#i got so sick of their armor i gave up halfway through and that's why everything's wonky thanks bye

[spader7]

two party members at the campsite... maybe they'll kiss...

[silkling]

Thank you that's so sweet??? Aaa that means a lot-

I have thought of a few prompts actually,,

One being, TFA Prowl and Jazz where Prowl was some sort of fae creature that could disguise himself as a normal bot, and he got dragged to Yoketron. Either Yoketron knew what he was or he entered a deal with him by accident, but Prowl was like...honor bound to stay and learn from him after making that agreement. Maybe Jazz is there visiting as a previous student, and weird things about Prowl keep catching his attention.

The other was far more angsty- what if Sigma 17 were woken up earlier, like halfway through the war when their pod is discovered by an Autobot ship.. mby Blades' brothers are still aware and he can feel them, but otherwise they're just dumped straight into war. Poor bbys.

Oh my god. You. You just. You don’t know what you did. Cause I like, really like fae lore. So as soon as I saw that prompt my brain demanded it be written. But I also really like your other prompt. So I’m going to do them both! This one is the fae Prowl one. I’ll post the second prompt in another post. But seriously I’m going to have so much fun with this. You have no idea what you have unleashed in my brain.

———————————————————————————————————

Yoketron watched as the lithe, elegant youngling was hauled into his Dojo by Warpath. He arched a brow when he noticed the muzzle clamped on his face, and then was even more surprised when he realized just how much the mechling was capable of thrashing in the larger Autobot’s hold, despite the stasis cuffs clamped around his wrists. The youngling, a two-wheeler now that Yoketron was able to see him more clearly, was dumped on the floor and pinned under a heavy red pede.

“You sure you want to take this one, Master Yoketron? I really think he’s more deserving of the stockades, filthy little deserter.” Warpath snarled.

“Indeed, Warpath. I am quite certain.” Yoketron hummed. “I assure you, if he truly does not wish what I have to offer than I am quite capable of bringing him to the stockades myself.”

Warpath only grumbled, growling one more time at the small youngling, and then he bowed and left.

As soon as the weight on him was gone, the mechling’s thrashing kicked up a notch and he tried to sit himself up. It seemed though, that despite his surprising amount of maneuverability he didn’t have enough control of his limbs to actually do so. Yoketron knelt down, reaching out and pressing the release mechanism of the muzzle. It dropped to his waiting palm and he subspaced it, retracting his hand just in time to avoid razor sharp fangs snapping shut on his fingers. As it was, those deadly dentae clacked together harshly as the mechling’s jaw closed on empty air. Yoketron arched a brow, frowning. Odd. Usually it was only warframes who had such sharp fangs, and this little one was most definitely not a warframe.

Yoketron ignored the furious glare, casting a critical gaze over the mech laying prone on his dojo floor. At least he had stopped thrashing, though now his frame was so tense the armor plating was clamped shut too tight to get even a metal wire in between the individual armor pieces. Yoketron returned his gaze to meet the glowing visor, bright with the fury and rage that was strong enough for him to practically taste in the youngling’s field.

He hummed as if to himself, reaching behind him to undo the stasis cuffs, only to stop when fangs pierced and dug into the armor of his forearm. He shot the mechling an unimpressed look, his free hand reaching and digging fingers into the soft protoform of his face behind his jaw. His body almost spasmed, his mouth forced open, his fangs and lips stained with Yoketron’s energon. The ninja master ignored the fear that started to sour his field, as well as the way his ventilations increased until he was panting harshly, mouth forced open and glaring helplessly at the older bot. Instead, he reached out again, removing the stasis cuffs, then releasing his jaw and straightening as he stepped back.

He watched the young mech get to his pedes, his movements graceful and elegant even as his field radiated rage and fear. Yoketron found his optics narrowing faintly at the way his every movement was soundless. There was no shifting metal as he rose, to whirring systems as his frame shifted and settled, so sound of pedes against wood as he got up and stood straight. It was…off. Not enough to make a normal mech think anything was wrong, but just enough to get Yoketron’s attention. Combined with his fangs, it was starting to paint a picture. Not to mentioned the slightly tapered finger tips he had noticed as he’d removed the stasis cuffs. Fingers that flexed and clenched, and Yoketron noticed a half-second flash of sharpened claws before those hands relaxed and returned to normal. Yes, he was most definitely starting to get an idea of what this mechling was.

“Hello, young one.” he rumbled. “May I ask what you were doing hiding on Dojo property?”

The youngling growled, shifting towards the door. Yoketron let him. “What do you think? Trying to stay out of the war.” he barked. “It’s not my fight, after all.”

Yoketron hummed. “Perhaps not.” he agreed. “But those in charge will not see it that way, and will see you as little more than a traitor for not answering the call to fight. I am taking a risk in doing so, but if you wish to avoid the fight them I can offer you another option.” he stepped towards the youngling, optics narrowing. “So long as you are willing to learn, I would take you on as my student.”

The youngling snarled. “Fat chance! I’m leaving.”

“Certainly.” Yoketron agreed. “If you can make it to the door before I stop you, then you will be free to do exactly that, and I will ensure any and all charges against you are dropped.”

The youngling eyed him dubiously, but seemed to decide the risk was worth it because he was transforming and taking off in the next second. It had been a silent transformation too, which had raised only further alarm bells. Yoketron waited until he was close to the door, and then he moved. In a flash, he appeared in front of the mech, and a hard kick sent him tumbling out of his alt mode. Another kick, and he was flying back into the cabinet, which fell on top of him. Yoketron walked over and heaved it off, crouching to pin the mechling by pressing a hand between his shoulderblades.

“You have potential, little one. But if you are discovered and caught by the authorities then that shall all go to waste.”

Abruptly, the struggling form under his palm stilled and tensed, all anger leaving his field to be replaced by fear. “…what do you want?” he whispered.

“Your name, youngling. I believe Cybertron has lost enough of your kin. I have no desire to see another perish unnecessarily. The rest of the planet may be blind to it, but I am well aware of how necessary you are to the functioning of our world.” Yoketron said calmly. The yougling’s actions had confirmed his suspicions. He truly was one of the fae, a breed of Cybertronian long believed to be only myth.

The youngling was shaking faintly now, obviously frightened. Yoketron couldn’t blame him. While most civilians thought the fae to be the subjects of story and myth, any mech involved in government or military knew they were real, albeit very, very rare. There was a reason for that, a very unpleasant one, and it certainly didn’t help that any fae were were discovered were often captured and simply…never seen again.

“You know what that would mean.” There was an agonized note to the youngling’s voice.

Yoketron felt a twinge of regret. He did know, and it wasn’t something he was eager to do. But given the circumstances, it would be the best way to ensure this one’s safety. “I do.” he confirmed. “I promise you I will not abuse it, youngling. I seek only to ensure your safety and to see you grow. I cannot simply allow you to go so easily, for if I did then I would be questioned as to why I did not bring you to the stockades and it would bring more attention to you. This way, you will remain safe.”

“Then why offer to let me go in the first place?” he demanded.

“I believed it would make you feel better to know you had at least made an attempt.”

The youngling abruptly went limp, his field still fearful, but now also tinged with a dull resignation that made Yoketron feel a little sick to his tanks. He did not want to do it like this, but for the mechling’s safety was truly the only option, with the way Cybertron currently functioned. “Give me your name, youngling.” he encouraged, voice gentling.

The young bot reset his vocalizer, and looked up to lock his visor with Yoketron’s optics. “My name is Prowl.” he answered, and he could hear the reluctance as the young bot spoke.

As Prowl gave his name to Yoketron, his optics glowed a bright white for a brief moment behind his visor before fading back to normal. Yoketron himself felt a small pull at his spark, recognizing it as the tether that now bound Prowl to him. He lifted his hand from the fae’s back, watching him slowly rose to sit up. “I take your name to be returned to you when your tutelage is done, Prowl.” he said, and the bond that was latched against his spark strengthened and solidified. “Go. Past the door on your right is a hall. Turn left at the end, past the door there, and you will find the berthrooms. The one with the black door is the student’s room. You may call it yours while you remain under my care.” he said, voice gentle. “Rest. I will clean up here. Tomorrow, your training begins.”

There was a tug on his spark, ans he realized quickly that he had worded that too close to an order when Prowl winced, cringing back from him but obeying nonetheless. Yoketron frowned, distaste curling in his tanks. He would have to learn how to word what he said very, very carefully so it could not be viewed as an order. He knew the bond he had established by taking the fae’s name meant that Prowl would be compelled to obey what he was told, but he had no intentions of abusing that. It would be wrong to do so.

The youngling stood, then turned and left through the door. Yoketron listened to his pedes fade away, and then he himself was standing. He hadn’t expected his day to go like this, and he disliked how he had had to take on his newest student, but he couldn’t regret having done so. He did not want to see another fae fall just because Cybertron’s elite refused to understand them. With a heavy sigh, he retrieved the broom from the corner and began cleaning. Tomorrow would be a long day.

——————————

Prowl found himself curled up in the berth after he had cleaned himself up in the washracks attached to the room. His spark felt heavy with the new bond tied around him, and he further tugged the mesh blanket wound himself as he thought about it. He hadn’t ever intended to get caught. He had snuck into the Dojo grounds because they looked mostly empty and he’d thought it’d be a good place to lay low while army “recruiters” were sweeping through the streets. The last thing he wanted was to be forcefully drafted. Being around so many mechs who he knew knew about the fae…well, he was good, but he also knew he’d probably have gotten caught eventually.

He had hidden himself well, even using magae to keep himself as undetectable as possible. But then that red mech, Warpath, had seen him as he’d been attempting to sneak into another area of the Dojo, and….that was that. He’d been swiftly pinned and cuffed, and when he’d kept trying to bite, the muzzle had been locked around his face as well. He hadn’t expected to be brought to the Dojo Master, and he had even less expected that the mech, Warpath had called him Yoketron, would know what he was. He was even more embarrassed about being caught because when Warpath left, he realized the large bot just visiting. But he had been caught, and Yoketron had trapped and bound him with his own magae, and now he was here. At least the older bot had promised that his name–and freedom–would be returned after he was finished being trained, but Primus only knew how long that would take.

It was days like this when Prowl loathed his heritage, loathed the fact he was a fae. He had been proud of it, once. Fae were beings of legend, after all. Stories said that in Cybertron’s early days, even before the great cities were built, fae and normal Cybertronians lived alongside each other. It was said that fae were gifted the abilities beyond that of a normal bot, including tapping into the world’s natural energies. They were able to feel this energy and occasionally draw on it to perform feats of great power. Fae also wielded their own unique form of energy, called magae, that allowed them to perform what most bots would call “magic”. Magae was what made up the entirety of a fae’s abilities, it was what made them fae. Magae came from a fae’s spark, was comprised of the energies and power of their own life force, and they could use it to connect to the sparks of other bots. Usually, that would entail taking a mech’s name and binding them to yourself. Though if one knew how, the process could be reversed, and a mech could take a fae’s name and bind them to themself, as Yoketron had done to Prowl.

He couldn’t blame the older mech. The part of his processor that was more logical could even be grateful. His reasoning had been sound, after all. There wasn’t really a way for Prowl to walk away from this without unwanted attention, without risking discovery. He knew what would have happened if he was discovered. The rest of Cybertron may have forgotten why the fae disappeared, but his people remembered. Fae had been powerful. Chosen by Primus to maintain the planet’s natural order and help ensure prosperity for His children, which included themselves. For a time, it had been fine.

But then mechs had begun to fear to extent of what fae could do, disliking that they were capable of tapping into the sparks of others. And so the fae had been hunted. To avoid extinction, his people had fled and disappeared, going to the shadows and staying there until they were eventually forgotten. They built up their own society, separate from the rest of Cybertron. Prowl remembered it, a little bit. He had been sparked there, but…somehow, he had gotten separated from his people and place of origin, and he’d never found his way back. It was hidden from the people of Cybertron, and any fae who got lost from it and didn’t know the way back would remain stranded outside forever.

That was what had happened to him. He didn’t remembered how, but…he did know his creators had been taken, or perhaps offlined, and they’d hidden him just before being caught. They’d never come back, and he had remained stranded from the place he’d been sparked in. After that, he was told he was found by a civilian family from Praxus, who brought him to a Youth Center there. Once he was big enough to take care of himself, he’d fled the Center, wanting to try and find his way home, but…he’d never been able to. He’d been in his own ever since.

Now, he was stuck, bound to a mech who claimed to want to see him safe and strong but he didn’t know if Yoketron was telling the truth. He could only hope he was. The alternative was that the old mech intended to use the bond for his own gain, or to turn him in, and Prowl…Prowl didn’t want either option. He sighed heavily, swiping a hand across his face, his visor set on the nightstand by the berth. His optics were a normal blue, though what made them stand out was the markings around his optics. It was why he wore the visor. The most distinctive features of what he was were his fangs and claws, but those were easy to hide, and the markings around his optics. Every fae had markings somewhere, he knew. He had just been unlucky enough to have them on his face.

The youngling sighed, forcing himself out of the increasingly depressing spiral. It couldn’t be changed. He just had to adapt and learn. He was good at that. He tucked himself into a tighter ball, knees pulled to his chest and mesh clutched tightly around his form. He closed his optics, trying to calm down enough to recharge. Today had been a very bad day. He just hoped the days to come wouldn’t follow in the pattern.

——————————

Prowl woke the next day to a quiet knocking on the door. He startled awake, feeling out of sorts and groggy as he pushed the blanket off him and sat up. That was when he remembered the events of the previous day, and he flinched away from the door and looked down. So, it was time to get up, he supposed. He sighed, then swung his pedes out of the berth and padded to the door. Upon opening it, he found the hallway to be empty, but he picked up the sounds of…something at the end of the hall, in the opposite direction of what he was thinking was the main room of the Dojo. He stepped out, closing the door behind him, and walked towards the noise. He came to a sliding door, and when he opened it he found what appeared to be some sort of dining room.

Yoketron was already there, setting two places at the table with fuel. When the door opened, the old mech looked up. “Ah, Prowl.” he greeted. “You look well, today. I am glad.”

Prowl squirmed uncomfortably, nodding. “I….yes.” he said lamely.

“If you wish, you may come and sit. I typically share morning fuel with my student before I begin lessons, when I have one under my care.”

Prowl blinked, realizing there was no order in that phrasing. Maybe Yoketron really wouldn’t take advantage? He nodded, sliding forward, closing the door behind him as he went, and sitting on the cushion provided. Yoketron hummed, satisfied, and went to the opposite end of the small table to take his own place.

“I wish to apologize, Prowl” he said. “Binding you to myself was not how I wished to take you on as my student, but from what I have learned of fae culture over my life I believed it to be the best way to ensure you remain safe and undetected.” he explained.

The two-wheeler looked uncomfortable, but he nodded regardless. “There’s nothing I can do about it.” he sounded resigned. “I get it, I suppose. I know how dangerous discovery is for one of my kind. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy.”

“And I would not ask you to be.” Yoketron said patiently. He swallowed down some of his fuel, his gaze locked on the lithe youngling nibbling at his own meal. “I only wish so see you survive and grow strong enough that you can defend yourself.”

He took no offense when Prowl didn’t answer, and they consumed the rest of their meal in silence. When they finished, Yoketron stood. “If you would, I would appreciate if you cleaned your dishes and followed me. I will show you were you can put them, and then we can move on to your morning lessons.”

Prowl nodded, gathering his now empty dishes and following the old mech. He noticed once more that Yoketron had not phrased his request in a way that it might be interpreted as an order, and he felt grateful. While he still wasn’t happy about how things had turned out, he was starting to believe that just maybe the bond wouldn’t be abused after all. And if Yoketron was really telling the truth, then Prowl would someday be able to keep himself safe. He still wasn’t sure of this situation, and he didn’t trust Yoketron, but if things continued to be like this then maybe his time here wouldn’t be so bad.

——————————

Prowl was meditating. He did so fairly often these days, as it made his natural energies settle in a way they usually didn’t. Fae were constantly connected to the energy of Cybertron, and sometimes it was nice to let own own spark settle in a more peaceful rhythm as he let the energy of his world wash over him and surround him. It had taken him a while to learn the patience to do this, but he was glad that he had eventually managed. His processor settled, ventilations deep and even as he blocked himself out from the outside world. Why should he not? He knew he was safe here. He had nothing to fear.

A hand pressed to his spinal strut, between his winglets.

He jerked, his processor snapping back to itself as his optics abruptly snapped open. He let out a loud, startled yelp, helm shooting around, and his gaze locking on mech who was smiling faintly, expression wry and amused.

“Master Yoketron.” he did not wheeze, thank you very much.

“Prowl.” His master greeted, tone warm. “I apologize for startling you. I thought you would wish to know that it is time for afternoon fuel. It would be best to take it, I believe. The lessons I have planned for the rest of this orn are rather difficult.”

Prowl released a heavy, relaxed vent. He nodded, the harsh light of his optics dimming behind his visor as his systems realized he wasn’t under attack. “Of course, Master. Thank you for coming to get me. I apologize for not keeping better track of the time.”

Master Yoketron only shook his head. “Of course, young one. I understand the importance of meditation. I would not think to force you to stop early when I can prepare the fuel myself.” he hummed. “Though,” he cast his student a look. “I would appreciate if you did continue to prepare the fuel with me, in most cases.”

Prowl nodded, standing up and following his Master out the door of the small meditation room and down to the dining hall. “I would not think to abandon one of my tasks, Master Yoketron.”

“No, I do not think you would.” The old mech agreed. They stopped in the dining room, taking their respective seats. After a moment of silent eating, Prowl’s mentor spoke. “You have come very far since you first came to this Dojo, Prowl.”

Prowl paused, drawing back a little under the intensity of the gaze pinned on him. Yes, he supposed he had. He still wasn’t pleased that his teacher had had to take his name and bind him to himself to get him to stay, but he understood. Besides, he had come to like it, here. The old cyber-ninja was kind and fair, and he had never once forced Prowl out of his comfort zone or tried to abuse the bond, not a single time in the vorns since the fae had been dumped at his pedes. He stayed now because he wished to, not because he was forced to. The bond was still active, and Yoketron still held his name, but he had come to see this place as home and no longer tried to trick the cyber-ninja into breaking the bond. His Master still held his name, but Prowl would stay even if he did not.

“I suppose.” the fae said after a moment. “I am grateful to you, Master Yoketron. Even if I am not pleased as to how it happened, I am glad you took me as your student.”

The older mech relaxed, expression softening. “Indeed, young one. I feel much the same.” he murmured. “Now, I believe it is time we finish fueling. It will be a long orn yet.”

Prowl nodded, then picked up his cube of energon and took a sip. He didn’t know what his future would hold, but he, for once in his life, looked forward to what the coming stellar cycles would bring.

——————————

The coming stellar cycles, it turned out, would bring one of Master Yoketron’s former students. A mech named Jazz, who according to his mentor was visiting the Dojo for the Festival of Adaptus, and he intended to stay for the full deca-cycle the Festival took place on, as he was granted leave by the Elite Guard to do so. Yoketron had told him that Jazz had been his most recent student before he had taken in Prowl, and that the young cyber-ninja was apparently quite eager to meet their shared mentor’s newest disciple. Prowl wasn’t opposed to the visit, not at all. But in the vorns since he’d come to the dojo, he had relaxed and become more at ease, and so his magae itself had also become less tense and volatile. All that really meant, though, was that, now that he knew he was safe and at home, his instincts would let him behave in the way he wanted to about the Dojo’s guest.

Jazz didn’t know Prowl was a fae. He didn’t even know that a fae was in the Dojo. Which meant Prowl would be able to really mess with the mech and confuse him while he was here. He didn’t let his more mischievous tendencies be known often, but Prowl was a fae, and his people reveled in tricks and mischief. And now that someone new was coming, someone who wouldn’t know to anticipate it like Yoketron knew to, after living with Prowl’s rare pranks?

