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spacedikut · 4 years

Text

risks ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: “Hi! Do you take requests?? If you do, can I please request a Spencer x Reader (Including the BAU), where they are dating and the reader is a year or so younger than spencer, but just as smart and very loved by the team, and one day she has to save the team from an unsub and gets really hurt and after everyone is safe they are all really worried about her?? Idk if that made sense at all. Love you work!” 2898 words

a/n: do i know anything about bombs or surgery or post-op procedures? No. did i still have a lot of fun writing this? Yes . i hope you like it! this specific request has been sent to multiple fic writers which i didn’t know until i’d already written and posted BUT the good thing is every writer is different so every request will be approached differently

masterlist

“No.”

“Hotch-“

“I said, no.”

“My girlfriend is stuck in there with a psychopath, Hotch! I can’t leave her in there!”

“I know, Reid. But I need you out here, alive, rather in there, dead.”

Spencer glares, “She could be dead in there for all we know.”

Emily winces from behind Spencer. Hotch stands, hands on hips, trying to think logically despite the situation, “We can’t afford to think like that.”

“He has a bomb! He-he-“

“Reid.” Hotch says, tone authoritive to show he’s playing unit chief and not old friend Hotch, “I need your head in this. We need to profile him to figure out the best way to negotiate – we can’t do that if you keep threatening to act irrationally.”

Spencer scoffs. Derek steps forward and pulls Spencer aside to talk him down from the metaphorical ledge he’s standing on. He’s one second away from running right into that abandoned building that everyone had just evacuated, bar you, and straight into the arms of the man who now has you hostage with a bomb ready to be detonated whenever he pleases.

Hotch already tried calling and negotiating. The man scoffed, voice gruff, and rumbled, “Either I get what I want, or both me and the pretty agent are getting blown to bits.”

In hindsight, they should’ve been more prepared.

Storming the abandoned warehouse, the team expected to find the remnants of a crime scene – they profiled the warehouse was the base of operations for the unsub, a place for him to store all his supplies, and because it had made the news that the FBI were on the case, they assumed he would’ve started running the second he felt them closing in.

He didn’t. He’s ready to go down with his ship, and you’re the unfortunate one that found him. And his homemade bomb.

Derek found the bomb-making equipment. He shouted in his comm for everyone to evacuate, and Spencer realised the second he stepped outside that you were not there. And you hadn’t responded to any calls after stepping into the building.

All it took was one call from the too proud unsub for them to realise your life is in the balance and for Reid to stop thinking rationally.

Spencer should’ve gone with you. He knows you can handle yourself, you’ve saved his ass enough times, but if he’d just.. followed you instead of JJ. Maybe you’d both be in there, or, even better, out here. Alive. Safe. No hostage situation in sight.

Suddenly, several shots ring out.

The team ducks behind their SUVs, Hotch having to drag Spencer down when he doesn’t react, just in case he decides to run straight in.

“It wasn’t the bomb!” Derek calls across, their heads beginning to pop up from behind the vehicles.

Spencer breaks free from Hotch’s grip and sprints into the warehouse. Bomb be damned, there were exactly six shots fired – the exact amount you have in your revolver.

Also the exact amount he has in his revolver.

“Go! Go!” Hotch shouts. The team all charge after Spencer, separating and flowing through the hallways and doorways of the warehouse – there’s this sense of dread running through all of them. There’s something so unique to the panic you feel when someone so close to you, someone so dear, is the one in danger.

There’s a screech from the back of the warehouse. It’s filled with agony, anguish and unadulterated pain – loud enough to reach every nook and cranny of the premises.

“I need a medic!”

Spencer’s throat burns from the tormented yell that leaped from his throat when he found you. There’s so much blood, and it takes Spencer longer than it should to find where your wounds are: two shots to the stomach, one too close to your lungs for comfort.

Although, none of this is comforting. Your eyes are closed.

The unsub is dead. The team looks around the room and easily pieces everything together: you both shot at the same time. You were able to give fatal hits and Spencer refuses to let the hits you got become deadly too.

They spare little to no attention to the bomb – the bomb squad stampede in and analyse it. Their focus is you, if you’re breathing and if the blood has stopped and how weak your pulse is.

It’s too weak. Spencer chokes on a sob above your body.

“Spence, you gotta move,” Derek’s voice is gentle despite the chaos around them, two medics taking Spencer’s place when Derek pulls him away.

“She-she- I can’t-“

“I know, kid, I know. We have to let them take care of her.”

The team is frozen around you as a stretcher is brought it. You’re being given oxygen, the medics are frantically shouting all kinds of things that Spencer doesn’t register – he follows behind you, shoulders slumped and cheeks wet, scanning you from head to toe constantly to see some display of life within you.

Hotch tells him to ride with you to the hospital. He doesn’t bother sparing the team a glance – he needs to keep his eyes on you because if he doesn’t he’s terrified you’ll disappear and he’ll never see you again and never hear your voice and never get to hear you say “I love you” ever again.

He’s terrified.

+++

You’ve been in surgery for hours.

Spencer’s still covered in your blood. He sits next to Derek, who just force-fed him half a granola bar, leg bouncing while he bites his nails.

The whole team is waiting impatiently. Hotch hasn’t sat down once, JJ has been on the phone to Will and Henry several times so she doesn’t go crazy, and everyone has been taking laps around the hospital to burn off some… fear? Apprehension? Just to do something?

Penelope broke several driving laws to get here. She came in, makeup smeared all over her face and hiccupping as Derek caught her when she approached them and collapsed. It took her an hour and a half to calm down.

“Reid.”

Spencer doesn’t move.

“Reid, kid.”

Derek nudges him. He looks up, lips chapped and bitten raw, and looks at Rossi who holds his to-go bag.

“You should change.” Rossi says, a warm smile on his face as he speaks quietly.

Spencer stares at the bag, then his shirt and sweater vest. He nearly vomits – your blood is everywhere. It’s dried now, a testament to how long you’ve been on that table, and he feels himself getting choked up all over again. He wishes he could help you. He wishes this wasn’t happening.

The guilt sinks in.

If he’d stayed with you. If he’d followed you. If he’d found you a little earlier. If they’d realised who the unsub was quicker. If they’d come to the warehouse more prepared.

Maybe you’d be here. Maybe it would be him on the operating table. God, he wishes it was him.

He needs you alive. He needs you.

“C’mon, Spence,” JJ whispers. She can’t speak any louder or she’ll cry. She takes the bag from Rossi, gingerly takes Spencer’s hand and pulls him towards the toilet just a little way away.

She opens the door and holds it open for him, gesturing with her head for him to go in.

“It’ll take you five minutes. I’ll be right here.”

He sniffles and nods, a tear sliding down his cheek, and heads in.

Everyone breathes a sigh of relief when they hear the lock of the door.

Spencer hasn’t moved since he got to the hospital and you were hurried away straight into surgery. Your eyes opened in the ambulance and Spencer could only cry harder – you used every last bit of strength you had to grip Spencer’s hand and passed out again.

He hasn’t spoken, either. No one can blame him. But changing clothes, cleaning your blood from his hands and forearms and it’s somehow on his neck, that’s progress. It’s about as good as they’ll get until there’s an update on you.

Spencer slumps back out of the toilet, walking clumsily towards his friends with his head facing the floor. The room is too bright, his eyes are beginning to sting from crying, and his heart is hurting because he doesn’t know what’s going to happen. All of it is giving him a headache.

You know how to help him with his headaches. You always know how to help him. You.

There’s movement from the large doors next to Spencer. A doctor comes out, looking frazzled and still in scrubs, and says, “Y/N Y/L/N?”

They all stare.

“She’s stable.”

Penelope lets out a verbal gasp and a “Thank God,”, both Emily and JJ’s heads fall in their hands in disbelief and even Hotch’s head falls back as he lets out a sigh of relief.

Derek’s hand grips Spencer’s shoulder. He’s too shocked to say anything.

“Can we see her?” Derek asks. He knows Spencer will want to see her the second he can, and he’ll spend every moment with her until she’s fully healed.

The doctor gives a pitiful grimace, “Only one at a time, unfortunately. These next twenty-four hours are vital and we don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“I have to see her.” Comes Spencer’s voice, weak and fragile as he still chews his thumb.

Hotch nods, “Of course. Spencer, you stay with her and we’ll come back later.”

He then nods towards the rest of the team and they all filter out slowly, all acknowledging Spencer in one way or another – Penelope kisses his head, Derek and Rossi give his shoulder a squeeze, JJ, Emily and Hotch tell him to text them if he needs anything.

He knows they don’t want to leave, but Spencer would fight every single one of them if any even tried to see you before he could. He needs to see you for himself. Needs to see you breathe.

“Follow me, sir,” The doctor says, “She might look a little off-putting – she had more injuries than we thought. But she’s steady and strong, so we’re confident she’ll make it through.”

She gestures towards your room. Spencer nods and gives a tight lipped smile, mumbling, “Thank you.”

When the door’s pushed open, Spencer chokes on a cry.

He remembers the only time he was shot: that one time in the leg. It wasn’t much. It was a shock to the system, but ultimately he was fine. He’s come to love the scar thanks to you - you’ve placed plenty of kisses on it for him to see it and instantly think of you and the love you bring.

Which is exactly why he can’t lose you. He loves you too much and he knows you love him and he’s never been so sure of anything or anyone in his life until you and he swears to God if you’re taken from him-

He takes a deep breath, pulling the chair towards your bed as close as possible as he moves to interlock his fingers with yours and grip tightly.

Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay.

+++

Penelope is the first to visit. She waddles in, flowers, chocolates, a card, a cuddly bear and some food for the good doctor in her arms. When she walks in she realises Spencer is knocked out in the chair next to you. She’s not surprised; she didn’t want to leave you, but Spencer needed to be with you.

She pokes him gently. And again, when he doesn’t respond.

He jumps awake, immediately going to rub his neck that is stiff after spending hours at an awkward angle.

“Morning, handsome,” Penelope smiles. She hands him the food she brought and, after sparing a glance to your sleeping form, he takes the bag and digs in.

“Thank you,” He says quietly. Penelope looks at you.

“How is she?”

“Not bad. She hasn’t gotten worse, and that’s all I can ask for.”

Penelope leans over and presses a kiss to your head, “She’s a boss. She’ll be up and at it before you know it.”

Spencer pauses in his eating and watches you, feeling nothing but love and pride, and his lower lip began to quiver. He clears his throat and looks away.

His eyes have been rubbed raw from Spencer trying to stop his tears and from trying to stay awake all night, just in case you woke up. He doesn’t remember when he fell asleep.

Derek appears then.

“Hey, you two,” He’s also carrying flowers and a cuddly bear (the team knows you so well – the way to your heart is stereotypical gifts). He gives Penelope a side hug and shoots Spencer a nod, “How you feeling, pretty boy?”

He rubs his eyes, “I’m awesome.”

Derek chuckles, “Uhuh.”

He looks at you, then, and his smile becomes tighter. Penelope grips his arm and tugs him towards her, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“You two look cosy.”

All attention is snapped to you: half lidded, voice coarse, lips dry. Spencer drops the bag of food.

“Hi, pretty,” He grins, eyes filling with tears again when he stands and leans towards you on your bed. God, what do you do to him?

His forehead rests against yours and you close your eyes in comfort. His smell fills you, all familiar and oh so welcome after whatever the hell you went through. Your whole body aches, breathing feels strange and almost unknown, and you’re acutely aware of the tubes in your nose.

Spencer pulls back suddenly, eyes jerking open, and grabs some water for you, “Here, drink.”

You do as he says, gulping it down and gulping down a second and third cup.

“I’ll get the nurse,” Penelope says, having to tear her eyes away from you because you’re awake and it fills her with so much happiness to see you okay.

After a quick visit from the nurse, you’re told you have to stay for a further few days and you pout at the thought. No one likes hospitals. No one likes being stuck in a hospital.

The whole team arrives and Derek and Penelope offer to go meet them to catch them up on everything before they come in. Everyone knows it’s really so you and Spencer have a second alone.

The second the door closes, Spencer kisses you. It’s eager and full of angst. You wish you could wrap your arms around him and pull him in tight, but everything hurts. So that’ll have to wait.

“You had me so worried,” Spencer gasps, forehead against yours and hands cupping your face, “So, so worried.”

“My apologies,” You giggle. It hurts to do it, but Spencer makes you so happy, even in a dreary hospital. “Won’t happen again.”

“It better not.” He smiles. He feels like all the tension has evaporated from his body - you’re here, you’re okay, you’re awake, you’re as perfect as ever. “You had everyone scared.”

“I have fans?”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at you. You just woke up from being shot and going through a long surgery, and you’re joking around?

He loves you so much.

Your arm slowly moves up to loosely hold his wrist. Your eyes look glassy, suddenly.

“I love you, Spence.” You breathe, “My first thought when I got shot was I’d never be able to say that to you again. I love you so, so much.”

Spencer grips your face tighter and pulls your lips back to his. There’s so much passion in the kiss; he wants to tell you he loves you every second of every day for the rest of his life, and he’s trying to show that.

Now you’re here, he can do that. Thank God he can do that.

“I love you too. So much. I’ve never been as scared as I was when I found you, I-“ He gets choked up again, “If you ever do something like that again, we will have issues I swear to God Y/N-“

“Kiss me again you idiot,” You say, all smiles.

When the whole team roll in, Spencer is perched on the very edge of your bed, hand in yours, thumb rubbing back and forth. They all smile at you, holding various gifts that get you very excited, and tell you how glad they are you’re okay.

Derek’s brows furrow, pointing at your heart monitor, “Now what happened while we were gone, cuties?”

Everyone looks towards the monitor, where your heartbeat is still high from kissing and being close to Spencer after being scared you’d never be able to again.

You and Spencer blush, “I’m just very happy to see my team.” You say, trying to suppress a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek smirks at you both, “Just couldn’t keep your hands off eachother, huh?”

Spencer sputters, “It would be so inappropriate to do anything like that in a hospital, Morgan! Actually, hospitals…”

As Spencer rambles on, you scan the room and find yourself tearing up. You feel so cared for and loved, surrounded by the people you consider family and holding the hand of the love of your life. You’re so lucky, you realise, despite the situation that led to this, to have such amazing people so close.

You move and lean your head against Spencer’s shoulder and, mid-sentence, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

It’s an honour to be so loved by such lovely people.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #mine #god does this suck?#man i feel like it sucks

1K notes · View notes

cricketchaology · 3 years

Text

cold, kind, and lemon eyes

this fic includes violence, including descriptions of wounds and gun usage. if these things are triggering to you, please proceed with caution!

READ ON AO3

in a way, it’s human instinct to fight against the bonds. it’s an abstract thought, passing in and out of harry’s mind between winds of panic and a daughter he might not see again, he might never apologize to. it’s hard to think over the hollow static of the busted earbud nestled against the drum, the screaming of his heart, the thoughts all blurry and loose-lipped. his wrists are raw against the rope, not quite budging.

the men are gone now, but they could be back any moment. with guns, or knives, or hammers- with a ransom request if he’s lucky, and death if he’s not. worst come to worst, they’ll flay him open and leave him there for the dogs.

needless to say, if you told the mr. wilson of a dozen years ago that being consumed by wolves would be his fate, he’d laugh in your face over a glass of chardonnay. and maybe in a different world, harry might find the contrast funny.

instead, though, he finds his stomach sinking as feet pound down the hall, fast approaching in a way that screams a threat. his entire body aches at the thought, anticipating fresh blows that he isn’t sure his already worn skin can take. the shadow in the window looms over like a reaper, stretching across the concrete and dancing at harry’s feet as the bulb flickers, dying out over the guard's shoulder.

the shadow covers the whole window, leaving harry in the darkness of the cell for a moment, and he curls in on himself, fighting the innate desire to cry as the figure of death comes upon him. he closes his eyes, shivering weakly as the air in the room chills, the footsteps closer.

“hey, get up,” a voice is saying, and harry feels weightless when the gruffness of it registers. because it’s eliot, it’s eliot , and his rough fingers are working a fresh comms piece into his ear, are quickly unknotting the ropes so harry can move his hands again, and he hadn’t even realized how numb they’d become till the blood blew back into them.

“eliot,” harry mutters, because what else can he do? the relief is so intense that his thoughts white-out, becoming a silkscreen of escape, of tomorrow morning’s and sunsets he was saying goodbye to. because eliot got him, eliot always gets him, and he knows this and he should never have doubted it. but it’s during this thought that the guard wakes up from his blackout prematurely. that he gets on his comms and calls for backup, fast arriving. unaccounted for guns arriving at the scene as eliot tries to coax harry back into coherence.

before harry registers the sight of fresh men in the doorway, eliot’s head is turning to the click of the gun. he’s too late- the bullet rings true into the concrete room and lodges itself in the wall just right of harry’s head, though not before ripping through eliot’s shoulder. the spit-spray of blood blasts across harry’s skin, and he winces, blinking the red out of his vision and rubbing at his mouth wildly, unable to think, to help. his now unbound hands go to his hair, tearing, and to his tie, pulling. panicking.

“mr. wilson, get it together!” sophie is calling in his ear, and if he were a better grifter he would be certain of all the fear laced beneath the calm-construct of her voice. he can hear parker shouting eliot’s name, can hear breanna whispers, “oh god, oh god,” to something he’s sure she doesn’t quite believe in. he can hear eliot’s panting breaths two-fold, once in the room across from him and once in the earbud, amplified and so, so much worse up close.

a second shot rings out, and harry finds himself slowly able to push himself up the wall, crawling till he’s standing on uneven feet, trying to speedrun the regaining of his sea legs. sophie begs for a visual from breanna who’s fighting tooth and nail with the security systems. the guard is down, has been down for some time, and eliot is taking on a fourth- no, fifth? sixth? it’s not clear enough for harry to count the bodies as they hit the floor- armed militia man with nothing but his fists. the last one- third or fourth or more, maybe- goes down the same time harry rights himself, rushing across the room to get close to eliot who means safety, means stability.

it’s wihh horror harry realizes that eliot is bleeding. the shoulder of his shirt is soaked through, and his side isn’t faring better. the material of his jeans is torn with a long laceration, a knife that found its way deep into the meat of his thigh and harry shudders to think of the way eliot’s fingers probed into his own wound, feeling for the blood flow to make sure it didn’t strike an artery. the guns lay discarded on the ground now, unloaded and sprawled amongst the downed men. eliot is shucking off his shirt, tying it around his thigh gracelessly as his left arm lags, his breaths thinning. “eliot,” parker is hissing into their ears, the desperation in her voice laid so thickly with love that the two meld into one. “eliot, answer me, or i’m coming in.”

“no,” he’s biting out through clenched teeth. “there’s too many. no one else comes in. i’ll get us out.”

“eliot,” sophie’s voice comes in, uncharacteristically nervous. “i’ll get us out,” eliot repeats, his voice shakier by the second. “breanna, you got a visual? i need you to lead us out of here. you got that? away from guards.”

“yeah, yeah. got it. i got it,” she says, and for a second harry doesn’t believe her. the sound of eliot’s breathing distracts him in the lull between breanna’s assurance and her answer, her saying “go right out the door, then head down the hall until you see the janitor's closet. turn left after that, and you should be at the exit.” “any guards?” eliot asks, and breanna hesitates. “come on, we don’t have time. any guards?”

“one more. armed.” she mutters, and eliot nods, making eye contact with harry that means trust me. means i’ve got you, i’ve got you.

eliot reaches back, takes harry’s palm in his bloody hand. it’s a sticky sensory nightmare than grounds harry, pulling him out of his own head as eliot takes them out the door and down the hall, each of his steps less certain than the last. he intercepts the last guard, practically halfway to the ground when he unequips her with what looks to be sheer muscle memory, the muzzle of the gun gripped tight in a shaking hand. he drops the gun, fingers lost and limp and it takes everything in harry to think to sling eliot’s good arm around his shoulders before he drops to the ground just like the guard.

they hobble out the doors more so than walk out them, the pale shoulder of harry’s suit growing redder by the second, like a rabbit shot on the snow. absently, he realizes he doesn’t have any idea where the van is- he doesn’t even think to ask, just keeps running, keeps moving, dragging eliot into alley after alley in an attempt to put as much distances between there and here as he can. he doesn’t stop until eliot loses consciousness completely, becoming deadweight against harry’s side and they wind up crashing into a trashcan, street-light shielding them from the overwhelming dark.

it’s then that the adrenaline drains, harry’s body going limp against the brick of a building he can hardly register the color of.

///

the peace of unconsciousness doesn’t last long. instead, eliot jabs his elbow bruise-deep into harry’s ribs, muttering, “christ, wake up, man.”

the words feel distant, like the crackle of the earpiece is a stone cracking water-surface rather than a friend directly beside him, begging him to get up. he blinks cautiously, clearing his field of view as much as possible. the alley is dismal and dark and still. the pitter patter of a rat's claws provide ambient sound, the dripping of gutter. his back is cold against the brick, pulling him instinctively to the hot furnace of eliot by his side, still whispering and-

eliot. eliot, still bleeding , his face pale and eyes bloodshot. one of his arms jabs at harry incessantly, begging for attention, while his other clutches at the wound in his shoulder, his side. almost on instinct, harry moves his body, shucking off his suit jacket, the colors of which have moved from beige to beiger, meat-marred. he passes it to eliot who takes it, pressing it against his bleeding side. if it comes away redder than it already was, harry doesn’t know. he can’t bare to look.

“you good, man?” eliot asks, and harry laughs loosely in that crazed way he did that first day, fists clenching at his side with the weight of it. “no,” he huffs out, half hysterical. “no, of course not- not at all.” “okay, well,” eliot mumbles, his head clacking back against the brick wall, brow christened with sweat. “you’re gonna have to be, cause i’ma bleed out if we can’t get outta here.”

somehow, that snaps harry out of his stupor, a fresh jet of panic rushing through him.

“what about-” “comms are out, somethin’ must’a happened while we were down. i dunno what. must’a,” he grimaces, shifting slightly, “someone must’a found the van or somethin’. we’re outta range.”

“okay. okay,” harry says, though his breaths only come faster. his hands are shaking under eliot’s eye, watchful as always despite his waning consciousness.

“harry, you gotta breathe,” eliot says, reaching out with a hand, the digits surprisingly icy against harry’s skin, holding his wrist. his fingers probe the hollow of harry’s wrist, finding the pulse and eliot begins to breathe in sync with it. the contact is grounding though eliot’s palm is sticky with still drying blood.

slowly, harry regains his composure, inhaling with eliot’s even counts even as his voice grows fainter. it’s a familiar technique- one he remembers his daughter using before her fifth grade spelling bee. the memory floods him with something- mourning, maybe, but maybe determination too, that human desire to survive rising in him.

“okay, i’m good. i’m good.”

eliot studies him for a long moment, keeping his breathing at that even metre and harry realizes distantly that it might be partially to cope with the pain. helping harry, though, was certainly a conscious choice.

“where’d you learn to do that?” harry wonders, hoping eliot will understand the question.

eliot adverts his eyes for a moment, weighing the vulnerability of his next statement. “hardison has anxiety attacks, sometimes,” he says simply, and harry can tell no further questions will be allowed. a beat passes, the quiet of the city street outside overtaking them. cars drive by, though sparsely populated, and the laughter of drunk friends is far away. its so discongruent with the bloodied, shaking figure of eliot that harry almost becomes sick to his stomach. “okay,” harry lets out, “okay. what do we do now?” “we needa... get back in range of the comms. get somewhere they can find us, but not somewhere where someone calls the cops. the thugs got ties to ‘em, ’s how we got made in the first place. if they get me sent to a hospital, that’s it.”

“that’s it?” eliot glares at him, his lips twisted. harry swallows thickly.

“yeah. that’s it.”

///

it’s not that eliot is especially heavy- really, he’s lighter than harry might’ve expected a man with that much muscle to be. rather, its that harry hasn’t eaten in three days, and his limbs are still working to regain their independence after being strapped back for so long. his legs can barely support himself, muchless the weight of eliot spencer, living legend, who is dripping blood from god only knows how many wounds.

“are you okay?” harry asks, and eliot hides behind the curtain of hair currently falling past his face, his head hanging low on his neck as though keeping it up requires too much energy. still, he nods tersely, and harry knows it’s a lie, but there’s no point in pressing now.

they hobble across the alley, pausing every few moments to regain strength before dragging each other a handful more steps. eliot tells harry to leave him, to go ahead and get help, but harry won’t even entertain the idea.

“parker would throw me off the roof for real this time,” he parses through inhales, “if i came back and didn’t have you with me.”

if eliot laughs, harry can’t hear it over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears.

they make it to the mouth of the alley, the lips of which kiss the sidewalk, spilling out into the city street. it’s quiet, almost uncomfortably so, as eliot brings a hand to his ear, fiddling with the comms to no avail. he mumbles something quietly, a misplaced damnit, hardison, before lulling slightly, becoming heavier against harry’s side. “are you gonna pass out again?” harry questions nervously, but eliot shakes his head, gritting out a weak, “nah.”

they start down the sidewalk, sticking to the shadows granted by the awnings against the gentle moonlight. the city streetlights are weak, weepying a yellow that never quite reaches their heels as the dredge down the way, calling the rest of the teams names repeatedly and begging for connection.

the seconds slip by slowly, and harry has no clue how much time passes between the alley mouth and eliot halting, his heels digging into the asphalt. he’s turned his head to the threat before harry has even processed there might be one. eliot pushes himself away from harry, getting himself back to his full height and sparring harry a glance, just long enough to say, “run.”

“what? eliot-” “i said run!” he shouts, shoving harry aside and placing the bulk of his body between harry and the gun. he’s charging before harry can completely catch himself from falling, rushing across the sidewalk with a speed harry didn’t realize a human being was capable of.

it’s human nature to flee when given the opportunity. harry isn’t a fighter- never has been. he prided himself on years of carefully not choosing a side, of never being in the fight, instead finding the loophole out of it.

it’s human nature. fight or flight. harry hits the ground running.

///

when the hiss of the comms in his ear forms into the shape of static, he knows he’s going in the right direction. he follows the lead, reading the lines and what hides between them, until the crackle turns to whisper, and whisper into word. “eliot? harry? god, oh god,” breanna is saying- sobbing, almost, into the earpiece. “breanna?” he asks, and he’s certain he heard her, not because she responds but because her incoherence suddenly shifts into a wet gasp of relief. “harry? harry, where’s eliot?” parker demands, and harry hesitates. “he- he stayed behind. he was fighting someone, and he told me to go and i-” “you listened to him?” parker cries, a rage to her voice that harry has never heard before, and he swallows, nodding weakly before remembering she can’t see him.

