they could tell her what they really were just yet. Mainly because it wasn’t that much different from what the guys currently murdering a bunch of her co-workers were. “We can talk about that later. I’m not the police either, but they’re coming so we should get out before they come in and we get caught in the crossfire.”

“Fair point.”

Himiko followed behind on the way down the steps and both listened to the shots still ringing out. Some were coming from inside the building but it sounded like the police had rolled up on the front side and were now trading fire in between pleas on their radio to stop the attack.

The streets were going to be blocked off for a pretty wide area, and it had already started. So the two weaved through a back alleyway a few blocks back and found a car left unattended by one of the gang squads.

“I’ll hotwire this, get in.” Kiyo placed a hand on the door and scanned the lock requirements and transformed a finger into just the right shape of key to unlock it. She was sighing in relief, tired of running or being on edge already. Even though it couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes since the start of the raid it felt like every moment stretched on for hours.

Kiyo tapped the driver's side glass to run a check and found it to be bulletproof. They weren’t sure if the passenger’s side was equally protected, but the front pane definitely was knowing how important getaway driver’s were considered.

The car started up and Kiyo shot out of the alley fast enough to send a can of trash flying up, and swerved out onto the road. The blockade wasn’t out this far yet, there was probably a shortage of them on the force again. This even had a police scanner in it, to track them. With just a little bit of a tweak it could also send signals out. They considered for a moment if it was worth it. They didn’t think any good would come of anyone following potentially.

So instead they start using their cyborg arm to start fiddling and turn off tracking and both the dash cam on the front and any bio-scanners inside that would prove they had commandeered this vehicle. It was breaking several laws, yes, but it was saving a life. Nothing they weren’t already used to.

Another car sped up to get right behind them. It was the same kind of model, so definitely one of the attackers. Possibly saw the theft or came when it stopped giving a signal. Either way they were now being followed. And when one followed there was likely going to be more. Either by the police who may think they were involved or by crooks mad their car was taken.

They passed the gun to her. “Here, use this should it come to that.”

Traffic picked up further away from the scene they got so it was harder to weave through quick enough until they hit the freeway. Too many witnesses were made to even properly count. And the brief slow down allowed the other vehicle to graze their side, causing Kiyo to need to swerve and almost over-correct around the next corner.

Their company got even and then picked up speed to pull a little bit ahead, the back window rolled down like their passenger side. A man inside was shouting and going for a weapon on his belt, his words drowned out by the speed of air caused by the race, and he wouldn’t get to finish because Himiko fired twice, sending him backwards into his seat and out of sight.

Kiyo sped up again, hearing a cacophony of honks from civilian vehicles upset at being forced to pull to the shoulder. The enemy driver steadied and muttered a prayer before grinding against the passenger side and attempted his own shot only for the third bullet from Himiko embed itself into the arm he was aiming with, causing it to miss and puncture the ceiling of the stolen vehicle.

Himiko’s adrenaline was pumping. Someone was already dead or going to be soon at her hands. Even if it was defensive, the very thought terrified her.

And yet the driver didn’t give up. He grabbed it with his other hand and drove with the forearm of his injured side to go and ram them again. This time another car got between them as Kiyo veered to create distance and avoid rear-ending the unfortunate motorist.

“Listen, please fire again the next time you see him.” Kiyo asked.

She was shaking, and nodded. There wasn’t much to say. It was what had to be done.

The back seat was hit several times, even shattering the windows, before Himiko had a good shot a throwing knife whizzed into her and the sharp edge cut one of her hands. And her return volley hit the door of the driver, who was reloading. In just a few more seconds he would have bullets with her name on them. That knife was to buy him time.

So she used the last shot, shaking off the pain momentarily, and due to how he was hunched over the bullet entered his jaw and he crashed into the wall as he spasmed and convulsed.

Leaving only their car speeding away… for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Surprisingly, nobody else came. A trip to the outer limits of the city got them away. Kiyo parked in a back alley lot and immediately went and cracked open the trunk. As expected, there were more weapons and some medical supplies for those who were hurt on the job.

She sat down on a milk crate, wincing. “God, this hurts so bad.” She held her opposite hand around her cut to prevent herself from bleeding everywhere as Kiyo brought over the med kit. Blood from her wound was already covering her skirt and leggings.

“That was a close call, I’m glad you’re a surprisingly good shot.” Kiyo said, taking some time to clean and disinfect her first.

“Surprisingly? What’s that supposed to mean?” she huffed at the tall stranger. People were always thinking she was some pushover because she was short and looked young.

Kiyo let the blood soak some before checking how deep the wound was. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything too serious. Wrapping it in some gauze did the trick.

“I don’t mean to offend, but I’ve not seen you fire anything before. How was I supposed to know at that moment?”

“I…” Himiko sighed “I guess you’re right. Thanks by the way. You saved my life.”

“We’re… not entirely out of the clear just yet.” Kiyo said as they got up and dumped the license plate into the alley’s dumpster, quickly covering it with more trash that was littered about, they’d stolen it from the car. It was a bit old fashioned but it would be another piece of evidence that could connect the car to the scene they’d just escaped. Any conclusive proof the gang or cops could find should be destroyed.

“When will we be in the clear?” the girl asked,

She watched her new companion pouring oil from a drum onto the vehicle. And motion her to get back. She took the pack with the rest of the useful medical supplies and Kiyo removed the case of weaponry and looked it over.

“Only when we get to my place. You should probably stay a few days so the hunt dies down… maybe I could put you with a friend in the same-”

“I’m sure your friends are good and all but… I don’t know them yet, I want to stay with you if I gotta pick.”

Kiyo nodded in understanding. “Well then, we’re about.” The tall one did some mental math, checking in quickly with the chip in their head that sped that process up. “35 miles northeast of the complex I live in.”

“And your ride is on the way?”

Kiyo nodded in the affirmative “Indeed. It won’t be very much longer now in fact. It’ll be a couple more blocks up so we’re out of the way when… this goes off.” Then they flicked a match onto the end of the line of oil and rushed with her away.

The way back to the apartment was tense and paranoid. Kiyo put on the online radio to keep track of the news about the situation, switching stations occasionally if they switched coverage to something else or there was nothing new. Chatter online indicated about half the building’s occupants went down with at least injuries. The exact death toll wouldn’t be out until everything had been secured.

“Should I call and tell people I’m okay? I… don’t exactly want to show up as missing on the national news.” Himiko said, shifting nervously in her chair.

“Yes, you can tell someone you trust.” It would look bad if they let their paranoia convince them not to allow her to. Seeming like a kidnapper would just bring unwanted attention. Their associates would be mad and sister told them she didn’t exactly want to spend her time sticking around to just be spent behind bars.

One press and it went to her contact. “I’m okay, I got out. I’ll be in hiding for now. I’m with another friend.”  She had to keep it short on the low battery, unfortunately. Even with being weary of this person still, she thought better of revealing anything more.