Well, Prowl was going to have some fun with Jazz.

——————————

Jazz didn’t know what he was expecting when he met his old Master’s newest student, but it most certainly wasn’t for the lithe mech to thrust out a hand, palm up, and say:

“Hello. Master Yoketron has told me about you. Would you like to give me your name?”

Now, the phrasing of the had been real funky, but Jazz hadn’t had time to think on it or even to tell the mech his name before Master Yoketron was putting a hand over his mouth and shooting the black and gold mech a very unimpressed look. The two-wheeler had huffed, arms crossing.

“I wasn’t actually going to do anything, Master.”

And Primus, but he’d sounded petulant. Jazz still didn’t understand that whole interaction, but then Yoketron was stepping away and the bot offered his hand out again. “My name is Prowl, and you may use it as a friend.” he’d said.

Upon getting no reaction from the Dojo Master, Jazz had stepped forward and taken his hand. Again, very funky phrasing, but Jazz was starting to think maybe the mech himself was just from a different walk of life than he was. “Name’s Jazz.” he’d introduced himself, and thinking that the second part of Prowl’s introduction must be important to the mech, he’d found himself copying it. “Feel free to use my name as a friend.”

The words had tasted oddly stiff in his mouth, but before he could say anything more Master Yoketron was shooing his student off to do some chores, and then he’d led Jazz to the berthroom reserved for Dojo guests.

Which, was where the Polyhexian now found himself.

Except…the berth was stood vertical against the wall. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was how Master Yoketron was storing them when they weren’t in use? But then, why hadn’t it been put back horizontal before he had arrived? Jazz was very confused. He shrugged, moving to pull the berth back down. Maybe his old teacher had simply forgotten, though Yoketron had never forgotten anything before. Old age, then? Yeah, Jazz would sooner believe that Ultra Magnus enjoyed bar fights.

He still had no idea how the berth had gotten like that, but maybe things would make sense after recharge. So, he slipped under the mesh blankets and let himself slip into unconsciousness. He was sure things would be less confusing when he was operating at his full abilities.

The next morning did dawn, and Jazz had woken up making the choice to just forget about the berth incident. He might ask his mentor at a later date, but for now he’d focus on just enjoying his time at th old Dojo. He slipped out of his berthroom, remembering from his own training that right about now was when the morning fuel was prepared. Sure enough, he slipped into the kitchen to find both Dojo residents preparing their shares. Jazz went to do the same, and after a a breem all three of them were seated at the table.

Jazz turned to Prowl, smiling. “So, mech, how’re you liking it at the Dojo? I heard through the grapevine your arrival here wasn’t exactly ideal.” he offered, remembering what Warpath had told the rest of the cyber-ninjas.

Prowl paused. “…it was not ideal, you are right.” he confirmed. “I am grateful for Master Yoketron taking me under his care, however. I find the Dojo pleasant.”

Jazz chuckled. “You’re a pretty well-mannered mech, aintcha?” he teased playfully. “I’d almost think you came from nobility.”

Prowl, amusingly, looked very offended. “It does not do to be impolite.” he sniffed.

Jazz smiled. “I ain’t disagreeing with you. But you can relax, you get me?”

Prowl simply stared at him, then scoffed and returned to his meal. Jazz didn’t take it personally. Dai Atlas was pretty stiff too. Some mechs just preferred structure and formality. Yoketron, as he often was during mealtimes, was silent. The rest of their fuel was consumed in that silence, and then Prowl and the Dojo Master were cleaning up and going off to the morning lessons. Jazz remembered those. They had been very….straining. He stood, cleaning his own dishes and then going to mediate until the other two were done for the morning. Plus, he hadn’t been able to mediate properly for a while.

A couple joors later, Jazz was done and got to his feet. Yoketron ans Prowl should be finished by now too, he knew, and he decided to walk though the garden to get to the main hall. Except…there were some odd metalli-plants in the garden, arranged in a perfect circle. Jazz didn’t recognize them, and he found it odd that they were planted that way. He could also detect a very, very faint energy coming from the circle. Curious, he walked over, intending to get close and touch the plants to examine them, when a hand landed on his shoulder.

He looked back, seeing Yoketron, and his old teacher looked exasperated. “Prowl, I would appreciate if you would not attempt to trap Jazz in your circles.” he called out.

Prowl stepped out from the Dojo, almost looking like he was pouting, and the odd energy around the flowers disappeared. “You’re no fun, Master. I wouldn’t have done anything.” he grumbled.

Yoketron only shook his head, and invited Jazz to join them for some basic katas now that morning lessons were done. He agreed, but tacked that onto his mental list of weird things going on at the Dojo. He thought that would be the last time. It wasn’t.

That night, when he went to the washracks, the solvent came out mixed with glitter. Jazz barely avoided getting a very sparkly makeover. Then, the next orn, he kept getting lost. Master Yoketron had to rescue him from the meditation chambers after the 12th time he ended up there trying to get to the dining hall. After that, his Master having to stop Jazz from accepting fuel that Prowl had offered. Then, he’d woken the next orn to find his berth was gone. Just….gone. Even though he’d been in it. The odd things kept stacking up and up, until finally, half-way into his stay, he learned what it all was.

It was when Yoketron, Prowl, and he were fueling after the morning lessons. Prowl and Jazz were talking, and then Prowl had said the words that made Jazz feel very, very stupid:

“Words have power, Jazz, so of course phrasing is important in proper social interaction!”

He forgot what they were even bickering about, staring at the rotten little trickster in front of him with a gaping mouth. “You’re a fae.” he realized. How had he not figured it out sooner? Master Yoketron had taught him about the fae. All cyber-ninja knew about the fae! Then a new thought struck him. “You stole my berth!”

Prowl blinked, and he seemed to relax when Jazz’s reaction to the revelation wasn’t fear or an attempt to turn him in. Only indignation. “I will not apologize.” he deadpanned.

Jazz stared, and then a grin stretched his lips. “You clever, tricky little glitch.” he said playfully, enunciating each word. There was no genuine malice in his tone. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

——————————

Prowl snorted as Jazz regaled him with yet another story about his new superior officer, a mech called Sentinel Prime, and his immense stupidity. They were in Iacon, and it had been a long time since Prowl had been so far from the Dojo, which was in the outer edges on Praxus, on its own land. But he’d come to a pause in his training, as Master Yoketron had sent him on an optics quest. It was, apparently, a major test in the life of a cyber-ninja. It would allow him to discover what he wished to do with his life, as he was meant to travel and experience new things and explore, and when he had the answer he would return to the Dojo. And then he would begin a new level of his training, according to his teacher.

So he was in Iacon currently, enjoying an afternoon with Jazz. It had been many vorns since that fateful Festival of Adaptus, and the two young mechs had forged a strong bond. So when Prowl’s optics quest had brought him in the direction of Iacon, he’d commed the older mech and asked to be shown around. The fae was nervous about being so close to the headquarters of Autobot High Command, because he knew what they did to any of his kind they discovered, but he was confident in his abilities to remain hidden. Plus, he had Jazz, and he knew the white bot wouldn’t let him be put in danger.

They were sitting at Jazz’s favorite cafe, enjoying a selection of energon treats, when Prowl felt it. A tug at his spark. The bond he shared with Yoketron went two ways. The older mech held most of the control, but Prowl could still sense his mentor through it. It was one of the reasons he had come to accept it. And now…now, Yoketron’s spark felt like it was sputtering, like the mech it belonged to was in pain and his life was in danger. Prowl didn’t stop to think. He threw down a fistful on shanix, and then grabbed Jazz’s wrist and dragged him away.

His processor was racing desperately, and he couldn’t even manage to answer his friend’s questions. He dragged them to an empty alley, and then closed his eyes, focused on his magae, and dug deep.

Every fae had a pocket plane of their own. It was like a bot’s subspace, but it wasn’t a subspace and it was large enough for a mech to go in to. It was like…a small sub-world of sorts, and only a fae could access it, and each fae had their own. The sub-world could be used as a quick method of transport. As long as the location one was trying to get to was on the same planet as they one they had left from, then a fae could use to to travel large distances in almost an instant.

Prowl had never accessed his, before. Oh, he’d tried. Countless times. But he’d never been able to. But now…now he had to. It was the only way they could get to Praxus, to Master Yoketron. So he dug inwards, pushing far, far deeper into his magae than he’d ever done before…and he stepped forward. He came into his sub-world, bringing Jazz with him, and the other mech was silent now, gaping im shock. He kept going though, and focused on Praxus, on the Dojo, and stepped again. Then, they were there. Prowl stumbled as he came to a stop in the Dojo, releasing Jazz and tripping onto his face. He didn’t notice when his visor was knocked loose as he shifted his gaze to try and find his Master.

Prowl and Jazz were frozen for a single sparkbeat at the scene they’d come into. A large mech with a hook in place of one hand and markings on his face was standing over their mentor. For a moment, Prowl thought the mech was fae. But he detected no magae from him, and the moment passed.

That was when the rage came. He snarled, his engine roaring his anger, and his claws lengthened to their sharpest, his fangs sharpening to their longest, and the golden markings around his optics glowed a brilliant, pale silver while his optics themselves glowed white. He surged up, and in the next sparkbeat he was between the mech and his master. He extended a hand, deadly claws resting on the mech’s chest plate, and before that hook could swipe at him he peeled back his lips, put his magae into his voice, and hissed a command.

“Stop.”

It wouldn’t hold for long, he knew. Without the mech’s name, the order wouldn’t hold much power. So, Prowl used the physical connection, and pushed with his magae, digging with his very spark into the core of the mech’s being. He had to be careful, he knew. Like this, it would be so easy to destroy, to rip the mech’s very soul apart and kill his being without even extinguishing his spark. But Master Yoketron had always warned him against using his powers to hurt others, telling him he was meant for greater than causing pain and suffering. Even if Prowl didn’t believe that, he still wanted to honor his Master’s wishes and his lessons. So he didn’t rip and tear and rend, like the more feral of his fae instincts demanded. Instead, he dug in, until he had what he wanted, and wove a strand of magae into the mech’s spark energy to ensure the bond would take.

Then he pulled himself back, and as the mech regained mobility he met those red optics and bared his fangs. “I know your name, bounty hunter.” he spat. “I know who you are, and your name is mine until such time I decide it is mine no longer. I have your name , Lockdown, and with it I have you.” Claws dug into metal armor as the mech froze, optics blown wide with shock.

“You will stop this, and you will leave, Lockdown. Now.” Prowl ordered in a snarling hiss.

Lockdown was tense, but the bond that Prowl had tied around his spark and the hold of his name over him forced him to obey. He stopped, and he left. It was only when the Dojo was silent that Prowl began to calm. He sagged, slowly releasing a heavy vent, and turned to the other two mechs. Jazz had helped Yoketron sit up, his helmet already returned to him, and both were staring.

“Uh, mech? What’s with the light show?” Jazz asked softly.

“Light show?” And then Prowl noticed the lights.

Small, glowing spheres of light and energy filled the room. Dozens of them. He gasped, reaching out to the nearest one and tapping it. It burst into flame, and Prowl jerked back. The flame burned out, and a new light replaced the old. Prowl hesitantly tapped another of the spheres, and this one burst into mist. It was then he understood what this was.

Every fae had a unique magae ability. It seemed these spheres were his, and each of them did something different. But what was the use, if he didn’t know which did what? Except….he did know. Or at least, his spark did. This was an ability born from his magae, from his spark. So….if he let that guide him..he would know.

He took a deep vent, focusing, and his gaze locked on one sphere floating to his right. He cupped his hands around it, bringing it to his mentor, and crouched by the older mech. He held his hands out, the sphere glowing above his clawstips.

“This one should help you, Master.” he said softly.

Yoketron hummed, then reached out and pushed his fingers into the light. It flared, dancing up along his frame, and small cracks and wounds in his armor sealed up while the heavier injuries lessened slightly in severity. He perked up too, as if he was given a boost of energy, and was able to stand up on his own after a moment. Prowl and Jazz followed suit, but before either could say anything another form burst into the Dojo.

“Master Yoketron, are you-“ the mech cut himself off, staring at the scene. “….I saw smoke coming from the Dojo?” he said, uncertain.

Prowl tensed, optics narrowing, but Jazz slid in to calm the situation. “It’s alright. We managed to deal with it.”

The mech’s uncertain gaze looked around the Dojo, clearly confused at the lights, until his optics found Prowl. Then they lit up with understanding, and recognition. He obviously realized what the fae was. But…he stepped forward anyway, holding out a hand. “You’re Master Yoketron’s student, right? My name is Springer, and I give it to you freely to use as you wish, though I hope you would use it as a friend.”

Prowl startled, not expecting a mech to give his name so easily. He had to cut the tie to his magae so it wouldn’t try to latch on and bind the mech. He took the offered hand, careful of his claws. “You are well met, Springer, and I would be pleased to call you my friend. My name is Prowl, and I offer it to you to use as a friend in turn.” he said smoothly, then stepped back.

Jazz grinned, throwing an arm around Prowl’s shoulders. “Nice, Prowler! But are you ever gonna explain what in the Pit you did? Cause I’m still trippin’ over tryin’ to figure it out.”

Springer cut in. “As much as I’d like to know too, maybe now isn’t the best time. We should clean up before the Elite Guard figures out something went down here. Prowl, that means you might want to cut your magae off, we don’t want you getting found out.”

Prowl tensed, but nodded stiffly. He could do that. He took a vent, closing his optics and relaxing. After a moment, the spheres started winking out, and his fangs and claws returned to their hidden states. His optics and markings stopped glowing, and he opened his optics to look for his visor. He quickly noticed it was broken on the floor, and he was about to panic when Jazz caught his attention and held out his own visor. His optics were bare for once, and Prowl found himself staring in quiet awe for a moment before a resetting of a vocalizer from Springer snapped his focus back. He snagged up the visor, slipping it on and shooting Jazz a grateful look.

“Great!” the green mech was smiling. “Now, let’s figure out this mess!”

Prowl hummed. “I believe I have an idea. Springer, if you will, I believe you and I would be best suited for cleaning up here. Jazz, would you mind helping Master Yoketron?” A glance back showed their mentor leaning against the far wall, seemingly in a meditative state. “And call in a medic, his wounds still need to be treated.”

The other two glanced at each other, and for a moment Prowl thought they wouldn’t take orders from an ungraduated student, but to his surprise they nodded and got to work. Prowl felt himself smile, and fell into place with Springer to clean up the mess Lockdown had made of the Dojo’s main hall. He had been worried that he wouldn’t find his place once he graduated the Dojo and left his Master’s care, but he was starting to realize he would have a place after all. He would find his acceptance and his purpose in the Cyber-Ninja Corps and the mechs who he would one day call his brothers-in-arms. He was sure of that now. He looked forward to it. For once, Prowl knew that his future was bright, and he was eager to meet it head on.

(Yoketron watched his youngest student interact with two of his others, and felt pride swell in his spark. Prowl had come so very far from that first orn, when he’d been a half-feral youngling trying to flee the world itself. He’d known he had made the right decision in choosing his successor when he’d seen how Prowl handled Lockdown, and when he’d seen how easily and freely he had accepted Springer as a comrade. Prowl was going to far surpass him one orn, was going to be a far better Master of the Cyber-Ninja Corps than he ever was. Yoketron couldn’t wait to see it.)

———————————————————————————————————

And there it is! What did you think? I hoped you liked it. I had fun. I like it. Fae Prowl is a little troll and you can’t convince me otherwise. Anyway, that story is finished! Yoketron lives, because I said so. Also, Prowl and Jazz totally become a thing later. Absolutely no one is surprised.

Aaaaannd…I think thats it! Yep, I’ve said the important stuff.

Until next time, folks!

[fanfoolishness]

Fulminating (The Mandalorian)

(Din suffers a complication after nearly drowning on Trask. He and the Child recover together. Maybe it's enough. 5000 words, canon-compliant, angst, medical whump, hurt/comfort, sign language. Set during Chapter 11: The Heiress. Don't say I didn't warn you about the whump - but the comfort's there, too.)

Thank you to @lastwordbeforetheend, @art3mys and @honestlyhufflepuff for helping talk me through this! You can also find this story on AO3 if you prefer.

***

The air streams past him, tugging at the free edge of his cloak as he descends. He tilts his head upward, watching Bo-Katan and her cruiser climb to the edge of the atmosphere. They’ll take the ship, and he’ll take the Jedi’s name.

It’s not the deal he wanted -- hell, they aren’t the Mandalorians he wanted -- but she gave him what he needed in the end, and he’ll respect that.

He coughs, chest feeling heavy, and lowers his head as the air rushes past. That’s better.

He aches as the rush of the fight leaves him. He’s not getting any younger, and while firefights are what he’s built himself for, taking an entire cruiser hadn’t been on his agenda. Especially coming off the disastrous crash landing on the ice planet with the kid and the passenger; he’d hit his head pretty badly in the landing, beskar helmet or no, and he still feels a nagging headache now that the action’s over. He scowls under the helmet.

The Rising Phoenix burns clean as the docks rise up before him, and he lands clumsily, staggering. He’s got to work on that. In all the traveling lately, his training has slipped. Koska in particular has given him some ideas for how to better utilize the Phoenix in combat, and he’ll have to consider incorporating the techniques into his own fighting style.

Din pulls a deep breath as he straightens up, slightly winded by the landing. Time to collect the kid and get going.

Leaving would be a good idea, if not for the fact half the port is still quiet. He glances around, realizing it’s still early in the morning and the Mon Calamari he paid to tend to the Crest is nowhere in sight. Fine. Maybe he and the kid will grab some sleep in the inn. How long has it been since they got any rest?

His feet fall heavy on the wooden docks, his boots scuffing. Yeah. A room might do them good.

***

It takes him a good twenty minutes to make his way through the narrow alleys to the Frogs’ home. He’s a little slower than usual, though he’s got good reason to be weary. The door slides open at his knock and the happy couple greets him, gesturing to a water-filled dish on their table. A tadpole splashes back and forth, and Din’s foundling stares at it with wide eyes and half-opened mouth, barely noticing that Din has come for him.

Din almost hates to pull the kid away. He’s downright enchanted by the tadpole (the kid better have minded his manners!), curious and fascinated and protesting as Din scoops him up. He congratulates the couple on their child and heads out into the alley, the kid chattering away unintelligibly. He’s been using that little voice of his much more lately, and though Din hasn’t picked out any words he understands, it’s a comforting sound. He chuckles a bit at the kid’s chatter, the laugh slipping into a brief cough that he swallows down. He wishes, not for the first time, that he could understand what the kid has to say.

The kid’s voice burbles cheerfully in his ears. Probably telling him all about his exciting night, staying with the Frog family. Maybe he’s asking where Din has been, or wondering where they’re going next. Din hasn’t a clue. He tries to pay attention, but finds it strangely difficult to concentrate and walk at the same time.

It’s not far to the inn. Half a klick at most. He’s walking at a normal pace, not running, not sprinting.

So why, then, is he breathing so hard?

He pauses against the wall of a small fishery shop, leaning against it slightly in a way that would look casual to a passing observer. He takes a deep breath, then coughs wetly, chest rattling.

You’re fine, he tells himself firmly, but his chest rises and falls like he’s been running.

His helmet swivels left, right. Quarren, Mon Calamari, humans, they scurry past Din and the child, but more than a few turn to stare at the two of them. This is too open. He needs to get back under cover until he can figure out what’s going on. You are both predator and prey, intones the Armorer, and oh, he knows it. His gut clenches a warning.

The Phoenix roars on his back, carrying them the rest of the way. He holds on to the kid with both arms and the kid giggles, enjoying the ride, but Din just focuses on breathing.