“yes- yes. but he’s hurt and i- i can’t help him, you need to-” “calm down, mr. wilson,” sophie says, like it’s simple. “get us to you, first. where are you?”

the world spins around him, the colors dulled and hard to grasp. he can’t get his eyes to focus, the wind whipping at the short hair on his head and he tries to suck in thin inhales of the icy air.

“i- i don’t know, i-”

“harry, please,” parker begs- and it’s begging, it’s begging , and he hates the sound of it in her voice so much that the vertigo almost swallows him whole. instead, he grabs onto it- imagines it like an anchor he can hold onto, her grief that will destroy him if he can’t fix it. his eyes land on a sign, the lit-up letters flickering in and out desperately. he has to squint to piece them together in the right order.

“there’s- there’s a restaurant called marleen’s, i’m right by that. is that-”

“i got it,” breanna announces, and he can hear the pounding of her keystrokes through the comms. “we’re just seven minutes out.” “hold tight, mr, wilson. we’ll be right there.”

///

the tires of the van screech upon arrival in only three minutes, and he’s unsurprised to see parker tumbling out of the driver’s seat. her jaw is set, her hand clenched around the taser that harry has heard tales of. sophie is not long after, nor breanna, and the intensity radiating off the three in waves is enough to nearly knock harry off his feet. “where is he?” parker shouts, light on her feet and before him in seconds. he points weakly behind himself, and she disappears into the night as fast as she appeared.

sophie comes upon him then, her spindly fingers brushing over his face dutifully for a moment before she ushers him back to the van, breanna staring awkwardly as she holds open the doors.

“are you hurt?” sophie asks, and he cannot even begin to think of the answer. his entire body aches, but he’s not bleeding. as she pulls out alcohol wipes, beginning to brush the red out of his eyes, he realizes she can’t tell- she doesn’t know most of the blood isn’t his.

“eliot, he-” “parker will get him,” sophie tells him, something unplaceable in her voice. “he’s okay. it’s okay.”

harry finds himself nodding, though he isn’t so sure he believes her. he allows her to clean his skin, unearthing bruises that were buried beneath a sea of red as she tuts her tongue. breanna does say anything, but the fearful way she looks at harry reminds him of his daughter watching him walk out of the doors of their family home for the last time. he flinches, and sophie pulls her hands away abruptly, not knowing she did nothing wrong.

a weak grunting echoes from outside, and breanna thrusts open the doors. the city is dark behind parker’s back, the hollow light crecenting her as she pulls a limping eliot along. his face is twisted into an eternal grimace, teeth worrying over his lip in an attempt to silence his groans. one of his legs drags behind, his good arm cupping his side where blood overflows, draining between the slits of his fingers and to the ground, a quaint drip, drip, drip. it makes harry’s stomach ache, the dread of it all.

sophie extends her hands, helping parker hoist eliot into the van. he’s barely conscious, and sporting a rapidly swelling-shut eye and bleeding nose he didn’t have last harry saw him. a wave of nausea rushes over him as they settle eliot on one of the benches, breathing heavily as sophie gets back into the driver’s seat. the car peels away from the curb, leaving a spray of loose rocks dislodged in its wake as they leave the city, escaping to the temporary home base they acquired for this job.

harry lets his head thunk back against the metal wall of the van, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see parker begin stripping eliot of his shirt, the red pooling down him and onto the floor. so he doesn’t have to see breanna, too young for any of this, though he can still hear her ask half-desperate what she can do to help.

he imagines being elsewhere. a beach day in cape-cod, a gala at the grand. he imagines the life he used to lead, blissfully unaware- or intentionally obtuse- of the blood raining in city streets, instead focused on the glass of pinot grigio in his hand. he imagines that peace of being blameless as eliot drifts, parker frowning down at him. as breanna pretends not to cry, and sophie drives.

///

eliot doesn’t wake up when they arrive at the safe house, and it scares everyone. sophie and parker lift him, taking him to a different room where they can tend to his wounds safely (and out of sight). it leaves harry and breanna standing in the doorway, ambling around the living room absently. there’s nothing they can do, really. nothing but wait.

he settles on the coach, head in his hands, and breathes to the sound of her pacing, short strides back and forth, across and across and across the room. she’s humming slightly, a tune he doesn’t quite recognize but doesn’t hate. eventually, she wears herself down, sitting at her computer and plucking away at the keys in a way that speaks to her distracted mind, the usually hundred word per-minute speed nonpresent, slowed to a dozen.

sophie reappears from the room, her brow furrowed but otherwise unmarred. harry stands to greet her, much like a waiting room wife to a doctor, rife with anticipation. breanna swivels her chair much the same, though neither of them breathe a word, waiting. “eliot will be fine,” sophie says, and harry all but wilts with relief. “but we’ll take time off so he can heal. a month or two, maybe. he’s down pretty badly.”

sophie pauses, momentarily glancing over harry in a way that, if he were a greater man, might embarrass him. instead, he swallows down the look of pity, the way her eyes drag over him with grief.

“clean up, mr. wilson. then we’ll tend to you, too.”

///

it’s a new experience, the way the blood looks rushing down the shower drain. it’s dried to the skin, takes scrubbing to remove. some of the flakes stay whole rather than dissipate into the water, and he watches them fall from his skin and go away to nothing. his body is sticky with sweat, and it takes several lathers to get him even remotely feeling clean. he’s not sure he ever will, not with the ghost of eliot’s blood still haunting his cheek, omnipresent. he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way the spray felt against his skin. still, when his fingers are so pruny he doubts even the team could lift a print from him, he cranks the water off. the steam does a good job disguising him; he can barely see his own feet through the thick plumes of it. he pulls back the curtain, a rush of cold air hitting him and-

“parker! what are you doing in here?” he exclaims, instinctively pulling the curtain again to shield him from her eyes, although she covered them with her hands when he exclaimed.

“eliot told me to talk to you,” she says simply, muffled through her wrists. “tell me when i can uncover my eyes. i- i didn’t think about it. sorry.”

harry sighs, reaching carefully out from the shower to grab a towel even as she keeps her eyes covered. he dries himself off quickly, slipping into the joggers and shirt that sophie handed him earlier. they don’t fit quite right, clearly not his. they’re eliot’s, he realizes, with a dull pang in his heart.

when he finishes dressing, he lowers himself onto the toilet lid, looking at parker as she keeps her eyes dutifully covered. her breathing is even, but even so, he can hear the gears turning in her head.

“eliot’s up?” harry asks, not knowing where to start. parker nods, her hands bobbing up and down with her head.

“he was in and out for a while. he’s resting now. he told me to talk to you.”

“what about?” “he said i need to tell you how i feel, because you won’t know that i’m not mad at you if i don’t. and he’s right, i know that. just sometimes eliot does the thinking for me and tells me what’s going on in my brain.”

harry furrows his brows, still perplexed by the complexities of the team's relationships. he’s almost jealous he wasn’t around to see them fall in love with each other, parker, eliot and hardison. a beat passes, parker still on the counter, her legs crossed on a space that seems too small for anyone to sit on. “can i uncover my eyes?” she asks, voice small, and harry fumbles.

“oh- yes, yes, sorry. i didn’t realize you were-” “it’s okay.” she pulls her hands from her face, revealing slightly blood-shot eyes, her nose red from tears. “i don’t blame you. for eliot getting hurt, i mean.”

harry flounders a bit at that, ringing his hands in his lap.

“i left him, though. he came to save me and he got hurt, and i let it happen. and then i left him. it’s- it’s my fault, parker, i-” “no, it’s not,” she says, and she’s glaring at him like she did hardison when she found out he was leaving. it’s not a look harry enjoys being on the receiving end of.

“it’s not your fault because eliot told you to leave. it’s what he wanted you to do, and you listened to him, so if i wanna get mad at someone for that it has to be eliot. but i can’t get mad at eliot, and i can’t get mad at you, cause i would’ve done it. maybe not now, but ten years ago i might’ve left him to die if i had to. you were scared; you weren’t thinking straight. i get that.”

she sighs slightly, eyes glued to the tile. harry sits, waiting for her as she thinks, rolling thoughts over in her head. eventually, a distant smile graces her lips.

“we can do things the others can’t,” she says, not quite meeting his eyes when she looks at him. “and that doesn’t make us bad. it makes us… us.”

though he feels like he’s missing part of it, as he often does talking to parker- and the rest of them, for that matter- it settles something in his chest. he breaths out, the hollow of his lungs lightening. she smiles at his gently; gentle in a manner harry doesn’t think he’ll ever deserve. he smiles back, hoping it reaches his eyes. with that, parker springs from the counter, leaving him alone in the bathroom with nothing but his thoughts.

///

later, when he goes to see eliot, he is still hesitant, though certainly no more than he’d be without parker’s conversation. the dim lighting of the room barely kisses the wooden walls, framing a semi-conscious eliot. he’s been stripped down to a pair of black shorts, his chest and side swathed in bandages. they crawl up this legs too, appearing in patches along his arms. simply put; he looks like shit. still, he rises upon seeing harry, sitting up carefully. one side of his face is swollen, almost unrecognizable.

“hey, man,” eliot grumbles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “you good?”

“shouldn’t i be asking you that?”

eliot shrugs, flinching at the pain spurs in his shoulder. he readjusts, his head lulling slightly as he blinks against the sleep trying to overtake him. “nah. parker talk to you?” “she did.” “good,” eliot says, looking at harry seriously. “i ain’t mad either. you get that? i get hurt sometimes. ain’t anything to lose sleep over. i went in to help you because you’re important to us.”

“i’m not a good man, eliot,” harry mutters, not quite able to meet eliot’s gaze. “me either. that ain’t what it’s about. can’t get your soul back if i let you die, now can you?”

“...no, i suppose not.” “we all got roles to play. your’s is to not get kidnapped next time, got it?”

harry can’t help the laugh the barks out of him, a hand going to cover with mouth. it gets a hearty smile on eliot’s lips. it’s a look harry thinks he’d like to see more of.

“alright,” eliot says, still smirking as harry’s laughter trails off. “get outta here. i’m gonna sleep for a week.”

“alright,” harry says, heading towards the door. “rest well.” “you too,” eliot mumbles, half asleep already.

harry feels a smile pull at his lips, a sense of peace filling him. it’s only human nature.

#leverage #leverage fic #leverage fanfiction #eliot spencer #harry wilson #i am once again not going to reformat this for tumblr. sorry if u read it here #whump #listen. i dont think this is good #but i spent too much time on it to not post #harry is fucking hard to write #for me at least #anyway. pls give me feedback on this one lol #okay bye no more tags

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firesongbard · 2 years

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Entregarme

Entregarme—Surrender: To give oneself up to the leader’s lead.

Read the rest on AO3

S H E P A R D

Meet me at the bar -G

Did he know how many damned bars were on the Citadel?

Of course, he knew. They’d been to every incarnation of every single one in a bar fight, shoot-out, or covert investigation gone sideways. They’d been at every bar across half the galaxy, and that included any undiscovered systems with unknown intelligent life who had also learned the magic of fermenting sugars and slowly poisoning themselves for fun.

Who’s dumb idea was this?

Not sure I remember how to be me.

Her brain supplied the memory to the clearly rhetorical question.

The straps on her heels cut into her ankles, the black dress rode up uncomfortably high on her left leg, and the balls of her feet had started to swell because they weren’t built to stand like a damned turian. This was his dumb idea.

She made it to the Silversun Casino bar early, despite Jack’s best attempts to delay her. She hailed the bartender and ordered a double of something close to lighter fluid and a glass of something flavorful and savory.

“Biotic?” the bartender asked, passing her the two glasses.

“Something like that.” She downed the rotgut without letting it touch her tongue before picking up the glass of amber liquid to nurse. She felt the warmth bloom down her spine as the first bits of tension started to leave her body.

Maybe this wouldn’t be terrible. She’d ordered her comms off for the evening. Anything short of Harbinger docking on the Citadel could wait until after her ‘first date’. No Hackett, no interstellar summits, no pushy diplomats. Just one terribly overmakeuped woman sitting at a bar—

Waiting for one terribly dashing turian.

Garrus caught her eye and sauntered over. He’d picked a black and white outfit with a full round collar. He must have gotten padding custom-made to hide the break in his cowl. He must have passed for attractive for a turian—he turned heads as he made his way next to her at the bar. She set her drink down and tried to think what a woman in a napkin-sized black dress with raccoon makeup would say to woo a Turian with such command of the room.

“So, a turian on shore leave. You come here often?”

Yikes. Okay, roll with it. Nothing’s worse than ‘your waist is very supportive’.

He leaned in close, clearly not rolling with it. “Is this that, ah, date thing we talked about?”

She glowered. After the hell her afternoon had been preparing for this damned First Date, and he set up the invite—

“Got it. Yes—” In an instant, his whole demeanor changed. He donned his armor of confidence he reserved for interrogations—an overplayed vision of his youth in C-Sec. “Yeah, oh, I come here often. Good place to blow off steam. Scenery’s not bad either.”

He looked over his shoulder at one female Turian who was giving the two of them the once-over. Okay, so she was not getting Lucy the accountant tonight.

“Though the view in front of me is even better.”

Time to lean into her skin-tight dress and over-plumped lips. If he was going to play hardball... “Hm. That supposed to melt a girl’s heart?”

“No, but this voice is.”

Garrus leaned in, overemphasizing the low rumble in his chest as he spoke. Rogue Spectre Regalius it was then. Something just adjacent to reality was easy to be. She could play off of that. Maybe Lola would make an appearance—

“I’m Garrus Vakarian. Code name: Archangel. All around turian bad-boy and dispenser of justice in an unjust galaxy.”

Stars, he was just his melodramatic self, donning the armor in front of a stranger. She couldn’t be Commander Shepard in this getup. Not with the freshly waxed eyebrows and gelatin-plush lips that had been smothered in some cosmetic-grade medi-gel to cover her perpetually chapped lips.

The wheels ground in her brain until Garrus cleared his throat, adding almost as an afterthought, “Also, I kill reapers on the side. And you are?”

“Commander Shepard. Alliance Navy.”

The answer was unconscious. Automatic. Hell, she almost spat out her identification number like it was a damn interrogation. Maybe she could flag the bartender down for another shot of whatever she’d started with. Or four.

“Shepard, huh? I might have heard a few things about you.” Garrus pulled her back. Thank every god in existence he was as terrible at this as she was. Play defensive. Make him do the work.

“Oh? Flatter me.”

“Word is you’re smart, sexy, a wicked shot,” his voice rumbled low and quiet. Tryhard, he may be, but Vakarian did have a marvelously expressive voice. “Also, you kill Reapers on the side, too.”

She held back a laugh. That was a little funny, but she couldn’t give him the point. “Uh-huh. And do most girls fall for that?”

“Well, sure, you know. This voice and, uh... And um...”

She smiled. Stars, he was bad at this. Shepard doubted he’d ever actually picked up a woman in a bar before, despite his bluster.

“I’m running out of banter here, Shepard.”

“Make it up. Remember, we just met.” She put a gentle hand on his forearm and smiled. It was always fun when he got tangled up in his own banter. Better than tracking headshots.

“Right, yeah, I mean... Yeahhh,” he drew on the melodramatic growl again. “All the girls fall for it. Let me show you.”

Before she knew what was happening, he had grabbed her wrist and hauled her to her feet, any hope of liquid courage abandoned on the bartop. The club music had somewhere faded into something slow and seductive and teasing.

Her heels hardly made her tall enough to face the towering turian, her necklace was too wide and flat to bring the comfort of her dog tags, and she swore the black starch on her lashes had turned them into lethal weapons while simultaneously blurring the edges of her vision—and all that was still not enough to distract from her heart pounding painfully in her chest and the cold of fear tingling in her fingertips as she was sashayed across the room.

Commander Shepard could not dance.

#mass effect fanfiction #short snippet #citadel dlc #shakarian #femshep #garrus vakarian #The Tango Scene

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hey-hamlet · 4 years

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BNHA AU Ideas: Songbird, Part 2

Also on AO3!

Link to Part 1

TL;DR:

Izuku has a powerful quirk: he can give powers to the people around him based on the different songs he sings. Unfortunately, everyone else really wants that quirk and are willing to kidnap him to get it.

Songbirds sing even when the music stops.

Hello I’m redefining Izuku’s quirk for the sake of more dramatic powers: Most songs are general power-ups (everyone in auditory range), others are personal power-ups (only the person singing). Both only affect those who hear them, unless the effect is 100% intrinsic. Izuku uses a lot of general power-ups because he’s helpful like that. Each song can only be used once per day.

Examples: A song that creates a forcefield will only be a barrier to those who hear it, but a strength increase is a strength increase no matter which way you slice it.

anyway! day 1 of class is ok bc izuku and bakugo head to school together, and its honestly a miracle he didn't get kidnapped again

anyway, he meets iida and is fucking floored when he apologises for yelling at him. uraraka calls him the "boy with the singing quirk" and hes pretty happy. bakugo is grudgingly pleased izuku has friends and sits down, izuku following suit. shinsou is half asleep at his desk and seems to have been there the whole time

aizawa does his little spiel, quirk assessment happens yadda-yadda. izuku looks so chill on the outside but the kid is freaking the fuck out internally

he's coming second in the test, aizawa still erases his quirk, more of an example to the class because he assumed izuku wouldnt lose his shit. he didn't - at least externally

from this we also find out izuku has a kind of internal metronome because he suddenly has no internal 'beat' when his quirk is erased. his hearing gets substantially worse too.

which serves to freak him the fuck out because he feels off balance and like hes had cotton stuffed in his ears

anyway, yeets the ball, all is good, bakugo glares fucking daggers at aizawa for singling out izuku and izuku tries not to dissociate

battle trial is nothing special, but bakugo just fucking,,, turns his hearing aids off so izukus quirk doesnt work on him

its a blessing and a curse because it leaves izuku free to use most personal powerups, but honestly bakugo wants a nice fight more than he wants to win so thats fine with him

izuku wins, but only just, izuku gives uraraka a speed up through the comm link, iida who was Not ready for that, loses

USJ

Bakugo and Izuku sing Stronger than You and kick ass for a solid while before the song runs out and the nomu hits them into the lake. Izuku, with a broken leg and the beginnings of a concussion, has to drag a semi-conscious Bakugo to shore and let me tell you they both almost drown like 8 times. Izuku helps All Might by singing Anything (Hedly), which functions honestly like a big Ol’ Plus Ultra to anyone believing in what they are doing. (It starts working on Shigiraki after the Stain arc, but before then he was acting without purpose)

Sports festival!

All Might and Izuku are basically dad and son in this universe too, so, despite the dissimilar quirks, Todoroki still calls out Izuku to fight. Because Todoroki is the son of Endeavour and privy to a little more heroics insider info than he really should be, he also knows how often Izuku deals with villains. In an attempt to piss off the eternally nice and collected boy enough to give him a fight he can piss off Endeavour with, he calls him a damsel in distress.

Izuku is fuming and Bakugo has to basically hold onto his forearm to stop him from clocking Todoroki right in the jaw, but lord is Bakugo also pissed. Todoroki, for a second, realises he may have fucked up.

Todoroki wins the first event, Izuku is pretty middling. Like he's top 10? But he didn’t make a major impact. But the guy sees Monoma and gets an Idea

“HI SO – I know you hate class 1A, and really there is something to be said for the way our school is trying to pit 2 classes of children against each other like a bitter blood feud - BUT I have an idea that could be 100% ridiculous and if you want 1B to make an impact, please work with me. I need to shove something in Todoroki’s face.”

“… I’m listening.”

The general idea is Izuku’s songs have a different effect when sung in a duet, some are only practical in duet form: IE, stronger than you is a dodge boost alone, but in a duet is a massive power boost to the two singing it. So what if two people with Izuku’s quirk sung a duet? Chaos, probably.

Monoma agrees because one of the only things he likes more than 1 upping 1A is quirk based tomfoolery. The team ends up consisting of Izuku, Monoma, Kendo and Uraraka. Kendo and Uraraka, with the use of Uraraka’s quirk, carry both Izuku and Monoma – the better you sing, the better the quirk works.

Its lucky Monoma knows most of the songs Izuku brings up as ideas, and adds some suggestions of his own. If the other two know the song it's not a bad idea to join in, but its not the end of the world if they don’t.

The list of songs they have on standby and their effect when sung by two people with the Songbird Quirk

Two Player Game - Be More Chill: It forms both a connection between the people singing it, allowing them to anticipate the other's movements and creates a semi-translucent double of each singer that mimics their movements with a half second delay, aka: each punch you throw hits twice.

Family – Mother Mother: Creates a kinda forcefield that hovers just above the body. The stronger the bond between the singers, the stronger the shield – good thing Uraraka and Kendo know that one.

Hurry Hurry – Airtraffic Controllers: Slows down your perception of time, giving the appearance of superhuman reflexes. With the addition of a partner, it also grants superspeed.

We don’t get tired, we get even – Pat the Bunny: The more energy you’ve used up, the more energy you get back when singing this song + a proportional increase in general ability.

Doubt Comes In – Hadestown: Anyone who hears it quickly loses the ability to fight other people, including the singers.

The Greatest Show – The Greatest Showman: In addition to the normal effect of drawing attention to the point you can’t look away, singers get a ‘moon jump’ ability.

Turn the Lights Off – Tally Hall: Makes the area pitch black and gives the singers monstrous forms with plenty of claws and eyes.

How they use these is up to your imagination, but they end having taken the 10’000’000 point band from Todoroki. Bakugo, the only person with a decent understanding of Izuku’s quirk, just turned off his hearing aids and told his team to block their ears when weird shit started to happen. They came second, Todoroki third and Shinsou’s team fourth.

Uraraka gets to the second round bc Bakugo fights Monoma in the first round and jesus that fight is hilarious because its just Monoma – while using Bakugo’s quirk too – insisting that Izuku has abandoned class 1A for class 1B and Bakugo getting progressively more done with this boy’s shit.

Izuku and Bakugo + Todoroki and Iida are the semi finalists. Izuku and Bakugo are mostly just like “Thank fuck I’ve been talking to so many god damn weirdos today please can we just have a normal fight”. Izuku wins, j u u s t. (Izuku and Bakugo have a pretty 50/50 win loss ratio going on in this AU)

Todoroki vs Izuku is the final round of the whole thing, Todoroki told him about Endeavour, Izuku is pissed that no one looks at him and sees him, they only see his quirk (other than like, 6 people at this point). So he gets where Todoroki is coming from but holy shit hes doing literally just that. The main song Izuku uses for that round is Escapism – Steven Universe which makes him intangible (other than like his feet so he doesn’t go through the floor like Mirio). He’s trying to get the vibe across to Todoroki that he is free of his blood. He stops singing just to scream that at him, which is really what loses him the round. He's not intangible anymore, so he has no way to dodge the fire that comes at him. But he's pretty happy anyway.

Stain Arc!

Izuku’s hero name is Lyre!

Izuku doesn’t intern with Gran, but he does visit the guy with him. All Might hasn’t given his quirk to anyone else because the only suitable person he can see is Izuku, but Izuku basically can’t say no to him so he’s having a crisis. Izuku just thinks he’s there to visit All Mights old mentor and shoot the shit, which is really what they do.

Gran basically just ends up telling him “Kid aint a wallflower, he’ll tell you to fuck off if he doesn’t want it. All Might decides to ask Izuku about it after everything is over.

Izuku ends up interning with Endeavour, along with Todoroki. He never ended up yelling at endeavour, even though he hates the guy. Shouto encouraged him to take the offer bc, 1, Endeavour literally never gives out internship offers and 2, it’d be more fun because that way he doesn’t need to deal with his dad’s bullshit alone.

Endeavour is like “Oh it’s the kidnap kid, your quirk is neat.” And izuku is smiling through gritted teeth like “Th Anks SiRr”

So, starts pretty normal, then the winged Nomu steals Izuku right off the ground. Izuku just says “I’ll be fine! Just keep doing what you're doing, I’ll get myself down.” Endeavour just shrugs like “Ok, I give you permission to defend yourself.” While Todoroki is screaming internally because his new friend is literally being flown away

So the Nomu that was once a really good friend of Izuku’s (not that izuku is aware of that) literally just dumps him somewhere else and leaves. Izuku is confused, really confused, so he starts walking his way back to where he was before he hears a familiar voice.

Guess who it’s Iida, with a serial killer standing right over him. Izuku panics and goes straight into Turn the Lights Off. Without Monoma it only makes it dark, but it’ll have to do.

Thing is: he has a key problem. By virtue of the fact he’s singing, Stain can always hear him. Izuku’s only advantage is that he can see Stain but stain can’t see him, and the darkness means Stain moves more cautiously.

Anyway, in the artificial darkness, he can send a longer text anyway.

Midoriya [7:31PM] stain – [Location Pin Dropped]

So a lot of people, All Might and Aizawa included, f r e a k o u t. Todoroki goes running, Endeavour sends sidekicks with him because he saw his son, normally deadpan, almost chocking on panic as he mutters “Midoriya found Stain.”

Endeavour very much wants to also get Stain but the Nomu are Very Pressing Right Now, so there isn’t much he can do other than try and hurry the fuck up. Torino is kicking around because he could mostly, trying to get a glimpse of All Might’s kid in action, ends up having to kick villain ass. He's not that concerned until he remembers “OH SHIT TOSHI’S BOY”. When he finds Endeavour the man, a little panicked for Endeavour’s standards, yells at him to go to the address bc his son and intern are fighting the fucking hero killer.

Gran Doesn’t think he’s moved so fast since he kicked All for One in the face with Nana 25 odd years ago.

So Stain is kinda pissed bc suddenly he can’t see and someone is singing. He goes to stab Iida but,,, he ain't there anymore, and the singing is fading away. He figures “oh well, lemme get native” the singing changes to a different song. Very quickly he can see, but the singing boy, still singing is rocketing towards him and rapidly changing form.

Monster – dodie: Literally shifts Izuku into a monster. Stain suddenly realises that this is Songbird, talk of the underground, most wanted quirk by villains and quirk traffickers everywhere. This kid, target of villains everywhere, has put himself in their sights just to try and help people.