She hung up with a farewell after a few more seconds and turned it back off, complaining to the only other who was around to listen. “Of all the days for me to leave the charger at home. Angie even reminded me not to do that.”

“Angie? That’s not a name you hear much in Japan.”

“It’s not, she’s actually from one of those islands out in the pacific. Used to be an American colony before well…”

Kiyo nodded. The United States of America had long since broken up due in part to the corporate wars and there really wasn’t any recognized entity that was still calling itself that. So all the non-mainland territories broke away. Many still are under the boot of large companies whether they were locally built or arrived from overseas since the islands were so rich in natural resources that couldn’t be found in many other places.

The conversation branched out from there, keeping both of their minds occupied with something other than the dread of having even more of those guys after them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During the apartment tour Kiyo showed Himiko around. The kitchenette, which was stocked with microwave instant noodles and burritos, featured a ton of soda and alcohol in the small fridge. All of it was cheap and/or synthetic stuff, clearly Shinguji wasn’t someone living in the lap of luxury.

Then there was the main room. It was in the center, the kitchenette was a small area to the left side. It had tile instead of carpet denoting the otherwise almost nonexistent boundary. There were very few doors: one leading outward to the balcony, one leading to the lone bedroom, and a third leading to the lone bathroom.

“Would you like to sleep out here? It’s generally pretty safe…”

“You look like you’re about to hit me with a huge ‘but’”

“Last month someone tried to break in. They were high off something and thought this was their unit. And rumor has it someone’s found ways to pick locks around here. Mine are up to date enough but you know how it is with malware.”

“Then I’ll sleep uh, in your room. If that’s okay.”

Kiyo agreed, showing her the large bed. It could easily fit both of them even though the majority of the time nobody but Kiyo was using it. There was a wardrobe and a work desk. The work desk held all of their weapons and tech. Many tools were used to keep everything working.

“And yes before you ask, I am too poor to afford all of this. A lot of it is stolen.” Kiyo explained. “Often from people who met an unfortunate fate like our attackers earlier.” Kiyo added the new goods to the collection by putting it on top of the desk.

Thankfully the blinds were always shut on this room. Kiyo had boarded it up and sealed the heat in that way because every so often in places as rundown as this you’d get a window shot out for no real reason other than some assholes felt like it.  

A few hours later they had crawled in and tried to rest. At some point somebody must have wanted more warmth because upon waking up the next morning Kiyo noticed they were now huddling together, arms around the other. It would be a delicate thing to get out of the embrace without waking her up too.

They hesitated. They didn’t have any urgent jobs at this hour, all of those were planned specifically to be later. So was it really wrong to stay put and just see how she’s doing? It was a rough day yesterday after all.

Even with the window boarded up small cracks of light fluttered through. A small reminder the outside still had beauty in it.

Himiko woke up moments later, finding herself curled up to Kiyo and realizing she’d been the one to start being so close. An impulsive thought she wasn’t awake enough to second guess herself. It was odd, how they seemed to be more awake but didn’t leave her.

They sat up and said “Good morning. Sleep well?”

She followed suit and rubbed the gunk out of her eyes. “Yeah. I… hope waking up like that didn’t bother you. I-”

“It doesn’t”

She was ready to profusely apologize so hearing that took a moment to process. “Huh?”

“It was quite nice. It’s been a while since I’ve felt anything as warm as that.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Should I be?”

“Well… no, and I kinda liked it too.” she said shyly, turning to sit down on the edge of the bed, putting some distance between them. “You doing anything today?”

Kiyo consulted their chip again. “No work today, we’ll be hanging out with some people from my crew this afternoon.”

“I look forward to it. I needed a bit of a vacation its just…” she sighed.

“How it happened wasn’t desirable?”

Himiko laughed. “That’s an understatement. It actually sucks so much.” crying broke through and took over. It took almost half a day for what happened to even really sink in. “Everything sucks so fucking much.”

Kiyo offered some tissue from the bedside drawer and Himiko took it, thanking them.

[unstoppableforcce]

the fight — part two

pairing: Poe Dameron x CMO! reader

part one | next part | masterlist

a/n: WARNING— a pretty graphic piece, medical kind of graphic and well, emotionally tolling so just be aware! I never mean to make my writing this angsty, I know you don’t believe me but this is just what happens

(and a secondary warning that I’m not a doctor, I don’t play one on tv, space medicine isn’t real and I’m kinda making it up as I go but buddy transfusions are a real thing)

“Where is the kriffing chief medical officer!”

Not that screaming in your med bay was something you typically allowed, but it wasn’t uncommon. This however, was not the normal kind of screaming. This was what sounded like a grown man on the verge of tears shouting louder than his throat could even manage and it send a surge of fear through you that you couldn’t come close to properly quantifying.

It was Finn, tears streaming down his dust and blood covered face. And as if that hadn’t already struck a tone of overwhelming anxiety through your entire form, leaping you up and out of your seat at the nurses station, the trailing team of equally as distressed and damaged soldiers behind him only made it worse. You legs could not physically carry you to the entrance of the med bay fast enough for your heart which leapt out of your chest the second you heard the cries.

You barely made it two steps from the station before a man collapsed behind Finn, and it only took two more steps before you realized that it was your second-in-command.

Ripping a package of bandages open, you got to Finn first, trying to stabilize him as he continued to stumble in just as the rest of the team behind him did, but he fought your grip the second you laid it on him.

“No!” He screamed, pushing you off of him, “you have to help him—“

Glancing to your staff already tending to your second, you shook your head and tried to get Finn to stop moving, “it’s okay, they have him—“

“No!” He shouted again, “it’s Poe.”

Saying your heart dropped wasn’t close to a good descriptor of the sudden spectrum of emotions you were feeling. Numb wasn’t close either, the opposite actually, you were feeling everything at once. But more than the shock and horror that sent your heartbeat skyrocketing through the meager med bay, you were struck by a wave of desparity as you found yourself clinging to Finn’s jacket, which had previously been Poe’s jacket, trying to keep yourself stable instead of the other way around.

It was a desparity for information, a starved hunger bursting from your chest as your bitten down nails managed to claw into the worn leather around his arms.

“What’s Poe, where is he—“

“They can’t move him and the comms aren’t working—“ Finn fought through his tears, sniffling out a mess of dust lodged in his sinuses, his tears fighting with the blood that cascaded down the ridges of his face from the gash above his brow.

“Where is he, what happened—“

“In the hanger, none of the comms are working, we tried to—“

Your hand reached for the collar of the nearest medical staff you could grab, practically shoving them into Finn to help as you tripped over the calamity in your doorway to grab the nearest kit of supplies and take off in your fastest sprint for the nearby hanger. Everyone in the halls moved fast, trying to deal with whatever the hell had just happened in their own departments, but none of them moving as fast as you, and all of them clearing out of the way as they saw you barreling towards them.