***

The innkeeper stares at him. “One night, then?” he grunts.

Din reaches into his hip pouch, pulls a stack of credits out, more than what’s needed. He forces himself to slow his breathing, though his chest hurts with the effort. He swallows. Modulates his voice to sound gruff and intimidating. “One night. And no questions.”

The innkeeper nods, holding his hands out in an appeasing gesture. “Whatever you say, Mando.” He tosses Din a fob to unlock the room. “Up the stairs, third door on the left. Food sent up to the room’s extra.”

Din merely nods. The kid, nestled in the crook of his arm, looks up at him, frowning. His ears sag down to his collar, and he wraps one hand over Din’s wrist.

Din makes his way to the stairs, shoving past a few Quarren there for their breakfast. They grumble, but they get out of his way; news travels fast about what a Mandalorian can do when pressed. They clear a path for him as he approaches the narrow stairs. With his back to the barroom, no one able to see him directly, he allows himself the luxury of a few deep breaths before he begins. He needs every one.

The flight of stairs isn’t long. Fifteen steps, maybe. But he has to grab the handrail with his free hand, gripping it tightly. His head swims, and the inside of his chest sears, burns, aches. He sucks air through an open mouth, shivering.

“Dank farrik,” he hisses, and regrets the extra breath expended on the curse. He has to rest halfway up the stairs, slumping against the wall with his head spinning.

He makes it up the rest of the flight, through the hallway, to the third door on the left. It slides open and he stumbles through the doorway, barely noticing the door sliding closed behind him as he staggers to the lumpy four-poster bed. He sets the kid down carefully before he sinks onto the bed with a thump. He struggles to remove the Rising Phoenix. He manages to rest it on the floor at his feet, and stays leaning forward, curled up over himself.

What’s wrong with me?

He desperately tries to run the possibilities. Poison? No, no, nothing’s broken his skin, he hasn’t eaten since he left the ship.… He shivers again. Is he sick? This doesn’t feel like any sickness he’s ever known before, coming on so fast like this, hitting so hard…

He sits huddled on the edge of the bed, panting. His helmet’s sensors chime at him. Normally vital signs are measured in the background, but he forces himself to focus on the corner of the display through his visor, where it flashes a warning: Blood oxygen level below 90%.

Oxygen… lungs… going under the water after the kid, struggling as the seal on his helmet slipped, as the seawater rushed up over his face, into his mouth and nose --

But I was fine, he tries to tell himself. He tries to remember if he inhaled the water or if he spat it back out, but all he remembers is frantic choking, flailing, a confusing jumble of cold and weight and struggle. I was fine --

He coughs again, the action bowing him over himself, and he gags on fluid in the back of his throat. He retches, gulps, tastes something metallic. Blood.

Fuck. Fuck.

His mind races. Battlefield first aid is taught to all Mandalorians, but he doesn’t remember what he’s supposed to do here. What here even is. His mind blanks for a second, or an eternity.

He suddenly remembers a function of his helmet he’s rarely used. He toggles it on with a jerky swipe over his vambrace. He can’t carry an entire tank of oxygen with him, since it’d be a clear explosion hazard in his line of work, but the helmet does have emergency oxygen concentrator ability. Enough to double the atmospheric content for low-O2 planets. He breathes deeply of the fortified air, and for a moment he feels a little calmer. This’ll fix things. Just need a little more air, a little rest, I’ll be fine --

It’s not enough.

The display in his helmet says it’s concentrating the oxygen at maximal levels, but damn it, it’s not enough. He wheezes, straining.

The display says a lot of things now. It’s going fucking haywire, streaming readings for his heart rate, his oxygen, spiking or crashing in ways he’s never seen. He forces himself to focus on the room beyond him instead of the screeching vitals, tries to focus on fishnets lining the dingy walls, a cramped closet refresher, a little wooden table to sit at, a round window letting in muted daylight.

It’s not working. Din drags in breath after frantic breath, coughs again, feels something frothy in the back of this throat. He tastes metal. He’s -- he’s suffocating --

No. No. This is just a sickness, I just have to get through the worst of it, just breathe -- just breathe --

But he wants to tear his helmet off, he’s so hungry for air, he wants -- he needs --

Firm pressure on his lap, movement, something besides the flail of his chest. It’s the kid. He’s almost forgotten about him in his struggle, and seeing the kid calms him slightly. Just slightly.

He manages to lower his head, though it makes him dizzy. The kid’s dark eyes stare up at him, his little face scrunched up and worried.

“I’m fine,” Din gasps, though clammy sweat clings to him inside his suit, though his heart still races. Does the kid understand him? He coughs, the sound harsh and wracking. “I just need to -- rest --”

Rest. Yeah. Yeah, that should help. Maybe he’ll be better off laying down in a different position. Holding the kid against him, he tries to ease himself down on the rumpled bedding. But as soon he’s down, he realizes it’s wrong -- on his back, he feels his armor crushing him -- smothering him --

He jerks upright, clawing at his chest, undoing the catches of his armor. His cuirass loosens and falls to the bed beside him. He leaves it. The pressure eases, barely.

The kid in his lap lets out a wail, and Din realizes that the kid knows.

What if I don’t -- what if he’s alone -- if this gets worse -- His heart rate jumps at the unfinished thought, pounding until he can feel the veins in his neck throbbing, the pulse thready. He slumps against the post at the end of the bed, wrapping a hand protectively around the kid. No. I’ll be fine.

He has to be fine. For both of them. He wishes he could tell the kid --

***

Grogu feels, sees, senses ripples in the Force, just as he senses ripples in the water where a frog might be near. Most of the time, it comforts him, feeling its swirls and eddies.

It isn’t comforting now. It’s scary. The Force is disturbed, the ripples churning waves. His protector, his person clings to him, and Grogu feels fear panic wrong.

Grogu flinches, his stomach hurting. He doesn’t know what’s happened to the man, but there’s something in the man’s chest that isn’t right, something that shouldn’t be there, something that makes it not work the way it’s supposed to. Grogu tilts his head up and rests one hand against the man’s armor, whimpering.

The man is shaking. His voice catches. “It’s -- it’s all right,” he chokes, but Grogu can feel how hard he’s working to breathe, how his voice sounds different. It sounds wet.

Grogu whimpers again, tries to reach out in the Force. He has to help him! The man flickers in the Force in a way Grogu remembers once from a misty dream, the day he sent the fire back; he was so sleepy after the flames ran away. But the man feels like he did then, faint and far away, and this time, Grogu understands what it means. Faint and far away and fading.

Grogu tries to talk to the man. Tries to tell him that he can help. He makes his voice loud, but the man’s breathing is louder. It’s not working.

He gets to his feet in the man’s lap, hurriedly bracing his hands against the man’s laboring chest. This close he can hear the wrongness inside him even without the Force, his ears catching terrible crackles over the man’s pounding heart. It shouldn’t sound like that. He knows it in a way he doesn't have the words for.

The man is soft without the armor, but the cloth and leather he wears are still thick and hard to get through, under Grogu’s hands. Grogu tries to reach, tries to make the Force inside the man move and change. He’s done it before, he has to try now, has to try to help him --

But it’s hard to shift the Force inside the man. He’s still wrapped in most of his armor, no skin to touch. Maybe one of the Masters from long ago could fix the man without touching him, without pressing skin to skin, but Grogu doesn’t know how. He wraps his claws around the heavy vest the man wears under the armor, and he cries at him, trying to make him understand.

“Please --” the man rasps. “It’s -- don’t be afraid --” He coughs again, thin reddish fluid beading at the bottom of his helmet. Flickering -- far away --

Grogu sinks into the man’s lap, breathing hard himself. The man’s fear is overwhelming, making it hard for Grogu to think. He’s felt it before from him when things got scary, but always the man’s bravery was bigger, more powerful, so much brighter in the Force than his fear.

But it’s all that Grogu can feel from him now.

He has to do something. The man still flickers. He looks around wildly, sees the man’s hand, limply resting against the bottom of Grogu’s robe.

“Hey, buddy,” the man wheezes. “You’ll be -- okay --”

Grogu is already pulling at the man’s wrist. He’s seen a little flash of skin here before, where the glove meets the armor. He fumbles with it, but it’s on too tight for him to budge.

“What --”

Grogu pulls hard at the glove, and the man helps weakly with his other hand, his fingers clumsy. The glove slips down at the wrist, exposing light brown skin, a thumb. The man crumples against the post at the end of the bed, the line of him all wrong, head rolled to his shoulder. He’s so faint.

Grogu curls one hand around the man’s thumb, presses the other hand against his palm. The man’s skin is cool and sweaty and calloused. Grogu holds his hand as hard as he can, and he closes his eyes, and he reaches.

He can't make sense of what he feels through the Force. Water, but there shouldn’t be water here. Breathing, but the air doesn’t help. Grogu concentrates, but it’s hard. It’s not like when that other man’s arm was hurt in the dark by the creatures, when Grogu could reach out and feel the way the poison wasn’t supposed to be there, the way the arm wanted to be normal again. The Force flowed to the hurt part, and it made it like it was before.

But now he’s confused, the fear so loud and painful, making it harder for Grogu to understand the problem with the water and the air and the lungs. He clutches the man’s skin, claws digging into his strong hand. He tries to do what he can, tries to tell the man’s chest to be normal, to work, to help.

The Force shimmers. It flows, and something goes out of him, into the man.

But it’s not like before. The other man’s arm got better so quickly, the poison disappearing, the flesh coming back to itself. It doesn’t feel that way now; he’s not sure what it feels like. It feels… like something slow, like something calm and quiet, like something gentle.

Grogu lets go of the man’s hand, his mouth twisting. He knows he didn’t understand enough, didn’t get it quite right. He lets out a soft wail, sinking down into the man’s lap and staring dejectedly at his hands.

He hears a quiet, tired voice. Feels the man shift, feels his hand with the rolled-up glove brush against his cheek. Grogu looks up through sleepy eyes and sees the man’s helmet upright again, looking steadily at him.

“Kid?” A long, ragged breath. A hoarse voice. His shoulders rise and fall with big breaths, but not as fast as before.

The man pulls him closer, and Grogu’s ears swivel. The crackles are getting softer. Going away.

“Thanks, kid,” the man whispers.

Grogu gazes up at the man, and he manages a tired little smile. The man is getting brighter in the Force. No more flickering. And underneath the man’s fear, Grogu senses brave again.

***

Din isn’t sure how long he’s been sitting there, leaning against the post at the end of the bed, holding the sleeping kid in his lap. He only knows he’s been working, and it is work, at breathing.

In, and out.

In, and out.

His helmet display flashes numbers at him. They aren’t normal. Oxygen, heart rate, respirations. But hell, they’re so much better than they were.

He doesn’t know what the kid did. The bare skin of his hand tingles in the cool air, and he’s almost afraid to cover it up again, in case it reverses what the child did to him.

For him.

All he really remembers -- things are hazy, even though it was at most only a few hours back -- is the panic, darkness at the edges of his sight, a terrible, unending hunger for air.

And then something quiet and soft, gently washing over him. It was enough.

He coughs again, but it’s easier than before. The rattle’s faint, thin, clearing. He’s not a medical droid, but he’s sure of it anyway: he’s going to make it.

The kid yawns beside him, half-wrapped in Din’s ragged cloak. He squints up at Din, his expression wary. Worried.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, his throat raw. “Are you okay?”

The kid whines a little, his ears swinging low at the way Din’s voice sounds so rough. Din feels an ache that has nothing to do with his lungs and everything to do with the kid’s anxious face.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna be fine,” Din manages. “You helped me. Saved me.” The words are hard to force out, but he knows they’re important. Hell. What the kid must have seen -- what he must have thought was going to happen -- He freezes, remembering a dark cellar, explosions, a day of red robes in the smoke.

No. That’s not gonna happen. Not to him.

Din cradles the kid into a hug, his ears brushing against Din’s chest and shoulder. The kid hugs him back as hard as he can with his small arms, and he can feel the child trembling.

“Hey, hey,” Din murmurs, though he’s getting winded with all the talking. “I’m sorry I --” He huffs, keeps going even though it’s difficult. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

The kid reaches up to rest one clawed hand against the cheek of the helmet. Din blinks, startled at the closeness, but the kid keeps his hand against the beskar. Din mirrors the gesture, resting the knuckles of one hand against the child’s soft cheek.

“We’ll be okay. You and me, pal. Understand?” he asks gently.

The kid blinks those large, dark eyes, and Din wonders if he’s failed to reach him. Then the child lowers his hands, letting out a cheerful babble with a tilt of his head, and the tension in Din’s chest and gut falls away.

Yeah. He’ll be okay.

The kid chirrups again, voice rising in a question. Din thinks he recognizes what the kid is asking. “You hungry?”

Food. He dimly remembers a few ration bars, tucked in at the back of his belt, swiped from the Crest before they’d left. He sets the kid down beside him, then pulls out two bars and unwraps them both for the kid. Din’s thirsty, after everything, but the idea of food holds no interest yet.

“Here,” Din rasps. “Eat.” He carefully straightens up, taking a moment to slowly swing his legs over the edge of the bed. What normally takes a second leaves him breathless.

He gets to his feet, using the bedpost for support. He’s still wearing boots, his armor aside from the cuirass. It’s all so much heavier than it should be. He lets out a hiss between his teeth and crosses the room to the refresher, one step at a time. Water.

Once inside the refresher he sinks down onto the seat, removing his helmet and setting it into his lap. He glances up and sees his face in the cracked, streaky mirror, the skin blotchy and pale, hair a matted tangle, eyes swollen. There’s residue on his face, dried pinkish red around his mouth and nose. The sight makes him run cold.

It had been so close.

He flicks the water on, strips off his gloves and sets them into his upturned helmet. He cups his hands together beneath the faucet, the cold water spilling over the edges of his palms.

He drinks, and it’s enough.

***

The ship awaits them. Unfortunately, it's barely better off than it was when they left it. The Razor Crest drips with Mon Calamari detritus, rope rigging and tangles of seaweed crisscrossing the ship's hold. Din shakes his head, stepping aboard with the kid in his arms. It’s not great. It’ll do to limp along to something better.

He allows himself a faint chuckle, putting himself in the same category.

He’s mostly recovered. He can still feel it, the way his lungs don’t fully expand the way they should, the way he gets a little winded when he’s up and walking around. But he’s so much better than he was, and getting better every day. Thanks to the kid, and his powers.

He glances down at him; he seems fascinated by the Crest’s new decorations. Din brushes a hand over the back of the kid’s head and the little one coos, reaching out to bat at a clump of seaweed.

“You like this, huh?” he asks. “Don’t get used to it.” Soon as I’m up to it, this stuff’s getting spaced.

The kid giggles at the slimy seaweed in his hands, and Din softens. Maybe he’ll leave it up for a little bit, anyway.

He carefully takes the ladder up into the cockpit, only huffing a little. He’s grateful for the way he takes oxygen in, the way it sustains. He finally turned off the oxygen concentration function of his helmet this morning, and he hasn’t missed it. It’s a good feeling, one that’s been growing as he’s gotten closer to recovery.

He doesn’t remember much of the past few days. He remembers the Quarren innkeeper hollering outside about their time being up, until Din lurched to his feet and shoved a pile of credits at him through the crack in the door. He remembers the innkeeper, mollified, bringing up bowls of steaming soup and leaving them out in the hall for Din to slowly bring inside, one at a time. He remembers how good it tasted, rich and briny and hot, hot, hot. He remembers sighing so loudly the kid’s ears twitched, and the kid let out the longest, tiniest, happiest sigh Din had ever heard.

***

He remembers a realization.

He had found it hard to talk on the second day, between the lingering heaviness in his chest and the bone-deep exhaustion. The kid, though, had seemed to bounce right back after using his powers, and had taken to relentlessly exploring the room for things to do.

Din watched him roam, crawling under the bed, playing with the empty drawers of the dinged-up dresser, trying to climb up the wall to see out the window. The kid was gonna hurt himself if he wasn’t careful, and Din couldn’t afford another scare. He reached out and planted the kid on his lap the next time his circuit around the room brought him close.

Inspiration struck. So it was hard to speak. So what? He had options.

He held up a finger. The kid watched keenly.

Look here, he signed in Tusken, fingers splitting and then rising up to his visor. The kid tilted his head, focusing.

We can talk like this. A wide sweep, a hand raised up near the mouth, palms spreading wide. Din waited. The kid had seen him use Tusken before, but for some reason, Din had never tried it with the kid. He’d always seemed to understand Basic well enough for how young he seemed to be, but he’d never spoken a word of it that Din could make out. He wondered why he hadn’t tried this earlier.

Do you understand? Din asked, hands flattening, circling, ending with a soft point of the index finger. He asked it a few times, varying the speed and size of the question, trying to see if the child understood.

The kid’s ears quivered, as if trying to catch something far in the distance. He held out his small three-fingered hands, and tried a clumsy sign for you.

Din leaned forward, hitching a sharp breath at the effort. Do you understand me?

The kid signed you again. Tried it a few times, the word smoothing out the more he tried, getting clearer.

Good job. It was hard to say if the kid really got it, or if he thought it was just a game. But it was promising to see his ears perking up, his dark eyes wide and interested, his mouth in a toothy, tiny grin.

Din smiled beneath his helmet. If this worked, they might be able to understand each other a lot better. The kid could ask him for help. Din could make it clear what was off limits and not to be bothered with. It was heartening as hell, a bright spot glimmering in the midst of some of the shittiest days he’d had in years.

And then a name swam into his head, causing his hands to drop, slowly, back into his lap.

Ahsoka Tano.

It wasn’t going to matter soon if the kid learned Tusken or Basic. He’d be back with the Jedi.

And Din would be alone, again.

His hands, trembling, spoke for him. Fingers flashed much too quickly for a beginner to learn; phrases scaffolded in front of him, words in motion, hands unfolding with meaning he knew the kid couldn’t hope to guess. The little one gazed up at him.

Thank you for saving my life --

I promise I’ll help you, no matter what --

I’m really going to miss you, kid --

Din’s eyes stung. He blinked once, twice, and stilled his hands. He’d said too much. The kid reached out and held onto his palms, his hands weighing almost nothing at all against Din’s own.

Din swallowed, looking into those trusting eyes. “Okay, kid,” he said hoarsely. “Come on. Let’s try again.”

***

Din shakes the memory off. He knows what he has been quested to do, that Mandalorians keep their word. He’s promised to find the place the kid belongs, and he would rather die -- nearly did -- than leave that promise unfulfilled.

The door to the cockpit slides open, and Din groans. The Mon Calamari’s handiwork is even more ridiculous here than in the rest of the ship. A dangling fishnet slaps him in the helmet, and he shoves it aside irritably as he buckles the kid into his favorite seat. Even through the helmet, the whole place stinks of brine.

“Mon Calarami,” he grumbles. “Unbelievable.”

He powers up the ship, starts easing it into the atmosphere. The ship shakes beneath him, clearly wounded. He can tell by the feel and the instrumentation that the ship should hold together for travel… barely.

A strange noise catches his attention, and he reaches out, grabbing some kind of sea creature that looks like it was about to pounce on the kid. The child burbles with delight and Din shakes his head. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. He squeezes until he’s sure the creature’s dead, then hands it to the kid for a snack. It’s not as hideous as some of the things he’s seen him eat, anyway.

“I finally know where I’m taking you,” Din tells him. “But it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

The starfield opens up before them. He takes a deep breath -- hold together, now -- and punches it to hyperspace. The stars ribbon past them, and Din leans back in his seat, relieved. It’ll be enough to get somewhere safe. Before they find the Jedi.

The ship vibrates around them, and Din makes a running list in his head of things he needs to check, wiring that needs to be redone, processes to recalibrate, repairs that need to be made, Mon Calamari detritus that needs to be jettisoned. He could start work on it now. Get it done. It'd be the efficient thing to do.