He thinks maybe Songbird might be one of the good ones.

Oh, an aside? People calling him Songbird sets off hella panic attacks because the only people who do that are people actively trying to kidnap him. And that’s what stain is calling him.

His monster form wavers and he tries to sing through tears and hitching breaths and Stain smiles because he's still curled around Native with his claws out.

Todoroki gets there first and helps defend Iida, Izuku is fighting to keep stain away from Native. The pros are on the way, Izuku is fading fast. Endeavour has been training them hard so he's exhausted and freaking the fuck out, while someone waves swords in his face.

Stain gets him, he loses the monster form. This doesn’t help Izuku’s panic, because now he can’t move and he’s felt this before along with grabbing hands, and dark vans and ropes around his wrists praying someone knew where he was going so someone might know to come for him when he doesn’t get home.

Todoroki sees that and he doesn’t know what to do. Izuku is panicking – the boy who seemed so put together and on top of things s falling apart at the seams. Iida feels horrible. He just wants to go to his friend he's never seen that distraught before.

Todoroki does the only thing he can think of. He sings.

He was never into music before, be after the sports festival he learnt Escapism -the song Izuku sang to him – and singing it back to him is the only thing he can think of doing.

It helps. It really helps, because if there was one thing that never happened when Izuku was taken – it was singing. He calms down just enough to breathe, which is all he needs to do.

The quirk wears off and Izuku throws himself at Stain, the words to Thunder by Imagine Dragons already pouring from his lips and electricity pouring from himself. If Stain touches him, he's toast, even if its via a sword. Izuku just has to avoid thrown weapons.

Izuku gets a hit, the quirk wears off Iida, who rushes in to stop Izuku from taking a throwing knife to the arm. The three of them knock out Stain just as the heroes skid into the alley. Izuku lets out a sob and crumples to the ground, Iida and Todoroki rushing over to him. They both honestly look like they’d bite anyone who got too close. Gran calls All Might who starts hightailing his way over there – Aizawa is also breaking a few traffic laws to reach his pack of injured kids.

They don’t get there in time. Shirigaki, furious that the hero killer went against him, orders Kurogiri to get Izuku. They take Iida and Todoroki for good measure. The heroes watch in horror as the children they were meant to protect vanish under their noses.

Headlines the next day: “UA sports festival finalists defeat Hero Killer – only to be taken by Villains seconds later.”

#bnha au #songbird au #midoriya izuku #Iida Tenya #todoroki shouto #All Might #hero killer stain #bakugou katsuki #aizawa shouta #gran torino

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harleykeenerdeservesbetter · 5 years

Note

Hi Sophie :) could I request something where Eddie is the president and Buck is his secret service agent?

Anything for you Meghan! I hope you like it :)

——————————

“This is very unprofessional,” Buck reminded, pulling out of the kiss reluctantly to murmur the words against his lover’s lips. He was sat on the large wooden desk, his legs parted to fit the other man between them as they made out heavily. Realistically, Buck knew that no one would enter— especially with Chimney holding his usual post at the door (the man had given him a wink when he went inside the office ten minutes ago with the intention to ‘discuss security’). However, that didn’t stop him from thinking that the giant eagle on the carpet was fixing him with a disapproving glare.

“I think we’re past that, baby,” Eddie— also known as Mr. President — said, his lips curving upwards at the edges in a soft smile.

“I’m your head of security, I shouldn’t be making out with you on your desk. I should be making sure you’re safe, that Christopher is safe,” Buck chastised himself, shaking his head.

“Hey,” Eddie said gently, moving his hands from his waist to cup his face and get him to look at him. “We’re always safe with you,” he said, his words confident and his tone strong and certain. “You’ll always keep us safe,” he said again, his thumb brushing along the birthmark above his eye. “The whole house is guarded, you can let go for a few minutes,” he said softly, his hand coming down to rest on the nape of his neck as he met his eyes.

“Okay,” Buck nodded slightly, his voice soft with blue eyes searching Eddie’s expression and finding nothing but sincerity.

Eddie’s smile widened and he pulled Buck back in for another soft kiss before pulling away again, “I love you,” he whispered, dropping his hands down to rest leisurely on his boyfriend’s thighs.

“I love you too,” Buck said softly in return, gently tugging on the lapels of his jacket to pull him in for another heated kiss, smiling when Eddie tugged him closer by his hips.

***

“Go for Buckley,” Buck said, raising a hand to press the comm in his ear when he heard the voice of Vice Director Bobby Nash in his ear.

“All clear around the perimeter and the package is secure,” Bobby reported, walking with his wife Director Athena Grant back inside the large glass building. “You’re clear to move in, Chimney, Hen, secure the doors,” he directed next, his eyes scanning the area as he moved. Everything appeared to be clear and ready for the press conference.

“I’m on it,” Buck assured, moving in and sharing a nod with Chim and Hen as they closed the doors behind him and stood in front of them securely. He moved to the front of the conference that had yet to begin, scanning the aisles as he did so. When he deemed the room clear of any suspicious activity, he took his post at the side of the elevated podium where Eddie was standing, ready to walk on. His boyfriend nodded only slightly, an action that to an outsider would merely look like a charge and a guard interacting as normal. Buck’s eyes said what he couldn’t, his posture and demeanor serious and stiff with anticipation.

“We now welcome President Diaz to the stage for a very special greeting,” the woman at the glass podium introduced, turning to Eddie when he began to move. “Mr. President,” she beckoned, gesturing with her arm.

“It’s a pleasure to be here for the foundation Mrs. Emers, thank you for having me,” Eddie said, shaking her hand customarily with a polite smile before he took his spot at the podium and opened his mouth to speak.

Buck focused less on listening to his words (after all he had watched Eddie practice them in the mirror that morning while he himself lied in bed) and more on their surroundings, wanting to make sure Eddie was completely and one-hundred percent safe.

It was half way through the speech however, when Buck got a sudden feeling of dread in the bottom of his stomach— something feeling very off. He trusted his instincts enough to know that something had to have been wrong so his blue eyes darted around the room to find the cause. His gaze lingered on Hen and Chimney for a moment, finding them doing the same. His eyes moved across the stage and they came to rest on Maddie, the head of PR, at the other side. She watched Eddie intently and gauged the audience’s reactions, apparently none the wiser to this suspicious and mysterious feeling. Buck felt his heart start to speed up in his chest and he moved slowly up the three glass steps of the large platform, not wanting to draw attention to himself but knowing that Eddie needed to get out of there. He stood there for a moment and his eyes caught someone reaching into their jacket pocket, Buck’s fingers twitching slightly at the sight before relaxing when the person harmlessly pulled out a recording device. He blew air out from his mouth and scanned the air once more, his eyes darting upwards suddenly when he saw movement— just in time to catch the gunman in the balcony clicking off the safety of the gun and taking aim. “Get down!” Buck yelled, his legs instinctually jerking into motion and propelling him forward towards Eddie just as the first shot was fired, the noise sending the entire room into panic and security into action. Buck had made it just in time to knock Eddie down, the two of them sent tumbling to the plexiglass floor. Buck wasted no time in hauling Eddie up and guarding him, getting him off the stage and behind a large pillar for immediate cover.

“Bobby, Athena, we’ve got a gunman on the second floor balcony and multiple injuries, the president is still in the room, I repeat, the president is under fire,” Hen said into her comm, her voice coming through into Buck’s ringing ears. She held her gun high and ushered people out and to the sides out of the line of fire as Chimney made his way undetected to Maddie, catching his wife in his arms when she nearly fell into them and ushering her to safety as well with promises he didn’t know he could keep.

“Someone get a unit to the station and make sure the fireman is there,” Buck ordered into his comm, peering around the edge of the pillow to look for the gunman. If someone was after Eddie, chances were someone else could be going for Christopher.

Eddie stayed quiet, knowing not to break protocol and wanting to ensure the safety of everyone in the room, himself and Buck included. Alerting the gunman to his location would hardly be effective. He stayed as small as possible, having to lean into Buck somewhat to make sure neither of them were seen.

Agent Smith peered out from his cover and made the mistake of moving, getting shot in the shoulder for his efforts and being set down to the ground by the force of the hit.

“We’re dropping like flies over here,” Chimney said into the comms, taking cover behind the kiosk in the corner.

“We’re trying to get into the balcony now,” Bobby reported, his voice low and calm but his team could tell he was worried.

Buck stopped peering along the side of the pillar, turning his attention to Eddie but stopped in his movement by the sudden white hot sharp pain that shot up his side. He gritted his teeth and bit his lip to keep from making any sound, leaning his head back against the concrete of the pillar.

Eddie noticed immediately and his eyes widened in realization, one hand moving to Buck’s suit jacket and pulling the fabric away gently, immediately spotting the blossoming red stain along his left side. Mouthing a curse, he shrugged off his jacket and balled it up as much as it would go, pressing it to his side and holding it there, lifting his other hand up to brush Buck’s hair back to soothe him as best he could when he knew he desperately wanted to cry out in pain at the action. He didn’t miss the heat radiating off of his forehead or how his skin paled and grew clammy— the blood loss worrying him immensely when he saw how soaked his shirt and jacket had become already.

The perpetrator took that exact moment took shoot wildly at their pillar and even injured, Buck made sure Eddie wasn’t in any danger, turning his body despite the fiery pain and extending his arm, shooting up at the balcony where the man was. He managed to clip the man in the shoulder after a few shots back and forth, the gunman’s cry of pain sparking action and allowing Chimney to come out from his spot and train his gun up on the groaning man to make sure he didn’t try anything again.

Fortunately for Chimney and unfortunately for the man, Bobby and Athena were able to bust down the door at that exact moment, the other guards storming in and restraining the man, ripping the gun from his hands and subduing him.

“I need help over here!” Eddie called, his arms circling around Buck’s waist quickly in order to catch the man and ease him down when his knees buckled and his body sagged.

At Eddie’s cry for help, Hen and Chimney immediately holstered their guns and rushed over, taking in sight before them.

Eddie was holding Buck in his arms and putting pressure on the wound, both of them covered in blood.

“Sir, we have to get you out of here,” Hen said, pushing down the nervousness in her stomach as she bent down to them, getting level with Eddie.

“No, I’m not leaving, he needs help first,” Eddie refused, shaking his head defiantly.

“Sir, you’re our number one priority, we need to get you out of here now,” Hen insisted, her tone saying that this was not up for discussion.

Bobby and Athena took that exact moment to catch up with them and survey the scene, both of them sharing a worried look before their expression’s hardened.

“Mr. President, we have to go,” Athena said, already grabbing onto his arm with a gentle but firm grip.

“Eddie,” Buck breathed, his voice weak and breathy as forced his eyes open, blinking them rapidly to keep them that way. He could feel the blood loss catching up to him but he needed Eddie safe. “Eddie, go, please, you have to go,” he insisted, one bloodied hand clutching onto Eddie’s and smiling softly when it was squeezed back tightly.

Tears were in Eddie’s eyes and he looked like he wanted to protest but he knew that he couldn’t so he nodded quickly, leaning down to kiss Buck softly before pulling away. “Stay with me, you hear me? Stay with me,” he ordered, watching him nod before kissing his forehead this time and setting his hand down gently, allowing Athena to get him out of there quickly.

Bobby’s eyes lingered on Buck for a moment, nodding slightly at his kid and wishing he could say more before he had to rush out with Athena and Eddie.

“Buckaroo hey, we’ve got you,” Hen smiled warmly, moving Eddie’s jacket away from the wound before pulling back Buck’s own jacket and unbuttoning his shirt to pull the fabric away and see the wound. It bled heavily and she immediately pressed Eddie’s jacket back to it, frowning deeply when it caused Buck to cry out in pain. “Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay,” she assured, trying to soothe him as best as she could but she knew he was in an incredible amount of pain.

“Help is almost here,” Chimney said, coming back over and kneeling down to them. “Just hang in there, Buck,” he said, holding onto his bloody hand and giving it a squeeze, hating how weak his friend’s grip felt.

“Maddie— Maddie she’s okay right?” Buck asked, his eyes slipping closed for a moment before they opened again abruptly when Hen tapped his cheek a few times.

“Yeah kid, she’s just fine,” Chimney assured, having seen to it himself. He was so relieved that his wife hadn’t been hurt, he couldn’t even imagine— he cut his own train of thought off short, not wanting to think about it and needing to focus on his teammate, his good friend.

“Good,” Buck breathed in relief, almost breathless as he closed his eyes and mumbled another soft, “good”.

“Hey, Buck, hey, Buckaroo eyes open,” Chimney ordered, tapping his hand quickly.

“Come on Buck, help is here, let’s see those baby blue’s,” Hen pleaded, her voice spilling over the edge of panic as her pleas went unanswered and Buck’s eyes remained closed, his grip slack and his torso and hands covered in blood, some even smeared on his face. She couldn't help but think that he looked oddly, gruesomely, peaceful.

***

Eddie paced the panic room worriedly, his hands shaking as he tried to busy them by crossing his arms, shoving them in his pockets, running his fingers through his hair— anything to distract himself. When he looked at them, he still saw them covered in blood, still saw himself covered in blood. And when he closed his eyes, he could still see Evan covered in blood. He looked up and to the side, sighing in relief when he was once again reassured that Christopher was perfectly safe and that he and Carla were playing with legos distractedly.

“Is he out of surgery?” Eddie asked for what had to have been the umpteenth time.

“Hen is going to call when he is,” Bobby said gently, trying to reassure him with his natural fatherly tone. “For now, we just have to wait until we’re positive the coast is clear, you know the protocol,” he said, wishing he too could make sure Buck was okay. Seeing the kid— his kid— like that was terrifying and he hoped to never see him like that again.

“He could be dying Bobby,” Eddie said, his voice cracking as he admitted it. “He could be dying and I’m not there,” he said.

“Hey,” Bobby said, resting his hands on his shoulders. “He would want you to be here, safe, and with Christopher, you know that. You can see him as soon as it’s safe, then you can stay with him for as long as you want,” he assured, nodding slightly when Eddie seemed to force himself to calm down and take a few deep breaths, nodding along with him.

“So we just wait for Hen?” Eddie asked, his voice small and worried.

“We wait for Hen,” Bobby nodded in agreement, giving him a soft smile of encouragement. He secretly hoped that Hen would indeed call very soon.

***

“He’s settled in a room and resting,” Bobby said, walking back over to Eddie after he received the call from Hen with another update. He was grateful to her for the periodic detailed updates and wished he could be there with the rest of the team.

“Oh thank god,” Eddie breathed in relief, his frame visibly sagging and relaxing at those words. Hopefully this meant that the worst part was over.

“And in other good news, everything’s clear and we can take you to him now,” Bobby said, a small smile gracing his face when he saw Eddie’s eyes light up.

“I have to tell Chris I’m leaving, I want him to stay here for a bit longer just to be safe,” Eddie nodded quickly, thanking Bobby before heading off to his son and kneeling down in front of him, telling him what was going on.

Bobby smiled softly as he watched him, wrapping his arm around Athena’s back when she joined him.

“Our kid’s going to be just fine,” she assured him, smiling at him with brown eyes burning with certainty. “And the man who did this to him is going to pay for it,” she said, her tone darker now.

“Buck’s taken care of,” Bobby agreed, looking to Eddie and Christopher again. He knew his son was good— great— hands. “And Aiden Williams is definitely going to get what’s coming to him, we’ll see to that ourselves,” he said, a slight smirk on his face when he looked at his wife, the two of them already on the same train as always.

***

Maddie had seated herself in a chair beside her brother as soon as he was settled, taking his hand in hers and holding it loosely.

Chimney stood behind his wife with his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them lightly to try and ease the tension from her body. “He’s going to be okay Mads, you heard the doctor, he just needs a lot of rest,” he said gently, smiling softly when she brought a hand up to rest on one of his.

“I know but god, Howie, I know this comes with the job, but he could’ve died, and that could’ve been Eddie, or you, or Hen, or me and god maybe I wish it was me instead,” Maddie stammered brokenly, dropping her hand from his and resting her head in it instead as she leaned her elbow on the armrest. She sniffled and tried to contain her sobs but that had proven to be an effort in futility since the event happened.

“Hey,” Chimney said gently but strongly, putting slight pressure on her shoulders to get her attention. “You know that Buck would do anything to keep you safe. And putting yourself in this bed doesn’t change the fact that he’s in it. I wish he wasn’t, but if we start thinking about all the what if’s we’ll go crazy,” he said, knowing from experience.

“You’re right,” Maddie sighed, her voice shaky. “I just need him to wake up,” she cried, letting go of her brother’s hand in favor of clutching on Chimney’s arms as they wrapped around her from behind.

“He’s going to wake up Maddie, I promise, Buck’s a fighter,” Chimney said, and he knew Buck would keep this promise for him. Until then, he held his wife in his arms and pressed kisses to her hair as they waited for Buck to wake up.

***

Eddie felt like he couldn’t breathe as he walked with security through the corridors of the private presidential hospital wing. Bobby and Athena flanked his sides but he couldn’t help but feel the absence of Chimney and Hen, and especially Buck. Once he was inside the room, the door was shut and secured, two guards posted outside and many more in other parts nearby. Maddie, Chimney, Hen, Bobby, and Athena were all inside the room and Eddie knew he could be himself now. “Evan,” he breathed when his eyes rested on his partner and he moved before he even realized it, coming to Buck’s other side and brushing his hair back from his forehead, sliding his hand into his.

“The doc said he was extremely lucky. Apparently the bullet didn't hit anything vital and barely grazed an artery. He’s going to be weak for a while but he’ll be okay,” Hen said, her voice soft as she spoke and alerted the other’s of the situation.

“The shooter’s been identified and detained, he’s currently awaiting trial and he’s going to get what’s coming to him,” Athena said, her voice hard. She knew probably no one wanted to talk about it right now but Chimney, Maddie, and Hen should be able to sleep better with it in mind.

“Good,” Maddie said curtly, clenching her jaw. The tears had dried on her face and now she was just angry. Angry at the world, at Aiden Williams, at herself, angry for her brother that could never catch a break. The only thing that made her feel better was her husband’s constant presence but she knew she couldn’t feel completely at ease until her brother was awake and talking.

Eddie stayed silent as the others talked quietly amongst themselves, his gaze never shifting from Buck’s face as he held one of his hands in both of his, rubbing the skin lightly with his thumb. They both knew that getting into a relationship when it was Buck’s literal job to protect Eddie with his dying breath was risky, but they had been up to the challenge. Now though, seeing Buck lying there, Eddie wasn’t so sure that he had really prepared himself for something like this, even if Buck had resigned himself to the prospect of dying. He would never be able to handle losing him, or seeing him hurt, all because he was protecting him or Christopher. He knew he couldn’t blame himself for what happened and he huffed out a shaky breath of air to halt his thoughts in their tracks and only focus on Buck and taking care of him. He tuned into the conversations around him and chimed in every so often, but eventually he let himself get lost in running his fingers through Buck’s hair and waiting patiently for him to come around.

***

It was the next day when Buck finally did come around, but he was so out of it and exhausted that he only lasted for five minutes before Eddie insisted he press the button on the morphine administer and he was soon drifting off again.

The next time he came around, it was that evening and he was still not fairing too well but was considerably better than last time. He woke up to Maddie’s worried but relieved face and was smothered in her careful arms before he could really ask any questions, her warm embrace lulling him to sleep like it did when they were kids.

When he came around again after that it was to a gentle hand in his hair and another rubbing his arm. Forcing his eyes to open, Buck blinked a few times to clear away the haze and was met by the gorgeous sight of his partner. “Eddie,” he said hoarsely, his voice soft and cracked as he spoke to get his attention.

“Evan,” Eddie breathed, his head jerking up immediately as he stood up from his chair and sat on the edge of the bed. “Hey baby, how you feeling?” he asked, giving him a small reassuring smile.

“M’okay,” Buck mumbled, blearily smiling softly up at him. Even through his medicated haze, he was so relieved to know that Eddie was okay and so was Christopher.

“I love you so, so much,” Eddie said, laughing softly in relief at Buck’s sleepily smile and leaning forward to press a light kiss to his forehead.

“I love you too,” Buck whispered, closing his eyes at the touch and sighing softly before his eyes fluttered open again. “When can I go home?” he asked weakly, wanting nothing more than to rest in bed with his two boys.

“They’re releasing you tomorrow but that’s only because we have our own medical unit at the house that can check on you. You’re going to need a lot of rest but you’re going to be okay,” Eddie said, trailing his fingers down the side of his face soothingly.

Buck wanted to say something more and keep the conversation going but he was just so exhausted. His eyelids were already drooping and he had to force himself awake a few times but it was proving to be no use.

Eddie smiled softly as he watched him fight sleep and he shook his head slightly. “Hey, I’ll still be here when you wake up,” he said, running his fingers through his hair again. “Don’t fight it, just try and rest,” he said, continuing the motion and using his other hand to trace patterns on his arm to lull him to into the realm of unconsciousness.

Buck was about to open his mouth to protest but his train of thought was lost when he was distracted by Eddie’s gentle touches. Letting his eyes flutter closed as well, he sighed contently and moved his hand to catch Eddie’s and hold onto it loosely, his grip not very strong but Eddie making up for it by squeezing it gently.

***

True to Eddie’s word, Buck was in fact released the next day, although he was in pain and not one-hundred percent coherent the entire way home. While Eddie went to check on Christopher, Bobby helped get Buck into Eddie’s room and settled in bed. Very few people were allowed in the Presidential wing so it wasn't hard at all to go unnoticed.

“Almost there, kid,” Bobby encouraged, one of Buck’s arms draped over his shoulders and one of his arms wrapped around the kid’s waist to help him walk to the bed and lay down slowly, every movement causing him obvious pain and leaving him panting. “Alright, you let us know if you need anything okay? Eddie is coming with Christopher in a few minutes,” he said, pulling the covers up over him and patting his shoulder.

“Thanks Bobby,” Buck said, smiling softly as he looked up at his father-figure.

“Never thank me kid, you’re family,” Bobby said, shaking his head. “Just get some rest, we all miss you,” he said, patting his shoulder again with a smile before leaving the room quietly to let him rest.

When Eddie came in with Christopher ten minutes later, Buck was already passed out asleep. “Okay buddy, Buck is really tired so we have to be careful not to wake him,” he whispered to his son, kissing his cheek when he nodded in determination. “He got a little hurt so you also have to be careful of his side okay?” he informed him, wanting him to understand so he didn’t accidentally hurt Buck but also not wanting him to know the gravity of the situation.

“Okay daddy,” Christopher nodded with a hushed whisper, his eyes determined to do everything carefully.

Eddie smiled at his son and the love he had for Buck and carried him over to the bed, laying him down next to his partner and tucking him in. He smiled brightly when Christopher turned around and cuddled to Buck, being mindful not to hurt him and closing his eyes when Buck subconsciously draped an arm over him. Eddie pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the two of them before changing into pajamas himself and sliding in on Buck’s other side, molding to his back and draping an arm across both of them. He pressed a light kiss to the back of Buck’s neck and whispered a soft “I love you” into his skin. “Goodnight Christopher, I love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“Goodnight daddy, goodnight Bucky,” Christopher whispered into the dark, snuggling closer if that were possible.

Buck hummed softly in content at being surrounded by his boys and he smiled sleepily, dropping a kiss to Christopher’s hair and leaning back into Eddie. “Goodnight, love you,” he said in more of a tired murmur that was muffled by the pillow but he got the point across just fine before drifting off immediately again.

Eddie couldn’t help the smile that graced his face and he shuffled a bit closer to his partner before he sighed and began to finally relax and let sleep overtake him.

Buck would need time to recover and would be resting a lot in the coming days. They knew it wouldn’t be easy and that it would take time, but they would do it together. They also knew that they would have to talk about the dangers of being together with their jobs but Eddie already had a solution for that.

That solution was a gold ring lying in a small blue velvet box in the safe in his closet.

For now however, Eddie basked in the relief that they were okay and would remain that way, and allowed himself to full succumb to the realm of sleep.

——————————

Thanks for reading!

As always, feel free to leave prompts in my ask inbox!

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911onfox #911 on fox #fluff #hurt/comfort #entire firefam

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darylandbethfanforever9 · 4 years

Text

Downfall Of Us All: Chapter 12

Downfall Of Us All

Chapter 12

AN: I’m going through a rough time right now, emotionally and I’m sorry that I won’t be posting a chapter every day. Thank you to @jtargaryen18 for writing this story with me.

"If Foster's assistant hadn't been snooping for information, on Project Genesis then Foster wouldn't be in this mess." Rumlow said bluntly, eying Pepper hungrily. She wasn't bad looking, and she had wonderful breasts as he pulled out the metal handcuffs. He restrained her hands, and Laura smirked in amusement. This would be fun.

Rumlow could tell help but feel aroused by the sight of Pepper Potts handcuffed to the bed, and he cupped her right breast tightly. He heard her moan, and smirked.

One of the HYDRA female scientists strapped her legs down to begin the process, he was going to enjoy this. He saw her wake up and grinned malevolently at her. "Hello Virginia, you're gonna be part of our experiment." He said amused, as he began cutting at her hospital gown with his knife.

Pepper's eyes widened, she jerked in the restraints as the knife sliced the gown up, over her stomach. "W-what experiment?" Pepper looked groggy, but she did understand that she was in very real danger. "Where am I?" "Don't worry about where you are," Rumlow told her as she slid the knife through the gown to just under her chin, grinning as he let the gown gap open down her body. "The experiment, well, let's just say it's not totally unfamiliar to you personally." Pepper's gaze bounced from Laura and back to him. Pepper squinted at her, did a double take. "Laura?" she rasped. "Right? You're Clint's wife." Laura shrugged nonchalantly. "Was." "What? Why are you here? Where's Clint?" Pepper's panic was a living thing around them, her fear nearly tangible. For Rumlow, the fear satisfied a craving. It was all he could do to contain the feeling of triumph as he watched the famous Pepper Potts, posed wife of Tony Stark, crumble before him. "Clint will meet the same fate as his children soon enough," Laura said coolly. "Not your problem though." One of the scientists reached the table next to the bed, opening a case he placed on the table. He opened it to reveal a set of injections of something that looked terrifying familiar. "Is that…?" The scientist, a small bald man, didn't even make eye contact with her. "Extremis?" Rumlow asked. "Why, yes, it is. I'm pleased you remember." Pepper shook her head frantically in denial. "You can't… Why would you… Why are you doing this?" Rumlow shrugged a shoulder. "I'm doing this because that's why HYDRA wants. Specifically, to you because you once had Extremis and you did remarkably well. You'll be our star pupil." "I need your help now," the scientist said, injection at the ready. Pepper fought as she watched the huge man walk around the bed to the other side. His grip on her arm was like a vice. He kept her arm flat against the metal bar, so she couldn't move it, smiling at her the entire while. "Just a few pricks," he told her, making it sound like she was overreacting. "Then a bigger one once he's done. Me and you will have a little fun." Pepper's mouth dropped open as the needle slid into her arm. She screamed as it burned its way along her arm, through her body.