At some point in your sprint, you heard a chorus of beeps going off, one from your communicator strapped to your belt and about another hundred from everyone else flooding the halls. Clearly whatever communication problem there had been was solved, but you didn’t pay it a single thought as you continued on, still not able to move as fast as you pleaded at your legs to take you.

By the time you stumbled into the hanger, you heard shouting from the wreck of a transport carrier on the far side of the floor, shouts which quickly turned to pleads for medical help as you got closer to hear them clearer. And by the time Snap saw you, his voice was screaming with the same desperate vulnerability that Finn’s voice had been laced with, throat clenched by fear, anger and a plethora of other emotions as he screamed, “medic!” at the top of his lungs from the ramp of the ship.

“Move!” You shouted as you reached the edge of the crowd and move they did, everyone practically throwing themselves out of the way as they noticed you, but still not fast enough.

And no matter how long the run over had taken you, you still hadn’t thought about what you would find once you got there. No amount of fear in Finn’s tone or gnawing anguish in Snap’s could have prepared you for when you finally came to a slow pace on the ramp, completely out of breath, and found Poe propped up against the inside cabin wall, blood pouring from his lips and an obvious wound on his stomach, futilely covered with fabric but no pressure being applied.

The range of emotions were back, and every single one of them fought with the other, trying to work their way to the forefront of your mind as you tried to process what you were seeing. None of them won though, it was a viscous and bloody battle in your head but something else pushed them all aside, your screaming heart that forced you onto your knees at his side and kept your tears at bay long enough to start applying pressure to the wound.

“Snap!” You shouted, not even realizing your voice was laced with exactly what theirs was when they shouted, pure and unadulterated fear, “Snap, I need your hands!”

He was by your side as soon as you called and you quickly ripped the useless fabric away and replaced it with medical gauze, then replaced your hands with his own.

“Push harder, as hard as you can.” You ordered with a shaking breath and perfectly steady hands.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Your fingers trailed over the rest of his body, his legs first than his chest, searching for other outward bleeder but found none, moving to find the faintest of pulses at his neck instead. “Somebody get a body board from medical, now!”

There was no time to check if someone was actually moving to do it, there was no time to care about anyone else but the man in front of you and the weak heartbeat he was giving you. Moving for the kit, you raided the section with medication, scanning over every label for what felt like hours before you found the right one and a needle to measure some out with. It wasn’t going to be a cure all but for now, it should give him a bit of life back, enough to get him to medical for some real treatment.

He stirred at the feeling of the needle entering his arm, the first bit of life you had actually seen from him since you got there, but it was far from comforting as his pulse still refused to pick back up.

“Poe, come on, Poe, I need you to wake up.” You hit the wall behind his head, trying to rack your brain for something of an idea but got nothing from the recesses of your memory, instead turning back to the door and shouting again, “I need the body board now!”

“Is he—“

“Don’t, Snap, just keep the pressure.” You were doing a lot of shouting but if anyone around had a problem with it, you certainly didn’t care and you knew Snap definitely didn’t. He just pressed his hands down harder, earning a low groan from Poe’s blood coated lips.

You kept your fingers on his pulse, feeling a slight uptick in power but nothing that relaxed you any and looking back to the crowd just outside the ship, you didn’t have very high hopes of getting a body board in the next thirty seconds. So you reached your hands underneath him as best you could, trying to find another source of damage. The wound on his stomach was bad but the bleeding was being stopped the best it could and the medicine should’ve helped with that, there had to be another injury, he had to be bleeding from somewhere else.

“Oh Stars.” You cursed as you found a damp patch of uniform coating the back side of his thigh, your gloved hand returning completely stained with blood.

“I didn’t even see that—“

You didn’t have time to comfort Snap, your hands moving too fast for the belt on your uniform, ripping it out of the loops and quickly wrapping it around his upper thigh. He was losing too much blood and he was losing it too fast for a bacta patch to clear things up immediately.

Returning to the kit at your side, you pulled out the longest tube you could find, almost ancient technology now that bacta tanks were so easy to find, and started a line from the bag your pulled out.

“Whoa, hey, doc—“ Snap saw you moving but his hands stayed tight to Poe so even he couldn’t stop you before you threw your coat off, rolled up your sleeve, tied a tight band around your upper arm, and plunged the needle into your own skin. “What the kriff are you—“

“We have the same blood type.” You ripped a piece of tap off the spool, now working with only one hand and your teeth to do it, taping the needle in your arm down before moving for another tube, connecting the bag to Poe. Liquid crimson flowing straight from you to the bag in the middle to Poe’s arm.

“Can you even—“

“Yes, I’ve done it before.”

There was no time for the memories of the Bracca scrapper you barely saved from a dangerous fall, there was only time for Poe your mind decided, pushing the violent memory back down with all the rest of the emotions you were suppressing to keep him alive. You could deal with it later, right now you needed a body—

“Body board coming in!” Someone shouted from behind you, and you considered a sigh of relief but couldn’t even manage that much, not until you and Snap had him loaded on the board, the doctor who came with it forcing you to sit in the end by his feet to keep the two of you connected.

He kept talking, the doctor who wheeled you and Poe back to medical, but you either couldn’t hear him or weren’t listening, your hand still desperately pressed to the side of his neck in search of a pulse, one you found that was growing slightly stronger every second that passed.

“Doctor!” He finally shouted as Snap helped him around a corner in the hall, “I need to know that you can hear me—“

“I can hear you.”

“Are you out of your mind, a transfusion like that could kill you—“

You went back to ignoring him, the doors of the medical bay finally coming up, prompting you to jump off the bed as they slowed to a stop. A nurse pointed you in the right direction and you helped the other doctor continue to move the bed into the trauma bay before two other doctors stepped up to take Poe from you.

“We have to get you disconnected—“ he argued, holding you in place as you moved to help move Poe onto the bed, you fought him as best you could, but as they hooked Poe up to the machines and bacta infusion rigs, you realized there was nothing else you could do. “Please, let me—“

But you still fought anyways, “I need to—“

“I’m taking this out.” He was talking to you like you were some lost child, you weren’t some lost child. Your blood covered gloves reached up to shove him away from you, they needed to be focusing on Poe...

His hands kept you steady as you began to sway, either the emotional tsunami you suppressed to do you work was catching up to you or your own donated blood loss was, either way, you grew weaker in your futile attempts to protest and he eventually got you disconnected from Poe.

“He needs—“

“They’ve got him, you did all that you could, now let surgery do their job—“ he pleaded, bandaging your arm that was already beginning to bruise from your crude field IV start.

“I need to—“

“You’ve got to calm down,” he tried to soothe but comfort was the last thing you needed right now.

You needed to hit a wall, you needed to scream or tear your hair out and you couldn’t do any of it, frozen in place and feeling nothing at all. Nothing but a need to do something, anything...