Instead, Din turns to the kid. “Hey. You wanna practice what we learned?” His hands flash before him as he speaks, tracing out the sentence structure in Tusken. “You can do it.”

He knows he doesn’t need to bother. He can speak again without losing his breath, and what’s more, he knows the kid will leave him soon. He knows it’s not enough time to teach proficiency, that it probably won’t make a difference for the kid in the long run.

But the kid likes it, and Din does, too. Maybe that’s enough.

The kid stares at him intently, moves his small hands in little circles, makes a fist. He grins, clearly pleased with himself.

Din laughs, hands shifting in affirmation, echoing the kid’s words. “That’s right, kid.”

The kid’s hands sign again, repeating the phrase Din had gone on to teach him, the signs clumsy but clear.

You. And me.

[americasass81]

Make Her Mine - Chapter Four

{Warning: 18+, Dark theme, Non-Con, Violence, Mention of Breeding, Swearing, Smut}

Seriously do not read if any of this upsets you, the warnings are there for a reason.

A/N: Getting a bit darker here, this is also the first chapter with major smut so please be kind.  Not to spoil it, but I’ve always wondered about the various things a certain item could be used for and have put that imagination to use a bit here.  Hope you all enjoy it.

Word Count:- 3,117

Waking up with a mild headache, you looked around confused at your current location.  Slowly as you checked yourself for injuries, the memory of Tony Stark walking into your hotel room came flooding back and you found your heart beating faster.  While wondering what the sick fuck was up to, you at least calmed down a bit when you realized you and your clothes seemed to be intact.  Foolishly looking around for your getaway bag, though you didn't expect to find it, you instead moved to the door to find it unlocked.

Poking your head outside and seeing nothing but a hallway with various doors, you quickly closed it and went to check out your surroundings.  Survival 101 dictated that you first look for anything to use as a weapon before checking any and all means of escape.  Entering through the only other available door, you were greeted by a reasonable bathroom that, while well furnished, held nothing of use but a roll of paper, a bar of soap and a washcloth.  The window you noted was actually built into the ceiling with no possible way for you to reach it, so to save time, you abandoned this room in favor of the bedroom.

Quickly and quietly as possible, a thorough search here resulted in the same lack of viable options with a duplicate overhead window providing a glorious view of the clear blue sky you were currently a prisoner from.  Taking a moment to think through the alternatives, and suspecting that Tony may have picked this place for a reason, you quickly got out of your head and made your way back to the bedroom door.  Seeing a set of double doors at the end of the hall on your right, you assumed this was the master bedroom and so headed to the left.  Had you taken the time, the two doors opposite yours would have revealed another bedroom and the main bathroom.  As it was, the archway now in front of you opened up into a spacious kitchen and living room, with two doors, one of which you hoped led to freedom.

                    *************

Reaching for one, you stopped cold when you heard a dark chuckle behind you.  Turning slowly, you pressed your back to the door when you saw Tony standing before you with a cup of coffee and a sinister smile.

"Good morning, darling.  I see you've been exploring."  As if by magic, a screen appeared showing your recent scavenger hunt through your rooms.  Reaching for the door again while staring at him, Tony moved quicker than you thought possible and caged you between his powerful arms before bringing his lips to your ear.  "Both those doors are locked Y/N, this time you're not going anywhere."  With that a gloved hand came to rest just above your left breast where you felt a quick, sharp pick.  Moving your top aside, you thought you saw movement under the skin before your eyes shot up to meet Tony's.

"Mr. Stark, what did you do?" 

"Nanoparticles." he simply replied, stepping back to release you.

"Na-Nanoparticles?"

Taping the housing unit on his chest, you watched as a liquid-like material spread out over his body before becoming his suit of armor.  The real horror hit you however, when you felt a mild pulse around the injection site.  Placing your hand over the area, your eyes widened when another screen popped up with your employee picture and an unbelievable amount of information.

"Now thanks to my little friends, I not only know everything about you, but I can also track you anywhere.  You will never be able to hide from me again."  Seeing the realization dawn on your face, Tony flashed you his usual smirk before continuing.  "They also tell me nifty little bits about what your body is up to.  Which means right about now is when you might want to calm down." he said, concern clouding his features as he looked at the numbers on the screen.

"Calm down?  How the fuck do you expect me to calm down?  Not only have you kidnapped me, but you've just injected me with god-knows-what type of technology that allows you to track me and . . ."  Beginning to have trouble breathing and feeling light-headed, anything else you wanted to say was cut off as you slid down the door.

Tony was back by your side in a split second and picking you up, sat both of you on the couch and held you as your breathing slowly returned to normal.  "Feeling better darling?  I tried to warn you."

Glaring at him now that you had calmed down, you tried to free yourself from his arms but his grip held firm.  Resigning yourself to the fact that you were stuck, you looked at him and voiced another question on your mind.  "Have you thought about what you're going to do when Miss Potts finds out what you've done?  Not to mention the fact that I have pretty powerful friends."

"Ah Miss Potts?  You know I just love the way company gossip has even reached the Accounting Department.  Pepper and I have never, nor will ever be an item.  Besides, I'd have thought office gossip was beneath you?" he questioned, arching a perfect eyebrow at you.

"Just because I never took any active part in it doesn't make me deaf or dumb.  I still heard things." you pointed out while testing the hold he had on you.

"Fair point, my darling.  As for your friends however . . . boy, that Sabrina is something else.  Actually threatened the Avengers, she did.  Still I dealt with her and her husband."

Fear and dread clutched at your heart like nothing you had ever felt before and it felt like Tony had physically stabbed you.  Remembering your boxing and long ago self-defense classes, you head-butted him as hard as you could and used his confused state to scramble away.  You only made it halfway between the two rooms however, when a sharp pain in your chest caused you to collapse on the floor.

Curled up and hugging yourself as the aftershocks slowly subsided, Tony reached out to soothe you as he knelt by your side.  "Now why did you make me do that, darling?  I never wanted you to find out what else those nanoparticles could do.  Shush now, let me take care of you."  Trying to move away from him, you couldn't help the tears from falling as you thought about what he had done to your friends or what he had planned for you.

                     *************

Picking you up eventually, this time he walked back to your room and placed you gently on the bed.  Forcing yourself to look at him, you wiped away the tears as you found your voice.  "What did you do to my friends?"

"Nothing, I promise.  If possible, I can do without a war against the New York Mob.  I don't know how much you know about your friend, but he can be quite ruthless.  No, I simply created a false trail that has you currently being treated at a facility in Denmark."

"What's so special about Denmark?  Surely you could have picked somewhere in the States?"

"I could have," he agreed, "but  I figured there's less chance of them getting on a plane to visit you in Denmark."

"And the nanoparticles?  What happened out there and what else can they do?"

"Aw Darling, I'd rather not answer that." he said, reaching out to move a stray strand of hair while you flinched back from him.  Sighing deeply, his hand fell by his side as he gave in.  "What happened in the other room was a minor pulse emitted by the nanoparticles, it can go a lot higher.  But I'd rather that not happen." he quickly added, as you scrambled further away from him.  "Still they also have the ability to repair a certain amount of tissue damage, so that's a plus."

"So what you're saying is you can pretty much control me now because of those nanoparticles.  What do you have planned for me?" you demanded, fearing the answer but needing to know all the same.

Looking away from you, Tony seemed to think long and hard before rising from the bed and answering.  "How about we park this conversation for now.  You must be hungry." 

"Fuck you Stark, I'm not hungry.  Tell me what your sick mind has dreamed up."

"Y/N, we had this conversation back in my office." his tone indicating his patience was limited.  "While I'd rather make things pleasant, I'm not above putting manners on you if I have to.  Now, shall we?" he asked, holding out his hand to you.

Leaping off the bed however, you failed to make it to the door before Tony tackled you and held you down.  Securing your hands above your head with more nanoparticles, he flipped you over before ripping your clothes from you.  Then an unparalleled fear gripped you as he spread your legs before kneeling between them.  Watching him undo his pants, you tried your best to get away from  him but to no avail.  Removing his cock, you stared in horror as he spit on his hand before running it up and down his length.  Redoubling your efforts, all the fight died in you when he held your hips, lined himself up with your entrance and thrust into your dry pussy.

Releasing a scream that rose from the very depths of your soul, Tony was too busy using you to care, while you couldn't figure out how you didn't pass out already.  "That's it darling, let it all out and scream for me.  I didn't want our first time to be like this, but maybe this will teach you to be a bit more polite." he taunted, as he continued to plough into you in spite of your obvious distress.

"Tony please . . . fuck stop.  It hurts so much." you cried as he pounded into you harder than you thought possible.  Increasing his speed and pushing your knees forward so his hard shaft could reach deeper, you felt the coil tighten in your stomach, but before you could reach your climax Tony groaned above you as you felt him paint your walls with his seed.

Pulling out, he picked you up and placed your naked body on the bed before the nanoparticles secured your wrists to the headboard.  Kissing you tenderly, he walked to the door before your cries forced him to turn around.

"Mr. Stark.  Tony, you can't leave me like this.  I'll do anything.  You don't even need to release me, just make me come."

"No Y/N, this is what you get.  I tried to be reasonable, but your attitude just won't change.  So until you prove grateful for all I've given you the last three years, you can lie here and take what I give you."  With that, he exited your room, leaving you naked, unsatisfied and completely at his mercy.

                   *************

Looking at the cameras installed throughout the property, he watched you trash about until you wore yourself out.  While he hated himself for what he did, he couldn't reconcile the meek you that kept turning down his attention with the ungrateful brat before him.  Even as you screamed and cried his name, you still refused to beg or apologize.  He had to wonder if perhaps this situation just brought out the worst in you.

Watching you eventually drift towards an exhausted sleep, Tony was pissed to discover a missed voicemail on your phone from your friend Sabrina.  It was bad enough that she couldn't give him time to convince you to be his, but upon playing the message, he discovered what she really thought about him.  There and then, after phoning in a quick update on your location and condition to Mr. Stan, he decided he had to find a permanent way to keep your mob friends from you, lest they try to turn you against him.  However a more important matter threatened to derail his whole plans when he discovered an email from your boss Melinda, informing him that you hadn't reported into work since Wednesday.  Thankfully however, being who he was made this an easy problem to fix, though it did worry him as to whether he may have overlooked some other minor detail which might later come back to threaten the life he planned to build.

Setting aside your phone and watching you, he figured he should take his own advice and try to break you quickly so the two of you could become the couple he imagined.  Making himself a quick meal, he then proceeded to deal with some urgent work stuff before checking back in with you.  Seeing you finally stir, he decided to bite the bullet and see if your attitude had improved.  Rising and heading to the fridge for a health smoothie which he hoped you'd drink, he headed off to your room to see if pleasure or pain was the order of the day.

Placing the glass on the bedside table, he released your hands from the bed and drew you onto his lap before bringing the glass up to your lips.  "Y/N, darling, I need you to drink this.  Can you do that?"  Shaking your head, while unknowingly snuggling deeper into his warm body, your eyes widened in shock when you finally opened them to take in the scene before you.

"T-Tony, what the fuck?  Let me go." you croaked out, trying futilely to pull away from him.  He didn't let you go however, and before you could steel yourself, the nanoparticles emit the same pulse that floored you in the kitchen.  This time however Tony's arm wraps around you as you hold on to steady yourself.

"Darling I'm sorry, but the sooner you learn the sooner I can actually disable that feature.  You'd like that, wouldn't you?"  Glaring at him while nodding your head, your eyes quickly fell to the glass now held in his other hand.  "Is my girl finally ready for a drink?" he asked as he followed your gaze.

"Yes." you rasped and he brought the glass to your lips as you opened your mouth to accept the liquid.  Drinking a bit too quickly, he had to remind you to take it easy so you didn't choke.  When you had drank it all, he lay you back on the bed before returning the glass to the table.  Then in a move that had you terrified, he took off his shoes before joining you on the bed and moving between your legs.

Scrambling backwards towards the head of the bed, he quickly and easily pulled you down, before placing his hands on your hips to keep you in place.  "Y/N, I just need to check there's no lasting damage done, okay?  Can you let me do that."

"No, don't fucking touch me.  You can't do what you've done and then act all concerned.  You're a monster, plain and simple." you screamed while thrashing as best you could against his hold.

"Fine you see a monster, so be it."  With that he tapped his housing unit and you watched in horror as countless nanoparticles made their way down his arm, along the sheets and settled in to secure your arms and legs to the bed.  Spread wide open for him, fear filled your eyes when Tony held up his palm as a penis shaped object took form.  Moving forward towards your pussy, you found your voice and finally begged.

"Tony please, whatever you're planning, don't do it.  I'll behave, I promise.  Just please don't put that thing in me.  I thought you said those things already in me could tell you what was going on inside me "

"They do darling, but this is simply a much quicker way to check there's no damage.  I promise I'll be gentle, just don't move."  Then moving his hand, he lined the object up with your entrance and gently pushed it in.  Checking data on a screen, but hearing you wince from how tender you still were from not being wet enough, he slowed his movement slightly before looking up at you.  "Breathe darling, I know it hurts but you're doing so well.  It will be over shortly."

Pushing in the final few inches, he took a few minutes to lean forward and kiss you gently before going back to the screen to see what was going on.  Seemingly happy with what he saw, he looked back to you with a grin that sent fear shooting down your spine, while somehow at the same time sending heat towards your core.

Pulling his palm away from you so only a small part of the object remained, he slid it back in just as gently as before.  Continuing to thrust it in and out, it didn't take long for you to start moaning beneath him.  While trying to move still proved impossible, the friction he created was doing amazing things to your pussy and this only moved up another notch when he again leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your left nipple.  Sucking and nibbling until your nipple was erect, he bit down gently before furnishing your right nipple with the same treatment.  Getting closer and closer to your peak as his hand began moving faster, the coil in your stomach snapped and you came when Tony moved his other hand down to pinch your clit.

Reducing the thickness of the makeshift cock to make its exit easier, he couldn't hide the smirk on his face as you sighed contentedly while trying to control your breathing.  "Well Darling, it's safe to say there's no permanent damage done.  Now, what do you say we see about putting a mini me in you?"  With that, he quickly removed his clothes, returned between your spread legs and thrust in to the hilt before you even registered what he had said.  Having just come, he had no trouble this time sliding in and out of your slick pussy and it wasn't long before he had you reaching for the edge once again.  With just a few more thrusts and some well timed flicks to your clit both you and Tony cried out as you came around him while his cum shot out, drowning your cervix.  Collapsing on top of you, he didn't stay there long before he pulled out and drew you back against his chest after the nanoparticles released your aching limbs.  Placing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder it didn't take long for both your breathing to return to normal and you fell asleep in each other's arms.

Tagging:- @nsfwsebbie , @hoseokchild , @ironlady1993 , @floatingdaisy7 , @taintedgenre , @buttercandy16 , sorry if I missed anyone.

[mangobilorian]

before i die, i’m tryna fuck you, baby | (explicit)

Kix x F! Reader

Words: 4158

"A leg hooks around his waist, tugging him closer, and Kix has to stop himself from careening into your half-naked body. Lips attach to his, and there’s nothing soft there, only teeth and tongue and heat."

Tags: [Dubious Consent][Sex Pollen][Fuck or Die][Oral Sex][Rough Sex][Doggy][Missionary]

Read on AO3 here

Kix is furious. For many reasons, the first being the lack of planning on General Skywalker’s part and, being a soldier in the 501st for so long, Kix is not surprised. But it doesn’t mean he has to accept or condone it. 

Kix also hates how the entire situation went wrong when it shouldn’t have, despite General Skywalker’s disastrous plan. Because his idea, though reckless and unsafe, would have at least kept most of the men out of danger. They had prepared for the Seppie advance on the eastern front, keeping most of the fire and manpower there, which left the west and north sparsely guarded. 

But no, the Seppies just had to come from the west, trapping a portion of the troops in the scary, unknown forest full of chemicals.

Rex and the ARCs got most of the men out in time thankfully. Kix counted them as they passed by, the sealed helmets keeping out most, if not all, of the strange chemicals the flowers produced. Peter, Lens, Nero. Lloyd, Gadget, Boot. Regs, Gearshift, Mezro. Wait no, not Mezro, that was Fives. But that meant-

You had arrived at the same conclusion Kix had. 

Which leads to the biggest reason why Kix is furious. The rescued troopers, though not exposed, still suffered injuries from the droids they had encountered. Fives, Echo, and Rex would have gone back into the forest for Mezro, but the crashing sound of another droid battalion called their attention elsewhere. 

When he had looked back for you, you were already running into the forest without the proper gear. Which, as a nurse, was a stupid thing to do. And, as Kix’s girlfriend (isn’t that a nice thing to say), you should’ve known better. But you’re too brash, too headstrong, too willing to sacrifice yourself if it meant others would live. Sometimes Kix wonders if you would be better as a soldier than a nurse but- only clones served and died for the Republic. 

He paces around the base, his path blocked by Jesse and Echo.

“It’ll be okay, Kix. She’s fine,” Echo reasons. “The General and Rex are out there looking for her and Mezro.” Kix knows that. He knows he shouldn’t worry. Because Skywalker is one of the best Jedi and Rex is one of the best clones, and they’ll make it back with you and Mezro in tow. 

But that still doesn’t stop him from being angry. Yes, part of it is at you, even though it feels wrong. You don’t deserve his negative emotions, but you’re too damn reckless and caring to ever think about yourself. 

Kix will always care for you, but sometimes it’s hard when he also has a hundred brothers to care for. Instead of running after you, he patched up Reg’s knee and Lloyd’s arm. He gave Gearshift some meds, Gadget a stim, and used the bone mender on Nero’s shin. Kix helped them before he could feed all his energy into waiting for you. 

He helped them despite wanting to dash after you immediately. Because his brothers need him just as much as Mezro needs you to come back and save him. It also kills Kix a little on the inside that, if he had to choose, he’d probably pick you over his brothers. 

A traitor, he’d call himself. A man in love, Fives would say, winking, wishing for his own cyare. If only Fives knew how much work it takes to be in a healthy, loving relationship. How much work it takes to love someone during a war.

“She didn’t have proper gear, Echo. What if the chemicals kill her? What then?” And oh how that thought pains him so much. Kix doesn’t know how he could survive your death. He can’t just light a pyre and sing a song like he does for his vod. The love he has for his brothers is strong like their plastoid armor, strong enough that the death of a brother won’t shatter him, and he can wish them well as they walk to the next life. 

But you? Fuck, Kix would grieve for you for eternity. 

“Look, Rex brought an extra helmet for her and some meds. If she’s sick, the meds will tide her over until she gets the medical help she needs,” Jesse says, placing hands on Kix’s shoulders. His own face stares back at him, but instead of the worry and concern Kix feels, he sees determination. “And when she and Mezro come back, you need to be strong for her.” 

“I know. It’s just that- I should’ve been the one to find Mezro.” Echo shakes his head. 

“She’s a great nurse, but she doesn’t have nearly as much experience as you do with combat medicine. Yeah, she’s been with us for a year, but you know clone bio better than any civvie.” Kix sighs, but the anger lingers. It’s ebbing away, yes, because his brothers always know how to calm him down but- he knows he’d be a lot calmer if you were here. Here and happy and home with him.

“Fives!” Kix, Jesse, and Echo turn at the sound of Rex’s voice, strained and hampered. The ARC trooper hurries to the edge of the forest where General Skywalker walks, arms full with a limp Mezro. In Rex’s arms, you sag, head lolling around in the much-too-large helmet.

Kix’s first instinct is to run over and take you away, hiding you from prying eyes and keeping you safe. But Jesse’s arm tugs on the crook of his elbow. “See, she’s back. Get your head straight, Kix, so you can help her.” Kix nods, a little dazed, and walks forward at a slower pace than he’d like. 