"T-Tony will come for me," she warned them. "I wouldn't be so sure about that," Rumlow said with a chuckle. "That was a pretty bad fight. The slap across the face was a nice touch. I'm not so sure I'd come after you. I mean, you have a guy, a do-gooder granted, working hard to make the world a safe place for everyone, including you, and you're just a complete bitch to him. It's a level of selfishness that's just impressive really." Pepper gasped, feeling the virus burn its way into her body. "That's why I'm not going to feel too bad about what we do after these injections." Laura laughed on the other side. "You going to stay and watch again," Rumlow asked her. Her nod was the last thing Pepper saw as everything started to fade in and out. It felt like she was burning alive, from the inside out. The pain was intense and then he planned to rape her? With any luck, this time, the Extremis would kill her.

She could feel the burning sensation, despite needles being injected into her bloodstream. She could feel the fire burning through her veins, and cried out in pain. This could be happening to her again, it couldn't be. She felt tears stream down her face, she didn't regret how she'd spoken to Tony. If Tony hadn't gotten back into being Iron Man, then none of this would have happened.

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The team refused to give up on finding Pepper, Darcy and Jane. The team had reluctant help from S.H.I.E.L.D grudgingly and were searching abandoned HYDRA bases in America. Clint and Grace both surveyed the abandoned HYDRA base located in Wyoming, it looked deserted. They cautiously entered the base, and Grace looked around quietly. It was like people had left in a hurry, there was hardly any equipment around the place. Clint cautiously checked the room and found nothing. He joined Grace and they both began searching the other rooms, when they came across a file. Half of it was written in Romanian, and Ukrainian. Clint couldn't make out most of it, but Grace helped him translate some of the words. He felt his stomach drop, as he saw Grace's face pale. Project Genesis. The project had been formed by Dr List and Dr Wolfgang Strucker, in 2014. The project's aim was to use Enhanced, Inhuman and Gifted women as breeding mares for HYDRA agents who had been part of Project Centipede. The file went on to file how many of the women had died from complications, caused by being impregnated by the HYDRA agents. Many of the women had died along with the baby, and there had been only one survivor. Grace Melnychenko Drăgoi had survived the procedure, she'd been captured in early July. Unlike the other women who had failed to carry the pregnancies to term, Grace had thrived, and it was believed her DNA had protected her. 'Test Subject 24 shows no signs of illness, or stress. The father of the child had been informed.' HYDRA also expressed interest in using Peter Parker, Natasha, Sophie and Bucky but dismissed Peter due to his young age. Clint saw that Grace was shaking slightly and gave her hand a tight squeeze. She gave him a grateful smile, and they put the file away as they continued to search. The wind howled around the base, and Clint pulled out his bow when he saw a blood trail leading down the hallway. He cautiously followed it, Grace behind him. And lying on a medical table, was the dead body of a young woman. Her stomach had been cut open, and her skin was waxy looking. She'd been dead for a few days.

"My God, Clint," Grace said with tears in her voice. "How many women have they done this to? How are we going to stop them?" Clint steered her out of the room. "Grace, we don't have to know right now how we're going to stop them. We only have to know that we will." Her beautiful face was drained of colour. "Clint, I'm scared." "I know," he told her, getting his comm ready to bring the team in for the body. "But I'm not going to let anything happen to you. The team will keep you and your sister safe. I can promise you that." "And Bucky?" Clint snorted. "Steve damn near tore the Avengers apart before for Bucky. I would expect no less now. Besides, I think he likes your sister." Grace smiled at that, one small happy thought in all this darkness. "Need a team up here," Clint said into the comm. "We've got another body. If we can spare a couple of agents, let's sweep the grounds. You'll probably find the body of a child buried somewhere on the grounds." Grace's chin trembled. Clint wrapped an arm around her, trying to steady her. She was clutching the file so tightly in her hand that her knuckles were white. "Let's get you out of here," Clint said. "Okay?"

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Tony sat behind his desk when Clint walked in, Steve and Bruce waiting with him. "What did you find?" Tony asked. "Why the specificity on who was here?" Clint held the file, placing it down on Tony's desk. "Information Grace and I found on in Wyoming," he explained. "Most of it is in languages I can't read. The gist of it? Project Genesis."

That got Tony's attention. "Did you say Project Genesis?" "Yeah, reasonably sure I did," Clint told him. "Do you know what it is?" Tony asked curiously. "A breeding program to create super-soldiers," Clint told him. "The only one the Erskine serum ever really worked on was Cap here. Since they can't replicate his formula, they are taking enhanced and inhuman women, raping them, and forcing them to carry pregnancies that they hope will be a new race." Steve's expression was grim. "That's disgusting." "I asked for the specific people now because I don't want people's emotions to compromise them as we deal with this," Clint explained. "Compromised?" Steve asked concerned. "I even hesitated to have you here," Clint told him. "This concerns Bucky too." That got Steve's attention. "What about Bucky?" Clint calmly explained what they found. Aside from the body being autopsied at the moment in their lab, he explained the contents of the file. "Basically, only one woman has survived this procedure to produce a viable child," Clint finished. "Grace," Tony said out loud. Clint nodded grimly. "They will want her back," Clint told them. "And I don't mind saying that I'm emotionally invested because I'll die before I let that son-of-a-bitch Rumlow lay another hand on her." "They also had Sophie, Bucky, and Parker as viable candidates," Clint went on. "Peter?" Tony's face darkened in anger. "They ruled him out because of his age," Clint explained. "Bucky?" Steve didn't like that. "He's been through enough." "Agreed," Clint told him. "That wasn't why I didn't request him here. With Sophie being a target? I don't want him going off the deep end if they target her." Steve understood, but shook his head. "I think it will give him… focus." "I'll defer to whatever you think, Cap," Clint told him. "But I'm going to make my intentions very clear here. Rumlow? Is mine. Laura? She's mine. I don't want to fight any of you for the privilege of killing either one of them, but I will if I have to." "It's okay, Legolas," Tony told him, his expression serious where his words weren't. "I understand. For my part, I'll stay out of your way." "But parts of our team are targeted," Steve wanted them to understand. "That means we're going to have to handle things carefully. And Ross…" "Ross knew," Tony said, rising from his chair. "Son-of-a-bitch, you're right. He knew the girls were targets and that's why he put them on the Avengers Initiative. Bucky, he was theirs to play with for years. No offense, Cap, but that was a given. And Peter?" Clint knew that pissed Tony off. He thought of the kid as a son. "I want Peter looked after," Tony told them. Steve nodded his agreement.

"We won't let anything happen to Peter, Tony. Grace, and Sophie love Peter like he's their baby brother, and Lilia might actually blow up someone if they hurt her assistant." Clint reassured, Tony looked relieved and reassured. "We better tell his aunt, and put her into protective custody. Not to mention his friends, their parents never came back after we killed Thanos," Tony said quietly, sighing bitterly. Even though Thanos was dead, people had still died because of him snapping his fingers. It was something he still hadn't forgiven Peter Quill for, and why none of the team left them alone. Steve squeezed his shoulder in a sign of comfort, and they both decided to get the others.

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Lilia had been busy looking through Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster's laptops, that SHIELD had given to her. Whoever had been on them, had not left any clues. She frowned when she saw that Darcy had been hacking into the old Soviet Union government files, she managed to download the files onto a backup USB stick. 'Project Genesis Candidates.' 'Natalia Alianovna Romanoff: Deemed a suitable candidate, due to having been in the Red Room Program.' 'Sophie Anastasia Melnychenko Drăgoi: Deemed a suitable candidate, due to having been burn from the successful Widow Project.' 'Grace Alexandra Melnychenko Drăgoi: Deemed suitable, after successfully carrying a child conceived from a HYDRA agent who was a member of Project Centipede.' 'Peter Benjamin Parker: Not a suitable candidate, due to his young age.' 'James Buchanan Barnes: Deemed a suitable candidate, due to having the super soldier serum. Will be recaptured in time, along with the two sisters, and Black Widow.' The file went on to express interest in using an Enhanced individual known as Quicksilver, Lilia had no idea who that was. But HYDRA did want Wanda Maximoff, who was the only surviving female from Project Psyche. Lilia felt sick, as she saw Tony's name had been added onto the list, due to his genius intellect. It was hoped by using Steve, Bucky, and Quicksilver, and a man named Ronin that they could build an army. Hands shaking, she printed the files quickly and told her AI D.A.V.I.D to make sure no one hacked into the laptop. David assured her they wouldn’t and locked the laptop.

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Sophie and Grace had been in the training room all afternoon but neither minded, Grace had told Sophie what she and Clint had found in abandoned HYDRA base. It made her feel sick and horrified at what these people did to those poor women. Had they done this to their mother, when she'd been used by them.

She took off the boxing gloves, and took a sip from her bottle of water, wiping the sweat from her forehead. She saw Bucky entering the room, and he looked at her quietly. "Tony and Steve are calling an emergency meeting, everyone needs to be there in an hour," he explained quietly, and Sophie could tell that he was worried. "Has something happened?" Sophie asked concerned, Bucky bit his lip and squeezed her hand. He didn't want to scare her or Grace, as Peter came over. "Lilia's found out something on Darcy's laptop, and it's not good." He said finally, his voice from. Sophie felt her hair stand on end.

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They'd all gathered into the larger conference room at the compound for the meeting, Steve and Tony waiting for everyone to arrive and take a seat before getting started. Grace caught the concerned glance between Nat and Steve when she walked in with Sophie and it did nothing to bring down her already elevated anxiety level. Clint motioned her over, having saved her a seat. Joining him she sat down as Tony looked ready to get started. "Hey guys," Tony started. "So, thanks to ah, my –" "Lilia," she offered with a smile. "Her," Tony pointed to her, "we have some critical new data that we need to review as a team." "Starting without me?" Nicky Fury walked into the room to loom over them ominously, Maria Hill right behind me. "Just started," Tony told him, trying to reach his usual snarky level but missing it by a mile. Whatever it was, it had Tony rattled. That wasn't a good sign. "Lilia, why don't you…." Tony motioned her to the front. "Okay," Lilia told him, coming to stand next to him. "I was able to retrieve data from S.H.I.E.L.D from laptops belonging to Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis. Unfortunately, it appears they were targeted because of their hacking efforts into old Soviet files. From what I can tell Ms. Lewis was able to retrieve files and download them onto a thumb drive. No clues were left as to who accessed the systems after they were captured. Whoever they were, they really knew what they were doing." Steve's expression was grim as he looked to Thor, knowing his friend's feelings for Jane were still raw and painful. "They are calling this program Project Genesis and it's a breeding program. They need to generate an army of enhanced, superior individuals," Lilia explained. "Which doesn't do them any good for what – twenty years?" Nick offered. "Well," Lilia continued, "you would think that but…" "But what?" Sophie prompted, knowing the other woman was struggling with whatever she needed to say. "Okay, look," Lilia explained, "HYDRA has been secretly working on some very interesting biological experimentation in the last few decades. None of this is really new, it just existed without our awareness. They are working with Extremis, which I know most of you have heard of, and is likely why Pepper Potts was taken. She's been the most successful project with the virus to date." Tony's face showed his shock. "I'm sorry," Lilia told him. "The one project they haven't had any luck on – so far – is age acceleration. The minute they figure out how to do that, their army goes from being a threat down the road to an immediate emergency." "So, we need to locate facilities where this is being developed and shut them down?" Steve asked. Lilia nodded. "Apparently Darcy was able to locate certain data files, including lists of possible candidates for the project. They include Natasha ---"

"I can't have children," Nat pointed out. Lilia took a deep breath. "Another part of their biological developments is the reversal of sterilizations. Even on females. Their plan for you is to reverse that and then breed you." The look on Natasha's face made Lilia's heart drop. To think they sterilized her to make her a weapon, taking away her ability to have children if she ever wished. Then wanting to reinstate it to cruelly use her for a broodmare. "They have also identified Sophie and Grace as potential candidates," Lilia went on, "particularly since Grace is the only experiment case to produce a live birth and thrive with the child." "Live birth?" Grace's eyes stung with tears. "He's my son." "I know," Lilia said gently. "I mean you no offense. Sophie was the result of an experiment, same as you, and they think she's viable along with Bucky who they plan to take back and Wanda who is the only living experiment from Project Psyche." Bucky's expression was closed while the sisters gazed at each other fearfully. "They eliminated Peter Parker as a possible candidate, for now, due to his age," Lilia went on. "But the minute they can age him…?" Tony threw in. "They'll likely re-add him to the list," Lilia said. "This is barbaric," Natasha grumbled. "Forcing people to breed. How is that scientific?" "It greatly increases the chances of a viable pregnancy," Lilia told them. "They are using their agents as fathers for the female patients. Many have been a man named Brock Rumlow who is working with a female accomplice, someone you all knew as someone named Laura."

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Tagging list: @jtargaryen18, @marvelfansworld, @sapphirescrolls, @queenoftheunderdark, @nomadicpixel, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork, and @my-favourite-fics

#Hawkeye Fanfiction #Ronin Fanfiction #Clint Barton Fanfiction #Clint Barton x OC #Winter Soldier Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x OC #Avengers Fanfiction #MCU Fanfiction

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camsthisky · 5 years

Text

where Dick and Jason argue because they love each other

for @brambleberrycottage who asked for injured or ill Dick + Jason realizing/ acknowledging Dick needs his family - including him - more than he ever lets on. With a happy/hopeful ending

thank you so much for donating and i apologize for this being so late!

donate to @cerusee

“You’re a bimbus,” Jason says to the body he’s dragging into the alleyway—out of sight, better coverage, and not in the fucking way of a gunfight, so it’s perfect.

He’s got his gloved hands hooked under the unconscious jerk’s armpits, and Jason hates that despite being taller, it’s still more of a struggle than he would like to admit to get both of them deep enough into the alley and behind a dumpster so that they’re not targets.

“An absolute plastic fork,” Jason continues, sort of out of breath. “And not even the good plastic ones, the really shitty ones that break the moment you try to stab something with it. That’s what you are.”

There’s no reply. Of course there isn’t. Dick is unconscious, and it’s all Jason’s fault.

Bruce isn’t going to kill him, but he’s not going to be happy.

Damian, though. Damian is going to try and kill him. Jason has a contingency plan just in case, because Dick doesn’t look great. He’s pale, his breathing is short and ragged, his lips are almost blue with cold and oxygen deprivation, and Jason’s sure if he takes off Dick’s gloves, his fingernails will be the same.

Focus, a voice in his head tells him. It sounds too much like Bruce, and Jason promptly swears at it to shut the hell up.

“The hell were you playing at, Grayson?” Jason says, gritting his teeth as he starts checking vitals. He’s already done this, right before he moved the both of them out of the line of fire, but it never hurts to do another. “You’re not invincible, and throwing yourself in front of that gun was the stupidest thing I think I’ve ever seen you do.”

Dick’s breath hitches, and his eyebrows scrunch as he mumbles, “Not stupid.”

“Yes, you are,” Jason says, leaning over Dick to shield him from any prying eyes as he peels away the mask. Concussion, from what Jason can tell, but he can’t be absolutely sure. “I once saw you triple somersault over three trash cans and a car because you thought that asshole was insulting your dignity as an acrobat.”

“He was,” Dick says, eyelashes fluttering. His eyes don’t stay open long.

“He wasn’t,” Jason tells him, feeling along the back of Dick’s head. His fingers come back stained red. “He was telling you to be careful, and I’m right because you ended up landing ass first into an open trash can and that’s about as dumb as you can get.”

“What? Trash can?” Dick’s not following the conversation.

“Shit,” Jason says. “Maybe you’re not even a plastic fork. Maybe you’re a fucking spork. Why the hell would you jump in like that? I had it handled.”

Dick opens his eyes again, and he’s blinking rapidly, trying to focus on Jason, but the bright blue doesn’t stay on his face for long before it’s drifting down to his neck and torso. Dick pales further, breath that he can’t afford to lose freezing in his chest.

“You’re hurt?” Dick whispers, his voice thick and strained with emotion. Pain, too, if Jason had to take a guess.

“No, you’re hurt,” Jason tells him fiercely. “Can you even tell me where?”

Dick seems to have to think about that one. “Uh, chest? Ribs, I think? I…I don’t know? Everywhere.”

Fucking hell.

Jason’s helmet is gone who knows where. It’ll be a bitch to replace, but there’s no way that Jason is going back out there to get it right now. Gently, he takes out Dick’s comm. and places it in his own ear.

“I’m calling the Bat for help,” Jason says, leaving no room for argument. Dick doesn’t even try, which is infuriating for some reason Jason can’t fathom right now.

All Dick murmurs is, “Stop being so emo and just call him Batman like the rest of us, you heathen.” Somehow, it’s all in one breath, though he’s winded after.

Jason elects to ignore him.

Tapping the comm., Jason calls, “Hey B, Nightwing’s down. I can’t get him to the Cave by myself.”

There’s some heavy breathing, a grunt, a gunshot, and then, “I’m sending Red Robin and the Batmobile to your GPS location,” and it’s all Jason gets before the connection cuts out on Bruce’s end.

Fucking typical.

“Take a chill pill, Jay,” Dick coughs out. He looks even worse than before.

“Shut up,” Jason snaps. He’s tense. Too tense. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like one more bad thing is going to make him shatter and neither of them can afford to pick up the pieces right now. “You’re literally fucking dying, how about you take a chill pill.”

Dick doesn’t have the breath to answer him. Jason starts prodding at his ribs. Cracked, probably. Maybe broken. Jason just hopes the lack of blood on Dick’s lips means that there isn’t any internal bleeding, because that’ll be another mess and a half.

Jason turns to his last problem.

See, the thing is that Dick had jumped in front of a gun aimed for Jason. Dick had been stupid and gotten himself shot in Jason’s place, when Jason had been immobilized, grappling with some thug. And the shooter hadn’t seemed to be worried about his man at all.

Dick jumped in at the very last minute, and had gotten shot in the fucking leg. Jason had killed the thug and the shooter, taken care of the gunshot wound via pressure bandage before he’d moved them to a safer location and he hates that all he can do now is keep Dick from falling asleep and dying on him.

Jason shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over Dick’s shivering form. He probably should have done that first, but Jason’s nerves are shot. He’s human, despite popular belief. Sue him.

“I swear to God, Grayson,” Jason says, because he doesn’t know what else to do, “if you even think about dying, I will go into your room and deface your comforter. And you’d fucking deserve it, too—”

“Shut up,” Dick moans. “I’m trying to sleep, you asswipe.”

“You’re the asswipe.”

“And you’re,” Dick pauses for breath, “a child. Name calling. I heard the thing ‘bout the spork. You’re a spork.”

Jason wants to punch something, and Dick’s face is looking sort of punchable. Jason tells him exactly that, and adds, “If you didn’t look like you were about to keel over, I would be throwing you at the Riddler so he could fucking riddle you to death.”

“A child,” Dick repeats.

“You’re the one who your face’d me.”

“I didn’t,” Dick says. “Jay, you’re my brother, and I love the ever-loving fuck out of you, but I would never in my life, your face you. I’m not sure if I respect you too much…or too little.”

“You’re worse than Cass.”

Dick snorts, even though it’s breathless. “No one’s worse than Cass.”

“Yeah,” Jason says.

“Cassie’s the absolute worst,” Dick continues. “I love her so much.”

“We’re all the worst.”

“Kind of, yeah,” Dick agrees.

“You’re a lot more coherent than you were two minutes ago,” Jason says.

“An’ you’re a lot less angry.”

Jason swallows, because it’s true. Dick, his dick of a big brother, has somehow calmed him down, even though he’s literally lying in an alley dying. Uncomfortably, he shifts over Dick’s body to assess his condition.

“How do you feel?”

Dick hums. “Like I took a bullet to the leg.”

“You’re not funny.”

“And you sound like Tim,” Dick sighs out. “When will you three admit that I am so goddamn funny.”

“You mean four? Or five including Bruce?”

“Cass and Bruce appreciate my humor.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “You mean they tolerate it.”

“Cass laughed at my joke yesterday,” Dick informs him very seriously.

“I’m sure she was just laughing at your face. It’s stupid.”

“You literally,” Dick coughs and coughs, and then he breathes in shakily, and something in Jason’s chest clenches as he waits for Dick to continue, “literally just your face’d me. And fuck you. I’m as good looking as they come.”

“I’m not sure the handsomest goblin in the goblin factory counts as a compliment, Dick,” Jason tells him.

Dick opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, another coughing fit rips through him, this one more violent than the last. And this fit brings blood to Dick’s lips. It sprays into the air as Dick coughs and coughs and coughs.

“Shit,” Jason says, dizzy with the panic that floods through his veins. He checks Dick’s pulse and it’s too fast, too fast, and Dick can’t breathe and then—

“Move,” Tim’s demanding, somehow magically appearing while Jason had been focused on Dick and pushing him aside, and fuck that, because Jason’s been sitting here with Dick for the past however long, keeping him awake and talking while they wait for help and he’s not going to not help save his big brother, even though Dick is Tim’s big brother, too.

Fuck. He needs to calm down. He takes a breath, and then another, and then he dives into helping Tim stabilize Dick and getting Dick into the batmobile and to the Cave, and then there’s the usual rush of Alfred swooping in to help Jason and Tim save Dick’s life.

And then it’s Tim and Jason sitting at Dick’s bedside in the Cave, doing the same dance they always do when one of theirs gets hurt.

Except, until recently, it hasn’t been Jason sitting in this chair, holding an injured family member’s hand, waiting for them to wake up. He’d done it for Bruce a million times before and he’s been in the bed himself, but it’s only been the past year or so where he’s actually found himself caring enough about these people.

“Hey,” Tim says a while later, and Jason blinks up at him. He looks as worried as Jason feels. “Thank you.”

Jason scoffs, and looks back towards Dick’s sleeping face.

He feels more than sees Tim lean forwards over Dick’s blankets legs. “No, for real, Jason. If you hadn’t been there, he would have died.”

“If I hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have gotten shot,” Jason says simply.

And it’s true. Dick had taken a bullet for Jason, and Jason had watched his big brother choke on blood in the dead of the night in some random alleyway while there was a gun fight literally thirty feet from them.

“Maybe,” Tim says. “Or maybe he would have gotten shot anyways, and without you there, he would have bled out in the street.”

Jason levels a look at Tim. “Weren’t you supposed to be a dumb irrational teenager?”

“Only when Damian’s involved,” Tim says, and well. At least he admits it. Jason says nothing for a long moment, and Tim sighs, and continues, “I’m just saying I’m glad you were there.”

“Whatever,” Jason sighs more than says.

“Don’t compliment him,” Dick mumbles from the bed. “Called me a spork.”

“You are a spork,” Tim says, and Jason feels his lips tugging up into a grin.

Dick scoffs, his voice raspy when he complains, “Why do my little brothers like picking on me?”

And then his eyes open and Jason finally feels some sense of relief thrum through him, and all he can do is exhale shakily and bury his face in the blankets on Dick’s bed. To their credit, neither Dick nor Tim comment, instead starting up a new conversation.

Jason just lets their words wash over him, and lets himself relax. It finally feels like he can breathe, and it’s dumb but if he’d lost Dick (again, because there was that thing with Spyral, and yeah he’s still sort of pissed about that, and he didn’t care for how much that freaking hurt), he doesn’t think he’d be able to stand doing this family thing anymore.

He doesn’t say that, though. Instead, he looks up and interrupts whatever Dick’s saying, and tells him, “You’re such a bimbus.”

Dick smiles, exhausted and pale and alive, and says, “You’re a bimbus.”

Yeah, they’re gonna be okay.

#dick grayson #jason todd #camryn writes #prompt #donation prompts #dc

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thespacenico · 5 years

Note

klance 5 :)

“you’re safe now.”

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

War means sacrifice.

But it doesn’t always specify what kind.

Because even if the paladins of Voltron had been more or less dragged into an intergalactic space war against their will with no choice other than to fight, they still understood the risks.

That doesn’t mean they ever envisioned having to deal with the consequences.

Everything that had even the slightest chance of going wrong has done exactly that.

Gone wrong.

Including, but not limited to: the team has been separated, Keith’s comms aren’t working, his Lion is out of commission, he doesn’t know where he is other than smack dab in the middle of hostile territory surrounded by sentries, and Lance—

“C’mon,” Keith pants, hands clasped against Lance’s chest, the growing panic and desperation in his chest threatening to claw his throat apart with every compression, each one harder than the next. “C’mon, c’mon—”

He counts to thirty. Moves back to Lance’s mouth, where his unusually pale cheeks are already wet and clammy from Keith’s tears. Pulls away after two breaths and returns to his chest even though he knows there’s no use, Lance’s eyes are still closed, Lance still isn’t breathing, it’s been too long—

Lance is gone.

“No,” Keith whispers, face sticky with tears, and sweat, and blood he’s not sure is even his. Distantly he hears the sound of shoulders slamming and weapons firing against what’s left of the barricade. “No, no—Lance, stay with me.”

He tries two more breaths, and sits back on his feet and searches frantically for any sign of life, feeling for Lance’s pulse, listening for his heartbeat, checking his face.

The barricade shakes violently from behind him.

He’s running out of time.

“Lance, wake up,” Keith mumbles, far past the point of tears—now he’s just cold, and numb, and maybe it’s from shock or the wound throbbing in his own side but it doesn’t matter now. “Don’t make me leave you. I’m not leaving you.”

Lance lies unresponsive before him, the chest plate of his armor tossed aside, under suit soaked with blood where he’d taken a hit. A hit that should’ve hit Keith, had he not shoved him out of the way at the last second.

A particularly loud blast, and the barricade shudders again, hardly seconds away from collapsing entirely.

Keith leans forward and takes Lance’s face in his hands. Even without direct contact, he can still feel the last of Lance’s warmth seeping through the thin material covering his fingers.