His fingers were on your pulse now, like you were the one who had gotten blown up or shot or whatever had happened to Poe, you hadn’t even considered asking, so focused on keeping him alive that you lost all matter of perception...

He had been lead on the mission, the whole crew had come in tattered and destroyed, Finn was hurt, your second had collapsed and that should have been you...

“Oh stars, the others—“ he couldn’t even keep your weakened form at bay as you pressed past him, slightly light headed but fighting through it even against your better judgment or the calls from him behind you, begging you to stop.

The entire medical bay was in disarray, patients being treated in the entrance and trauma stations, every nurse and doctor with their hands full and you were selfish enough to practically take yourself out of commission... you were supposed to be on the mission. You had begged and pleaded and argued until your throat hurt about how stupid an idea it was to risk everything and now your hands were covered with blood and Poe was in surgery and you had blown him off when he came to say goodbye...

You had been in surgery, it hadn’t even been five hours since then...

You blew him off when he came to say goodbye because you were mad about the mission. And you had been right. You had been right and now the already dwindled forces of the resistance were beaten beyond recognition as the powerful unit they used to be, the doctors overwhelmed, and hope basically banished from your heart the second you saw the man you loved bleeding out in your hands.

“I’m sorry about this.” He had said as you peeked your head out of the surgical center, “I don’t like you being mad at me—“

“I think I’m right, you think you’re right, I don’t know what to tell you...” you had shrugged. Neither of you were going to apologize, your respected your own opinions too much to do it or expect the other to, it was a standstill and neither of you were going to cave and you both knew it.

You lost, you were mad and he knew it and wasn’t going to apologize.

It was a standstill, a cold and heartbreaking standstill that the two of you were too stubborn to let yourselves out of.

“Listen I...” he didn’t even have a way to finish the sentence, and if you were being honest, you didn’t want him to anyways. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips and sighed against them, refusing to pull away. “I love you.”

“I know.” You sighed back, pulling away from his lips. “I’ve got to get back in here.”

“Yeah...”

That was the last thing you said to him... you didn’t even say you loved him back, it was pathetic. There was nothing mature about the fight, you lost the debate, the decision was made and you should’ve gotten over it and you should’ve told him you loved him too.

You ripped the gloves off your hand, tossing them aside and tried to search the crowd for Finn’s instead you found Leia making a beeline to you.

“Did I hear you did a person to person transfusion by yourself? Are you out of your mind? What were you thinking, you could’ve killed yourself—“

All of her anger was well placed, she made perfect sense, she always did. You almost wanted her to slap you, you deserved it at this point. This was all your fault. You could hear screaming and shouting and your medical bay was about to turn into a graveyard and you couldn’t do anything about it—

“Doctor?” Her voice softened, her hands reaching out for your elbows, stopping you from a sway you didn’t even realize you were doing as tears fought their way down your face. “Are you—“

This was all your fault. You should have never let them go, you knew better and this was all your fault...

“I need help!”

They all needed help, all of your staff was scrambling and it was you who put them in this position. You were responsible for every single one of them and you were the one causing problems now, not even the First Order, this was all your—

“Please—“ was Leia pleading to you now? She was supposed to be mad, to be furious with you—

Your feet went out for under you and you collapsed to the floor, Leia’s grip nowhere near enough to keep you upright as the weight of everything you suppressed upon seeing Finn’s desperation came crashing down all at once.

There was more shouting, you couldn’t hear any of it.

[thebookreader12345]

Unexpected

Pairing: Blake Gallo x reader

Summary: Y/N tells Blake some news he didn’t expect to hear, and the way he reacts makes her regret saying anything in the first place. But when Y/N is in an accident, he has to rethink his future

Requested: No

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and severe injuries, slight reference to abortion/adoption

Word Count: 2,341 Words

The whole firehouse was standing outside, sign at the ready. Blake was doing a 13 mile run today, and he was going to pass the firehouse any second now. He was even running in full PPE gear to raise awareness for cancer in firemen. I was bundled in my coat, and a beanie was resting on my head.

“Here he comes! Hold up the banner!” Stella shouted. Her along with a few others held the up banner they had made with the words “Go! Gallo! Go!” written on it. That’s when Gallo arrived, and when he saw the banner, a smile graced his lips. I cheered louder than the rest of the firehouse because Blake also happened to be my boyfriend, and I was really proud of him for doing this.

“You’ve got this babe!” I cheer. Blake then began jogging over in my direction, and when he reached me, he pulled me in for a kiss. I cupped his cheeks with my hands, and I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. His whole face had a reddish tint to it, possibly because he was running 13 miles in full gear, but it made him look adorable. “I love you,” I tell Blake as he pulled away.

“Love you too,” Blake replied before going off to continue his run. As Blake ran off, I suddenly felt a bit dizzy. I grabbed onto Ritter, who was closest to me, and he caught me in his arms as I sort of collapsed.

“Y/N! You okay?” Sylvie asked as Ritter wrapped an arm around me to keep me steady.

“I-I’m fine. Just got a bit dizzy,” I answer.

“You, fainted, Y/N. That’s not normal. Come on. We’re going to take you to Med,” Emily spoke and took me from Ritter’s arms. Her and Sylvie got me into the ambulance, and then we started the drive to Med. Thankfully, they didn’t put the sirens on, because I didn’t want to cause a scene over nothing. At the hospital, I was put into a trauma room, and a few minutes later, Dr. Manning walked in.

“Hey, Y/N. I heard you kind of fainted earlier. Everything okay?” Natalie questioned.

“I just got dizzy for a moment. I’m sure it was nothing,” I respond.

“Okay, but I want to run a few tests just to be sure. We’ll get you out of here as soon as possible,” Natalie told me. After about 2 hours, Natalie came back, meaning my tests were done. “Okay, so your blood pressure was a very low earlier. Have you eaten anything today?”

“I had a granola bar earlier, but before I could eat breakfast, we got a call,” I explain.

“Well, you’re going to need to be more on top of your eating now that you’re eating for two,” Natalie informed me.

“I-I’m sorry. What did you just say?” I ask.

“One of the tests detected hCG in your blood. It means that you’re pregnant. 6 weeks,” Natalie clarified. “So, who’s the lucky guy? Would it happen to be Blake Gallo, the very man standing right outside?”

“He’s out there? Please tell me he can’t hear us from out there,” I plead.

“Uh, no. He can’t hear us. Is there something wrong, Y/N?” Natalie quizzed.

I didn’t answer her, and instead asked another question. “Is it okay for me to go?”

“Sure. But Y/N, I think that you’ll be a great mother, and if Blake loves you as much as I believe he does, then he’s going to ecstatic,” Natalie confessed.

“Yeah. Sure. Bye, Nat,” I say and leave the room, only to bump into Blake.