“Mezro has a broken ankle and shattered hip bone, I think,” General Skywalker says gently handing the injured trooper off to Fives and Echo. “But your girl’s fine, Kix.” For a moment, Kix feels guilty. He spent so much time worrying over you when Mezro had worse injuries. Injuries that could put him off of duty for a while, and he knows, compared to many brothers, that Mezro has a larger thirst for droid deaths than most. Which was probably one of the reasons he had stayed behind, determined to kill every last B1 on field. 

“Right, I’ll take a look at him. Will you…?” 

“Yeah, I’ll take her to your quarters,” Rex replies. “I did a quick scan, and her vitals seem fine, but-”

“But what?”

“She keeps asking for you. And squirming. The general put a sleep suggestion on her. It was… weird and a little disturbing. She wouldn’t even let me approach until I said your name,” Rex shrugs as best as he can while carrying your weight.

Squirming, signs of distress… Kix doesn’t like what he’s hearing. But at least you seem fine.

“All right. I’d best work on Mezro. Jesse, remind me in ten minutes to give Peter and Nero another shot of the antibacterial.” Kix helps Echo and Fives lower Mezro onto a bed wheeled out from the medbay. “Thank you,” he says, turning to Rex, then to his general. “For saving her.” 

“Of course, Kix,” General Skywalker responds. “I’d do the same if I were you.” His general’s face flushes a deep red. “Not that I- uh- even know what relationships are like. Or anything.” At his troopers' knowing looks, the Hero With No Fear dashes away with an awkward smile. Right. He’s probably off to comm Senator Amidala. 

Kix spares one last glance at your unconscious form, carried away by Rex before turning his attention to Mezro. Jesse claps a hand on his back, covered hand meeting hard plastoid, and waltzes away, the ARCs in tow. He wheels Mezro to the makeshift med bay, minding the other injured troopers.

Mezro wakes up about halfway through Kix fixing his ankle with the bone-mender. Groggy and in pain, Mezro mutters nonsensical things. Like how you were an angel who came to save him. And how the angel cried for Kix before falling to the ground. Kix administers a pain reliever right before Mezro goes back to sleep, and Kix is left with more questions than before. 

He gets to work on Mezro’s hip and feels placated by the fact that Mezro probably only needs two weeks of recovery before being put on light duty then another week of waiting to get shipped to active. Most nat-born medics, even you, are surprised at the clones’ growth rate. But Kix isn’t. He’s proud. Because his brothers are the best kriffing soldiers in the galaxy, so of course they’ll heal faster too.

All in all, Kix finishes up with Mezro’s injuries in less than an hour, despite leaving to administer anti-bac to Peter and Nero and checking up on Lloyd’s arm. He gives the trooper a small pat on the shoulder, leaving him sleeping and patched up. 

Kix’s stomach ties itself into knots the closer he approaches his quarters. He had Jesse do another scan while Kix worked on Mezro, too nervous to see you. Jesse had come back saying you were physically fine, but mentally… off. Apparently you kept calling for Kix over and over again. To the point where you were moaning in pain. He doesn’t know of any disease that would warrant that response.

He pushes the door open to find you sprawled across his bed. Your eyes open a little bit, glazed and confused. But you immediately spring up in recognition, and try to get out of bed. Kix stops you in time as you almost fall off in excitement, placing you down to sit on the edge. 

“Kix,” you breathe. “I’m so happy to see you.” 

“I’m happy to see you too. How do you feel?” You shake your head, hands reaching out to unclasp his chest plate. He lets you, arching a brow when you moan as soon as you drop his armor on the floor, fingers tracing his chest. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes. Please, Kix, I- need you- want- inside-” 

Your hand reaches behind his back to the zipper of his blacks and tug down. Before his bare chest is revealed though, Kix grabs at your wrists, gently pushing you away. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, why you’re so excited for him to the point of speaking incoherently. “What’s happening?” He brushes his knuckles over your forehead then your neck to find you burning. 

Kriff, you definitely have a fever. Kix doesn’t know how Jesse and Rex forgot to mention that to him. He places a palm on your neck again, worrying more and more as you feel like pure fire. “Sweetheart, you need to listen to me.” 

You shake your head, eyes glazed over, tongue lolling out of your mouth. You look like every fantasy Kix has at night, every inch the sexy goddess you are but- Kix doesn’t entertain those thoughts. Especially since you’re sick. 

When your knee brushes against his inner thigh, Kix curses loudly. That seems to startle you out of your haze, and you back off a bit, mouth closing. Sighing, Kix leans in to take your shirt off and finds the fabric soaked with sweat. Fuck, how did no one notice? Is everyone in the goddamn GAR incompetent? 

Once your chest meets open air, though, you try to unclasp your bra, pushing your chest into Kix. “Please,” you moan— no, mewl— eyes half-lidded. “Need you now, Kix. Want you-  fuck- really really really-”

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” he says, gently wiping your wet back with your discarded shirt. He still doesn’t understand what’s happening, but he’s determined to help you, to stop whatever is going on. Whatever it takes. “Lean back for me, okay? I’m just going to take your pants off and put you in some clean clothes. Clear?” You nod, but Kix can tell you don’t really understand what he’s saying. It hurts his chest to see you so out of it.

He unclasps the button holding your pants closed and slides them down your legs. At any other time, he’d ogle you, watch intently as each inch of skin reveals itself to him. But right now, when you’re not in your right mind, Kix can only focus on getting you the help you need. His fantasies can wait. 

Except it’s hard to shove horny thoughts out of his head when the first thing you do once your pants are gone is shove a hand into your panties and begin rubbing yourself.

Fuck. 

“I don’t think that’s a very good-”

A leg hooks around his waist, tugging him closer, and Kix has to stop himself from careening into your half-naked body. Lips attach to his, and there’s nothing soft there, only teeth and tongue and heat. His head empties then fills with one word. 

You. 

You. Sucking his cock. Taking him from behind. Riding him in full armor. Fingering yourself. You, you, you-

“H-hurts,” you whisper, and Kix jolts back like he’s been burnt. In fact, he feels like he’s been burnt because every place you touch him— his lips, his face, his fucking thigh— tingles with a sensation akin to fire. 

Kix stares at you in horror. You’re hurt, and all he can do is thirst over you? Kriffing hells, he’s a monster, not the gallant medic trooper you think he is. 

“Where does it hurt? Give me a number on the scale for pain, sweetheart. Can you do that for-”

 “Ten!” you gasp, “everywhere, b-but it’s thirteen down here,” you point to your underwear. Kix watches as clear fluid drips and coats your thighs. “Please, please, please, need you i-in me, please Kix, m-more, I can’t, I-”

Fuck, you look like you’re on the verge of tears, face flushed and contorted in pain. But he can only watch as you rub yourself furiously, not stopping even when Kix knows the pressure you’re applying is painful. Kriff— you said you “need” him and want him to- to 

“If I penetrate you, will you feel better?” Kix cringes at the wording, but he needs to make things clear, so he doesn’t hurt you or take advantage of your distressed state. You nod frantically in reply, pulling him closer until his armored thigh brushes against your center, and you grind against him.

For the first time, Kix registers how tight his blacks are. Fuck. He makes quick work of his codpiece, opening the zipper of his lower blacks, groaning in relief as his impossibly hard cock springs up to smack his stomach. You give a happy gasp, free hand reaching to him, and he can’t stop you— can’t do anything— as you begin rubbing him with the same pressure you use on yourself. 

And fuck- it feels good, your soft hand against his most sensitive part, but you’re going a little too hard, a little too fast, and Kix— though hard as plastoid— isn’t producing nearly enough precum to lubricate himself. So when you pull at the skin of his cock just a tad harder, he has no choice but to back off with a wince, his dick bouncing back to his stomach.

You pout at him, and he can see a stray tear slide down your cheek and- fuck, he leans over to kiss you, replacing the hand in your underwear with his own. If this is going to happen, Kix will make sure he does it right.

As he dips two fingers inside you, he can already tell you’re more than prepared for him. He sneaks a look to the edge of the bed and sees your underwear and the spot you’re sitting on soaked with your fluids. And kriff, it’s hot as fuck. 

Groaning, he guides you to lay on the bed, and you open your legs wide, knees butterflying on either side of you. Kix can only gulp as you tug your bra down, not even unclasping it, so that your tits can spring free. With both hands on each breast, you squeeze and pinch, moaning all the while. 

“Kiiiiiix. N-now, ne-need you right- fuck- deep in me,” you gasp. Kix can only surge forward, not bothering to slip your underwear off and sliding himself between your folds. As the underside of his head brushes past your clit, you moan loudly, loud enough that anyone passing by could hear you, but Kix doesn’t bother telling you to stay quiet. 

“I’m going to push in now, okay, sweetheart? Is that good?” You bite your lip as you shoot him a glare. 

“Fuck me, now, Kix, or else-” His head squeezes past your folds and into your cunt, all wet and tight, and Kix feels every nerve erupt into flames. 

“Fuuuuuck,” he groans, pushing in until he bottoms out. He stays there for a bit, both of you panting. You look fucked out despite barely any foreplay or real sex, hair fanning across the bed, lips swollen. Kix wonders how he looks, if he looks as sexy to you as you to him. 

You hook your legs around his waist and move your hips up in time for him to thrust. With your legs trapping him, he can’t thrust as hard or deep as he wants to. So he grinds into you, pressing himself as deep as he can into your warm core. You moan into his mouth when he kisses you, gasping when he bites at your neck. Kix can feel your new wave of arousal as he sucks a hickey above your collarbone, almost bursting when you squeeze tightly around him. 

He wants to fuck you hard and fast, though, so he pushes your legs away from his waist, braces one hand on the bed as the other grips your hips, and starts pistoning into you. The movement is rough enough for your breasts to bounce, and Kix watches as your fingers dance to your clit, rubbing yourself with as much speed and urgency as before. 

You arch your back as Kix thrusts upwards, muttering incoherent phrases about how his cock makes you feel so good, how he’s strong and handsome and how you want him to have your babies. And fuck- the thought of you full with his child, breasts even larger almost makes him spill mid thrust.

“You want that, sweetheart? Want me to- kriff- fuck a baby into you?” You nod, tears spilling from your eyes, lips bleeding. Your cunt seems to agree because you squeeze tight, tight, tighter than he thought possible, and he squeezes your hip to tell you to ease up a little because he’s still a human after all; he has to be a kriffing god to resist you. 

But you don’t loosen up, still squeezing until Kix’s left with no choice but to pull away. You scream when he does, and Kix’s chest hurts enough at the sound that he wants to pound back inside you to keep you happy. But he has enough sense to flip you over, so your ass sticks up in the air, and he gives you a gentle slap, which you respond to with a soft moan. 

The scene of you on your elbows and knees, cunt dripping with clear fluid, body flushed and trembling is so erotic that Kix feels like he has to pay to see you like this. “Kix, now ple-ase, ugh-”

He enters you in one go, and you both groan. Kix reaches so much deeper in this position, and he immediately starts pounding at your ass, one hand tight on your hip as the other reaches around to paw at your chest. It takes two, maybe three thrusts for you to scream into the sheets, cunt tightening more than he thought possible.

The sensation is way too much for both his cock and his brain, and he finishes much earlier than he wanted. Fuck- he might as well use it to his advantage though, so he pulls your hips closer to his and leans over, his cum staying deep inside you. 

It feels nice to be connected like this, chest heaving against your back, mouth nipping at your shoulder. It’s nice and Kix can stay here forever, comfortable and sated. 

Until you start moving against him again, commanding him to keep fucking you. But he’s so tired, and his cock starts to get way too sensitive, so he pulls away and a trickle of white follows. Kix watches your cunt flutter, entranced as more of his release escapes you. He takes two fingers to push them back in, and you gasp when he re-enters you. 

“M-more, please. Kix?” You roll onto your back, legs opening wide to trap Kix between them. “More?” you plead, eyeing his softening cock. Fuck, he really wishes he were hard again, so he can fuck you until you feel better, but he’s only one man, and clones— though engineered humans— can’t get erections that soon. 

So he does the only thing that comes to mind. 

He kneels down so his mouth is level with your cunt, wraps his hands around your thighs to tug you closer, and dives in. 

Kix tastes his release, bitter and salty, but he mostly tastes you. He brushes his nose against your clit, and you wriggle away only for Kix to pull you back. His tongue enters you briefly, but he knows it’s not long enough to bring you any real pleasure, so he replaces his tongue with two, no, three fingers, and curves them upwards to reach that ultra sensitive spot they don’t teach in clone medic classes. 

Satisfied at your mumblings of pleasure, he circles his tongue around your clit, alternating between different patterns to no patterns at all. 

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck- Kix, I- fucking love you- kriff- your tongue, I-” 

He increases the pace of his fingers as he sucks on your clit, groaning as one of your hands grabs onto his hair and tugs. Kix sneaks a glance upwards and sees one of your hands massaging your right nipple, and fuck- Kix would love to be the one to do that. 

But right now his job is to eat you out like a starved man, and he’ll do the best fucking job he can. He feels like he’s drowning in your cunt, streams of your arousal staining his cheeks, his swollen lips, his chin. There’s only one thing that exists for him right now and that’s your aching body. 

It doesn’t take long— in fact, it happens sooner than Kix would like— for you to climax with his name on your lips. He continues finger fucking you, though, until you squirm away with a giggle. He notes, with pride, that your temp seems to be back to normal, no longer feverish. The biology of that, Kix will ponder on later, but at least he knows you feel a little better.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” you smile, eyes drooping closed, “really good. Thank you,” you rasp. Kix moves your body to lie properly on the bed, with your head on his pillow and a blanket covering your body. He helps unclasp your bra then takes off your soaking wet underwear. It’s only when he tries to snuggle next to you that you stop him. 

“What’s wrong? Do you still hurt?” You laugh, lips curling into a shape Kix wants to kiss forever.

“Aren’t you going to take care of that?” you ask, pointing at him with your chin. Following your gaze, he trails his eyes down his chest to his stomach where-

Where his stiff cock stands proudly. Not the hardest he’s ever been, but hard enough to warrant action. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” you laugh breathily. “Round two?” 

“Are you serious? We just- you just-”

“Kix,” you pout, “most of the chemical is out of my system. Not all of it though.” The chemical. Who knew the flowers produced a highly potent aphrodisiac? Before he could recall more facts about the planet’s flora, you tug the blanket downwards to reveal your bare chest. “And I need you right now,” you plead, eyes shining with desire. 

“Are you sure? I just want to make sure you’re safe, sweetheart. You know that.” You roll your eyes, tongue darting out to lick at your lips. 

“If you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll have to get help somewhere else.” Streaks of red flash through Kix’s eyes at the insinuation and he lunges at you, pulling you into his lap. You giggle all the while, nipping at his shoulders when he has most of you splayed across his thighs. 

“Now that isn’t good medic-patient protocol, is it?” 

“Nope,” you giggle. Kix imagines you riding him like this, grinding hard and fast as he thrusts upwards to meet your hips. He guides his cock to your center, both of you groaning as he slips inside easily. 

“I guess it’s time for your next dosage, sweetheart,” he grins, and you lean into his lips as he takes you exactly how he fantasized. 

[a/n] I hope you like this! Kix is the first of the many beloved SW boys I will be writing about. So far, I have unedited stories for Boba, Maul, and Wolffe. Let me know which one you want to see next! The Boba one is particularly long (over 7k words), so if you want that, I need a little more time. 

Be sure to check me out on AO3 too! I usually upload stuff there hours before I do on Tumblr. 

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 33

Fandom: Marvel 

Summary: Based on “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​

[Somewhere in a universe far, far away…] 

There was a soft brush of fabric on the polished floor that accompanied the approaching steps of leather shoes. Frigga stopped a little to Heimdall's left. 

"What do your golden eyes see, my friend?" 

"They see many things, my queen." 

Bifrost glimmered in the million colors under their feet. Lines and flashes passed faster than the human eye could see. The sword that was the key to every way, waited in Heimdall's hands.

"What do you see of my troubled sons?" 

"They are both learning through new experiences." 

Frigga sighed. "Which usually means they’ve gotten in even more trouble. Tell me, what is it this time?" 

Heimdall stood tall on the dais, the armor forged in ancient times by the hands of legends half forgotten by time still impeccable. The worlds moved before his eyes, with no secrets hidden from the gaze of the All-Watcher. 

"They are faring well, my queen. Even Loki." 

"I had hoped that banishment to Earth would be a better choice than the dungeons." Frigga's hand clutched the gown over her heart. "What did he do this time?" 

A smile ghosted on the lips of the All-Watcher. "It appears that he's made friends. Quite close ones, I dare say." 

"Oh, dear," Freya repeated in a completely different tone. A wicked light played in her eyes. "Do tell, my friend." 

*

[The same universe, a little closer] 

Life in big cities bears a certain strain on everyone's minds. Despite what the newspapers, thirsty for anything and everything worthy and unworthy of filling the pages with, would like you to believe, life had always been difficult. 

Time is always lacking, and money is never enough, and no matter how much you strain your brain, it just sometimes happens that you might not remember about the things stored at the very back of your tiny shop, tucked cozily into the corner of a very calm street. 

"Well," the man said. "I had no idea that I still had those in the freezers. I could've sworn that I have cleaned them before the winter and left nothing except for the packed broccoli. It must be your lucky day, my boy." 

The boy indeed felt very lucky. It was not everyday that one could be sent out to fetch ice cream for a living god in the middle of winter. 

"Have a nice day, sir!" he called on his way out. 

The chilly breeze bit into his cheeks, warmed up in the comforting interior of the grocery. Snow shined on the few surfaces not yet stamped on. The sidewalk Peter chose was a slippery trap that only his spider senses got him through unscathed. 

Loki sensed his coming, and looked over his shoulder at the approaching boy. His other arm was currently wrapped around your shoulders, tucking you closer into him. Peter tried his best not to stare too openly, but couldn't stop the grin from splitting his face. He sat on the other side of the god, the bench icy cold. 

"Thank you, my boy." The god took the ice cream with obvious delight. It had been your idea to spend the few hours before Peter's totally-not-a-date trying out the goods New York had to offer. At first, Loki had snickered at the suggestion of trying out whatever ice cream was available in the middle of winter, but after a few interesting flavors were discovered, Loki apologized. There was an almost disturbing variety of flavors Loki couldn't even imagine existing. 

"You're welcome, Mr. Mischief. I'm sure there would be a bigger choice if it was summer. I always go to that one vendor two streets away from my house, because he has this special recipe that absolutely blows my taste buds away every time." 

"Sounds intriguing." Loki's mind conjured the last time his taste buds had been blown away. If he recalled that unfortunate event correctly, it had something to do with pizza and a bet. "But I think I'll pass for now." 

The look of pure adoration in the boy's eyes hadn’t  perished. 

"I still can't believe you won't get sick after having so many," you said, and watched Loki devour the caramel. 

"It must be nice to be a god," Peter sighed. "You have awesome superpowers, get to do what you want and they even make action figures of you…" 

Loki frowned. "The what?" 

Peter blanched. He started fumbling with his jacket and 'accidentally' looked at his watch. "Oh, I think I’ve gotta go, it's getting so late and I don't want to make MJ wait—" 

Loki reached out and fixed the hair Peter had been nervously fighting with for the past few hours they'd all spent outside. "Don't forget the ring, boy." 

"Thank you!" 

The boy was beaming on his way out of the park. 

"I'm never washing my hair again." 

The totally-not-a-date that was steadily approaching was something Peter wasn't sure he was ready for. So many things could go wrong—and he had already imagined most of them. It wasn't as if he couldn't sleep all night thinking about it, he just… Was busy. Thinking. 