“Lance,” he breathes out. The heat building behind his eyes returns, and he doesn’t fight it. “You can’t leave now. You can’t—please, Lance.” He squeezes his eyes shut and leans down, pressing their foreheads together, letting out a single, choked sob.

“You can’t leave me.”

“Keith.”

The barricade finally bursts and the room floods with sentries, weapons raised to fire. Keith doesn’t move.

“Keith? Hey, wake up.”

A tear rolls down Keith’s cheek and drops onto Lance’s as Keith gathers Lance’s lifeless body into his arms, and then the sentries are on them.

“Keith, wake up—”

Keith lurches awake with half a gasp that catches in his throat. His shirt is soaked with sweat, his face is streaked with tears, his skin is clammy and his knuckles are white from clutching the bedsheets, and for a brief moment he panics because it’s dark and it’s hot and it’s too hard to breathe—

A quiet click, and the bedside lamp is being switched on to illuminate the same bedroom that he’d fallen asleep in—not the control room of a hostile base swarming with sentries. And yet the familiarity of it does nothing to soothe Keith’s nerves.

Because there, sitting up beside him, eyes wide and brow pinched with concern, and one hand firm and steadying on Keith’s shoulder, is Lance.

Lance. Alive. Not lying blood-soaked and motionless on a cold metal floor.

He can’t even bring himself to be relieved. Everything is still too fresh in his mind.

Lance seems to sense that, because he shifts in place to face him better, hand never leaving his shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright,” he says softly, and the sound of his voice alone is almost enough to bring Keith back to the verge of tears. “You were just having a bad dream.”

Keith is only half-listening, mind reeling and hands shaking as he slowly reaches up to rest them on either side of Lance’s face, still trying to catch his breath as he stares at him.

Warm. Breathing. Alive.

Lance’s brows pull together as he stares back, confused, and he gently places his free hand over Keith’s wrist. “Keith?”

His skin is warm, his heart is beating, his pulse is strong and he’s alive and he’s here.

Keith’s breath catches again, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. “Lance.”

And then Lance is pulling him close, arms winding carefully but securely around his shoulders as Keith clings to him.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” Lance says softly, soothingly, brushing his fingers through Keith’s hair and up and down the length of his back. “You’re okay.”

“You’re okay,” Keith echoes in a whisper, squeezing his eyes shut and clutching at the fabric of Lance’s shirt.

And it’s like Lance can hear Keith’s thoughts, despite having no clue what he was dreaming about in the first place. “You’re safe now,” he murmurs. “Just breathe.”

Keith shivers, and buries his face in the crook of Lance’s neck, and breathes.

Lance is safe.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, although he’s not even sure what he’s apologizing for. “I’m sorry, Lance—”

“Hush, sweetheart, none of that.” Lance disentangles himself from Keith’s grasp and pulls back but stays close, one hand still on his shoulder, the other raised to wipe Keith’s tears away with his thumb. He brushes the hair out of Keith’s face and offers a small, reassuring smile. “Why don’t you take a shower,” he says quietly. “Okay? And I’ll make us some tea.”

Keith manages to swallow down the lump in his throat and nod, not quite trusting himself to speak anymore. So they climb out of bed, and Lance stays long enough to help Keith out of his sweat-soaked shirt and press a kiss to his forehead before slipping out of the room to give him some privacy.

The hot spray of the shower only does so much to relieve the tension in Keith’s muscles. He can’t seem to shake the remaining images of the nightmare from his mind, flashing relentlessly behind his eyelids every time he closes his eyes. Needless to say, he doesn’t stay long, toweling his hair off and stumbling back into the bedroom to slip into the fresh clothes Lance must have left out for him (including a pair of shorts, and the oversized sweater of Lance’s that he knows Keith likes to steal because no matter how many times it goes through the washer, it still smells like Lance).

Lance is in the kitchen when Keith comes out, humming softly while he waits for the water to boil. Keith stands silently in the doorway for a moment, watching as he moves about the kitchen, pulling two mugs out of the cabinets and rummaging through their small selection of tea flavors for their favorites.

Appreciating.

He still hasn’t moved by the time Lance finally spots him. A pang of guilt shoots through his chest at the look of relief that flickers across Lance’s face, but it quickly melts into an easy smile as he comes to meet him, taking Keith’s hand and giving it a careful squeeze before wordlessly leading him into the living room and sitting him down on the couch.

Another kiss, on the cheek this time, and Lance slips back into the kitchen to finish making their tea.

Keith watches him the entire time.

And he knows he’s making Lance worry, from the way he keeps shooting quick glances over the counter as if to make sure Keith is still there on the couch and attempting reassuring smiles that only go halfway, but Keith—can’t help it. He can’t stop staring. He just wants to look, and look and look until the images of Lance’s bedhead and sloping freckled shoulders and and rise and fall of his chest are permanently implanted into his brain.

A moment later, Lance returns to the living room with a mug of hot tea in each hand and a small smile that Keith would look at forever if he had the time. He’s faintly aware of Lance placing one of the mugs into his hands, and sitting down beside him with his legs tucked underneath himself as he gets settled, chuckling to himself.

“Babe, I know you think I’m pretty, but is there some other reason you can’t seem to stop looking at me?”

It’s light, and teasing, but Keith can see the quiet concern etched into his features. Because he’s still smiling, but his gaze is searching, looking for answers in that way it does that’s just short of prying, but urgent all the same.

Keith blinks, and finally manages to tear his eyes away to look down at the steaming cup of tea in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

Lance reaches out and tugs one of Keith’s hands into his own, resting them on his knee. “You don’t have to be,” he murmurs. He pauses, tracing a circle across the back of Keith’s hand. “You know I’m here for you, right?”

Keith bites his lip and blinks back the heat building again behind his eyes. I’m here. He nods slowly.

It’s quiet for a few beats, and then: “Do you need to talk about it?” Lance asks softly.

Does he want to? No, not especially. But does he need to?

Keith closes his eyes, takes a deep, shaky breath, and squeezes Lance’s hand.

“Yeah. I do.”

#this one got long sorry sldfjdksl #kl drabbles #my writing #klance #voltron #vld