“Hey. I got a call from Ritter saying that Brett and Foster were taking you to Med, so as soon as I finished the marathon I came straight here,” Blake said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I didn’t eat much today, so my blood pressure was low. That’s why I fainted. Nothing else is wrong,” I lie. “Can we get going?”

“Yeah. Of course. We can stop by the firehouse to get your stuff and then we can head to my place,” Blake answered.

“Actually, can you just drop me off at my apartment?” I question.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re looking a bit pale,” Blake exclaimed.

“I’m fine. I just want to get some sleep,” I murmur. Blake nodded and led me out to his car, and after we grabbed my stuff from the firehouse, he dropped me off at my apartment. I wanted to get some sleep, but all I could think about was the life growing inside of me, and how I would eventually have to tell Blake and everyone else. I should probably do it sooner than later, considering I had a dangerous profession, but part of me didn’t want to say anything. Blake and I had only been together a few months, and I didn’t want to ruin our relationship. At my next shift, the day was pretty slow. We hadn’t had any calls, which was unusual seeing as we were the busiest house. All I wanted to do was be alone, so I went into the gear closet and sat on the floor. After sitting there for a few minutes, I suddenly began to cry. I couldn’t help myself. It felt like my life was falling apart by the second. That’s when the door to the closet opened, and in walked Blake Gallo, the person I didn’t want to see.

“Hey,” Blake mumbled and crouched down in front of me. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry,” I sob as more tears fell from my eyes.

“Sorry for what?” Blake asked and used his thumbs to wipe the tears from my face. “You haven’t done anything wrong?” This caused more tears to escape, and I could see worry painted all over Blake’s features. I didn’t want to have to do this now, but I knew deep down that I had to. Blake needed to know.

“Blake, I’m pregnant,” I state.

“W-what?” Blake questioned.

“When I was at Med the other day, Natalie ran a few tests to make sure that nothing was seriously wrong with me, and she discovered that I was pregnant. I should have told you sooner, but I couldn’t bring myself to,” I disclose. Blake sat down across from me, and I could tell he was thinking about something from the look on his face. He was probably trying to figure out when this had happened, but I already knew. Natalie said that I was 6 weeks pregnant, and around 6-7 weeks ago, things got heated between Blake and I after a night at Molly’s. We were both so drunk that we forgot to use protection. It soon got to the point where Blake’s silence scared me, so I spoke up. “Can you say something? Please.”

“What do you want me to say?” Blake asked.

“I don’t know. Anything would be nice,” I exclaim.

“Well, I don’t have much to say. Excuse me,” Blake murmured and stood up before exiting the closet. At that moment, my whole world came crashing down. Blake had just walked out without saying a word, which basically meant he didn’t want to deal with a child. And how the hell was I supposed to do this on my own? Of course, there was always adoption or..... I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I couldn’t even think about it. I sighed and wiped the tears from my eyes, and once I felt ready, I exited the closet. That afternoon, we got a call about a house fire. Upon arriving at the scene, Casey was already doling out orders.

“L/N, you and I are going to examine the second floor and check for victims,” Matt ordered. I nodded and put my helmet on my head. As I went to walk towards the house, Blake grabbed a hold of my arm to stop me. I shook him off and continued walking towards the house, placing my mask on before heading inside. Flames were raging around us, and even through my gear, I could feel the heat. Matt then walked up the stairs with me following behind him. Smoke was gathering on the ceiling of every room, and it was getting hard to see. As we got to the second floor, we discovered a woman crawling towards the doors. “Ma’am, you’ve got to get out of here,” Matt demanded.

“I can’t,” the woman protested. “My husband. I think he’s still inside.”

“I’ll find him,” I tell Matt. “You get her outside.”

“Are you sure?” Matt asked me.

I nodded. “I’ve got this.” Matt then helped the woman up, and they made their way back downstairs. I poked my head into the first door, and looked around. “Fire Department! Call out!” No one answered, and it didn’t look like anyone was in there, so I moved onto the room down the hall. Just then, Boden came over the radio.

“L/N, get out of there! The place is about to blow!” Boden exclaimed.

“Just a minute, Chief. There could be another victim in here,” I reply and enter the next room, which had fire raging everywhere. As I stepped inside, the ceiling above me hissed, and seconds later, wooden beams and other materials fell from above. I moved out of the way just in time, but the bad news was that the doorway was now covered, and there was no way out. I looked around as the fire spread, hoping to find something that could get me out of here, and that’s when I saw the paint cans everywhere. This room was being remodeled. Just my luck because paint was highly flammable. At that moment, the fire reached the paint cans, and I had to make a split second decision. I ran at the window and threw myself into the glass, causing it to easily shatter. I flew from the second story just as the explosion went off behind me, sending flames out of every window in the house. I was in the air for a few seconds, and then came the fall. I hit the ground hard on my side, sending waves of pain through my body. Seconds later, I was being surrounded by my fellow co-workers.

“Y/N!” Matt shouted and removed my mask from my face. “Brett! Foster! We need some help over here!” My vision started going in and out as the pain became stronger. My whole body felt heavy, and I felt paralyzed. There was nothing I could do but sit here and take it. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was the face of Blake Gallo.

Blake’s POV

Y/N’s head fell limp as I reached her, and I was immediately filled with worry. Brett and Foster ran over to us with their supplies, and Matt and I helped them slide the backboard under Y/N before lifting her up onto the gurney. 

“I’m thinking possible broken hip, maybe some internal bleeding. We need to get her to Med now,” Sylvie spoke and placed a breathing mask over Y/N’s face.

“What about the baby?” I question.

“Baby? What baby?” Emily asked.

“Y/N’s pregnant,” I tell them. The ride to the hospital was chaos. Y/N wasn’t looking to good, and Sylvie eventually had to intubate her because she wasn’t breathing well enough. Sylvie said that was likely from a broken rib that may have punctured a lung. The whole ride, all I could think about was the baby. I had reacted badly when Y/N first told me, and I didn’t want her to think I didn’t care. When we got her the hospital, Will Halstead met us at the door.

“You have to save her, man. You have to save both of them,” I exclaim.

“Gallo, I will do everything I can to make sure her and the baby are safe,” Will confessed as he rolled her gurney into one of the empty trauma rooms.

Y/N’s POV

When I woke up, I felt a bit groggy. Like I had just woken up from a very deep sleep. I felt a bit of pain, but it was mostly muted down. I groaned and opened my eyes to see that I was in a hospital room. That’s when I remembered the fall, and I started freaking out a bit. Was the baby okay? Will then entered the room with his chart.

“I’m glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?” Will asked.

“I’m fine. How’s the baby?” I question.

“The baby is fine. It’s almost a miracle. That fall should have caused you more severe injuries,” Will explained. I let out a breath that I didn’t even know I was holding in. I was so grateful that the baby was okay. “Gallo is waiting outside. You want me to send him in?”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I need to talk to him.” Will nodded and left the room, and seconds later, Blake walked in.