Peter straightened the jacket that was in absolutely no need of straightening. His hand moved to his hair, but he stopped it halfway with a smile. It'd  been touched by the hand of god, so it was as good as it could ever get. 

On his way out of the park the three of you had been resting in for a while, Peter's mind was in a strange disarray of thoughts. However, he was still capable of noticing the interesting new graffiti decorating the Avengers' statues set up in the middle of the park. Whoever decided to redecorate them this time, certainly had a pair of skillful hands. The wild mustache covering half of Iron Man's face looked almost lifelike. 

Loki and you watched the boy leave, nervousness apparent in his every too-stiff step. 

"They grow up so fast," you sighed, leaning further into Loki. 

He nodded. His finger circled lazily around your shoulder, drawing spiralling patterns. Loki turned his head toward the memorial statues raised in the central part of the park. People took pictures in front of them, posing and smiling as they milled around. Those were the heroes, after all. Saviors of the day. 

Loki added a mustache to another statue. 

You noticed and eased a giggle. "They're going to be so pissed." 

"My very soul aches at that thought. What a terrible crime." 

The patterns changed as you shifted slightly. The presence on his shoulder was warm and softened by the fabric of clothes that kept the winter frost from you. 

"I thought using magic in this world was difficult." 

"It is.There's a lot more focus required to make it work than I'm used to. It's nothing dramatic, though. I've heard of worlds where the trickle of magic is even more strained, to the point where it barely exists at all." 

"Do you miss them? The other worlds, I mean. Like Asgard." 

The patterns changed again. They slowed down, became more deliberate. 

"Sometimes," was the honest answer and the one he gave after careful consideration. 

"Will you leave, then?" 

Loki looked down at his wrist, where a thin band of metal used to reside, blocking every and all effort he might take against leaving Earth or using magic in any form. It was no longer there, which meant, although it would be extremely difficult to conduct, Loki could technically leave. 

The only obstacle was that it was no longer his priority. 

"I've never been one to sit aimlessly on my ass for too long, and especially not when and where I had been forced to do so. I think I could name more than a few places I'd like to pay a visit," he admitted, putting his cheek on the top of your head. His throat bobbed slightly. "The only problem is that I just recently found out how terribly boring touring alone might be. It's a real wonder why anyone bothers to do so anymore, and," he swallowed, "I think I could use some company." 

Loki cursed himself for putting his head on top of yours, and blocking the view of your face. Especially as he still didn't get any answer. His heart jumped into his throat, making it difficult to breathe. 

"...I mean, I know it's still so early, and that's okay if you feel overwhelmed or unsure and I won't force you into anything more than you're willing to do—” 

Loki's rumbles were cut short when you finally moved to look up at him. The wild gleam in your eyes and a wicked smile so similar to his struck him dumb. 

"You'd never be able to leave this planet without me." 

A choked breath, so similar to a whispered name ghosted over his lips. "Of course I wouldn't. What would be the fun in that?"

*

[The galaxy, elsewhere] 

"Oh, dear," the queen broke the biscuit in half with perfect manners. Barely any crumbs dared to ruin the fragile dessert. "I guess he really is experiencing something new." 

Heimdall sipped the tea. Servants at the queen's quarters left them with a small table full of goods of the highest sort. The warm breeze played with the curtains with the subtle shimmer of gold. The trees rustled on the wind, losing old leaves to it. 

"He's also plotting an escape," Heimdall added. His helmet laid on his knee. 

Frigga waved the biscuit in a gesture that had very little to do with manners. "That sounds more like him." 

The softest hint of a smile graced her features. 

"I wonder what will become of him. Maybe it's in my nature as a mother, but no matter how much I try, I can't help but continue to worry about him, even after all these years." 

"I swore to keep an eye on him, and I will." Heimdall put a hand to his heart. There was no smile on his face, only seriousness as he recalled an oath he'd never break. 

"Thank you, my friend."

[xaphrin]

Raven looked up at Damian from beneath her lashes, her hands tightening into fists just to get some feeling back into her fingers. She was trying to read his expression under the expressionless mask he wore, but it was useless. His lips twitched, and his hand tightened against the hilt of his sword, but that was the only part of himself that he gave away. Damian stepped forward a half-step before inching backward, as if he was trying to keep himself distanced from her. But, it was too late. She could see enough of him to make an accurate judgment. Raven examined him as he watched her, taking in the minute changes to his form. His jaw had gotten stronger, his eyes harder and darker, and there was a new scar near his lower lip.

Holy hell. He’d somehow gotten more handsome. 

She pressed her lips together and tugged at the cuffs pinning her arms to the wall above her head. Damian might have looked like the man she fell for those three years ago, but every part of him was commanded by the League. She needed to remember that, or it was going to get her killed. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, meeting his stare. 

There was a heavy silence that settled over them like a thick layer of dust, swallowing every vibration in the room. Damian stood to his full height, grinding his teeth together as he muttered a curse that he’d once taught her. His tongue ran along his lower lip and he looked from her numb hands to her face and growled. 

“Uncuff her.”

“But, sir!”

“I said uncuff her.” Damian turned and narrowed his eyes at the man behind him. “I will take my chances with some paltry Titan.” 

Some paltry Titan? Raven seethed. He used to be one of those paltry Titans. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from losing her cool, and waited until she was released from the cuffs. Raven rolled her shoulders, trying to get some kind of feeling back into her fingertips, and waited as Damian ordered the guards out of the room. The door slammed behind them, echoing through the room before that tense silence settled again. 

Raven curled her lip back into a snarl, reaching into her to hold onto her anger. She knew she was never going to be prepared for what she felt, but seeing him dressed like an al Ghul, his face steely and his eyes dark, made her want to just… just punch him. She took a deep breath and let it out between her teeth. She could just throttle him.  

“What are you doing here?” His words were furious, spiced with anger and something that sounded almost like… fear? Or worry? Tch. Yeah, right. Damian walked up to her, dropping his voice to a low growl. “I told you to never find me here. To leave me with the League and forget I was ever by your side, Raven.”

“I tried.” Raven rolled her shoulder and had half a thought to punch him in the face. He deserved it at least. After everything he put her thought, he deserved a little pain for the pain he had caused her. Her eyes narrowed and she pitched forward, glaring at him. “Trust me, I tried to not find you. If there were any other options than flying my ass halfway around the world to get purposefully caught by the guards at Nanda Parbat just so I could have a conversation with you, I would have definitely utilized that option.” 

“Purposefully caught?” Damian blinked, and the steely mask he normally wore disappeared, exposing a small part of who he used to be underneath. “What do you mean?”

“Damian.” She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you honestly think that I couldn’t take out every guard in this compound before they even realized I was here? You know better than that.” She picked at an invisible string on her uniform, still keeping her face blank. “I needed to talk to you about something important.”

“What’s wrong.” He took a step forward, his hand nearly reaching out for her. “What… what happened? Are you okay?”

Raven took a stumbling step back, her eyes fluttering. The unfiltered worry in his voice almost made her forget why she was mad at him in the first place. Almost. She pushed at her hair, ignoring the twinge in her shoulder, and the way her heart stopped in her chest. “I’m fine. Not that you care.”

He growled. “That’s not-”

“Oh no, Damian. I understand.” Her voice was dripping with vitriol, and she straightened her back, trying to look him in the eye. “The power and the League are far more important than friendships and… and whatever the hell we were.” They had never named it, and now it was too late to try. “I understand. After all, why bother? I’m just the girl you slept with.”

He growled, the sound a warning that she was dangerously close to letting her mouth lose control. Damian’s hands tightened into fists and he stared at her. “Shut up.”

Raven jerked. Did he… did he just tell her to shut up?   

“You don’t… you don’t know what happened, and you need to stop acting like you do, Raven.” 

“Then tell me. Tell me what happened, Damian.” Her words were pleading with him, shaking as she tried to take enough of a breath to calm down her nerves. “Because as far as I know, the League was more important than anything else you had in your life.” 

“That’s not it. Damnit. You don’t understand.” Damian sighed and he ran a hand over his face. There was a long, heavy silence as he stepped closer to her.  “Raven. I didn’t…” He paused, his words stuttering within his mouth, as if he was debating on whether or not he wanted to say them. Finally he looked away, his hand clenching at his side. “I didn’t leave the team because I wanted to be away from everyone. I didn’t want to stop being a Titan. I never wanted that. You and the team were part of my family, and I didn’t want to leave you. I never wanted to leave you. I love you.” 

Love. He loves her. In present tense. As if the three years between them had never happened. As if they were picking up exactly where they left off when he said those words to her before he left on this mission. This mission that made him abandon the team, and her. Raven tried not to feel sentimental as she thought of him cast in shadows whispering into her ear, she wanted to be angry with him. Anger was tangible and useful. Longing just made her feel sick and lonely, and after three years, she wanted to move past that. 

“I left you because if I didn’t, grandfather was going to use you against me.” 

What? 

Raven blinked and watched as he approached her, his fingers finding the curve of her jaw. He let go of a deep sigh and cupped her cheek, invading her space like he was coming home. She reached up and covered his hand with her own, trying to process what he said. The anger and hate she’d been holding onto for so long seemed to dissolve before she could stop it. Guilt and shame filled her. Had she really felt that way about him? About the Damian she’d grown to love. 

Love. He still loves her. He never stopped loving here. Even when they were a world apart, he still thought about her, and he didn’t leave because he wanted the power of the League. He left because he was trying to… protect her? Her? Her heart jumped into her throat, and Raven felt like she was a young girl all over again, trying to process his confession. 

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, and I never wanted to leave you.” He winced and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against her own. His touch was gentle and soft, and he ran his thumb over the curve in her cheek, his other hand wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. “I wanted to keep you safe from the League, and I had no choice but to do everything grandfather wanted. He purposefully used you as a bargaining chip for my obedience and fealty to him. I would join the League without question and you would be safe from harm… I never… I never got to tell you the truth. I never got to tell you why I couldn’t come back to the team.”  

Raven felt her heart ache before she could harden it against his words. Her eyes closed and she let a soft sob escape her lips, her hands reaching out to grab the front of his leather armor, pulling him closer to her. Three years. He was gone three years, and she spent every second of that time thinking that his position in the League meant more to him than their family with the Titans. That the League meant more to him than her. But he was just trying to protect her. Raven shivered and she leaned up a scant inch, feeling her lips brush against his own. She could taste spice on his lips, and the promises he had whispered to her years ago. 

She just wished they could go back to what they were before. “You always knew how to disarm me, Damian.”

He smiled, letting go of a soft sigh. “I know. I was good at it.” His hand twitched on her cheek before falling back to his side. “I’m sorry, Raven. We don’t have much time. The guards are going to be suspicious if I keep us locked in this room much longer.”

“I need your help.” 

His eyebrows knitted together, watching her with caution. “With?”

“It’s… it’s a long story.” Her head tilted to the side and she bit back a groan as she heard the heavy fall of approaching footsteps. “And it doesn’t exactly sound as though we have the time to discuss it.”

Damian glanced over at her and picked up the shackles from the wall. He turned them over in his hands, obviously trying to think of an appropriate plan in the span of a few short minutes. Finally, he met her stare and pursed her lips, falling back into his role of Damian al Ghul. “Well… you are  my prisoner, Raven. I can keep you for interrogation if the situation deems it. And… since you are a Titan, and my mortal enemy, I think this particular situation deems it.” 

Raven looked from the handcuffs to his face and back again. Another long silence slid between them. If it was what helped her, then she would do it. She would do anything he asked of her, because he was always going to be her weakness. Without another word, she held her hands out to him, and Damian slapped the cuffs around her wrists, trying to be as gentle as possible. He allowed himself the simple pleasure of running his fingers over the backs of her hands, and Raven watched his features soften as he touched her.  

Damian brought her hands to his lips and kissed each knuckle, lifting his eyes to her own. “After I make appropriate excuses, I will bring you to my chambers and you can explain the situation there - in private.”

Raven smirked, her eyes darting to the door as a key slid into the lock. “You know… this won’t be the first time I’m handcuffed in your room.”

Damian looked over at her, darkness filling his eyes again as he remembered that particular night in detail. She watched as the tips of his ears turned pink, and the tip of his tongue slipped out to wet his lower lip. He took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly, leaning towards her. 

“Don’t tempt me, Raven.” He shook his eyes. “It’s been three years since I’ve touched you and-”

“I’m hungry too.” Her voice was a low rumble against his skin, and she swept her eyes up to his own. The world stood still for a very long second, and Raven was half tempted to just let her powers loose, if only so she could create the chaos she needed to find some kind of privacy with him. But… she could wait. She had already waited three years, what were a few more minutes? Her eyes glanced at the door as it finally slid open a scant inch. “Later.”

Damian growled. “I don’t know if I can make it to later.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Nest.”

Finally guys, some fluff! Based on some comments made by @beckitty and @digitalmagpie on Compromised Earth.  I was inspired by the idea and thought it would be fun to write, and would totally make sense, so. I hope I did the idea credit.

Enjoy the fluff, and thank you all for reading.

Sunny was mad.

Sunny was also worried, but that was mostly overshadowed by just how pissed she was. Adam was being an idiot, the biggest idiot, the king of the idiots. If he kept this up any longer he was going to upgrade himself to the god of all idiots, and it seemed like it was up to her to get something done.

Adam was in a bad way.

He could be fine, she thought, if he was given the time he needed to rest and recuperate. He was exhausted, and short twenty minute naps were going to do nothing to help that exhaustion. She knew enough from Krill to know that the human body required sleep to recover from injuries, and the Steel Eye armor had practically destroyed his body. There was muscle strain, extreme inflammation, the overdose, internal damage, nerve damage, stress fractures etc. etc, and despite all that he was still answering the call of the UNSC.

The stress of his job, and his inability to say no to other people and their needs was going to kill him. He felt obligated, by his job to make sure that everything went well, he assumed because of who he was that he was in charge of protecting earth, even the entire universe if he had to. He was taking on weight that he was not obligated to take on.

Even the UNSC was well aware of how sick he was, and despite taking his help, they seemed concerned about him, and she had no doubt they would be ok if he decided to take time off to recover. There were other men and women in the universe who would be willing to take on the weight he was trying to bare.

Yet he wouldn't listen to her.

Sitting on his chair in the UNSC command room, fighting back sleep, and no ability to walk, he was running himself into the ground.

She needed to find someone who could rein him in.

And she thought she had just the idea.

She left him, though she didn’t want to and made a quick call before walking into the room and quietly whispering to some of the Admirals standing off to one side of the room during break.

“I will not be accepting no, but I thought you should be aware.”

They looked at her and nodded, “We can take it from here.”

“Thank you. I hope you understand that this isn’t a reflection on him.”

“The reflection on him has to do with the fact that he refuses to leave. Do what you have to.”

She nodded turning and walking over to where Adam was sitting slumped in his chair half asleep pale as a ghost. He had insisted the IV be removed so he wouldn't be so distracting. She had argued, he had been stubborn

She walked over putting her arms around him and hauling him to his feet. His head lifted in exhaustion bright green eyes glazed over with exhaustion,”Sunny?”

“Just relax. We are going to go get you some sun during the break.”

He was too tired to be sceptical, and just walked with her.

She could feel his feet dragging, and occasionally his legs would give out under him, but she wrapped one arm around his waist and the other arm around his chest to hold him upright until they finally made it outside to the front of the building. In comparison to the inside, where the lights were dark and the mood was darker, the day was bright and warm. The sky overhead was blue and the ground before them was lush and green. Overhead the sun was warm and bright.

An automated lawn mower was roaring in the distance filling the air with the sound of freshly cut grass.

It made sunny mouth water.

She let Adam sink onto the curb, his head in his hands and lifted her head looking this way and that for signs of life, for the people she was expecting. She heard them before she saw them, the screeching of rubber on pavement, a sound that wasn’t exactly common in a world where everything could hover.

Sunny turned her head and watched as the ancient, four door pickup roared around the corner and skidded through the parking lot. Sunny could feel the aggression spilling off the thing in waves, and when it gunned towards her, she almost worried that she was destined to be roadkill.

However, the tires came to a screeching stop just before them.

Adam lifted his exhausted head and blinked eyes focusing blearily on the front of the car, and as soon as he did, his eyes widened.

Sunny peered through the front windshield where a small, blond- hair woman in a red flannel was hunched behind the steering wheel eyes narrowed face contorted into a predatory snarl that made sunny think twice about having made that call. In the seat just next to her, a greying human male was white knuckling the crash handles.

A door was thrown open and then slammed shut.

“Mom?” 

Martha Vir stormed around the front of the ancient truck, whose engine popped and rattled as it cooled down.

The look of anger fled from her face at one moment, to one of concern as she knelt on the curb looking over her son with piercing blue eyes wild with concern. Mr. vir wobbled stiffly from the cab of the truck forced to pry his hand from the crash handle.

“Mom… what are you doing here?” Adam said in confusion as she tiled his head this way and that, pressing her hand against his forehead, grabbing his hand to examine the inflamed wounds still evident from the steel eye implantation.

It was clear by her expression that she knew exactly what had caused those scars. 

“What-did-they-do. They made you wear the suit again! I swear to the lord above I am going to kill every last-”

“Mom!” his voice was weak, “No one made me put it back on….. I…. asked them to.”

She stared at him in confusion, “What?” “I had no other choice.” His voice quivered a little though he tried to choke it down. Clear evidence that humans were more likely to drop their guard in front of a caregiver, no matter how long past.

She rested her hand on his cheek, “But why… Adam….” 

“It’s what I had to do.”

“And the drugs….”

All was silent for a moment, and he lowered his head.

The stormy expression on her face grew thunderous. 

“I’m sorry…. I couldn’t…. Take the pain.” 

Sunny was surprised to see she didn’t even look mad. Instead she hugged him holding him to her chest his head resting on her shoulder for a long moment. Jim came to sit next to them one hand resting on his son’s back.

“It’s alright, we’re here to take you home.”

He lifted his head, “Home, no, I can’t I have….”

“I don’t care what you have. You aren't in any kind of shape to be doing any kind of work.”

“But mom the burg could attack earth at any-”

“I don’t care if the burg is attacking,I don’t care who is coming. I don’t care if it’s the rapture, and Jesus is descending from the sky on a chariot of fire, you are coming home.”

“But-”

“Adam you are not the only thing standing between earth and eminent destruction, now argue with me again…. I dare you.”

Sunny had never experienced such intense eye contact in all her life. And she thought her own mother had had a mean glare. As soon as Adam made eye contact with his mother, it was over, Sunny saw the fight drain out of him and he simply nodded his head.

He glanced over at sunny, “You called them didn’t you.”

Sunny lifted her head, “I did.”

“Why?”

“Because you won’t listen to me, but I knew who you would listen to.” 

His father leaned down, and with one strong calloused hand, he helped Adam to his feet, “Come on Kid, let's get you home before your mother levels the UNSC.” He chuckled, “Thought she was going to drive the truck through the front door.” Adam snorted, too tired and weak to actually laugh.

His legs gave out before he made it to the car. His parents caught him, doing their best to hold him up.

Sunny intervened, lifting him easily off the ground and into the back of the truck, she then followed after allowing him to rest his head on her leg as he lay across the back seat.

Jim and Martha got back into the truck, Martha grudgingly allowing her husband to drive. 

After a moment she reached a hand back holding a water bottle out to adam.

“Drink, this better be done by the time we get home.”

“But-”

“Drink your water!”

He shut up, finishing the water in a few minutes. It wasn’t a second later that the water bottle clattered to the floor, and Adam was out. Sunny sat in somewhat awkward silence as they drove down the highway.

Jim glanced at her in the rear view mirror, “You alright, Sunny.”

“Yes, sir. 

“Enough leg room?”

“Yes sir, just fine, sir.”

“My name is Jim, Kid, you can use it.” 

Er, “Of course, Jim.”