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

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CSUAPR prt 42 update

Coming down from his orgasmic high, Lance panted softly as Keith continued chasing his. They weren’t supposed to be having sex, not while they were staying on world for the night, but Keith was a total horn dog for his body. They’d fallen asleep with Keith still buried inside of him, waking in the middle of the night they let going at it without inhibition, napping and... stuff, despite knowing that they needed to be awake early in the coming morning to participate in a festival in their honour. Shiro had warned them there was a two varga trek to the temple where the festival was to be held, their stay extended especially for said festival... that Lance wanted nothing to do with after he heard about the walking part. Krolia hadn’t come with them, she was too close to her due date for Keith to be able to handle it, he’d growled at Kolivan on instinct the previous movement, when Kolivan had growled back, Keith’s anger had flared and they’d nearly made a scene over who loved her more. Instead of actively participating she’d be pickings them up after the festival, annoyed that the two most important males in her life were fighting over her, while simultaneously finding it tearjerkingly sweet. Coming with a grunted moan and stuttering hips, Keith buried himself as deep as possible as he did, his teeth gently clamped onto Lance’s shoulder as he rubbed his belly and pumped his hips despite being stuck. It turned out that when he thought he was fat before, he most definitely wasn’t. Keith could pretty much disappear completely between his legs now, under his stomach when giving him head. He’d felt he was too big for his number of weeks, but now he was big enough that he felt completely uncoordinated from time to time. Keith had made a fuss over it when he’d nearly tripped getting out their bed. Lance banned from bending and doing his own shoes, because his last ultrasound had shown his bleed had gotten slightly bigger, and his husband was nothing if not a worrier. They were supposed to be easing off the whole sex thing too, but the hormones flooding his body were almost like a drug, he was addicted to the way Keith made him feel with the intensity of his orgasms. Releasing his bite, his husband nuzzled at his nape “Do you feel that?” “Mhmm...” Both their sons were currently kicking the shit out of him from the inside, either that or spinning flips... whatever it was, they were moving and it was uncomfortably interrupting his high. Keith had felt his first kick through the skin only two or three quintants ago. Laying curled around his stomach as he nuzzled and kissed his bump, Lance had nearly been asleep when Keith had let out a gasp and shook him awake. Whichever twin it’d been played hard to get. Keith making it his mission to stay awake until he felt another kick. Every kick since always stilled his lover. The happiness on the half-Galra’s face was amazing. His sparkling deep purple eyes wide with wonder, soft and sweet lips parted with a smile that made Lance’s stupid heart flutter. He’d been dragged to Shiro and Curtis so the god parents of their boys could feel them kicking, then to Krolia so Keith could show him off again. They’d kept the number of people who knew about the small bleed. Shiro, Curtis, Krolia and Acxa. This wasn’t because Lance didn’t trust Ezor and Zethrid, nor because of his issues with a certain recruit and he was still trying to work things through over how he felt about Hunk, but simply because they were the ones who’d supported him the most. Acxa was informed in case something happened. He didn’t want Veronica panicking over something they couldn’t fix without a surgical approach he wasn’t comfortable with. His obstetrician had mentioned that they did have the tech to go in and isolate the bleed, if he wanted, when she called to let remind him about his upcoming appointment and to confirm she’d received and reviewed his file. He didn’t. Not when he was paranoid over the consequences and afraid of hurting their boys. Acxa was mature enough to recognise that this was something deeply private to him, though not happy about not telling her girlfriend, she respected his wishes. “It’s amazing” Lance let out a sleepy grunt. It was supposed to be a laugh, but he was as drained as the semen splattered across their sheets from his spent dick “Don’t be like that” “You’re not the one who’s bladder is being used as trampoline” “I’m sure it’ll get better” Bless Keith and his innocent unpregnant heart. Lance already knew it wasn’t going to get better, he’d damn near wet himself more than once on this tour because everything seemed to go right through. Placing his hand on his husband’s, he suppressed a moan as Keith’s dick jostled, rubbing up against his sweet spot that had been thoroughly abused “Mmm. We should sleep. I don’t want to offend everyone here when I can’t walk up to this festival” “I haven’t cleaned you up. I can’t pull out either” “I’m too sleepy to care right now” Keith was more comforting than the lush bed they were curled up on. The room was too rich for his liking, trimmed in teals, hot pinks, deep purples and brushed golds. Behind them, a large window filled the whole wall, it’s drapes translucent, annoyingly allowing the morning light to spill in. Far too much morning light for his liking. This planet felt off to him, and had since their arrival. They claimed to be locked in some kind of long term conflict with the other major power there, but there wasn’t any sign of it. Nor was there any sign their economy had been affected. For this, Lance was glad Krolia was only going to be picking them up. He hadn’t shared his suspicions with anyone, not sure if his paranoia was being a douche about everything or not, seeing this wasn’t his natural habitat. He wasn’t used to being in such luxurious surrounds. The palace was enough to make him feel like a leech, yet this opulence of their hosts made him feel like a piece of cow shit stuck to their boots. They’d been nice. They’d showered praise on the heroes of Voltron, yet seemed to be iffy when it came to same sex relationships. Keith couldn’t care less as he kissed him publicly and held his hand. He’d made him scream so loudly that the whole city had to know they were definitely screwing while planet side. Not that is his fault he’d screamed. Keith had buried his face between his legs, using his tongue and fingers to melt his mind. He’d been feeling slightly touch starved after his ultrasound on Erathus as Keith was angsting internally the following day when everything got a bit much for his husband. He was scared he’d would some how caused the bleed to grow with all his lustful ways. It’d been a lonely week with his hand... a lonely day with his hand, really. He couldn’t come without Keith touching him. Trying to masturbate had hurt from not being able to come, resulting in some serious crying, then a minor break down over being unattractive. He didn’t always want to give into his body’s physical need for comfort, he felt dirty for wanting Keith so badly when he was attempting to be respectful, he felt ashamed until it turned into a fight between them... and then into some very appreciative touching. It was also hard because he knew Keith needed that physical touch too. He knew if his husband got too far into his head, he’d second guess every touch between them, out of fear of hurting him. It’d been awkward between them until Keith caught him staring at him at dinner on the last planet they’d been on. The way his husband’s hair fell loosely from his ponytail as he laughed at something silly Shiro had said, had sucker punched him right in the heart. He’d spent the whole night watching. The way his husband expressed so much through his eyes, his lips against the rim of the glass, the way his hand would grab Lance’s thigh when was got excited and wanted to include him more in the conversation. The way Keith leaned back into his touch when he’d feeling more comfortable in his surrounds. He spent the whole evening falling back in love with Keith. He had no idea Keith was watching the same small things adding up, only that he blushed when Keith caught him staring. When they made it back to their room, the mood had felt right and they’d fallen back between the sheets as naturally as ever. Keith had been a little panicked the following morning when all Lance had wanted to do was sleep. Like right now. All he wanted to do right now was pass out and sleep up until the last tick. Nosing at his neck, Keith let out a content sigh “I love you, babe” “I love you, too” Shiro had been nominated by their group to wake them. Shaken awake by his brother-in-law shaking Keith, Shiro had nearly copped a blast in the face from the blaster Lance had under his pillow. Keith had been smart enough to cover them with a blanket sometime after he’d fallen asleep. Powering the weapon down, Shiro kept his hands raised in a non-threatening manner. Lance blushing when he realised his breasts were hanging out in front of the man. Covering his eyes with his robotic hand as Lance covered his chest, Shiro waved his other hand towards them “Sorry. Sorry. It’s time to go” “You couldn’t have called my comms?” Keith sounded cranky, Shiro backing away without looking. His brother-in-law was lucky he couldn’t see what was happening under the blankets. Lance nearly felt sorry for whoever had to clean up the mess “I tried. Right. Get up and take a shower. I’m going to go be not here... I told you both to sleep... it’s a two varga trek. There’s stairs. There’s stairs and you two couldn’t keep it in your pants for a night. Why am I not surprised...? One night...” Shiro continued to mutter as he backed out their room. They probably should have behaved... “Don’t worry, babe. If you’re not up to going...” Stairs. Quiznakking stairs. His eyes freakin burned from the lack of sleep, his arse throbbed like a bass drum. He was sweaty and gross, and now he had to deal with stairs “You’re kidding me right. I can barely move my hips... and there’d going to be stairs” “It can’t be too bad, I did you from behind” Smacking Keith with the side of his blaster, Lance was forced to remind himself that murdering his husband would be a bad thing “One day, I’m going to stick something up your butt, wiggle it around, thrust it in and out, expand it like twice its size and see how you feel about it the following morning” “Sounds fun. I think it’d be kind of hot to ride you while you’re pregnant with my twins...” Keith’s hand was starting to travel places they didn’t have time for it to travel “Nope. No. Don’t even think about it. I will break your hand if we’re not there in time” “You’re already hard” “And you’re really pushing me into “red” right now” Starting to climb off their bed, Lance was grabbed by the shoulders before he could escape. Panicked by the backwards motion, he ended up in a spot that was uncomfortably wet beneath him, fighting his husband’s hold “Keith! No! I said no!” “Lance. Stop. There’s blood” Lance froze instantly, his mind taking a long moment as tried to assess “was he in pain?”, followed by “was he in pain that wasn’t the usual discomfort from Keith’s monster dick wrecking his arse?”. Their twins were moving... wasn’t that a good thing? Or were they trying to send out a tiny S.O.S? “Blood” Running his tongue up Lance’s shoulder blade, he realised his husband was licking whatever blood was on his skin from the night before. Anger and annoyance flooded through him “Get off of me!” “Babe...” “Let me go!” “Hey, whoa. What’s going on?” “I thought I was bleeding! You made... I thought you meant down there. Let me go” Keith realised what he meant, Lance forced to breathe through his nose when his husband wouldn’t let him go. He’d told his husband “no”, and to “let him go”. Keith knew that he was supposed to do this. Not octopus himself onto him with his full weight against his back “Quiznak, no baby. I didn’t see any blood. Only a little from my nails and teeth...” Lance shook his head, he needed to shower. He needed to check himself. He had to be sure he wasn’t bleeding “Red” “Babe?” “Bathroom. Alone. Red” A very confused Keith let him go, Lance slow and careful as he made his way into the world’s most impractical bathroom, “throwing” himself down to sit on the toilet with as much anger as he could muster. Then he grew angry all over again as he realised what he was going to have to go through once he was done on the toilet. You had to sit in a bath, to have a damn shower. It worked on weight sensors, and the water squirted like a damn fountain you while being completely impractical to someone who was pregnant, or a half normal person who wanted to wash their hair. Keeping everyone waiting Lance was careful as he checked himself over, delaying Keith getting in to use the bathroom, and hence making them both late. His heart rate was still elevated. His fingers had tingled the taps when he’d brushed his teeth. He wasn’t bleeding down there. He wasn’t too tender outside of the twins movements, his bladder still a damn trampoline. He’d checked the blood thing three times before settling for he wasn’t bleeding down there and mentally decided Keith needed a fucking muzzle, because he way too many hickeys with not all of them feeling that great. He’d have to have a serious word with his husband. He didn’t want to look like some chew toy. He couldn’t wear his bra comfortably from where Keith had bitten his shoulder where the strap sat. The fabric rubbed against the mark making it bleed and hurt, because he needed his damn bra with all the quiznakking stairs, he couldn’t forgo it, leaving him more annoyed with his husband with each passing tick. Keith had only taken a shower and put his Blade armour on after Lance had promised he wasn’t bleeding. With how absolutely sick to death this extended tour was, because it was supposed to be a phoeb and now they were in the middle of the fifth movement, and he wanted to go home but couldn’t until the Coalition stopped being power hungry dicks, he was putting himself in a “Red Time Out”. His was moody and he knew it. He also knew that keeping his mouth closed was the only way he was going to make it through the day. When they finally joined up with the rest of the group, Lance found all eyes on him. Acxa, Zethrid and Ezor all seemed on edge by his presence, Keith’s recruits also seemed off. Yeah, he probably stank of his... whatever the word to describe what he was feeling was. Anger wasn’t it, but it was, so was so many other things that he started tearing up at the way everyone was looking at him. With Keith having scared the quiznak out of him, poor Curtis found himself singled out as Lance forced him into a hug. Over his shoulder, Curtis shot Shiro a very confused look, Shiro had still been mumbling when he’d returned to boyfriend. Shiro could only shrug as he thought things were fine. Keith looked ready to have a stroke on the spot. Gently returning the hug, Curtis rubbed his back “Why don’t you guys go ahead and meet the others with the villagers, and we’ll catch you up?” “Are you sure?” “I’ve got him. Lance, we’re going to have to a little talk. Is that ok?” Nodding and sniffling, his head hurt too much to really object to anything. He felt bad for Keith... but he knew he’d feel worse if he was a moody bitch to his husband. Staying where they were, the others left to give them some peace. Curtis hushing him until he’d started to calm down. Having been scared, he didn’t fight against Curtis. He wasn’t sure why he’d sought him out “They’re gone now. Do you want to tell me what happened?” Nodding, he sniffled even louder, a little hiccuppy with his words “It’s really p-petty. Keith s-scared me this morning, and I’m f-f-feeling kind of shaken up” “Scared you how?” “S-said there was blood. I panicked b-because I though he m-meant the twins” “Where did he mean?” “S-shoulder” “Can I see? If it’s bleeding you might need someone to stitch it” “Y-yeah...” Nearly having a tantrum when he couldn’t get his jacket undone, Curtis stepped in. Lance felt like a toddler as he stood there and let the older man take his jacket off. Tugging on the neck of the shirt he was wearing, he exposed his sore and raw bite mark “Jesus, Lance. Does that hurt?” Sadly he nodded. He knew Keith got self conscious over his Galra side. And it wasn’t every time that he carried away with the biting. His theory was because they weren’t back in Keith’s quarters that he was having trouble with his need to mark him as his “I think that’s going to need to be cleaned properly, then checked for infection” “It has to wait then. The tour’s more important” “You’re obviously exhausted and not feeling well. I promise not to tell anyone, but you need to tell me now, are you safe with Keith? These bites look painful, and happened during sex. He isn’t forcing or pressing you into doing things you don’t want to do, is he?” Shaking his head, Lance wiped his eyes “No. No. It’s not like that. You know he’s part-Galra, and sometimes he has trouble with that side. He goes crazy wanting to protect me from everything, and it gets too much for him. It’s not done on purpose. Both our instincts have gone crazy over this pregnancy... but he’s not biting to cause me pain or to intentionally hurt me” “That’s good, but I’m still worried about this. I know you wanted to be at the festival, but I think today it’s better if you rest” “I can’t...” “They don’t need to know why you’re not there” “The cleaning staff will...” “Even if they do, it’s not their business. We’re fulfilling our obligation by being here. You need your rest” “What about you? You shouldn’t have to miss out because I’m an idiot” “I don’t particularly feel like spending two vargas walking up the side of a great big hill” “So you’re playing hooky?” “Not if you ask Shiro. I’ll call someone to come pick us up and we’ll head up to the Atlas” “Can’t we go to the outpost? Daehra can...” He didn’t want Daehra seeing this. Altea was alright, provided he didn’t see his old obstetrician... Erathus could work. Th’al would patch him up and let him crash at the club as long as he needed “I’m sorry. Even if you suggested heading back to Daibazaal, I think Taka may have a hard time explaining why you weren’t taken to the Atlas for treatment as a first option” “Is there a way we can keep this... from too many people knowing?” “Your medical files are private” “Not always. Veronica wouldn’t understand what it’s like for Keith. She’d think he was abusing me. I know it looks bad, but it’s not... only on my bra line” Curtis sighed at him, Lance felt a compromise coming on “I’ll take you back to me and Taka’s quarters, if you promise to let me dress that wound and if you promise to sleep” “Do you have a spare room I can use instead?” “I know you can’t get into the air vent system like this, but I also imagine Keith and Ta-Shiro would feel better with you in a safe environment” “They worry too much” “If you really wanted, I’m sure Hunk and Shay...” “Nope. No. That’s ok. Yep. Your quarters it is” They tried to do “the talk”, but Lance would get “the anxious”, so Keith had to be there to be the buffer between him Hunk. It was as awkward as Lotor had been good looking. Cruelly and unfairly so. He didn’t want to stress Hunk out, or make him hate him by saying something wrong. Hunk had come to their rescue, or rather, Keith’s rescue, by organising an amazingly romantic dinner for two. Lance had decided to start small. A few minutes here and there. Never asking him questions or for help, and never making a fuss or a scene when Hunk accident hurt his feelings. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling about it all, but this wasn’t something he wanted to have a “Hunk Talk” about “Good. I’ll message Shiro and let him know. I keep finding it harder and harder not to call him Taka when we’re all hanging out” “You have before, and “Tani”, and “Hashi”. We all call him Shiro because he was a higher rank than all of us. If Shiro minded, he would have said. He probably finds it a refresh-ing change” Rubbing his stomach, Lance pulled a face mid sentence as he moved the wrong way causing his lower back to protest “Maybe I should take you for that scan? If you’re in pain, it’s not something we can afford to ignore” The blush in his cheeks didn’t deter Curtis. Curtis was gay. How was he not getting the vibes Lance was putting out? “I think I’m going to have to overrule you on this one. I won’t reveal your sores, if you get a scan to make sure that bleed hasn’t grown” “It’s not... my hips hurt...” Curtis blushed as his lips formed a silent “Oh”, before he recovered “Are you sure?” Was he sure his hips hurt? Yeah. He was quiznakking sure about that “All I need is some sleep and help with that bite” “I... fine. I’m not going to... I mean...” Flustered Curtis was much like flustered Shiro. It was reassuring that they were both on the same wavelength “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable” “You didn’t. I’m... I don’t have a lot of experience with friendship outside of work...” “You’re a good friend. I’m not exactly the friendliest of people anymore. So sometimes I say stuff I probably shouldn’t, or spend too much time trying to hint at something... I say the wrong things a lot” “No. You should be able to express what you’re feeling and know I’m not going to judge you for it” “Dude. I judge me all the time” “You shouldn’t. You’re a strong person. A good person. Let’s head up to the Atlas and then we’ll go from there” * Fucking stairs. Keith had had enough of stairs to last him the rest of his lifetime. There was no way last could have been able to keep up with them, let alone kept his balance on the winding staircase up the mountain. There was no way Keith would have let him come either if he’d seen the mammoth trek before them ahead of time. He wasn’t sure if they arguing or not, but it’d hurt to see Lance seek Curtis out for comfort after spending the night reconfirming their love for each other. Having messaged his mother over the ridiculous amount of stairs, and Lance, Keith wore a fierce scowl as they stood looking over the city they’d spent the last few quintants getting to know, and the forest surround it. Lance would have loved the view. He would have loved the orange blue sky that sat far on the horizon. He also would have loved the position for sniping as any enemy would have given up before making it third of the way up the stairs. Pulling up the camera on his comms, he shot a photo for his husband... who he great wished was there with him. During the torturous hike up, he’d turned to crack a joke more than once, only to find that Lance wasn’t by his side. He hated it. He wanted to know what he was up to. He wanted to know that Lance was resting, and that Curtis was being the perfect gentleman over it all. Last night might not have been the best night to stay up indulging in his lover’s body, but his instincts wouldn’t fucking settle. It wasn’t there room. It didn’t smell right. It didn’t feel right. Home was anywhere that Lance was, but home was also not stuck on a planet playing Coalition puppets when the ruling powers seemed to have an issue with him displaying any form of love for his husband publicly. Braving his bad mood, Shiro wandered over to him, leaning on the railing with a whistle “That’s some view” “Lance would have loved it” “I had a feeling you were thinking about him” “He’s my husband. It’s natural I’m thinking about him” “Curtis has him sleeping. He’s worried about him” Like Keith wasn’t? Lance was incredibly fatigued on the best of days, not to mention the days where they couldn’t seem to keep it in their pants the night before “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing an awful job” “He helped dress Lance’s shoulder. Lance insists that you didn’t intentionally hurt him, but I’m concerned by the photo that Curtis sent me” Keith’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, his heart giving a sick thump at Shiro’s words “What do you mean? And what photo? Does Lance know?” “Hold on...” Pulling up a photo, Keith knew instantly knew it was Lance’s back. He knew ever millimetre of his husband’s perfect body. The photo was of his husband’s right shoulder “... you bit him hard enough that it’s become a sore from his bra rubbing. You do realise there’s at least a dozen sores across the tops of shoulders and shoulder blades. This one needed cleaning. He thought it might even need stitching. What’s going on with you? Why are you biting him like this?” Keith flushed red. His sex life was being discussed between Curtis, Shiro and Lance... If Lance was unhappy, why couldn’t he talk to him? “It’s sex, Shiro” “It’s sex with your recovering husband” Like he didn’t know Lance’s past. Since Lance fell pregnant they’d had more sex than ever before. He thought Lance liked being marked... “You’re really going to have a go at me, aren’t you? Lance likes it when I bite him. He likes it when I mark him. It makes him feel more confident...” “Then you need to be the one to tell him no more. That’s on his bra line. I can’t imagine that’s too comfortable” Shiro knew far too much about his husband’s bra. Lance didn’t like to show that kind of thing off, even if Keith did find it hot “He didn’t say anything... How am I supposed to understand when he doesn’t tell me?” He was scared as quiznak of hurting his husband. Sex was supposed to be them reconnecting and showing Lance there was nothing shameful about his body, not him upsetting Lance and leaving him not being able to tell him “Maybe he didn’t know how when he knew you haven’t been coping” Keith thought he was coping quite well with all things considered. Lance had a bleed that might cost them the lives of their twins, as well as his own life. He’d been stuck on this prolonged tour. The Coalition had said a phoeb, which has passed. He’d fulfilled his end of the bargain and was thinking it was past time they went home again. He was also playing mediator between Hunk and Lance, as his husband would over think every interaction between them. Then there these repetitively annoying festivals and celebrations held in their honour. He didn’t see why every planet insisted on it when they weren’t Paladins anymore. They’d all gone their own way, only coming together due to the Coalition’s incompetence when it came to their duty to keep Lance safe. “I’m fine, Shiro” Raising an eyebrow, Shiro didn’t believe him. The words didn’t sound all that believable as they reached his ears. He was tired. His eyes hurt. “Fine. I’m tired and I miss Lance. We have to go to this stupid party when all I want to do is go home. And now I’m mad he didn’t tell me I’d hurt him” “I meant in general. I’m not surprised if you haven’t noticed, but you’ve been drinking a lot on this tour” “Hardly anything more than you have. Everywhere we go, they keep giving us their version of alcohol. I don’t want to offend them, not when I don’t even want to be here” “Keith, I’ve smelt it on you. You don’t say no when they’re pouring you another. You don’t even sip your drinks. Is your anger making you drink more? I want to know that you’re alright. That you’re not getting drunk because everything is too much for you” Keith has a good mind to throw his brother over the lookouts railing. He wasn’t drinking that much. Maybe he was tipsy once or twice on the tour, but if it’d been too much, Lance would have told him. Despite their fights, Lance was always there for him. Was him drinking rubbing Lance’s face in the past he wanted to forget? His husband worked his bar with no problem, or at least none Keith had seen. He’d cutting his drinking out since finding he was pregnant. Lance only indulging in the very occasional drink and always in his presence. The half-Galra was trying his hardest to be everything everyone needed him to be, so why was in trouble for making the effort? He was stressed. They were all fucking stressed. Kolivan was perhaps the closest to understanding how he was feeling about everything, seeing he was the father of his soon to be sibling. “Hey... hey, come here” Since when was he crying? And why was he letting himself be hugged by his brother in front of everyone? Held close, Shiro rubbed his back “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m worried for you. You know you can tell me anything, judgement free” He didn’t think he felt miserable... if there was no judgment why had Shiro brought it up in the first place “There always judgement” “Maybe a little. But at the end of the day, you’re my brother. I want you to be able to rely on me. If you’re scared and you want to talk, I’m here for you” “We can’t right now, we’re supposed to be at a festival” “The festival can wait. The camera team is talking with the royal family at the moment about the event. No one else was game to come close” “I’m not that scary” “You looked ready to jump the rail and pick a fight with the first thing that crossed your path” If Lance was there, he’d know what to do. He’d know how to calm him, he’d cuddle and kiss him, assure him everything was alright and Keith would melt into his touch, because Lance’s touch was his everything. Instead, his husband wasn’t even on the planet thanks to him and his hormones, instincts, whatever it was. He didn’t have a word for how unsettled he felt when Lance wasn’t right beside him “I miss him” “He’s only been gone a couple of vargas” “I know. I know. I shouldn’t be this pathetic about it all, but I...” “You’re not coping” “Maybe not? I’m sick of the tour. I’m sick of the days I have to leave Lance behind with Kosmo because he’s physically not up to coming. I’m sick of smiling at people I won’t remember and don’t even like. I didn’t know I was hurting him, I don’t even know why I was hurting him. He’s already got enough to worry about. He’s being so brave about the bleed. He’s being so brave about everything. Sometimes it’s like he can forget. He lets himself the enjoy the moment... and he’s so fucking beautiful when he does. Then there’s other times I can smell his panic and I want to tear everyone in the room apart for upsetting him. I don’t understand this. I can’t be a father like this. If I can’t keep my head before the twins are born, how am I supposed to help Lance raise them? How am I supposed to be a good father, husband, brother and son, all at once. I know something has to give. How do I retire from the Coalition after all this publicity? Lance and I are being paraded as this hugely famous couple, and it all feels like one big trap to keep us under their thumbs. I promise myself over and over I won’t let him down again, then I do, then I’m mad and he always forgives me. I don’t know if he should be forgiving me. I don’t know if he’s forgiving me because I deserve it or because he doesn’t want me upset. It feels like I’m running out of time. At his next scan I want to ask when’s the safest date for him the caesarean because I’m scared he’s going to have a bleed and fucking die... we haven’t even... we decided it’d have to be a caesarean and that’s as far as we got. He can’t go to Altea. He’s still fucking scared of Galra touching him when he’s naked, so Daibazaal’s out. Someone fucking attacked him and could go after our twins, and we have no idea who it was. I want to be good for him. I want to support him, but I don’t know if I can be father. I love them, but I love him more. What if I can’t love them like they deserve? What if Lance and I can’t make it work? We wanted to save our marriage before we found he was pregnant. I mean, I thought things were ok between us. I didn’t realise how fast time had passed and how long I’d left him suffering” His fatigued state was channeling his husband’s “sleepy rambling mode”. He didn’t even know he felt that way about most things until it came out in a huge pile of word vomit on Shiro’s shoulder. If Lance had been there, he would have been able to remain strong. “Have you talked to anyone about how you’re feeling? Anyone other than Lance?” “You?” Shiro shook his head “Other than Lance, Krolia and I. You were talking to a therapist on Altea, I seem to remember” “I haven’t had time. When I’m alone with Lance, I want to make the most of that time. He insists on working for our bed. I think he’s talked to Coran a couple of times. I think I’ve talked with him once after the scan... I was going to campaign for his old obstetrician to be fired, but Lance told me I was too aggressive and that it had to be handled carefully... but that’s another thing, he keeps forgetting things. I don’t know what he remembers. I think he gets self conscious about it, so I let him play it off, but it worries me. I know he has a bleed, but what if he’s bleeding on the brain again? What if his meds are making that worse? Like they’re masking the symptoms of something more going on?” “He’s got baby brain, plus the added stress of the tour. Curtis is keeping an eye on him, and I know you don’t think it’s as good as you being there, but he’s not alone. He’s on the Atlas, the best place he can be right now if something was to happen. I’m more concerned about you” “I’ll be fine, Shiro. Once this tour finally comes to an end... once Lance and I are finally free of it, things will be better” “We have a therapist on the Atlas. If you need someone else to talk to, I can take you to see them. This drinking isn’t healthy. I’ll try to talk to Coalition about ending your commitments with the tour. You’ve put in more than enough time. You and Lance need to rest and really figure this out before your sons are born” “He won’t want to walk away from this. Not if the tour isn’t coming to an official close” “If he won’t then I’ll talk to him. I think you both need to take the break. You’ve been conducting humanitarian work, but nothing like this since shortly after the liberation of Earth. For both your sakes, I want to take you out the rotation” “Are you saying I wasn’t good enough?” “No. I’m saying you need to take a step back. Take a break. If our positions were replaced, you’d be saying the same thing to me” “How can I? Mum’s going to be giving birth soon. I need to step up” “You need to let your friends support you. Patience yields focus. You’re so stressed out, you’re failing to see the big picture” “Which is?” The hug ended, Shiro staring at him with such sincerity that he felt uncomfortable “Lance is not in the same circumstance as he was before. He’s no longer as isolated as he was. You’re not in the same circumstance as before, you’re no longer responsible for your recruits. We’re all responsible for them now. Krolia has Kolivan. She had Kolivan who’s going to be there for her and your sibling. We only get through things when we work together and rely on each other. I love you, Keith. You’re my brother. You are not being selfish by taking time off work again. You two have been working hard for phoebs” “We haven’t though. We went to Allura Day, then into the accident... then he was attacked... I haven’t taken any of my recruits through any training exercises since the accident. The only training I get is working out if I wake up too early, or Lance has a panic attack and attacks me... but it wasn’t like we were doing a great deal at the Palace” “In other words, you were taking care of your husband because this pregnancy has been hard for him. Your priorities have been ensuring that your husband is safe, and well” “I shouldn’t have to ensure it though. Lance should be safe in my quarters. I should be able to go to work and know he’s not going to be attacked” That was another reason felt he needed to step up. His mother had enough worries, as did his team, seeing most of his time was eaten up by Lance. He’d practically been benched, letting down Acxa, Zethrid and Ezor. He hadn’t spoken to the recruits much either on the tour. Publicity stuff here and there, and Krystaal had checked in with him to make sure that Lance’s ring had been returned. They’d been lucky that ring hadn’t been sold to a private collector, or creepy Paladin enthusiast. From what he understood, Kolivan had given the second hand dealer the scare of his life over not reporting that it’d turned up there. How it had was also a mystery. An alien not of Galra origins had sold it to him. But with the use of shape shifting technology, anyone could have been responsible, more than likely it was the actual perpetrator that had sold the ring seeing no traces of them had been found since. “If you need a break, or some time to think, Curtis and I would be happy to stay with Lance. That way you could call your counsellor. Maybe take a walk? Clear your head?” Keith growled. If Shiro understood their colour system, he’d be so far into “red” that he was pushing “black”, anger flared in his tone “He’s not a burden! I don’t need someone taking him away from me” “I’m not saying that he is. I’m saying that if you’re scared of him being alone, we can make sure he isn’t” “First I’m an alcoholic who’s abusing his husband, now I’m not fit to look after him?!” “Keith, stop putting words in my mouth” “Its what you’re saying though” “No. I’m trying to reach out to you” “I know how to look after my husband” “I’m not saying you don’t. You’ve done a wonderful job with him” “He’s not a job” “No, but he needed someone to reach out and take his hand. You helped him get back on his feet. You’ve been there for it all. I’m not saying Lance was hard work, but it wasn’t easy helping him through his recovery either. You’ve both had to work hard to come this far. You don’t have to...” “I’m sorry, Shiro. I can’t have his conversation with you. Lance is my world. You have no idea when it comes to the shit we’ve had to go through to get him off the drugs and alcohol. You haven’t been with him through seizures so severe he loses total control of his body. You haven’t had to wrestle him away from pills or from knives because he wants to die. You haven’t held him as he screams and begs you to kill him. You weren’t there when he was so afraid of touch that he’d vomit. He’s so messed up, but he’s so strong. But if he lost our twins he’d lose his mind. The twins are what have saved him. Have stopped him relapsing on the drugs. Have stopped him trying to hurt himself when he’s conscious. So I need to be there by his side to make sure nothing happens. I need to make sure that I don’t lose my husband” “And you think we don’t care? That Curtis or I wouldn’t drop everything to help him?” “Like how you prioritised placing me in the pod, and nearly cost Lance his life” Keith knew the instant the words left his mouth that he’d crossed the line. The colour drained from Shiro’s face as his expression filled with guilt “Shiro, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that” “It’s fine. It’s true. That’s when I promised myself that I wouldn’t let him get hurt again. I care about both of you. Don’t forget that” His brother turned, starting to walk away “Shiro” “It’s fine, Keith. We have a party to attend” Fuck. He’d quiznakked that right up. Out of all the dumb things he could have said, he had to go there... Fuck. He was a quiznakking idiot. * Finding any joy in the festival was a task and a half. Keith was skirting the edge of the crowd, provided that hiding on one of the numerous temple’s balconies above the festivities was skirting the edge of the crowd. From his vantage point, he could see the whole party laid out before him. Shiro and Hunk we’re discussing something near the banquet table. Acxa was happily holding Veronica’s side as they chatted with Zethrid, Ezor, Nerlo and Melda. Regetta, Legre and Samelia were with the Coalition members as their protection, which hardly seemed needed with how happy everyone on the lower level seemed to be. To Keith it all seemed like one big act. His own mood may have been clouding his judgement, especially after his argument with Shiro. That and his headache. Having got himself a drink before heading off to find somewhere to quietly sulk, he’d proven Shiro right. There were plenty of resume refreshments on offer, yet the glass he’d grabbed was something alcoholic. He hadn’t thought anything of it when he picked the glass up... How was he supposed to know until he tasted it if it was alcoholic or not? Then what was he supposed to do with the sipped drinking he couldn’t drink it? His brother had made him stupidly paranoid, with the contents of the glass winding up poured into the first potted plant he found. “Finally. You took forever to find. Do you know how many rooms and balconies this place has?” And there was Krystaal, no wonder he hadn’t spotted him in the crowd below. Turning to face his friend, Keith leaned back against the balcony railing. Since Lance had declared he had a crush on his friend, Keith had taken the appropriate action of avoiding him as much as possible so his husband wouldn’t be upset. Sure, Lance had apologised for blowing up over it, and Keith knew he wasn’t the kind of man who’d hold a grudge him for talking to his friend, yet it’d been a long process for him to come to the realisation that he’d felt the same way over Lucteal being near his husband. Lucteal has harboured something pretty serious over Lance, though Lance didn’t reciprocate his feelings and that’s where the two comparisons split completely. He likes hanging out with Krystaal, it’d always been fun. It’d always been easy. Whether it was training or shooting stuff together, it’d been a good time. He liked him as a person, maybe even admired him a little... and shown off in front of his friend simply so he’d like him more. Not that he’d tell Lance that. He wasn’t good with friendships so making a new friend was a thing for him. He didn’t want the mood between them to be bad. He cared about Krystaal’s thoughts and opinions. They had the same kind of humour and both wanted what was best for the Galra empire now that peace had finally been ushered in. He couldn’t very well tell Krystaal to leave, he’d gone to the effort of finding him in the massive temple. He’d sought him out. No one else had. “You know how I feel about crowds” “Yeah. Here, I brought you a drink. You’ve been off since this morning” Walking over to the stone bench in the middle of the balcony, Krystaal sat holding out a glass of something towards him. Pushing off the railing with a light sigh, Keith moved over to take the drink from him friend before sinking down next to him with a groan. Nudging him with his elbow, Krystaal eyed him over the rim of his glass “You look like quiznak” Snorting, Keith then took a sip of his drink. It was the same stuff he’d tipped out not that long ago, but it didn’t seem polite to decline it “Thanks. Just what everyone wants to hear” “Just calling it how it is. Where’s Lance? I saw him leaving with Curtis. Did something happen?” “No. Not really. He wasn’t feeling well so he’s sleeping it off on the Atlas” “And that’s why you’re in such a bad mood?” “Part of it. I thought parties were you kind of scene?” “It’s not much fun when you’re not down there glaring at everyone” This right here was why they got on so well. All his recruits had taken jabs at him over his lack of people skills. Krystaal was simply blunter then them. He didn’t worship the ground he walked on “Ha ha. You’re not funny” “I’m pretty funny. Still, I’m glad you’re not upset because you and Lance are fighting again” “We don’t fight that much” “Sometimes. Most of the time you bicker like you can’t stand each other” Keith frowned. Bickering was there thing. On of the planets they’d visited they’d spent a good half varga bickering if a cloud looked more like Slav or a Weblum. Their bickering, no matter how “enthusiastic” it became, never meant they couldn’t stand each other “No we don’t” “You do. You’ve changed since he came to stay with us. You’ve lost some of your rough edges” “He’s good for me” “Tell that to belly you’re getting from your lack of training. I bet I could lay you out, old man” “Don’t come crying to me when I flatten that face you’re so proud of” “Oooooh. I’m terrified. Better call Shiro and tell him you’re bullying me” Keith’s lips had been twinging at the approach of something like a smile, now his frown was back as he stared down into his drink. Noticing, Krystaal nudged him again “Hey, what’s wrong?” “Nothing” “You had a fight with him earlier, didn’t you?” “You saw that?” “We all saw that. What’d he say?” “He’s just being a concerned brother. Said I’m drinking too much and he’s worried about Lance” “The old man doesn’t know how to party. And wouldn’t he know if something was up with Lance? They’re super tight, right? He’s always off talking to him, or picking him, or taking him to and from hospital” “Well, he is the Godfather of our twins. Him and his boyfriend, Curtis. This pregnancy has been hard on Lance” “It’s been hard on you too. You never come hang out with us anymore” Because he was busy avoiding Krystaal... and busy with Lance. His husband needed so much of his time “At least this is the last planet of the tour” “You’ve gone senile with all your domestic affairs. They want us on another planet next movement” Keith gave a slight shake of his head “Shiro’s going to arrange for Lance and I to sit out any more of it. The stress isn’t good for him or the twins. I’m thinking of taking a break from Daibazaal until mum gives birth” Raising his glass again, Keith drained it. One drink wasn’t going to hurt him “No way. Seriously? It wouldn’t be the same without you” “Right. I’m pretty sure Acxa has the glaring thing down to a fine art” “Nah. It’s you. That’s who everyone comes to see. You’re everyone’s hero. The half-Galra who brought Zarkon, Lotor and Honerva to an end. Mister Big Brave Black Paladin” Keith snorted “That’s not me. As Lance. I’m a total idiot” “Why would you say that?” “Because I’m forever letting him down” “That’s one person. What about us? You haven’t let us down” “You all nearly died on a training mission I was supervising. That’s a pretty big fail” “That wasn’t your fault” “I’ve neglected my duties in training you” “You’ve been busy with other things” “I let Lance be hurt. No one could ever mean as much to me as he does” “He forgave you, didn’t he?” “He shouldn’t have to be. They don’t warn you that falling in love with someone is so hard. He’s been through so much...” “You have too” “Nothing compared to him” “Don’t compare your pain to his. Everyone feels pain differently” Looking to his friend, Keith sighed. He really did look far too much like Lotor for nice words to be falling out that mouth of his. Smiling as he tilted his head, Krystaal poked his tongue out, Keith laughing at the gesture “Fuck. Did I ever tell you much you look like Lotor?” “Once or twice. I bet he didn’t go around poking his tongue out though” “No. That’s more Lance. He has the cutest wrinkles when he does... Not that he’s been that happy with me lately. It’s my fault really. He puts up with so much because of me” There was a moments pause, then Keith found Krystaal’s lips pressing against his. His mind shorting out resulting in it taking a tick or two to shove Krystaal back “What the fuck was that!?” “I. I don’t know! I’m sorry! You looked so sad! I’m sorry” “So you kissed me!?” “I didn’t mean to!” Rubbing at his lips, he could feel the trace warmth of Krystaal’s kiss upon them. His heart was racing with confusion. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss Krystaal or if he wanted to burst into tears, his eyes were on the other man’s lips... “I’m married” “I said I’m sorry. You looked sad and I don’t know... you didn’t sound happy” “I am happy. Lance makes me happy. I can’t believe this. He said you liked me. He said it and I laughed at him. He even thought... he... How am I...” Holy fuck... holy fuck he’d cheated on Lance. His pregnant husband was sleeping off fooling around with him all night and here he was kissing someone else. How was he going to tell him!? Krystaal kissed him. Actually kissed him. Pushed his lips against his in something that was not a friendly or family kind of peck on the lips... “I won’t tell anyone. I won’t. Just say something” “This can never happen again. You can’t go around kissing me! I’m married. I’m married to Lance. We were going to work out a due date for the birth of our boys. This is going to break him. How could you do this to me!?” “Me?! You were the one who was looking at me like that... You’re still looking at me like that!” “Like what?!” “Like you wanted that kiss too! You’ve always given me that look when we’re hanging out... I thought we were close then...” Keith growled. Before Krystaal could react, he’d shoved him off the bench. Staring up at him from the stone floor, the glass he’d been holding was broken, Krystaal’s hand bleeding as he bit his bottom lip. Fuck. Even his expressions were like so Lance like. He’d often felt that Krystaal and Lance were similar, and that they’d be good friends if Lance’s anxiety wasn’t so horrible to him... was he... was he attracted to Krystaal? Or the Lance in Krystaal? He hadn’t felt the burning heat he felt with Lance... but he’d felt the warmth of the kiss on his lips and though shocked, he’d made wanted too... No. It was a simple biological reaction... he wasn’t hard... or anything approaching much more than a small twitch... fuck... Fuck. This couldn’t be happening... “I love my husband. I didn’t... I don’t want to kiss you. I consider you a good friend. One of the best friends I’ve made since living on Daibazaal. But right now, you need to get out of my face before I lose it at you. You have no idea how hard Lance and I have been working on our marriage. I’m sorry, but I don’t return any feelings that you have for me” There were times when Keith lost himself, afraid of what he’d see in the mirror he’d avoiding them. The look on Krystaal’s face was like nothing he’d thought possible. It was the closest to how he felt he looked when he momentarily lost himself. Pure rage? had distorted his features, his eyes bold yellow as he growled. For something that was supposed to be a misunderstanding, Krystaal didn’t make sense to him. His words didn’t make sense to him. He thought he wanted to kiss him? This was their first time hanging out properly in ages. They’d barely talked over Lance’s ring being returned. He’d told them how grateful he was. Krystaal had been wearing it around his neck... Lance’s wedding ring... Suddenly Lance’s suspicions didn’t seem so ridiculous. This person was supposed to be his friend. Who did this to a friend? He felt unsettled and calm at the same time, he’d cheated on Lance. He’d done the one thing he’d yelled at his husband for more than once, only Lance hadn’t cheated on him. Moving to open up his comms, Krystaal flinched at his movement’s “You have until Shiro arrives to disappear from my sight. He loves Lance. If he hears what happened, he will make it his personal mission to ruin your life. Regardless or not if you meant it” Krystaal gathered himself up, clutching at his bleeding hand. With an angry growl, he started staggering towards the walkway that looped the whole second floor of the temple, finding his feet, he was walk-jogging by the time he disappeared from Keith’s sight. Shiro was going to be so fucking disappointed in him. Hitting video call, he was afraid. Afraid of what came next, and that his brother would brush him off. With Krystaal out of his sight, his knees gave out, landing hard against the stone floor as Shiro picked up “Keith?” “I... I fucked up...” Lance. How was he going to tell Lance?

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happytroopers · 5 years

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Hey! Can I request a fic of the reader getting cold way too easily or they can’t handle it (usually I can’t cause my fingers will turn purple and my nails will turn blue. Including the fact that I won’t be able to move them as much) and one day or a few? It’s too cold for them to handle and they just kinda collapse or can’t function properly (it sounds weird I know but it’s been painful with the cold lately hehe..)

--Hopefully this works!-Mod Madi ✌️

By the force, you thought, grinding your teeth together, this planet was so, so cold.

After the cruiser had picked up a random beacon while passing a nearby planet, the 501st had been told to investigate the origin of the signal on a small, ice planet in the outer rim. You had no idea why the council was so worried about this random signal, there were no records of any inhabited cities on the planet. But, you did know that Anakin was not happy about this.

You had been previously assigned to the 501st legion in order to help Anakin...stay on task. He had loudly voiced his opposition to this assignment, having felt that there were more important battles to be fought. So, you had suggested that in order to save time and make the council happy, you and few others could run a quick scout mission on the planet, find the beacon, and then radio in whether or not the beacon was a big deal. As a newly appointed Knight, you had been eager to show to the council and other Jedi that you were a capable Jedi. Anakin had loved your idea, and sent you, Fives, and Echo out to scout ahead. While you had been so eager for action on the cruiser, you were now more than ready for the mission to be over.

As you aimlessly wandered through a blank expanse of thick snow, you couldn’t help but notice the vast expanse of nothingness all around you. There was so much snow for miles, with only a few icy rocks here and there. There had been nothing for miles. Now, you were angrily trudging through knee high snow in white, camo issued armor, with a white hood that did little to warm your long, red lekku. The Boys were all also marching with you, in their own white, snow armor. Anakin had convinced you all to travel by foot from the drop off point for an element of surprise. It might’ve seemed like a good idea in theory, but you were all now suffering in practice. Ever since you’d all landed here, you’d all been muttering angrily over the comms about the cold planet.

“You know what’s worse than this marching? The fact that the beacon is probably nothing more than a false alarm,” Echo mumbled.

“I swear,” Fives grumbled, “if we all had to come all this way for nothing, I’ll set fire to the entire base myself.”

“And I’ll-AH,” you yelp as you stumble and almost fall face forward into the snow.

“Hey, are you okay (Y/N)?”Fives asks, a tinge of worry in his voice.

He and Echo stop their march and turn around to face you.

During the march, you had slowly fallen towards the back of the group, as you started to struggle through the thick snow.

“Hah, yeah, just uh, a bit tired,” you said, forcing a nervous smile on your face.

At least, you think you smiled towards Fives. You couldn’t really feel if your face actually made a real smile.

“C’mon guys, the coordinates are really close! We just need to go just a little bit farther!”

Despite the fact that your armor had been issued to keep you from freezing, the past few hours of marching had led you to believe that it was defective. For the past hour and a half, the constant, silent cold of the planet had slowly crept its way through your “insulated” armor, and into your skin. First, your fingers, feet, and lekku had begun to feel painfully cold. No big deal, you had thought at first, this is just what the cold feels like. The sooner we find the beacon, the sooner we go home. However, you had felt a little less fine about the cold around 2 miles ago, when the irritating cold feeling had been replaced with a numbness that made it feel like all of your extremities, along with your upper arms and lower legs, were no longer a part of you. It was not a feeling that you were used to, having come from a desert planet yourself. In all honesty, you hadn’t had any experience with this level of cold before. You had begun to feel more afraid when the numbness made walking through the snow difficult. Your originally confident march through the snow had turned into a slightly painful, awkward, trudge. Your numb legs constantly wobbling like they were made of jello. Each step you took made it feel like your legs were about to buckle underneath you. But, this is just a what cold planets are like. I’m fine, I’m still moving. We are gonna find the beacon, then I can sit in the refresher for an hour if I want, you tried to convince yourself.