“Hey,” Blake murmured and took a seat in the chair next to my bed.

“Hey. Look, Blake, I know this is unexpected, and you don’t have to agree with me, but uh, I’m keeping the baby,” I inform him.

“That’s great, because I want to keep it too,” Blake responded. “Back at the firehouse, I had no right to leave you in the dark like that. We should have talked things through, and instead I left you alone. I know we’re young, but I love you, and I will love this baby more than anyone else in the world.”

I smiled. “That means a lot, Blake. I’m super scared, but I think we can survive this.”

“Me too. You get some rest, okay?” Blake told me and stood up.

“Actually, can you stay? I don’t want to be alone right now,” I say.

“Of course,” Blake stated and sat down. “And you know, while we’re alone, we could start discussing baby names.”

I laughed. “It’s a bit too early for that, but okay. So, what did you have in mind?”

____________________________

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[rainofaugustsith]

Ror Takes Ossus

** Ossus spoilers, anti-Doc; snide Jedi comments. ***

Ror tackled Ossus tonight, and it was fun. Of course it's an AU for her. I think Ror is a shining example of how the saboteur route does not seem even a little plausible for some characters. For her, it's completely unbelievable that anyone would or should trust her, Republic-side.

In my headcanon, Satele Shan and Jenari knew damn well she was DS, and Satele’s efforts are the only thing that kept her from being sent off to Belsavis as a Fallen Knight. Satele also helped her when she fled, by not sending anyone to pursue her and bring her back. This change of sides to the Jedi would not surprise her.  Let's ignore the red lightsaber, open use of the Dark Side and gold eyes for a moment, since the game doesn’t recognize most of that. In the context of the game, Ror’s choices still make Daerunn’s trust implausible. Given that she has allied with the Sith Empire every chance she could, and given that even in the class story and SoR Satele called her out for being DS, she is not convincing in returning to the Jedi/Republic fold. 

Caption: NR-O2: I trust you’ll treat this operation with the discretion it deserves.

Yeah, okay, sure, Ror is great at being subtle. *smirk* 

When she tells Lana she wants to be a saboteur, Lana's not at all surprised. That is how it's scripted, true, but nobody who is at all observant would be shocked.

Aaaand yet, General Shark and the Jedi trust her on Ossus. Um. Okay. Right. I decided to send her over in an Imperial shirt to really illustrate how ridiculous this is.

So off we go to help the kindly old Jedi Master who is kindly studying the Sith so he can exterminate them from the galaxy. And that's okay because the Jedi just shit rainbows and when they suggest genocide in their own source media it's clearly not true. /sarcasm

Here's Ror sabotaging the Republic's water supply...right in front of Tau, who undoubtedly would completely approve of this course of action and would not comment on it. O_o 

I mean, come on, this is obvious. She's out there breaking things in broad daylight. Not very subtle or believable, devs. The conversation choices kept asking about Doc. Dude. Unless Doc is volunteering himself as Geonosian food, I assure you Ror would not want to see him. 

And this? WTF with these convo choices. Why does she have to say something nice to Doc? All these other conversations in the game that have withering choices, but not Doc’s? There’s no reality where they think a Jedi Knight would be unhappy to see him? Caption:  Tau Idair: Malgus or not, we have to get the Old Man back to the colony. Now.  Choices:  - Agreed.  - We should bring Doc here.  - He isn’t the priority. 

Caption:  Doc: We’re a long way from Bugtown on Balmorra. I’m proud of you,.  Choices:  - And I’m proud of you.  - What’s next for the great Doc? - I prefer the old days.  But at least there was this in the end. 

Caption:  Ror: The Alliance isn’t the place for you, Doc.  The sheer rage he shows when he realizes that someone really doesn’t find him cute and appealing, and has told him to leave - that’s chillingly realistic. It’s the way a lot of straight men seem to act when women turn them down.  This was AU of the AUs, though, because Ror’s headcanon is that Doc never joined her crew. She and Kira put up a united front and told Satele Shan straight out that Doc was not welcome on the ship. T7-O1 backed them up. They told Satele that they’d spend all their savings on a med droid or go without, but they were not dealing with this creep. Doc was left on Balmorra to...well, I don’t really care what he did. 

[darkblueboxs]

Holding On and Letting Go

Read here or on AO3

Andrew keeps missing his classes. Aaron shouldn't care, but watching his brother hit self-destruct on his own life turns out to be more difficult than expected.

Apparently, Andrew's protective streak runs in the family.

*

Andrew hasn’t left his room in two days, not that Tilda has noticed. Aaron’s homeroom teacher had flicked her eyes over the empty seat behind Aaron which he normally occupied, but Andrew’s absence had otherwise gone unremarked upon. The rougher kids still parted before Aaron in the corridors, either because they had mistaken him for his twin or because they knew what Andrew would do to them if Aaron came home with a black eye and their name on his lips.

On the third day, Aaron hovers outside the door to Andrew’s room, counting the minutes until the school bus is supposed to pass by. They’re meant to be doing a joint presentation on photosynthesis in their shared bio class, although “joint” is stretching it. The plan is for Aaron to talk while Andrew stands at the projector and, hopefully, switches the slides when Aaron prompts him. It’s a class Aaron usually enjoys, and Miss Woods is usually nice to him, but she had paired him with Andrew for the project in a misguided attempt to help them bond. Hopefully she will give up on the idea when she sees Andrew slouching over the projector while Aaron does all the work.

As much as his brother’s presence is unnecessary to the presentation, Aaron doesn’t want to do it alone, and the participation grade is all that stands between Andrew and another flunked class.

He knocks on the door. Predictably, there is no answer.

Aaron remembers, suddenly, vividly, the day that he pushed the door to his mother’s room open to find her passed out in a pool of her own vomit.

He swallows back the memory like bile, forces down the twitch of his fingers for something more, something strong enough to make the memories leave him alone.

He knows his brother keeps an iron grip on himself, perhaps stronger even than the grip he keeps on Aaron. Andrew is self-destructive in ways that Aaron will never understand, but they have a deal that Andrew won’t break no matter how much Aaron might wish he would by something so mundane as suicide. Nonetheless, the image of Andrew lying dead and forgotten on the other side of the door is a little too vivid for Aaron’s stomach, so he tentatively pushes the door open. Just to make sure.

The room is dark, the air stale. Unless Andrew has a stash of food in his room like Aaron has, he hasn’t eaten in some time. There’s a pile of covers on the bed and the outline of a body beneath them that might be human-shaped. The crack of light from the doorway slices across it like a clever, too dim to show whether it’s moving. The deathly stillness of the room is enough to make Aaron push the door further open until a square of yellow light sets the bed aglow.