After another few minutes of awkward silence, Martha turned around in her seat to look at sunny, “What happened?”

Sunny wasn’t entirely sure what she was and was not allowed to tell them, but she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she didn’t, “The Burg declared war on the GA, and then proceeded to attack the Gromm homeworld for the warp codes that would give them access to the rest of the GA. They landed on the planet and were dug in inside an energy field with a plan to attack and charge our line within a day. Adam and his advisors determined the best course of action would be to attack them first and detonate their ship’s engine. Adam made a call…. I had no idea what he was doing. Both Krill and I tried to stop him when we figured it out, but he made it clear that he would find someone else if we didn’t do it. He….. he wasn’t doing so well, but he began the battle without any drugs….. Halfway through…. Well he just couldn’t handle it. He took them, and we finished, but he overdosed. Krill saved his life, but, he just hasn’t slowed down since. I can’t get him to, no one can…. So that’s when I called you.”

She stared up at martha worried that she would be blamed for not stopping Adam.

It seemed as if it might tilt in that direction, but Jim piped up, “Thank you for taking care of him, Sunny. Adam…. He’s always been stubborn. A weird mix of stubborn and not being able to say no.”

They turned off the highway and cut through the suburbs finally pulling up to the familiar house under the unassuming blue sky.

Sunny stepped out pulling Adam with her, who only partially woke up.

She carried him to the door and into the house following Martha back to a guest bedroom,where she set his hat on the nightstand, and woke him up long enough to get him to kick off his shoes and pull off his uniform jacket.

Then and only then was he finally allowed to lay down. Sunny wasn’t sure if he was even awake for the following few minutes where, like a mother bird, the human proceeded to construct a nest out of pillows and other soft things. He had a pillow under his head, and a pillow under his legs, and if that wasn’t enough, he was then surrounded on all sides by pillows. That done, she took a moment to check the sounds left by the Steel eye armor, cleaning a few of them up and bandaging over with clean gauze. She lay a hand on his forehead checking for fever, and by extension, and infection.

He shifted in his sleep.

She then went hunting through a closet which was hoarded at least two dozen more blankets. 

She left the window open allowing the warm sunlight and cool air to breeze into the room, covering his legs with the blanket, but leaving his arms and chest exposed to the warm sunlight.

Finally done, She then ushered Sunny out of the room, leaving the door cracked slightly, where it could be seen from down the hall in the kitchen. Sunny stood awkwardly in the living room for a time her back facing the window where sunlight was beaming through onto the floor. Dust moats churned and rolled in the sunlight.

Martha sat at the table while Jim stepped outside to get some work done.

Sunny shuffled her feet awkwardly before.

“Thank you for…. Coming so quickly.”

Martha looked up at her, her bright blue human eyes cutting and cold.

“I would do anything for my kids.”

Sunny shifted her feet and looked down quietly and before realizing what she was saying, “I wish my mother had been more like you.”

There was silence.

Martha worked her jaw for a second before curiosity got the better of her, “Are…. Drev mothers not protective of their children?”

Sunny shook her head, “No…. not at all…. Just not…. Mine.”

“Oh…. I’m sorry…. What…. Happened?”

Sunny looked away and shrugged, “Oh I was a disgrace. A crippled abomination that should have been tossed into the fire at birth.”

Martha stared at her, “Don’t you think that’s a bit exaggerated.”

Sunny turned to look at her, “No… That’s what happens if you are born crippled. You are tossed into the fire.” 

Martha stared at her mouth open, “They what!.... But how…. Why… why would anyone do anything like that….. And you. You look fine.”

Sunny turned to look out the window, “My mother was a great general. She won land in all directions of the compass, but after my brother, she was never able to produce another child…. It is very important in Drev culture to be able to produce kits.” She turned to look at martha, “Drev mothers give birth near the mouths of volcanos, and if the kit doesn’t hold up to standard they are thrown into the fire for their spirits to be recycled. My mother was…. Unable to get rid of me…. I am very small. I think she hated me because I was a symbol of her weakness, and she just couldn’t handle that.”

Martha had gone very quiet staring on at Sunny in surprise and….  a hint of something else in her bright blue eyes.

“I tried for her to be the best warrior I could. But in truth, I am not talented in battle. When the Drev war came, I thought I could win her love through valor, though I should have known better by then.” She looked at Martha feeling a horrible clenching feeling rising up in her chest and stomach, “What I did to Adam…. It isn’t excused by any means, but at least now you know why I did what I did.’ She looked down at her hands, “But instead of winning my mother’s love, she blamed me for my father’s death.”

“Your father…. Died during the war?”

“Yes, he was killed by a Steel-eye soldier during the last push.” She raised a hand, “Don’t worry, my father died an honorable death in battle…. I was happy for him. Once again my mother went against our customs and turned her sights on revenge.” Sunny siged taking a seat at the table resting her hands together atop the polished surface clasped lightly together.

As she sat a sudden touch of warmth on her hand made her look up.

Martha Vir had a hand over hers and was looking at her with an expression Sunny had not seen on the human’s face before.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not. No one deserves to be treated like that.”

Sunny chirped half heartedly, “It’s past me now. “She glanced towards the door, “Besides, I have people who care about me now, and they make it pretty clear that I am worth far more than what my mother said.”

There was another silence. The distant sound of laughter reached them from outside, “I am sorry, for the way I treated you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Sunny chirped again, “I hurt your son, you would have to be crazy to trust me, or even like me all that much.” “Still, I should have been willing to trust his judgement…. He’s my youngest, and sometimes I forget he’s his own man.” She laughed, “Every time I picture him he’s still eight years old.”

“Are you sure he isn't” 

The two of them laughed.

The door creaked open just then, and Jim stepped into the house a handful of dandelions in one hand. He seemed surprised to find the two of them laughing with each  other, but just as pleased, “What did I miss.”

Martha smiled, “Nothing important. What do you have there?”

“Well, I was just getting rid of these from the lawn, and I was going to throw them away, but.” He glanced at sunny sheepishly, “I thought I heard Adam mention that you liked eating them, so…. I bought them inside instead. Forgive me for overstepping or mishearing.”

Sunny perked up a bit at the sight of the little yellow weed, “You heard him right.”

Jim looked relieved, handing Sunny the flowers and coming down to sit  at the table. Sunny munched on the flower rather happily. 

“Please eat them all. I hate those little yellow bastards.”

Martha looked over at Sunny, “Adam ever taught you how to play cards?”

Sunny shook her head, “I’ve seen him play, but we usually do other things.”

“Might as well do something while we pass the time.” Jim reached out to open a drawer revealing a few decks of cards. “Prism, turn on the sports channel.”

A blue light flashed around the upper edge of the ceiling, and a projection bloomed to life at the center of the room.

Martha began manipulating the cards between her hands adding a pleasant shuffling sound to the air.

Sunny growled at the screen.

“What, you don’t like the Strikers?”

“No, their coach is a D bag and Marcos can’t throw to save his life.”

Jim laughed, “Finally someone who gets it. Only Jeremy was ever into football, but they’re his favorite team.”

“Schmuck.”

“That’s what I said.”

Sunny chirped happily, and Jim laughed.

[black-widowfics]

My most used writing Prompts:

(There's a lot)

1. "I love you... baby"

2. "God, you're adorable"

3. "Hey, cutie"

4. "I promise to love you for the rest of my life"

5. "I don't care if you're sick, catching a cold from kissing you is worth it"

6. "You are so perfect"

7. "You're the best part of me"

8. "Stay here with me. Please?"

9. "I'm speechless you're so beautiful"

10. "Aww! You're adorable"

11. "So romantic"

12. "I'll love you until the end of the universe" "haven't we been there before?"

13. "Do you need a hug?"

14. "I love you, my dearest"

15. "Come here, I need to hug you"

16. "When everything's wrong, it's you that makes it right"

17. "You're the one"

18. "Have i ever pointed out how beautiful you are? " "Yes, all the time"

19. "I'm bored" " then why don't we do something more interesting?"

20. Forehead kisses

21. Hand kisses

22. "That tickles!" Kisses

23. Kisses that make them smile

24. Breathless kisses

25. Cheek kisses

26. Nose Kisses

27. "God, i love you" Kisses

28. Kisses that end with laughter

29. Never wanting to pull away kisses

30. Multiple face kisses

31. Big, long kisses

32. Long Awaited Kisses

34. "Finally, you guys kissed" Kisses

35. Goodbye kisses

36. Kisses accompanied by happy tears

37. Kisses accompanied by sad tears

38. Kisses that get interrupted

39. Kisses to distract them from winning

40. "Just woke up" Kisses

41. Excited Kisses

42. Long awaited kisses

43. "I missed you so much" kisses

44. Sneaking up behind them and surprising them kisses

45. Kisses to help them concentrate

46. Kisses as a reward(passed a hard exam, won a game, etc)

47. "No! No! No! Wake up! Please!"

48. "Please don't leave"

49. "... I love you"

50. "You killed someone, do you really think they'll still love you?!"

51. "They were my world, but now they're gone"

52. "I miss you so much, please come back"

53. "I know you're gone, but i feel you here"

54. "Tears are all I see without you"

55. "You're happy, with someone else. And that hurts"

56. "Just leave!"

57. "Promise me you'll live a great life, without me"

58. "I don't need you"

59. "The world is dull without you"

60. "I miss being in your arms"

61. "Get out of my life!"

62. "I don't love you anymore"

63. "Goodnight, i have always loved you "

65. "I may be dying, but please, don't cry over me"

67. "Thank you, for helping me live the greatest life i could"

68. "These tears will never stop falling"

69. "You were so perfect, but now you're gone"

70. "You were so perfect, but now you're moved on"

71. That's the way to break my heart"

72. "You're happy in someone else's arms "

73. "Take me back to the good old days "

74. Billions of people in the world, and I chose you, how stupid was that"

75. "I wish i didn't have to lose you"

76. "I wish you didn't have to lose me "

77. "I wish that could be me "

78. Character A and Character B, sworn enemies, are chosen to prepare the company Christmas Party.

79. Character A's best friend rigs the Secret Santa, because they know Character A has a crush on Character B.

80. Character A's ex will be at the A is attending. Character B poses as A's fiancée.

81. "Don't look at me, I was still dead at the time."

82. "....Aren't you a little young, to be here?"

83. Character A and Character B meet in the ER on Christmas Eve.

84. Character A can't wrap gifts to save their life. Character B is their neighbor and can help.

85. Character A vows to do something nice for a stranger. Character B is that stranger.

86. Character A and Character B both sign up for a Pen Pal project to exchange postcards.

87. Character A and Character B broke up, but now they meet at a _____ party.

88. Character A is stuck working in a coffee shop on Christmas and Character B is the lonely soul spending their whole day there.

89. Character A's little sibling/child wants to meet their favorite celebrity/writer/person for their birthday. Character B is called "birthday present".

90. Character A can't travel to see their family on Christmas, so they invite their grumpy loner neighbor Character B.

91. Character A and Character B compete in (some kind of) house decoration.

92. Character A bakes too many ______ so they share it with Character B.

93. It's Character A's first Christmas since a tragedy.

94. Character A returns to their birth-town for the holidays. Character B is their estranged childhood best friend.

95. Character A is pretending to be their friend's lover for the sake of the friend's family. Character B is said friend's sibling.

96. Character A loses a bet and has to wear_____ . Character B won the bet.

97. Character A owns a _____ store. Character B is looking for a present.

98. Character A doesn't feel the Christmas spirit but Character B, who lives above them, keeps playing Christmas carols really loud.

99. Character A overhears Character B's birthday wish and decides to fulfill it.

100. Character A was planning to leave dramatically after their confession but character B unhooked their batteries when A wasn't looking so I guess they have to talk about it now.

101. Your doomsday device didn't work but it did put me in the hospital so what are you doing in my room?

102. We've been roommates for seven years and we had a fight but you left me a note right after you moved out saying you were in love with me.

103. "If we get out of this mess you and I are going to have a serious talk about the appropriate time for emotional conversations."

104. "According to these screenshots I need to leave the country immediately."

105. Spontaneously confessed to crush while under the influence.

106. Tried to have a conversation with a cardboard cutout after surgery.

107. "That's it I'm never leaving my room again I can't live this one down."

108. Gave a brutally honest opinion and doesn't remember it.

109. "You said you had the best idea ever and then proceeded to write [extremely stupid thing] as a note to yourself."

110. "tried kissing once and it wasn't for us."

111. We make out at parties and clubs so other folks will leave us alone.

112. "Of course I'm in their lap where else am I going to sit?"

113. Their constantly orbiting around each other.

114. "just because YOUR friends aren't affectionate doesn't mean that there's a problem with US".

115. platonic cuddle puddle.

116. Not so platonic cuddle puddle.

117. "So what we go on friend dates, don't make it weird."

118. Always carries the other's favorite snacks.

119. "I thought I told you to stop calling me 'Your Majesty'."

120. "Lower you weapons!"

121. "I...I am not worthy of this crown."

122. "People are fighting– dying for their kingdom! What kind of Ruler would I be if I didn't join them at the front lines?"

123. "You know I am a prince/princess/royal, right?" "Well yes-" "Then do me a favor and stop telling me what to do."

124. "Since when do you know how to wield a sword?"

125. "Go! If this kingdom goes down, then I will go down with it as it's Ruler"

126. "All the fine silks and perfumes in the world won't mask what a pompous jerk you are."

127. "After all this time, you still don't trust me?"

128. "Get me out of this dress!"

129. "Why so serious, Your Highness?"

130. "How does a walk through the gardens sound?"

131. "I do believe I've proven that you are more than a mere guard to me, ______."

132. "This kingdom cannot go on without you! Please, it's time for you to take your rightful place at the throne."

133. "Your Majesty, is that blood on your dress?"

134. "Walk with me, please. I can't stand another second in that room with their intoxicating pride and old perfumes."

135. "At ease, _____, I know I'm safe with you by my side."

136. "I see we're back to 'Your Highness'. "

137. "A moment with you is far more exciting than a lifetime of cheap conversations and corsets."

138. "...is that my crown you're wearing?"

139. "Promise you'll come back to me." "As long as you promise to wait for me."

140. "Let go of me– that is an order!"

141. "Forgive me, my love."

142. "No, no, it looks far better on you than it does me."

143."This is the part where I kiss the extremely beautiful princess, right?"

144. "how could I ever love someone else?"

145. I'm dancing with my demons

146.I just can't imagine how you could be okay now that I'm gone

147. "I wanna fall wide awake"

148. "You tell me it's alright but its not!"

149. "Tell me I'm forgiven... please."

150. "Nobody can save me"

151. "I don't wanna let you down"

152. "Only I can save me"

153. "There's no getting through to you"

154. "You say I can't understand"

155. "When you leave me, where do you go?"

156. "I'm just talking to myself"

157. "Can't you hear me calling you home?"

158. "You keep running like the sky is falling"

159. "I've got a long way to go and a long memory."

160. "If my armor breaks I'll fuse it back together"

161. "Please just don't give up on me"

162. "I know the words we said"

163. "This is not black and white"

164. "I was not mad at you"

165. "If you ever felt invisible, I won't let you feel that now"

166. "You just wanna know you're being heard"

167. "I don't like my mind right now"

168. "There's comfort in the panic"

169. "I drive myself crazy"

170. "Why is everything so heavy?"

171." I'm pretty sure the world is out to get me"

172. "I know I'm not the center of the universe"

173. "I only halfway apologize"

174. "I'll be sorry for now"

175. "Sometimes things refuse to go the way we planned"

176. "There will be a day that you will understand"

177. "After a while you may forget"

178. "I never wanted to say goodbye"

179. "I've never been higher than I was that night"

180. "Now I remember"

181. "I don't know what I want"

182. "Were there signs I ignored?"

183. "Can I help you not to hurt anymore?"

184. "Who cares if one more light goes out in a sky of a million stars?" "I do"

185. "You're angry, and you should be"

186. "It's not fair"

187. "You're gonna hurt someone"

188. "Watch the friends you keep."

189. "Sharp edges have consequences"

190. "Every scar is a story I can tell"

191. "I loved you like a house of cards, and let it fall apart"

192. "It made me who I am"

193. "We all fall down"

194. "We live somehow"

195. "I can't live without you."

196. "You're the only one for me."

197. "I've never loved anyone the way I love you."

198. "The things you do to me..."

199. "You're too good to me."

200. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

201. "You're the most beautiful person I know."

202. "Stay with me... please."

203. "Nothing has ever felt so right."

204. "You don't know how much you do for me just by being there."

205. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

206. "No matter what anyone says, I'll cherish you forever."

207. "You make it so easy to love you."

208. "I want to hold you and never let go."

209. "Kiss me."

210. "My only wish is to see you happy."

211. "You make me a better person."

212. "I love you more than words can express."

213. "Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, I just wish you had kept yours to yourself."

214. "I don't know how to tell you this, but yelling at someone to, stop panicking, isn't going to stop them from panicking."

215. "It's not your fault. Sometimes you can do everything right, and things will still go wrong.... This just happened to be one of those times."

216. ".....I'm going to pretend I didn't see that."

217. "Why am I the one who always ends up getting targeted by the creep of the week?!"

218. "Fuck.... I knew I should have bought those light up sneakers."

219. "None of this, seems healthy."

220. "....Should I be concerned?"

221. "I said pass it to me, not 'throw it in my general direction'!"

222. "It is my deep pleasure, to inform you that I am not the one in charge here."

223. "Quick! You hide the equipment, I'll hide the grenades!"

224. "Should I call someone for you?"

225. "Did you take anything?"

226. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

227. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

228. "Can you walk?"

229. "How do you think this will all end?"

230. "Do you need an ambulance?"

231. "Where you crying?"

232. "Should someone help you get home?"

233. "Do you know where you are?"

234. "Can you tell me your name?"

235. "Where do you want me to take you to?"

236. "Do you need my help?"

237. "How do you feel now?"

238. "Can I do anything that would make it better?"

239. "Do you want my jacket?"

240. "Can you let me see your eyes?"

241. "Should I stay a bit longer?"

242. "Will you be alright?"

243. "Do you have someone who can look after you?”

244. “An interesting crossover”

[thecreelhouse]

made to brave the pain

Paring: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: The monsters in your life have been human, forcing you into a quiet, isolated world, disconnected from reality to keep yourself safe. What happens when you discover not all monsters are human, though? What do you do when the path of your trauma crosses paths with someone else’s? (AKA: a super trauma comfort fic, bc I’m working out my own shit through writing lol.)

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of abuse, dissociation & maladaptive daydreaming, PTSD, angst, language. (Hopefully the comfort makes up for it tho!)

A/N: idk how to feel about this, honestly, and I have another comfort fic I’ve been working on, bc these seem to be my go-to during the rough patches. This, or any other fics I write aren’t meant to glorify/glamourize abuse and the PTSD that can follow, but simply just a way for me to work out my own trauma (along side therapy and other professional works of help, of course.) if it bothers you, please ignore. Otherwise, I hope someone enjoys the comfort from this, at least. Stay safe <3 (title is from eisley’s ‘ambulance’)

For as long as you could remember, trauma was essentially the foundation your life was built on. You weren’t a stranger to the pain and the heartbreak that could be caused by those meant to raise and guide you through this cold world.

Monsters were just as human as you. That’s what made them so terrifying, hiding under flesh and bone, lying in wait to tear your world apart.

Having no safe place to run to, you created your own, building from the ground up. It was your shield in dark moments, something you hid behind when the reality was too intense for you to grasp onto.

Sometimes, you disconnected from your body, feeling as if you were floating away from the danger before your eyes. Your mind took a vacation, for minutes, sometimes hours. The doctors called it dissociation.