The thought of a nice, warm shower in the refresher filled you with a new sense of determination. If trudging just a few more feet forward through the snow is what it took, than this would all be worth it. With a deep breath, you try and urge your feet to move more quickly, propelling yourself past Fives and Echo. They had stopped

Despite your attempts to move as if nothing is wrong, your awkward, almost painful, gait is noticed by Fives and Echo, who give each other a worried glance. Despite the snow helmets covering their faces, a singular understanding passes between them. Something is wrong.

“Uh, (Y/N),”Echo speaks up, “maybe we should take a quick break. Just catch a breather. I’m sure General Skywalker wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah,” Fives continues, “a quick break can’t hurt. I mean we’re making great time.”

You pause for a moment, trying not to breathe hard, as you turn around in the snowy field to look back at them.

Had you really only walked just a few steps ahead of them? You had tried to focus on your feet as you moved, pushing one in front of the other, willing them to hold you and not fall. It had been exhausting work, and you had only gone a few steps. The fear from a few moments ago begins to settle in your stomach again, cold and unwelcome.

No, impossible, you shake your head, I know I worked harder to move than just a few feet.

But, your legs vicious wobbling protest against your thoughts.

Cold dread tingles down your spine. You look towards where Fives and Echo are standing behind you, thoughts racing as you begin to realize that maybe… you can’t finish this mission as you had hoped. Maybe, you should have spoken up about the numbness? You definitely, should’ve radioed in about your faulty armor. Faced with these thoughts, you aren’t sure what to do, and your focus on remaining upright begins to waver.

“(Y/N)?” Echo asks, “Are you okay?”

“Guys, I. Maybe a break would be-”

“(Y/N)! Echo! Lookout!” Fives yells, pulling out his blaster.

While you were all distracted, a separatist probe droid had materialized itself from behind a large, ice covered rock a few clicks ahead of you all.

Echo races to grab his blaster, while Fives take a shot at the droid. Its able to dodge his shot, before racing towards the three of you. In the moment, you can tell that it’s probably trying to fly towards you all in an attempt to rush and startle the three of you. This would allow it to escape and fly away above your heads. Your immediate instinct is to grab the sabers from the belt at your waist. You plan to use them to slash the droid in half, stopping it from alerting any separatist forces nearby. But, instead of being able to grab your sabers and jump away from the speeding droid, your trembling legs finally buckle underneath you.

With a WHUMP, you fall back into the snow beneath you.

“Ah!” you let out a startled cry.

“(Y/N)!” Fives yells, before you hear a blaster shot hit the droid.

Despite wanting to move, to push yourself up, to even push the snow, stinging and cold against your face and lekku, off of you. But...you can’t. You freeze, both mentally and physically, unable to move. Your stunned, you’re sure. If you can stop breathing heavily, maybe you can calm down enough to stand up.

A few seconds later, Fives grabs your hands, pulling you up and out of the snow. You try to thank him, and stand on your own, but find you still can’t stand on your own. When you almost fall backwards again into the snow, Fives quickly grabs you, slinging your left shoulder over his right shoulder, so that he can help support you.

“I got the droid!” Echo yells.

With the sound of crunching snow, Echo comes running up to you and Fives, and goes to support you too, slinging your right shoulder over his left shoulder.

“Ah, uh,” You mumble, “sorry guys...I guess you could say I froze. Haha.”

Your voice is light but your heart is heavy with shame.

“Don’t worry about it (Y/N), you know we have your back,” Echo says.

“Hah,” Fives chuckles, “literally this time.”

When you don’t chuckle in response, Echo gives Fives another quick glance before saying, “Uh, so (Y/N). Are you...sure you’re okay?”

“I mean, you kinda froze and fell,” he immediately gets a glance from Echo, “Uh, not that there’s anything wrong with that. But, it seems like maybe you aren’t as okay as you said you were before.”

They both turn in towards you to look at your face. When you don't immediately answer, you can see them both begin to look for any immediate signs of injury on your body. The dread, fear, and shame from before fade away, and instead you feel a bit warm inside. A smile, although painful to form, spreads across your face as you look at them.

“Well,” you let out a deep sigh, “I’m. I’m sorry guys. For the past few miles my arms and legs went from just cold to being completely numb. I fell because...I couldn’t make myself stand on my own two legs anymore. I don’t know how I got this cold, I mean, I guess somethings wrong with my armor, but, I didn’t want you guys to worry. I didn’t want to...slow us all down.”

You look away from their helmets in shame. You’ve known Fives and Echo ever since the battle of Kamino, and you have come to know them as your closest friends in the 501st. Having known them this long, you know that nothing will make them more frustrated, than a fellow soldier sacrificing their own safety for the good of the mission. There’s nothing more dangerous to a soldier, or the mission, than someone who doesn’t speak up when something is wrong.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Echo asked incredulously, “We could've radioed in for backup armor an hour ago!”

“Yeah, I know but...I figured that it we’d be done before anything really bad happened.”

“What's worse than freezing to death?!” Fives shakes his head angrily, “(Y/N). What the kriff were you thinking? Your safety is well worth a few extra minutes on this terrible ice rock.”

You feel your cheeks heat up a bit in shame, “I know. That was really stupid of me, guys. I’m sorry for making you worry, and...your for ruining the mission.”

“You didn’t ruin the mission (Y/N),” Echos says.

“That's sweet of you Echo, but I really did. If you guys want you can go on without me. I can sit in the snow for a bit.”

“What? NO, No (Y/N). The droid was the beacon,” Fives says.

“WHat? You mean all of this…”

“Was for nothing? Sadly, yes,”Fives answers.

“You’re joking! All of this... for a probe driod?”

Echo lets out a short laugh,”When Fives ran to get you and I shot the Droid, the beacon disappeared. It must have been some sort of a diversion.”

Now you stare incredulously at Echo.

You shake your head, “Well. I guess that's good news.”

“No,” Echo sighs,” it’ll be good if you don’t get injured from the cold.”

“I know..I really am sorry you guys,” you say sheepishly.

He lets out an exasperated sigh, “I know. Just...it’s frustrating to think you’d let yourself get hurt...for a mission that wasn’t even that important. You’re worth more than a probe droid.”

“Yeah,” Fives agrees,” We’ll always have your back on the field (Y/N). But, that doesn’t mean you should put yourself in danger. You’re an important part of the 501st, we need you.”

Despite the cold, you feel your eyes water just a little bit. The warm flicker you felt in your chest earlier comes back in full force. Your heart swells with affection for your friend.

“I love you guys,” you whisper, staring into their faces.

They respond with small chuckles and pull you into a group hug.

From your wrist, you here the com beep. Looking up, you can see the transport coming to take you all to safety.

#mod madi #long story #clone trooper fives #clone trooper echo #haha #enjoy #cold

46 notes · View notes

dreamworksworddump · 6 years

Note

hi i just bought you more ko-fi! can i request a fanfic for post s6 where shiro now has some powers including premonitions for their possible futures and in one he sees himself getting married to pidge? and tries hard to make that one come true? thank you!

I posted it on Ao3 as well, for easy access.Hope you like it!

A bond between souls is ancient- older than the stars themselves.//- Unknown Altean scholar

Shiro attempts to mix the two of them some lunch as Pidge moves crates around Green’s cabin. The pre-made food goo powder sloshes around the bowl like a liquid as he attempts to pour water inside, while keeping it steady between his knees (which is much harder than he’d expected it to be, if he’s to be honest). He keeps reaching forward to steady it with the hand he doesn’t have, and forgets his mistake all over again within a few moments. He’s never been used to his lack of an arm; he’d only been without it for a couple of hours before he’d received his prosthetic, which is miniscule compared to the weeks of travel he will have to endure during their journey to Earth.

He should ask her for help.

Shiro stops messing with the food and watches Pidge. She wears her civilian clothes today, which have grown ragged and worn in the time that he’s been gone. He can spot a patch, just a shade off, on the back of her knee, and her sweater is threadbare enough for him to see her purple tank top underneath. She’s so focused on the collection of crates that she doesn’t notice his lingering stare.

Pidge moves a crate to the right, stands back, evaluates. The stack of supplies beside it sway dangerously. She yelps, and hurries to replace it. She stands back again, and crosses her arms. “I’d thought this would be kinda like building a fort, but it’s really not.” She sighs, and glances back at Shiro. He stares guiltily at the half-finished lunch. She snorts, and holds out her hand. “Wanna switch?”

Shiro climbs to his feet, careful not to knock over the bowl, and shakes her outstretched hand. “Deal.”

Pidge takes his spot in front of the bowl and sets to stirring the half-congealed goop as Shiro reorganizes the crates to create an open space in the center of the cabin. It is simple, easy work that he can accomplish with one hand, and so he doesn’t mind it. After a while, he starts to view it as a real life game of tetris. Long weapons crate here. Food supplies there, where they’re easy to reach. Water near the front.

He’s so deep into his task that he doesn’t hear Pidge call for him the first time.

“Shiro?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” He straps the crates to the walls, and then turns to her, ears slightly red. “What were you saying?”

She holds up a bowl of food goo. It’s blue and smells slightly clinical. He wrinkles his nose, and sits down on the floor across from her.

“Why’s it blue?”

Pidge shrugs, and shovels a spoonful into her mouth. “S’not too bad though. Better than Coran’s cooking.”

Shiro pictures one of Coran’s ‘special paladin lunches’ and suddenly it doesn’t seem so bad. He takes a tentative bite.

Outside of Green’s windshield, the stars surround them. He remembers when he was younger, and his only dream had been to see them with his own eyes. It feels so naive in hindsight. He knows them too intimately now; through Black’s eyes, he has seen more of them than any human ever has, or will. He feels changed because of it, as if he will always be a step out of sync from the others, no matter his companion.

He wishes he had’ve stayed home.

Pidge sets her bowl down and hands him a packet of juice. “You look old.”

Shiro starts, and then laughs. He tugs at one of his newly white locks, and asks, “Is it the hair? I don’t think I wear it as well as Allura does.”

She grins, but shakes her head. “No, it’s not the hair. It’s your eyes. It’s just, it’s kind of like,” Pidge trails off, scowls at her lap. “Well, you have seen a lot.”

“You think my eyes are old?”

Pidge looks up, startled. She shrugs. “I guess. Sorry if that was rude. I just thought of it, ‘cause you were looking so sad.”

Shiro takes a long sip of his juice. It squeezes and then flattens with a a gurgle. Pidge collects their bowls- hers empty, his still half-full- and puts them away. He feels guilty for not finishing his food; he always has, because he knows just how scarce food can become, but lately he can barely stomach any. It’s like his body isn’t used to it, even though he knows that it is.

When she breaks the silence, her voice is soft, as if she knows that she will regret what she has to say next.

“Do you remember any of his memories?”

Shiro’s been awaiting this question ever since he’d decided to travel with Pidge for this leg of the journey, but that doesn’t make it any easier to answer. Her eyes, although hidden behind the lenses of her glasses, settle on him like searchlights.

Shiro shrugs. “I have his muscle memory. It seems like he used his left arm more than I did.”

It’s a non-answer to a vague question, and he knows that this will not satisfy her, but he isn’t sure what he should say. His memory of the time when the body he wears was not his own is foggy and limited, comprised mostly of snapshots and misplaced conversations; to say that he knows nothing is a lie, but to claim that he knows anything is an over exaggeration.

Pidge shifts from foot to foot, then sits down again, feet pressed together. Her expression is thoughtful, though she doesn’t speak. Shiro leans forward and scoops one of her puffball pets from where it floats around the head of her Lance-trash-statue, one of the few things she had managed to save from the castle before it’s demise. Lance and Keith are propped up beside each other, Keith’s scowl aimed directly at him, while Shiro and Hunk’s statues sit on the other side of the cabin, strapped securely to the wall of cargo. Shiro knows that there’s an Allura and Coran around here somewhere, but he has yet to find them. So much was misplaced during their quick escape.

Shiro pets the puffball, and it purrs like a kitten under his touch. Pidge draws her knees to her chest and sighs.

“Anything else?”

Another puffball emerges from the depths, and hovers around his head, watching.

“Maybe,” He admits. “But nothing concrete.”

“But you do remember things?”

“Yes.”

“So I guess Hunk was right. Most of the other memories must’ve been stored in his arm, so that whoever was in control of him could view them.” She mutters, chewing on her nail. “There’s little overlap of your experiences past a certain point, which we have to assume happened somewhere during that fight with Zarkon.”

“Well, that is when I died.” Shiro muses.

Pidge starts, and looks at him, wide-eyed. “You shouldn’t be so casual about that, y’know.”

“Sorry.” He mutters. “I don’t mean to be.”

“S’fine.” She says, but it’s obvious that it isn’t.

An alarm blares, and Green veers upward, knocking them both to the ground. As they both scramble to their feet, the comm links turn on, and the cabin fills with noise.

“Pidge!” She jumps up and hurries back to her seat at the sound of Keith’s voice. “What’s going on over there? You’re falling out of formation.”

“I know! We’re getting drawn into the planet’s gravitational field,” She messes with some controls, and shakes her head in frustration. “It doesn’t make any sense. We’re too far out for a planet that size to affect us.”

“Fall back!” Keith orders, and in the windshield, Shiro can see Yellow and Red drift out of sight. “Pidge, do you think you can break free?”

She shakes her head. “If She were freshly rested, maybe, but not now.”

“Could we try to tow you out?” Lance suggests.

Pidge shakes her head again, but Hunk answers before she can. “If we get close enough to do that, we’re close enough to get pulled in too.”

“Well,” Green falls a little deeper into the planet’s range. Pidge tries to course correct, but the best she can do is keep her flying steady. “Should I try and land?”

“No!” Allura says, a little too loudly. “This planet is being occupied by Sendak’s forces. I highly doubt that your presence would go unnoticed.”

“I really don’t think we have a choice.” Pidge grunts as they fall again. Alarms begin to blare as they lean into a nosedive. She jerks on the steering console. “My lion can’t overpower the g-forces! I think the best I can hope for is a controlled crash.”

“Then do it.” Keith orders, his voice strange and tinned. Shiro hears what might be a sigh, and then his voice comes through the speakers once more, staticky and distorted. “Try to stay off the comms unless absolutely necessary. We don’t want to gain any more attention that we already have. And be safe.”

The radio cuts out as they pass through the cloud barrier.

“Roger that.” Pidge says to herself. Her voice is a calm tenor despite their increasing speed and sharp trajectory. “Hold onto something!” She calls out as Green falls closer towards land.

Shiro fumbles with a loose cargo strap, and tries to strap it across his chest. He fumbles, once, twice, and then hooks himself down, his back pressed against a box of food rations. From where he sits on the floor, he can’t see much. He sees what might be a stone tower fly past; the edges of mountains- no, those are sand dunes- that collapse as Green barrels past them; sand pushing against the windshield,covering the green sky with yellow particles; he can see each grain as they whip past; Pidge screams as they head right for a dune; and they are falling- falling- burrowing deep into the earth like a child returning to the womb.

###

Shiro remembers visiting the aquarium once, when he was a child. His mother had led him from tank to tank, and he had gazed with wonder at the worlds within. At one tank, a little girl stood on the opposite side of it, and through the glass, she had seemed ephemeral,and strange, as if she were just slightly out of place.

As Shiro wakes, the world around him has that same quality. The interior of the Green lion is dim, but even so, he can tell that much time has passed since he was last awake. Crates of foodstuffs, and water lay empty and deserted on their sides, covered with a heady layer of dust. The windshield is cracked, and the pilot’s seat is half submerged in a sea of sand.

He stands, and stumbles to the seat, and starts to shovel sand out of the chair. His hand moves clumsily, shaking and seizing around nothing as he tries to feel for the back of her sweater, her hair- anything at all.

“What are you doing?”

He turns, and the world seems to swirl around him. Shiro reaches out with his right hand to steady himself, and falls into the small dune collected on the floor.

Pidge offers him a hand, and pulls him to his feet. “I was looking for you.”

She pushes her glasses further up her nose, and raises a brow. “Okay, but why?”

“Because,” Shiro starts as he looks around the cabin. He shouldn’t have been unconscious for more than a few hours, or a day at most, but it looks like Pidge has been in here for weeks. All that food gone, and the power off and- He shakes his head. “I don’t know actually. I thought we just crashed or something, but-”

“Dehydration.” Pidge nods grimly. She starts to rummage through the collection of crates, but keeps an eye on him, as if afraid that he might fall down any second. “I know that the plan was to wait for rescue and all, but I don’t think we’ll last much longer here. Something is wrong with Green, and our rations are getting really low.”

“I thought we had weeks worth of the stuff.”

Pidge pauses, arm deep in a container. “We’ve been here for over a month.” She shakes her head and continues searching. “I guess you’re more delirious than I thought.”

Shiro sits down beside trash-Lance. He doesn’t think that he’s delirious. He feels fine, if a little confused. He closes his eyes and tries to call to Black. Despite no longer being her pilot, the bond that they’d shared during his time in her mind is still there. Maybe she can give him some answers.

Black?

Images flash in his head in quick succession. Clock. An window. Stars. Sand. White. A road.

What?

Black tries again, slower. A clock, spinning clockwise so fast that the hands were nothing more than a blur. The stars, all of them connected by lines of white light. A line from a poem, ‘Two roads diverged in a wood’. A window, through which Shiro sees himself and Pidge on an unfamiliar shore, holding hands which are spotted and gnarled with age.

Shiro tries to connect them into a coherent picture. A clock, that would mean time, right? And the increased speed could mean change?

Black rumbles her dissent.

No, not change. But the arrow-

“Here.” Pidge hands him a pack of juice, and he takes it. As he looks up to say thanks, he notices that her skin is tanned, and that her hair has grown long enough to curl around the sides of her face once more. Suddenly, it is all too obvious.

This is a vision of the future, of what might come to pass.

“So what do you think?” Pidge asks, pulling him from his thoughts. He knows that mentioning his revelation will only make her think him more ill, and decides to just roll with it. After all, what else could he possibly do? “Should we stay here and wait a little while longer, or should try to make a run for that city we saw on the way down?” Pidge sits across from him, legs criss-crossed, and leans on trash-Hunk’s shoulder. “I’da thought Hunk would’ve figured this out by now, to be honest.” She admits.

Shiro considers the dismal state of their food stores. If he remembers correctly, they should have three days worth of food left, and little less of water. He remembers what it feels like to grow weaker and weaker by the day; to watch your body wither and grow weak and useless; He doesn’t want anyone to have to go through that, especially not her. It’s the type of thing that leaves you changed; you can never go back to who you were before it.

“We’ll try for the city.” He decides, setting the juice down. “And see if we can find help there.”

###

They start out at sunset, when the sky is stained in hues of lavender and gold, and the two suns rest on opposite sides of the horizon like two glowering eyes. Shiro feels uncomfortably open without his armor, but knows that they have a greater chance of staying hidden if they wear their civilian clothes rather than their armor. Still, Shiro thinks, as he shifts their bag of provisions from one shoulder to the other, he would feel much better if he were wearing them.

Pidge steps out of Green and pats her hind flank. “We’ll be back soon, girl.” She joins Shiro, and points towards the smaller of the two suns. “The town should be that way. It’s maybe a day or two away.”

She doesn’t seem daunted by the long walk, or harsh desert weather. Shiro wonders if all of them have grown so much in his absence, or if it’s just her. Her skin is just a shade or two darker than her usual pale ablaster, but it suits her well. It’s as if she’s been painted in shades of sepia, to complement the desert around them. The sun catches on the curve of her neck, and the sharpness of her face, and in that moment, Shiro is consumed by her femininity, and the strength that lies therein.

“What?” She asks, and he realizes that he’s been staring.

“Nothing,” Shiro says, shaking his head. He can feel the warmth on his cheeks and knows that he’s blushing, but he figures that if he ignores it, and ignores whatever it was that just happened, that it’ll go away. He gestures for her to walk ahead of him. “After you.”

Shiro’s vision swirls and sways as they start to walk, and then suddenly, is suffocated by black.

###

Shiro returns to the void.

It is as intrinsically familiar as the feeling of the Earth beneath his feet. He returns to it easily, like a drop of water returning to the ocean. The stars flow within him, and the vastness of the Black Lion’s mind consumes him.

There is a sudden sense of a current diverted, and then he is spat out once more, stuffed into the flesh of a body that is his, but isn’t.

###

Shiro opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is the ceiling of an unfamiliar room.

Or, wait, no.It is familiar. He just hasn’t seen anything like it in a while. The ceiling is made of the same purple metal of every Galra ship he has ever been on. He blinks, and tries to make sense of where he is.

He turns his head, and notices a wall made of the same material. The lighting is dim, and the scent of old blood, a universal scent of rust and rot, surrounds him. His nose twitches at it, and for a moment, he fears that he will have another flashback to his gladiator days, but it passes when he realizes that his head is laying on something soft. Shiro knows where he is. He is in a Galra holding cell.

Shiro sits up so fast that his head spins.

“You’re okay!” Pidge says, her voice strained with tearfulness. Her sweater is torn at the sleeve, and again underneath her breast, where blood plasters it to her skin. “You’ve been knocked out ever since they threw you back in here.”

Shiro realizes that his head is throbbing. He reaches up to touch it, and his fingers come away stained in gooey red. A head injury. That would explain him being unconscious until now.

Shiro smears the blood on his pants, and leans against the wall beside her. “What’d I miss?”

Pidge shrugs, and then winces, and presses her hand against her shoulder. “Not much. Just more violent interrogation. I was brought back before you were.”

Shiro stares at her injury. Red grows and eats into the white of her sweater like a growing fungus. That could be serious, if it goes untreated for long. If they still had the castle and it’s healing pods available for use, then it might’ve been okay, but she’ll have to heal the old fashioned way, the way that leaves scars across your skin that never really go away, no matter how faded they become.

“When they separate us for interrogation again, I’m going to create a diversion. If this ship is anything like the rest of them, there’ll be a console two halls over, and-”

“Shiro,” Pidge says his name impossibly soft, but it stops him mid-sentence nonetheless. “I can hardly stand. I don’t think I’ll be able to run fast enough, even if you can distract all of the guards.”

“Why?”

She looks at him oddly, and then points to her leg. Her calf is burned midway down with what appears to be quintessence. Spidery lines of faintly glowing purple climb up into the shadows of her shorts.

“I- sorry. My head’s still kind of fuzzy.” He lies. Shiro’s left hand curls into a fist by his side, and he has to force himself to stay calm. Anger does not overwhelm him easily, but it seems all too easy now to succumb to it’s tumultuous grasp. He wants to hurt whoever did that to her, wants to go after Sendak himself for what he’s done, but he’s powerless without his right arm. That makes it hurt even more. “I’m sorry.”

Pidge brushes her hair behind her ear and tilts her head. “What for?”

“For getting us into this mess. For not being able to protect you. For everything that happened while I was gone.”

“Shiro,” She says again, voice quiet. “It’s not your fault. You can’t be there for us all of the time. You can’t always be the hero.”

“I don’t have to be the hero. I don’t have to be there for everyone. I just want to be there for you.” He admits.

Pidge leans her head on his shoulder, and grabs his hand.

“It’s okay.” She says, her tone defeated. “It’s okay.”

###

Shiro returns to the Black lion’s mind. His headache lingers despite no longer possessing a body.

“Why are you showing me this?”

The Black Lion does not respond, though Shiro knows she is listening. The sound of rushing wind fills the void. It grazes his skin gently, like a caressing hand, and runs through his hair.

“What’s the point?” He asks again, louder this time, but his voice is swallowed by the ever increasing wind. He feels it push him forward, dragging him like a child drags a toy behind him. He stumbles forward, almost tripping on feet he doesn’t have.

A sudden, hard gust pushes him forward, and he falls like a stone into a bucket of water, back into his body.

###

Shiro tugs at his collar. He hasn’t worn a bow-tie in years, not since Lance and Allura got married, and he isn’t sure that he tied it right.

“Stop it,” Lance hisses. He wears blue tie, and smile, despite his tone of voice. “She’s about to come out, and I won’t have time to fix it if you mess it up.”

Shiro puts his hand down. Wagner’s Bridal Chorus begins to play, and the doors at the back of the room open. Allura steps out first, heavily pregnant, and yet still radiant in a soft green dress made in the style of a modified A-line. Behind her is one of Lance’s nieces, barely three, who tosses green-dyed rose petals wildly around her. And behind her is Pidge, slightly taller, eyes wide and bright. She wears a cross between a suit a dress; a voluminous ballgown skirt, over a pair of white pants. Her bayard hangs on her waist, half hidden by the skirt. Her father, more grey and more wrinkled than the last time they had met, escorts her to the altar.

She smiles at him, even as she limps towards him on her injured leg. She looks so happy that he can’t help but feel happy too. Shiro’s heart swells with something indescribable, and he smiles. He’s getting married to Pidge.

The Black Lion rumbles with something like approval, and the image fades away, like a photograph slowly being leeched of its color.

###

Shiro feels himself drawn back, pulled backwards like soap down the drain, spiralling, falling inward until his sense of self is so indistinct, that he isn’t even sure of who he is. Suddenly, it stops, and he is pulled back into his earlier self, a body familiar in it’s lack of familiarity.

###

Shiro wakes to find the world hazy and strange. He notes that he is once again inside of the Black Lion, which is dim and covered in a heavy layer of dust. He notes the empty crates of foodstuffs, and water, and the cracked windshield, and realizes that he is once again back at that earlier future.

Pidge stands and hands him a pack of juice, then slumps down beside him. “I don’t think we can last here much longer.” When she looks up at him, her eyes are dull. “Should we stay here and wait a little while longer, or should try to make a run for that city we saw on the way down?”

Shiro remembers the wounds she’d received from his previous choice, and the limp that she had carried with her even at their wedding, far in the future. If he can save her from that pain, then he will. “Let’s wait it out.”

###

“So this is my other choice then.” Shiro muses.

The Black Lion rumbles her assent.

“Let me see where it leads.”

This time the transition is smoother, softer. He hardly even notices until he is dropped back in his body.

###

The crates lay empty and discarded in neat stacks around them. A few have been filled with sand, but a thin layer still rests on the ground, and in small heaps by the corners. His stomach rumbles, and Pidge winces.