He still can’t pick out the regular rise-and-fall movement of breath, which is the only reason he steps into the room. Andrew is prickly and volatile at the best of times, but Aaron learned the hard way that he has boundaries carved in stone when it comes to his personal space. Aaron doesn’t think he’s been in Andrew’s room since he moved in with them; the lack of personal artefacts leave the spare room indistinguishable from before Andrew moved in aside from a mess of dirty laundry scattered across the floor and a sweaty, teenage-boy musk that tells Aaron exactly how long it has been since Andrew opened a window.

There’s a fluff of blonde hair peaking out from the covers somewhere near the headboard, but still no sign of life. It’s the paranoia that pushes Aaron onwards, taking the corner of the comforter and pulling it down to expose Andrew’s face.

He doesn’t even see the eyes flashing open; it’s the instant clamping of a hand around his wrist that has a rush of air leaving Aaron’s chest as he flinches from the contact. Andrew’s knuckles are white around his arm, cutting off the blood supply to Aaron’s hand so brutally that Aaron feels like he’s about to amputate it.

“I’ll kill you,” says Andrew in a flat croak. It sounds like the first words he’s spoken in days.

“Fuck you.” Aaron writhes instinctively, but Andrew’s grip is steel. “Let go of me.”

Something in Andrew’s gaze shifts as he recognises his own features snarling back at him. “Get out,” he orders, relinquishing his grip.

“We have our presentation today.”

“Oh no.��� Andrew’s eyes burn into him. “Miss Woods will be so disappointed. Just don’t offer her a shoulder to cry on. I’d hate to have to intervene.”

Aaron resists the urge to punch Andrew in his stupid, empty face. He hates how Andrew can read him like nobody else, can zero in instantly on any woman who holds his attention a second too long. He doesn’t know when being barred from a little staring during the duller parts of class became part of their deal and detests how much it feels like a one-way street. Andrew has never shown the slightest interest in anyone or anything, so it’s clearly not a huge loss on his end to cut himself off. Aaron, on the other hand, is a human being with actual feelings and desires, and the fact that Andrew expects him to behave otherwise is as absurd as it is true.

Aaron curses Andrew out again before leaving. He yanks the door shut behind him, not caring if the noise wakes Tilda.

Miss Woods makes a concerned sound when Aaron tells her Andrew is off sick, but Aaron won’t meet her eyes. He does the presentation alone.

When he returns home to find Andrew’s door still shut, he wants to be angrier than he is. Aaron is enough of a germophobe that he doesn’t get sick often anymore, but he remembers sweating under his sheets for days when he was younger, unnoticed and unacknowledged. Not that he would have wanted Tilda’s attention had she offered it. That being said, Andrew doesn’t do much to paint himself as a sympathetic figure, and Aaron is tempted to just leave him to stew. It isn’t like Andrew is really sick. Just sick in the head.

Tilda is, typically, nowhere to be seen, so Aaron fixes his own meal to take to his room. After a moment’s hesitation, he scoops half the pasta into another bowl. He only opens the door to Andrew’s room wide enough to scoot the bowl through it before shutting it after him.

He forgets about it until the next day, when he trips over the empty bowl abandoned in front of Andrew’s door. He picks it up, glances towards the closed door, and takes it down to the kitchen to wash up.

The next day, Andrew is back at school, and it’s as though nothing ever happened.

*

“You have to come to class.” Aaron wrinkles his nose as he yanks back the curtains. Andrew won the coin toss when they moved in with Nicky in Columbia, meaning his is the larger room with the south-facing windows which Aaron is convinced Andrew chose just to spite him. It’s no more personal than Andrew’s previous room, nor is it any cleaner. Andrew doesn’t move from under the convers, and Aaron belatedly remembers the effect his new drugs have on Andrew’s sleep patterns.

Aaron picks up a pillow and smacks it down on Andrew’s head before diving out of the way. Andrew bursts into life in a mess of swinging fists and manic fury before recognition clicks into place along with the usual glassy smile.

“Wrong room, Aaron! Did you get mixed up?”

“If your attendance keeps dropping, they’ll report us to social services and Nicky will lose custody.” Nicky, for all his good intentions, has been pulling nightshifts at Eden’s all week and sleeps through most of the day to recover. Each night, Andrew drags himself to the kitchen table and chatters vaguely about his classes as though he actually went to them, but it’s only a matter of time before Nicky notices something is amiss or the school phones home.

“I’m sick,” Andrew says. “Cough, cough.” His eyes are bright and there’s a little too much sway to his stance, but it’s indistinguishable from the normal side effects of his drugs.

Aaron has seen Andrew stubbornly sitting through AP math class with skin so white he looks seconds from fainting dead away, has seen him dive into the toilets between classes to gag like he’s bringing up his stomach lining, but has also seen him blow off a week straight of classes just to lie in bed all day staring at the ceiling. If there’s a rhyme or reason to Andrew’s sick days, Aaron has yet to figure it out, just like he still can’t tell when Andrew is ill or faking or when it’s just the drugs. Sometimes he hides the symptoms like a dog snarling to hide his wounds, while other times he rambles for hours about what the meds have done to his digestive tract, taking delight in grossing Aaron and Nicky out so badly that neither of them can finish their dinner.

Andrew flops back onto his bed with a dismissive gesture. “So much faith in the proactivity of social services. Your naivety is touching.”

Aaron looks at the prone body of his twin and resigns himself to the direct approach. “Are you really sick? Or is this…” He gestures vaguely. “You know. One of your moods.”

Andrew sends him a sharp, considering look. “I’m quite sure I don’t know what you mean,” he replies, his voice lilting up and down almost comically.

Aaron shakes his head, because of course just asking isn’t going to work with Andrew. He moves to put his hand on Andrew’s forehead. Andrew’s hand catches his arm in an instant, smile turning toothy and shark-like. “I would have thought you knew better by now, dear brother,” he says, half-way to that terrible, terrible laugh that means someone is about to die.

“I need to check your temperature,” Aaron says through gritted teeth. “If you’re really sick, I can pick up some medication on the way home. But I’m not buying you anything if you’re just being a fucking weirdo.”

Andrew slaps his free hand to his forehead dramatically. “Woe is me! I’m truly afflicted. Call the leach doctor!”

“If you don’t let me check then I’ll tell Nicky you’re sick and you can deal with him fussing all over you,” Aaron snarls.

“You’re telling Mommy on me? Low blow.”

Aaron flinches. Raw wounds tear open all over again. “Don’t call him that.”

Andrew stares at him for another long moment. Aaron knows better by now than to expect an apology, but Andrew’s grip on his arm loosens until his hand dangles around his wrist like a bangle. For a moment Aaron thinks Andrew is going to put Aaron’s hand to his forehead, but instead he pushes him off.

“It’s one of my moods. Call back tomorrow.”

Aaron huffs, but acknowledges that pushing Andrew any further will only end badly. He leaves Andrew grinning feverishly at his own ceiling and tries not to think about the horrific blackness beneath. Aaron remembers that space, the deep, empty pit of black that he threw himself down night after night with whatever drugs he could lay his hands on. He can’t imagine living there every hour of every day, nor being trapped there by legal mandate. He starts to wonder how Andrew ever manages to get out of bed at all.

Andrew is back in school before the end of the week, and Nicky and the social services remain none the wiser. Andrew always seems to know exactly how far he can push the system before it will break their “family” apart, but that doesn’t make Aaron any more comfortable with how he toes the line.

One more year; one more year of high school and he won’t ever have to think about Andrew and his sick games and his sicker head ever again.

*

Aaron bumps into Neil as they’re both leaving their respective dorm rooms. It’s been months since Neil and Andrew moved into a dorm together, but Aaron still isn’t used to it yet, how Neil will occasionally surface in one of Andrew’s oversized hoodies or vice versa. It’s too early in the day for Aaron to muster up the full force of his usual scowl, but they enter the elevator together in stony silence. It’s becoming rarer and rarer to see Neil without Andrew’s monolithic shadow at his shoulder, but Aaron doesn’t put too much thought into it until Neil turns up to practice on his own.

Neil answers Wymack’s raised eyebrow with a minute shake of his head which goes unnoticed by the others.

On the fourth day, Aaron watches as Wymack takes Neil aside, and they talk for several minutes with muted gestures and worried expressions. When Neil looks his way, Aaron pretends to be fixing his racquet strings. Andrew isn’t his damn responsibility anymore. He doesn’t need to care. Shouldn’t care.

The next day, Aaron pulls on a long-sleeved black shirt and a flat expression and sits in a stupor through several criminology lectures. Andrew’s lecturers know better than to bother calling on him, leaving Aaron mercifully undisturbed. What’s important is that a row of ticks appear next to Andrew’s name on their attendance sheets.

It’s Neil who opens the door to their dorm, so it’s Neil who receives the stack of notes Aaron dumps into his arms.

“Tell him to get his shit together,” Aaron says, leaving before Neil can respond.

* A week later, Andrew tracks Aaron down at the library. Mercifully, Katelyn isn’t with him; he’s in no mood to be preventing Andrew from murdering her nor himself from murdering Andrew.

“You have a strange definition of ‘letting go’,” says Andrew. He drops Aaron’s notes on the desk.

“I’m not going to sit back and watch you blow up your life for no reason. You’re a college athlete, not a high schooler. Stop handing your lecturers an excuse to kick you out.”

“For no reason,” Andrew repeats. “Is that still what you think this is?”

“I’m not a fucking mind-reader,” Aaron snaps. “You can’t keep playing your stupid games and expect the rest of us to figure out the rules. Why explain yourself when you can jerk the rest of the world around until we all run out of patience and you’re left with nothing and no one but your little fuck-buddy.”

“Language,” says Andrew, the closest thing to a warning Aaron is going to get. Aaron’s gaze flicks down. He’s still learning where the boundaries lie where Neil is involved, the ins and outs of Andrew’s protective instincts. He still isn’t used to being outside that circle, to standing on his own.

“It isn’t a game,” Andrew continues flatly. “I have depression. PTSD. A few other things besides, probably. Sometimes I get sick. Sometimes I can’t function. Sometimes I need a few days to myself. I’m not self-destructing, I’m surviving.”

Aaron stares. He knew his brother was fucked up in ways he could never imagine – the last year had been a brutal wake-up call to the depths of Andrew’s trauma – but he’s never seen it lain bare before, put down in proper terminology and honesty and acknowledgement. “So? Why should you get a free pass to do whatever just because of some shit that’s all in your head?”

“You’re going to make a terrible doctor,” says Andrew. Aaron clenches his fists, waits for the specific brand of murderous intent that Andrew alone can draw from him to pass. “Surely you know better than anyone how difficult it is to control what happens in your own mind.”

“Addiction is different. Addictive chemicals and-”

Andrew raises a finger to silence him. “Yes. Chemicals. Precisely.”

“Whatever.” There’s no worse feeling than when Andrew is right. It makes Aaron doubt every decision he’s ever made. “It doesn’t make a difference when you’re going to get kicked off the team.”

“Bee cleared my absences with the guidance department. Students with mental health difficulties get certain allowances.” Andrew pushes the notes towards him. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It wasn’t pity.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow. “It was something.”

Aaron remains silent. He isn’t sure what it was. “You’re getting help, then.”

Andrew’s gaze remains upon him for several seconds. “Like I said, you have a strange definition of ‘letting go’.” He leaves, knowing that Aaron has no response to give him.

*

The next day, Aaron and Neil bump into each other again outside their dorm rooms, both having a class that starts at the same time in the same building.  Instead of greeting Aaron with his usual disdainful glare, he nods briefly. Aaron finds himself returning the gesture. The silence is less stony now, more…quiet.

“Will he be back at practice today?” Aaron asks bluntly, without bothering to specify who he is referring to.

“Tomorrow,” says Neil after a pause. “Probably.”

“Good.”

Aaron doesn’t acknowledge the way Neil’s gaze skates over him like Aaron has turned into a new man since last they spoke. The look of understanding that skates across Neil’s face sends an uncomfortable prickle across Aaron’s skin that he resists the urge to scratch away.

He and Neil reach an understanding that neither wanted nor sought out; they may be different in more ways than Aaron cares to count, but they’ve found their common ground in Andrew.

One day, Aaron might figure out what that means.

*

The patient sitting in Aaron’s consultancy room has long legs, spindly arms and a nervous tick when she speaks. The hood of her hoodie is still pulled over her head like she wants it to swallow her whole, the sleeves pulled down over her hands.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she says quietly. The girl’s eyes haven’t left the floor since she entered. “I can’t make myself eat. I can’t make myself sleep. It’s like I don’t know how to act like a person anymore.”

Aaron nods. She isn’t the first patient to say this to him, and she won’t be the last. He’s had a lot of practice in learning the right thing to say.

“This isn’t your fault.” Bedside manner was not a part of the doctor’s skillset that came to Aaron naturally, but every so often there’s a patient for which he makes the effort. The ones who need it most. “This is a condition, and we are going to help you manage it.”

He glances at the photo of his family that he keeps on his desk and remembers that Andrew will be phoning him tonight. They will make perfunctory enquiries about each other’s partners, talk about their respective jobs, and if Bella is in a good mood Aaron might hand her the phone so she can warble disjointed syllables at her uncle for a few minutes.

“I can’t promise that it will get better right away,” Aaron says. For the first time since she entered, the patient meets his gaze. “But this is the start. Okay?”

She nods. There’s fear in her eyes, but there’s fight too. It’s a look Aaron is more than familiar with. “Okay.”

It’s a long road to recovery, but Aaron knows that better than almost anyone. He also knows what waits on the other end.

*

Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought! Currently open to requests (lockdown, ammiright?)