“Water?” She offers, but he has already drunk his own rations. He cannot take from hers when there is so little left.

Shiro shakes his head, and she sets it aside.

“No one else wants to tell you, so I’m going to.” Pidge stares at her lap resolutely, as if her next words are written there. Shiro resists the urge to tilt her chin up. Whatever familiarity that they used to share might’ve been broken during his absence; it is better to play it safe, to be aloof, than to be too familiar. “Because this is important, and I don’t think coddling you is going to make things better.”

“Coddling me?” He repeats, a faint smile sneaking into his words despite himself. Shiro has never put a name to it, but it’s true that the others have treated him different as of late. “And you don’t want to.”

She falls silent.

The sands shift a little. He waits. Shiro is good at waiting. When he died, when he was nothing but a passing thought kept alive in the consciousness of the Black lion, all he could do was wait. He is accustomed to long periods of stillness and quiet, due to his experiences there, but Pidge is not.

The silence builds until she suddenly looks up, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. “Keith told you about your fight with him, and about the other clones, and I told you about the virus and the castle. But I didn’t tell you the details, or at least, not all of them.” Her mouth is crooked angrily, chin jutted out like the sharp of a knife. She takes a deep breath, and the words are calm and unapologetic. “I was ready for something like that to happen. I’ve been prepared for it for years now.”

“Prepared for what?”

“A betrayal.”

“You thought I’d betray you,” It hurts more than he can bare to admit. “From the very beginning?”

“Your arm has always been a security risk. It wasn’t you that I was worried about.” She says, trying to soothe him. “It was your arm.”

“Still.” He mutters.

Pidge huffs and crosses her arms. “If I hadn’t, we all would have died.”

“You’re saying that I would’ve killed all of you.” He says, swallowing hard. “That’s what you’re saying.”

“No, I-” She breaks off suddenly, draws her knees to her chest. “Forget it. Maybe the others were right. I shouldn’t have told you.”

Shiro isn’t sure what to say, and so lets them fall back into silence.

###

Shiro feels a sudden gust push him aside, and then it’s over.

He rejoins his flesh and reenters seamlessly.

###

They pass each other in the halls of the Galaxy Garrison and do not speak.

There is no dislike for each other, or hatred or anything of the sort, but whatever closeness they had once had is gone, left in that hot cabin so long ago. Shiro wants for it, but isn’t sure how to close that gap. Whatever they could have been, is long gone.

“Shiro,” Iverson places his hand on his shoulder, and he stops, schools a pleasant expression on his face, and turns around. “I know that this is not how we usually do things, and that this is rather last minute, with your teammates returning to space in less than a week, but the Garrison, in conjunction with the Planetary Space Alliance, would like to offer you a position as our Defense coordinator.”

Pidge has stopped a little farther down the hallway, her head cocked to the side as she doesn’t even attempt to hide the fact that she’s listening in.

“What does that actually mean?”

Shiro can see it in the way that his face grows just a little too slack that he dislikes that Shiro is being offered the job. “You would be in charge of all contact with and preparation for any attacks. If any attacks do occur, you would be in charge of protecting the Earth. And of course, you would be our liaison to any peaceful visitors.”

Pidge’s shoulders tense up. Her face is half turned towards him now, her mouth a strict line of disapproval.

If you want me to stay, then tell me, he thinks. Say anything, and I’ll tell him no.

But she does nothing, and stays silent.

“I would be honored.” Shiro says, and shakes Iverson’s hand.

Pidge shakes her head, and continues down the hall, hands balled into fists, and shoulders shaking with what might be tears. Shiro tells himself not to watch, that it doesn’t matter, but his eyes don’t leave her until she is long gone, and the only thing left of her is the echo of her footsteps going down the hall.

###

The Black Lion’s voice, a rare sound, echoes in his head as he wakes to his own body, the one of present day. Make your choice.

Sand is in his mouth, and down his vest and in his hair, but he has never been so glad to be uncomfortable. He opens his eyes and lifts his head up, realizing that he’s still strapped securely to the crates. With a shaky hand, he unstraps himself, and stands up.

Pidge is in the pilot’s seat still, covered almost entirely by sand, except for her head, tilted towards the sky. He digs her out, and pulls her out, sets her on top of it all to wait for her to wake up.

He sits down on the console beside her and tries to think of what he should do. In one future, they fall in love, and have their happy ending, but in the other, the fall apart and away from each other, their feelings never realized. In one, she is injured, and forever wears a scar from it. In another, she is fine.

How is he supposed to make a choice like that? Shiro thinks, though he already knows which one he will pick. Why would the Black Lion give him the ability to choose, when he would have been fine in his ignorance?

Pidge stirs on her bed of sand, and turns onto her side. “I missed you.” She murmurs, still half asleep. “Shiro.”

His heart aches at the sound of her voice. She loves him too, or at least, will grow to, and Shiro thinks that she will understand.

He reaches over and slips his fingers into her hand, which tighten around them. “I’ll choose us,” He whispers, quiet enough that she wouldn’t hear, even if she were awake. “Because I think that you would choose us too.”

#vld #voltron #post s6 #shidge #shiro #pidge

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we-are-all-obsessed-here · 6 years

Text

Heartfelt Reunions

(Not my Gif)

Warning: The Last Jedi spoilers (So I’ll put the fic below the cut)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Summary: Based on this request (X)

Masterlist

The shields were only just holding up, the constant barrage by the First Order was slowly wearing them down. Fuel was running low and once that was all gone, there would be no shields at all to hold up. Each time a shot landed against the shield the ship jolted slightly, each jolt becoming more powerful the more the shields dwindled. You were treating the few survivors of the bombing run on the First Order Dreadnaught. With each passing moment, more injured came rushing into the main treatment room aboard the ship.

"How long do we have left?" You yelled above the noise of the room.

"Two hours Ma'am!" A voice called back.

"Shit. We're running out of time!" You worried to yourself. Biting your lip, you finished off placing Bactastrips across a wound in a man's arm, wrapping it up in bandages then finally placing it in a sling.

"Take it easy on that or you'll rip the strips apart."

"Yes Ma'am!" The man nodded, hopping off the cot and leaving the room. You rushed around the ship, going from room to room, assisting in the more serious injuries. A particularly harsh barrage of firing from the First Order caused you to lose balance, throwing you sharply over a cot. You landed in an awkward position, pain flaring in your shoulder. Several nurses rushed to you, helping you to your feet and onto the cot. You waved them off.

"I'm fine. I'm fine."

"Ma'am you've dislocated your shoulder. You've got a wound on your forehead." A male nurse fussed. Reaching up you touched your head and found blood coating your fingers.

"This is inconvenient." You murmured to yourself in frustration. A hiss leaving your lips as you grasped the dislocated arm.

"No don't do it yourself!" A female nurse rushed forward trying to swat your hands away. In a fluid movement and a sharp shout you relocated your shoulder and breathed harshly through gritted teeth.

The nurses around you rolled their eyes before returning to the chaos around them. This was typical of you, always being reckless and taking things into your own hands. Its why you and commander Dameron made such a good couple. You couldn't wait until the day ended because it was just one massive shit show at the moment. The Resistance had already lost too many ships and the medical ship you were currently on was beginning to fall behind. It wouldn't be long until the constant barrage of the First Order would wipe your ship out.

"How far are we from the flagship?" You contacted the bridge.

"Falling further behind each minute Ma'am!"

Turning to other senior staff you let out a short sigh.

"Get those with minor injuries and the staff we can cope without on escape ships and get them to the flagship. Get as many people on the ships as possible and get them out of here. We don't have much time left." You ordered. The other senior staff nodded in agreement and began sending orders to the other decks.

"Ma'am please you need to put your arm in a sling!" A nurse followed behind you with a bandage in his grasp. With a frustrated sigh you turned and allowed the nurse to fixed your arm into position.

"Happy?" You asked.

"Yes Ma'am!"

"Get yourself to an escape ship. Take those from your ward that are walking wounded." You ordered. The nurse turned and rushed off to their ward.

Another barrage of fire caused the medical ship to shudder violently, pained cries left those severely injured.

"We're running out of time!" You began to worry. Grasping the heel and calf of the woman in front you told her to take deep breaths. She screamed as you extended her leg, pulling and watching as the exposed bone slipped back into the leg.

"Strap it up and keep an eye on pedal pulse." You told the nurses administering pain relief. You dashed around the lower decks, slipping around medical droids to deal with the more severely injured. You pulled off your blood covered gloves and sighed softly as another Resistance fighter passed on.

"We're losing too many people." You growled out. You glared out the window at the First Order in the far distance. Almost punching the comms button and opened a line to the bridge.

"How long do we have left?" You asked once again.

"Half an hour. If you're getting people to escape ships, now is the time." Was the reply. You opened up a ship wide broadcast.

"This is an emergency announcement, can all remaining staff get every able bodied individual to the escape shuttles," you paused, knowing what you were about to say would be the hardest decision you'll ever have to make. "Medical droids will be left aboard the ship. With deepest regret this also includes...the dead and dying. I thank every single one of you for your service, you've done us proud. May the Force be with you!"

You moved through the decks of the ship, ushering everyone towards the remaining escape ships.

"We can't leave people behind!" One of the senior medical staff berated you.

"This ship is overcrowded to begin with, if we took even the dying, there's not enough space on the shuttles for the living! I'm doing what's best its a hard call but it makes sense! I... I know your father is among them... this is going to be hard to leave him behind I understand that-"

"You don't understand anything. You're not losing anyone you love on this ship!"

"Three of my friends are dead. I've had to call their deaths. Another is dying of their burns, someone I'm having to leave behind. Don't begin to assume you know what I am or what I'm not losing!" You took a breath before adding. "Get yourself to a ship. I'll finish off here."

"There aren't many ships left." A nurse stated in passing.

"Get yourself off, both of you, take as many people as you can." You ordered. With a final look over their shoulders they exited the ward with a handful of people in tow. You were midway through a ward, ushering people out and treating a patient when the ships lights flickered.

"Ma'am the bridge." A nurse hurried to your side.

"Take over." You told him, gesturing to the patient. Standing by the comms unit you opened the broadcast.

"What is it?"

"Ma'am the fuel is about to run out, you have a matter of minutes before the shields fail, one more hit and they're gone completely."

"There's still plenty of people on board, you gave me half an hour not a couple of minutes!" You looked around you at everyone still on board.

"Get yourself to a ship Ma'am we can't lose you too. Commander would have our heads-"

"I don't give a damn what Poe would do, I'm not leaving until every last person is off this ship. That means everyone on the bridge too." You argued back. Before the bridge could reply you were lifted into the air and hauled over the shoulder of who you eventually recognised as one of the doctors.

"Let me go! There's still people on other decks, they leave before I do."

"Ma'am there isn't enough shuttles. We've already breached weight limit on every shuttle that's left so far!"

"I said put me down! That's an order!" You shouted.

"You can punish me after I've saved your life." The doctor called.

The escape shuttle creaked as you were placed on your feet. You rushed over to the comms terminal and opened a link to the bridge.

"Get off the ship! We're the last shuttle!" You cried.

"I'm sorry Ma'am the controls are shot. Someone has to stay onboard."

"May the Force be with you." You whispered, resting your head against the terminal. You tried to keep your composure as the shuttle shakily left the medical ship. Your gaze memorized those who were stood in the hangar who couldn't find a place on the shuttle. Your hand rested against the window as they disappeared from sight.

"We've lost too much today." You bowed your head. The medical ship jolted and began to drift as the fuel finally gave out, the shields failing a moment later.

"They're preparing to fire on the ship Ma'am!" A voice shouted.

"Everyone brace yourself!" You watched in grief and horror as the medical ship was blasted, with no protection it became nothing more than debris in mere moments. The escape shuttle shook as the blast washed over it. You were too close to the medical ship, the debris was travelling too fast when it impacted the shuttle. You began to slow, the flagship getting further and further away.

"Shit!" You cried. The debris had hit one of the engines, wiping it out completely. You watched in terror as people passed to and fro trying to reroute power to try and catch up with the flagship.

You kept yourself busy treating the injured, praying to the Force that the shuttle would make it to the flagship. A jolt made you think the worse but a cheer went through the people. Looking up you saw that you were moving faster than before, the flagship getting closer and closer. Just as you were pulling towards the hangar the only engine began to fail, stuttering and restarting. The shuttle dropped every few seconds.

"C'mon we're so close!" You whispered as you looked onward to the wrecked hangar. Screams went through the crowd as the shuttle gave a final splutter and dropped. It skidded across the hangar ground, screeching filled the air as metal scraped on metal. You were thrown against the window as the shuttle came to a stop. There was a moment of peace before the engine exploded.

Poe searched for you after each shuttle docked in the hangar, but there was no sign of you and no word from the medical ship. He heard rumours of you rushing around the decks on the medical ship like a woman gone mad, delving in to treating everyone you could. Despite the frustration he was failing to contain at Admiral Holdo's decisions, he couldn't help but smile at the gossip of the nurses and Resistance members. As he began to put together a group to support him in instigating a mutiny, he kept his ear to the ground for news of you. His frustration increased tenfold as news reached him of the medical ship falling to the wrath of the First Order, innocent lives being lost in the chaos. That's when he was desperate to hear news about you, he knew how stubborn you were, it was one of the reasons why he loved you. He knew that you wouldn't leave the ship until everyone else did. He also knew that your colleagues knew this and would drag you kicking and screaming if it came down to it. Even after he took control of the bridge, he still hadn't heard any word of you. He began to think the worst and that only fueled his need to get everyone to safety. His mutiny ended in a single shot fired by the General, knocking Poe unconscious. When he woke next he was on an escape shuttle heading away from the flagship. His thoughts left you for a brief moment as the escape shuttles around him were destroyed one by one. If you had made it onto the flagship, and from there made it onto a shuttle, he silently prayed that you were still alive. His hand grasped the ring around his neck. Poe tried to find comfort in his mother and his love for you. He soon found himself on solid ground inside the fortress of the old Resistance base.

Your gaze passed over the remaining Resistance members.

"We've lost too much today. Too much." You wiped away a stray tear before returning to your duties, ushering the very few survivors away from the entrance. Feeling dizzy you sat yourself down on an old crate, you took your head in your hands, your shoulder screaming at you.

"Ma'am... You have a concussion. You need to rest." A doctor crouched in front of you.

"I'll be fine. Just need a breather."

A sharp pain in your neck made you yelp. You looked to see the doctor pulling back a syringe.

"Give yourself ten minutes at least. That's an order Ma'am!" The doctor pinned you with a stare before heading back towards the injured.

"General we have to go out there. Take out that weapon!" A familiar voice called. Abruptly you stood and limped towards the voice. You searched the crowd for the origin of the voice. Then you saw him, giving orders to a group of pilots.

"Poe," you began to push through people. "Poe!" You shouted. The pilot turned and beamed as his gaze landed on you. He rushed to you and embraced you.

"Ow!" You exclaimed, pushing him back. He held your arms and looked you up and down.

"You made it!"

"Only just... our escape shuttle crashed in the hangar, the engine exploded, most people were killed. So I'm very banged up at the minute." You gave a lopsided smile. Poe ran his fingertips over your cheek plastered in blood and black scorch marks. Smiling at Poe you cupped his cheek before raising your hand and slapping him hard.

"A mutiny Poe! Really a fucking mutiny! What were you thinking!" You berated him. Poe captured your lips in a heated kiss.

"I've missed you." He grinned after pulling away.

"I've missed you too fly-boy." You gave him a tender kiss against his lips.

"We're ready Poe!" A pilot called.

"You're heading out?" You asked.

"I've got to, otherwise we're goners," Poe took the chain from around his neck and placed it in your grasp. "I'll be coming back for this." He pressed a kiss against your cheek.

"Poe not your mother's ring!" You tried to push the ring back into his grasp.

"I'm hoping after this it'll be yours." He smiled at you. You pulled him in for a deep, passionate kiss.

"Go and get 'em fly-boy!" You whispered against his lips.

"Yes Ma'am!" He winked playfully at you. You stayed by the comms and listened in on Poe's command over his pilots. You closed your eyes and held tightly onto the ring hanging around your neck. Once today was over, you decided that you would begin the next part of your existence standing alongside the love of your life, till death do you part.

#Poe Dameron x reader #Poe Dameron

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amarmeme · 6 years

Text

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Written for Leather & Lace 2018. Today’s prompt was “trapped together.” Before Day 5 ends, please accept my Habitat 7 AU where Harry Carlyle and Lyssa Ryder get stuck in a cave.

The jarring sound of male grunting snaps Lyssa awake. The stranger’s determined efforts assault her eardrums despite her helmet, sore head pounding in time with her heartbeat. Lyssa wheezes as she rises to her elbows in caution, unsure if she’s injured. Her body hurts, a deep ache that echoes through bones, as if she's still falling, still hitting the ground over and over. The landing lights of the shuttle strobe on and off in time with her misery. Blue then green. Blue then green. What's visible in front of her is less than helpful. Her eyes follow the moss-covered rock face up, up, up to the crack in the cave ceiling where their shuttle wedged its way through. The small, white ship rests crumpled in its place, one side missing a wing and a door and the nose smashed inwards.

The pilot...

Lyssa swallows her concern and eases her stiff body around to see who makes the racket behind her. This is not the time to get emotional, but practical. A giant palm-like tree obstructs her view and all she can identify is the person’s back. The entire Pathfinder team wears the same white and blue suits -- it could be any of her father’s crew. Except him; Alec Ryder always suits up in red. She thinks dimly that she should be concerned about not remembering who was in her shuttle.

“Hello,” she shouts. “Are you okay over there?”

The grunting stops. “Lyssa, is that you?”

Lyssa smiles to herself despite the situation. She knows that gravelly voice. “Yea, Doc, it’s me.” She tests getting up, taking it one movement at a time. Nothing feels broken, but if something is amiss, at least she’s stuck with a doctor. “Need some help over there?”

Harry grunts then sighs, sitting on a large rock as she stands erect at last, wavering like a new calf. “You could say that,” he deadpans. “I’m pretty sure I’m too old for this.”

Lyssa pshaws, creeping beneath the alien palm tree. “You’re not even as old as my dad. Stop complaining, Doc.” That comment gets her another undignified grunt, and Lyssa can’t help but laugh. She knew Harry would hate that.

“That man’s superhuman. Probably could get a door off his own damn leg.” A shuttle door indeed rests on Harry’s left leg, trapping him between that and a rock. She walks over, crouches down to inspect the scene, and sits back on her heels as Harry stares down at her. “It's not broken,” he gruffs.

“Let me try,” she says. “SAM?” The AI doesn’t respond. It seems her implant is useless in the bottom of this deep cave. It's up to her to figure out the best place to lift.

Lyssa walks around the battered door and Harry, sizing up the best place to leverage her strength. Had her scanner been working, SAM would have said where to exert the right amount of force. Head still garbled, Lyssa fumbles around until she finds it on her own. The suit takes a portion of the weight, but her insides still hurt like hell when she lifts. Harry scrambles back though and she drops the door quick, folding over after with hands on her knees.

“Don’t... think... I... have... that... in me... again,” she pants.

Sit down, kid,” he says. Harry pulls her gently by her elbow and Lyssa plops next to his side.

She turns to face him. “Don't call me that.”

“What? Kid? You're half my age--”

“I don't call you old man.”

Harry lets out a deep breath and pulls her in a single-armed embrace. “I feel it though.” He squeezes tighter. “Kirkland didn't make the crash. Neither did Greer.”

Some of her memory returns now; getting on the shuttle with Harry last minute instead of with Cora, the electric charges in the atmosphere, striking the cliff face sure they were going to die. Apparently two did. Three including the pilot.

Harry interrupts her thoughts. “How are you doing physically? Any specific pain?”

Her body still aches, but falling will do that to a person. The suit only absorbs so much. “I think I have a concussion?”

“And here I was complaining about a trapped ankle.” Harry drops his arm and swivels to look at her through her helmet. “What's your full name?”

“Lyssa Jane Ryder,” she says.

“Occupation?”

“Armed Combatant Specialist.”

“Address?”

Lyssa narrows her eyes at Harry, shaking her head slowly. “Really?”

“Sorry, he says. “Old habits die hard. I'd do a few tests, but I've already seen your reflexes, your coordination. It's probably a mild concussion at most. You got lucky, Lyssa.”

“Huh, then why don't I feel it?”

They sit silently after that, looking around the cave and its abundance of flora. Green shoots out of every square inch, swaths of moss covering the rocks, the floor. The twisted, reflective metal of the shuttle is out of place, jarring. So are the bodies of Greer and Kirkland, broken over a jagged shelf maybe ten feet up. Lyssa shudders. How had she missed that fate?

“Your comms work?” She asks.

“Not a bit,” he shrugs. “Yours?”

Lyssa shakes her head. “Maybe we should get out of here. Doubt anyone's going to find us hidden away like this.”

Harry nods, gesturing towards his ankle. “You're going to have to help me. Damn thing’s twisted. Can't really do much for it either.”

She helps him up. Harry leans into her and their helmets clack. “Sorry,” they both say at the same time. Lyssa takes his weight as best she can and they hobble over uneven ground. Once the strobe of the shuttle fades away, they turn their helmet lights on. The cave straightens out helpfully, yet the tunnel to the surface seems to be monstrously long.

“What did your dad talk us into?”

Lyssa can't justify an excuse. She’d been asking the same question for months before the trip and now that they're here... It's too depressing. Levi’s not awake, members of her team have died, Habitat 7 is a complete bust. Instead of feeling sad, anger courses through her.

“Fuck!” she snaps. Her veins even feel hot. “Let's talk about something else. You got a wife, Harry?”

It was the first thing that came to mind. Once it's out, she feels a bit guilty.

He laughs though, teetering next to her as they climb over a log. “Never have.”

She smiles. For some reason that answer makes her feel a little better. “Consummate bachelor? Scam too many ladies in one galaxy gotta break hearts in another?”

“Hardly,” he says. “I’m in the business of fixing hearts, not breaking them.”

“Come on,” Lyssa teases. “With a voice like yours and that salt and pepper look? I guarantee someone's cried over you before. Plus, doctor.”

“Is that... hot? I thought that was reserved for people in uniform?”

She snickers. The way he says it, “hot,” as if it's some trendy term and not what people have been calling men like him for centuries. Harry is hot. Smoking hot in a way that's always distracted her. He'd been the one to put her under in cryo, and after his face was the last thing she'd seen, Lyssa would swear she'd been having sex dreams about him for the last 600 years. She’d followed him into the shuttle on the Hyperion after all. Not onto Cora's like she was supposed to. Harry had that pull on her and he really had no idea.

“Harry, your patients aren't coming to see you just for your medicine.”

“Whatever you say.” His words are dismissive, but he sounds slightly pleased.

They fall into comfortable silence for a long time, taking it as steady as possible. She's never been this close to him before, and although the situation sucks, Lyssa likes the feel of him there, arm over her shoulder, hers across his back. If only there weren't suits between them. She imagines he smells good. Something smoky with a little spice. He stumbles on a root and squeezes her hand tight. A flutter of stupid, stupid nerves run up her arm at it. Lyssa needs to get out of this cave before she acts any more like a lovesick kid.

Light floods their footfalls. Cracks of thunder echo through the widening cave. Together they shuffle forward faster; green is replaced by grey but they fail to notice. At the mouth at last, Harry stumbles, almost crashing to the ground. Lyssa strains to hold him up. Outside the electric storm rages, a burst of lightning strikes down nearby. It's a horror scene. Harry's wheezing, coughing. Confused, Lyssa wheels around in front of him, taking his head between her palms. A crack in the visor is finally visible in the light of day.

“We gotta go back,” she says, pulling him up again. Harry can't breathe enough to argue, but his body doesn't fight her. Scrambling, she half carries him to the point where the plants flourish again. His grip on her is vice-like and she grinds her teeth together, insistent on getting him back to breathable air.

At a certain point he refuses to move further, stiff arming the rock wall. “Lyssa, I'm fine,” he says. “I’m fine.”

She drops to the ground then, collapsing in a pile of relief.

“You have to leave me.”

She glances up too quick, horrified at the suggestion. Her head swims a little. “I'm not--”

“Look, you said it yourself. No one is going to find us hiding in this cave. I trust you'll not leave me here to die.” Harry slumps down next to her on the floor. “You'll be okay. Find Cora -- your dad. They'll know what to do about this.” He flops his useless helmet on the ground. They both stare at it.

She's sure they're both thinking the same thing, but Lyssa can't make the words come. But what if everyone else is dead?

Harry takes up one of her hands and squeezes it reassuringly. If she can't find anyone -- if no one's left... At least at the end she’ll be with someone she cares about. She’ll crawl back to Harry, tell him how she feels, has felt about him since they met more than 600 years ago, and then hopefully they'll screw themselves into oblivion while the whole planet destroys itself.

Before she can think better of it, Lyssa removes her helmet. Harry starts to speak and she covers his mouth with a hand. Replacing her gloved fingers with her lips, Harry whips his head back, shocked. They're laying basically intertwined, his right leg and both of hers in a tangle.

“Lyssa--”

“Just let me,” she insists. He blinks slowly and she surges forward again, kissing him deeply. He doesn't pull back this time, but angles into it, placing his hands on either side of her head. Heat coils up inside her, races up to flush her face. They find themselves getting more and more tangled with one another, Lyssa practically sitting in his lap.

He pulls away first, stroking her cheek gently. “What was that,” he murmurs in amazement.

Lyssa grips his shoulders then realizes she should climb off his lap. “Ahh...” She laughs nervously. What had she been thinking? They aren’t dying yet. “Maybe we shouldn't tell anyone about that.” Harry lets her go regretfully, hands following her path away from his body, grasping air.

“Especially not your dad,” he says. Lyssa flinches, cringing at her dad finding out what she’d just done.

“Don't worry,” another voice calls out. “I’m certainly not going to be the one to tell him either.”

So hot a moment before, a cold flush floods Lyssa’s entire body. Hair prickles the back of her neck. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah,” Cora says, hand resting on her hips in judgement. “But at least I came to get you alone.”

Weeeeeell, thanks Cora. :D

#leather&lace2018 #harry carlyle x ryder #harry carlyle #lyssa ryder #smoking hot doctor dude #age difference #mass effect andromeda #fanfiction #my writing #my ocs

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