Other times, it came in the form of leaving the wretched, dangerous surroundings, with a distraction. Your mind played out scenarios that you called the shots in, ones that you controlled. Daydreaming, but more vivid, protecting you from the life outside your brain. Sometimes the events and endings weren’t happy, but it was okay, because it was in your control. Maladaptive daydreaming, your therapist named it.

You found the armor to protect your mind as the world trampled over you, took advantage of you, tricking you into lies and mazes of deceit. You couldn’t control the fate around you, but you could control it within.

It gave you a sense of stability, a feeling of belonging in your own world. You protected yourself this way for so long, since you were little, you began to prefer your own worlds to the one around you. You’d silently thank your mind for disconnecting in times of distress. It knew well now. It knew you and your real world so, so well.

You tried and trusted over and over, knowing you could escape to these safe havens within if it all fell apart. Time and time again, you’d think you had finally found your close knit group of friends, a group of angels on earth, to trust, to bond with, to grow with.

Each time you became too trusting, the relationships would fall away, faster than you could imagine grasping on tight to it. Over time, you kept to yourself. You were friendly. You had friends, in school, at work, but not true friends you could run to in times of need. No one to have hard, aching belly laughs with in the middle of the night, no one to sneak out with, no one to share secrets with. No one was close enough, and you couldn’t let them grow that close ever again.

So when the day came that you found yourself face to face with real monsters, you couldn’t bring yourself to click and stay within reality. All those years of learning to run and hide turned that into a first instinct.

You were working in Waldenbooks, in Starcourt. It was your summer job, to help you save up before moving away for college in the fall, and overall, you liked it. It was a distraction from your life, a real life distraction, and one you could still lose yourself in your thoughts, and not get in much trouble during it. It was generally quieter in the store, more so than the rest of the mall.

It was a late night, finishing unpacking and stocking new books, working past closed alone, and you didn’t mind these shifts, either. You learned how to be content with being alone long ago. Plus, you got to control the radio, and that was certainly a plus. It made up for the fact that you didn’t have plans for the Fourth of July anyway.

Halfway through your shift, just a bit after the store closed, you heard a loud ruckus echoing from the first level of the mall. Perplexed, you stopped moving, listening past your loud heartbeat for more. There was yelling followed by a loud, metallic crashing noise, making you jump. Books in your hand went flying.

Scared and curious, you moved forward, toward the bookstore’s entryway, and peeked your head out, seeing nothing down the wing you worked in. Eyes lingering longer, scanning the neon-lit hallway, you eventually pulled back into the store, picking your work back up once more.

Time had passed, and you continued to restock the shelves, making good time with the batch of books you had, and finished earlier than expected. You cleaned up, clocked out, locked up, and began heading down the wing you worked in, towards the mall’s main entrance.

As you walked, your mind wandered, almost missing the voices trailing out from below, from the first floor. Pushing yourself to tune back in to reality, you focused on your surroundings, walking up to the railing along the edge of the second floor to lean over, get a better look. Your eyes fell on a group of people, sending you further into confusion. Your eyes flickered to the car in the middle of the food court, crushed up against the wall, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

What the fuck?

Distracted, you headed for the escalator, now powered down, and sprinted down the stairs. As you got closer, you recognized some of the people within the group; Steve and Robin, who you’d become friendly with over time, running into each other during breaks on shifts. Your eyes fell to Nancy and Jonathan, who you knew from school, and... Jim Hopper? What the hell was the chief of police doing here? What the hell was going on? Some people in the group turned around, giving you strange looks, almost questioning with their stares ‘what are you doing here?’.

Steve turned around, face twisting in confusion at the sight of you, while your heart dropped again at the sight of his face, bloody, bruised, swollen.

“Wh- what happened?” You managed to stutter out, and Steve’s mouth fell open as he searched for an answer to give. But what could he say? How could he explain this?

Quickly, before anyone else could talk to you, Steve reached out, gently leading you away from the group, across the food court. Your eyes darted furiously between him and the others, and the car, concern growing more and more.

“You have to leave.” Steve said, gently grabbing you by the shoulders. It almost made you blush, before realizing the tone in his voice. “You have to go home, okay?”

“What’s going on?” You asked, eyes wandering his face, taking in the injuries he had. You felt sick. Steve shook his head.

“I can’t tell you, but I need you to go home, and be safe.” He stated, voice firmer this time. You shook your head, and he frowned, brows scrunching up. “I didn’t think anyone was still here.”

“I was finishing a shift. Are you and Robin alright? Is that why I heard a big crash earlier? How’d you get hurt?” You couldn’t help letting the questions pour out, curiosity getting the best of you.

You and Steve had spent the breaks of your jobs together sometimes, flirting with one another over time. You figured it was probably nothing to him, and figured it couldn’t do much harm if you kept your usual, safe distance, barely letting him in. It couldn’t hurt to be friendly on the surface, right? He seemed to mean well, too, but you refused to get close enough to find out. Refused to take the chance of letting someone else hurt you again.

“Are you listening to me?” Steve asked urgently, gently shaking you by the shoulders. Your eyes focused back into view, back to his poor, battered face, and realized you had spaced out. In times of panic, you just did that, running for safety. If only your body learned to do the same physically.

“I-“

“Y/N, you really have to get out of here. Please.” Steve pleaded, eyes holding a whole different world of pain and suffering, far different from yours. It made your heart sink.

What demons has he fought that were nearly as bad as yours? The thought of someone as sweet as Steve fighting off his own monsters made you ache, made you worry.

“Are you gonna be okay?” You asked, hoping for a proper answer. Steve looked away for a moment.

“Yeah. Yeah I am, it’s gonna be alright.” He reassured, though he looked unsure himself. “Just go home, please. I need you to be safe.”

Something within you screamed to stay, stay, stay, don’t abandon him, don’t abandon Robin, stay, stay, stay. What could you do? What help could you be, when you had no idea what these people were up against.

“Will you be safe? Are you safe with them?” You couldn’t help asking, and without hesitation, Steve nodded.

“I’m in good hands with them, I promise.” He answered sincerely, and that was the only thing that seemed to calm you down, just a bit.

Your arms wrapped around Steve suddenly, taking him by surprise as you hugged him tightly. He hugged back tightly, and quickly pulled away, before gently pushing you towards the mall’s exit. Your heart ached, your mind screamed, stay, stay, stay, against his word.

You, being the stubborn person you were, stayed. Turning to leave, you noticed Steve wasn’t watching you walk out, and took the opportunity to hide. You snuck in the shadows of the bathroom hallways, behind a large, potted plant, by the main entrance.

You heard horrific screams and startling noises as time passed, fighting your curiosity to stay hidden. What the fuck could you do here? It’s not like you knew what was going on, what was happening. Crashing noises echoed through the hallway, glass shattering, things being thrown, broken, inhuman, monstrous noises ripping through the air; you heard it all. At moments, it grew quiet, but it never lasted long. Sometimes you felt the walls shake, almost as if the building was hit.

Peeking out from your hiding spot, you swore you heard fireworks being set off. With shaky limbs, you pulled yourself up off the floor, creeping down the hallway and around the corner, to see the food court lighting up in bright, vibrant colors. Sparks flew everywhere, and your eyes fell to the target of the rockets: a monster. A real monster.

It’s grotesque build and grimy limbs recklessly tossed about, smashing into walls and decor in the mall, narrowly missing everyone scattered about. Debris flew around dangerously. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, but felt your feet pulling you further, towards the door. Your gut told you Steve was right, and you trusted it, running out the door.

You ran, ran, ran, towards your car, parked far away from the mall, and collapsed against the side of it, watching the interior light up from the windows. It didn’t take long for your mind to kick into high gear, dragging itself the hell out of your body, disconnecting from reality, right on schedule.

Your eyes zoned out, blurring your surroundings as you sat against your car, numbly watching the building eventually go up in flames. Smoke billowed out of the roof, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus fully. Sirens echoed out in the distance, surrounding the building in lights, signaling help was here, help had arrived.

Your thoughts felt fuzzy. Had you really seen what you saw? Was that reality? It was like something straight out of your vivid daydreams, the ones where you build up your own heroes to put a stop to the destruction.

Maybe it was a metaphor for you somehow, for the destruction you had endured your entire life. You couldn’t be bothered to think about it.

A figure drew closer, but you couldn’t bring yourself fully from your thoughts, couldn’t come back down from the natural, protective high.

You felt yourself being pulled to your feet, and arms wrapping around you.

“Jesus Christ, I thought you went home. What are you still doing here?” It was Steve’s voice, engulfed in concern. Your vision focused back in, and the tingling numbness began to leave your limbs, your fingertips. You grasped onto his shirt, feeling the fabric, connecting that with reality, grounding yourself.

You rarely ever grounded yourself. It was just something you preferred not to do, to stay safe and locked away in your thoughts instead.

“Are you okay?” He asked, pulling back, getting a closer look at you. You focused in to his battered face, heart sinking again at the sight of his injuries. He grabbed your hands, squeezing them. “Did you hear me?”

Something deep within you screamed at you to be responsive for once, and you slowly nodded.

“You’re not hurt are you?” He asked, ignoring his injuries, the blood on his shirt, on his skin.

You shook your head, staring at Steve, in awe he was showing concern about you, when clearly he was the one who needed comforting. Your arms wrapped back around him, surprising yourself as you pulled him close.

“Are you okay?” You managed to ask, fully in focus to reality, to the present. He didn’t answer, and you pulled back, searching his eyes for an answer. All you saw was the hurt, the damage left behind by demons you couldn’t even imagine up in your wildest daydreams.

“Can I tell you the truth?” He looked away, voice cracking. You nodded. “Not at all.”

Your heart broke, and you were fully aware of the reality around you. You wanted to run and hide, away in your safest corners of your daydreams, but you stayed, standing strong in your spot. The urge to disconnect was strong, but the one to stay and help Steve was stronger.

“Let’s get you home, yeah? I don’t want you driving like this.” You managed to say, pulling open the car door for Steve. He hesitated, almost aware how hard this was for you to help someone else, when you couldn’t even really help yourself. You held your gaze strong, until he eventually climbed into the passenger seat. Shutting the door, you hurried around to the other side, starting up the car, and began driving off, destruction of Starcourt growing worse in your rear view mirror.

You drove on, silent, not wanting to overstep any boundaries, though you already did, staying behind when Steve warned you to leave.

Leaning his head against the window, Steve spoke up first, voice quiet, broken. “How much did you see?”

You hesitated, but knew the truth was necessary here, or you wouldn’t be able to comprehend what you saw at all, not on your own. “I heard more than I saw. I was hiding and didn’t come out until I heard fireworks going off. I saw... that thing... and ran.”

“Must be nice to have the option.” He mumbled, though it was loud enough for you to hear, and it stung. You know he didn’t mean harm, not intentionally. What he went through was something you had never endured, and probably never will. “Why’d you stay?”

Turning down a street, you swallowed hard, afraid to answer, unsure what your answer even was. “I dunno, I was worried for you, for everyone. I’ve never seen you so panicked before.”

“There’s a lot you haven’t seen.” He replied, shrugging, as if it was simply nothing. “There’s a lot you choose not to see, too.”

You felt your stomach drop at that. You knew what Steve meant, you just didn’t think anyone else knew. You didn’t think anyone else noticed. You thought you slipped under the radar of concern from anyone, and you grew comfortable with that.

“Where do you go?” He asked, looking ahead at the road. You turned once more, vaguely remembering the way to his house; you had given each other rides once or twice this summer.

You knew what he meant by asking that, and though afraid to answer, you didn’t hesitate to speak up. “Far away. As far away as I can get from here. It helps to distract myself with my own grand, make-believe stories. Beats being stuck in your own hell.”

“Teach me your ways.” He joked dryly, sending you a lazy smile. You blushed, focusing back on the road, turning into his driveway. You parked, but neither of you moved, neither of you left the car.

“It’s still pretty shitty... to be disconnected from reality all the time... I miss out on a lot of my own life.” You admitted softly, staring at the wheel, clutching it tightly. “It’s not something you’d want, you know. You have a good life overall, people who give a shit about you. You don’t want to miss the good stuff.”

“People care about you too.” Steve replied seriously, but you laughed, rolling your eyes. “I mean it.”

“Even so, it’s just another chance to let...” You trailed off, realizing you’ve said far too much already. “... it’s fine. Let me help you inside, okay?”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, to question you further, but you dashed out your door, quick to reach his side. You held an arm out as he carefully exited the car, slowly walking him up to the door.

The two of you looked at one another awkwardly, unsure of what to say. You hadn’t planned to stay long, or at all. You just wanted to help. It was the least you could do. A few moments passed as you stared at one another, silence deafening, before finally turning on your heel, starting for the stairs.

Steve reached an arm out, grabbing your hand. You stopped suddenly, turning back to him.

“Stay. Please.” He said, voice wavering again, and though you were wary about letting him, or anyone, in, you nodded, feeling a layer of trust settle between you two.

The house was empty, but Steve didn’t seem too bothered by that fact. As if he sensed your curiosity, he spoke up, “Parents are never home. Probably for the best this time.”

A caring side of you came out, overshadowing the hesitant, cautious side. “Where’s your bathroom? We gotta clean some of these wounds up, or you’ll get infections.”

Surprised by your words and initiative to take action, Steve stared for a moment before nodding to the stairs, and climbing them slowly. You trailed behind.

You began to rummage through the bathroom’s cabinets, well stocked with necessities and more. You wondered what it was like to have a family that actually cared to keep necessities on hand, not leaving their child to fend for themself, at least without resources. Finding rubbing alcohol and cotton wipes, you figured it was a good place to start.

Steve sat at the edge of the tub, and you immediately got to work, gently wiping away the crusted, dried blood, and cleaning any wounds. Anytime it stung, Steve cringed, hissing.

“Oh, c’mon, you got these gnarly battle wounds, and a little rubbing alcohol is gonna bother you?” You teased, and it pulled a smile out of Steve. He watched you closely as you continued on, while you made sure to keep your gaze anywhere but his eyes.

“How do you know about infections so much, hm?” He asked casually, not realizing the weight of the question. “Not like you’re covered in wounds yourself.”

You exhaled deeply, brushing away your nerves. “Sometimes you learn things as you need them.” You hoped that was an answer enough, but of course, Steve being his stubborn self, never knew when to quit.

“What does that mean?” He asked, voice quieter, but still, you caught the question. You shook your head, throwing the bloodied cotton wipes away, and reaching for fresh ones.

“You have your demons,” you started, leaning closely in again to finish cleaning his face. “I have mine.”

“You don’t have to be so secretive all the time.” He mumbled, getting annoyed. You rolled your eyes.

“Done. Rest of the blood is all yours to handle. Most of it is in your hair, anyway.” You said, ignoring his comment. Steve stood up, and you backed against the counter, trying to keep your space.

“Did I do something?” He asked, hurt apparent in his voice, sinking your heart again. “I thought we were friends, I’m sorry if I overstepped boundaries.”

You clamped your eyes shut, shaking your head. “No, it’s not you, it’s ... it’s anyone.”

“You sure? You don’t have to stay, I don’t want to bother-“

“It’s not you, I swear.” You began to ramble. “It really is anyone. I haven’t gotten close to anyone in so long. You and Robin are the first friends I’ve had in years, and even then, I tried to keep my distance.”

“Why?”

“You asked where I go... where my mind goes...” You started, voice cracking. God, you didn’t want this friendship to be exposed to your trauma. It always found a way through the cracks, though. It was a huge part of who you were, it always found a way in to everything else. “I have to keep busy up here.” You pointed to your head, looking away from him before continuing.

“I keep busy and disconnect from real life to stay safe. Doctors call it dissociation, or whatever.” You mumbled, trying to keep tears back, crossing your arms. “My monsters were human. The people raising and guiding me through this life were just monsters in disguise. Those I trusted, helped, bonded with. They were all my demons. It was safer to just... just...”

“Tune out the real world.” Steve finished, understanding. You nodded, feeling tears roll down your face, stinging your skin along the way. “I mean, I get it... kinda’. You do what you can to survive the pain.”

“There’s gaps of time in my life, chunks of memories I don’t remember, can’t remember, because I was so disconnected.” You admitted, brushing your tears away with your hands. “Sorry. Jesus. Here I am crying about my shit when you just dealt with that literal monster.”

Steve shook his head, cautiously reaching a hand out to your arm, and settled it against you slowly. “I’m sorry you saw any of that. And don’t apologize, I asked, because I care. Because it seems like you care too, at least I think so. Seems like it if you’re willing to take care of my ugly mug tonight.”

You laughed softly, sniffling. “Shut up, you still are pretty cute, even with all those bruises.”

“Yeah? You think so?” He asked, smiling, pulling your smile wider in return. “I don’t want to force you into telling me anything, but you can, you know, if you want to. You’re not alone.”

“Neither are you, Steve.” You said sincerely, wrapping him into a hug. Cautiously, he hugged back, softly resting his chin atop your head. Courage built up in your heart, you managed to ask words you’d never imagine asking anyone: “Can I stay?”

You hadn’t felt this much trust with someone in so long, hadn’t let yourself feel it in so long. You’ve knocked down every opportunity that came your way, believing it was safer to be alone. Safer to be lonely. You were wrong, and you were willing to relearn how to let others in after feeling the pull between you and Steve.

Steve pulled back, searching your face for any signs of doubt, a soft smile hiding at the edge of his lips. “I was kinda’ hoping you would.”

——

taglist: @jxnehxpper @harringtown @harrington-ofhawkins (message me if you’d like to be added!)

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

This isn’t based off of a ask of any kind, but more of a random drabble that I wanted to do since I haven’t seen a lot of fanfics that involve Longclaw as of late sooooo here’s one to add to the pile!

And honestly i just wanted to write something about owl mama and baby sonic.

Longclaw searched around the small hills that surrounded her tiny home. She hovered up to the trees and looked through the leaves only to find no sign of the little hedgehog.

Sonic had snuck out earlier that evening when she was out looking for food and had been gone for a while, a lot longer than she would’ve liked.

The grand owl had come from a long line of noble warriors who fought to protect the balance of all living creatures of this world, but nothing in her years of training could prepare her for having to raise a little 3 year old, who can run at extremely fast speeds.

To fast for her to even catch up with, which has proven to be problematic when he wouldn’t listen to her.

‘Oh Gaia where’d he run off to this time?’ She sighed as she scanned the area in hopes of seeing a hint of blue zip in front of her.

To no avail, she flew back down near the hut and adjusted her armor breastplate, ruffling her feathers in frustration.

“Sonic! Where are you!?” Listening for moment but still heard no response, her heart began to race.

‘Did he go too far? What if someone found him?’

The sun was beginning to set and even though she could see perfectly well in the dark, she worried on how he’ll be able find his way back if he stayed out too long.

Tapping her wing to her beak, she tried to think of where he could have gone.

‘What if he went over to the west coast of the Island? But that’s where....The echidnas! Oh no they must’ve seen him or could be tracking him back here.’ She raised her wings, getting ready to take off.

‘Maybe if I see him halfway there I should be able to-.’

“Wongcaw?”

A high pitched voice cut through her thoughts, startling her right as she flapped up into air causing her to turn around, only to hit her head on a low branch and fall right on her back.

“Oof!” She let her wings out at her sides as she laid in the grass, trying to catch her breath and ease the dull ache on her head.

A small gasp cried out as she heard tiny feet pattering near her head.

“Wongcaw! Wongcaw, you hurted?”

The owl opened her eyes and looked up to see the toddler staring down at her, his little hand touching her face and face full of worry.

The young toddler was still going through pronouncing his L’s correctly, with her name still being a main candidate for it.

Rolling on her side, she shook her head as she wrapped him in her wing, hugging him close to her torso.

“I’m alright Sonic, I just bumped my head a little that’s all.”

Sonic looked up at the owl, his lip in a slight pout and brows furrowed. “No you hurt, i make it better.”

Before she could question him, he zipped up to her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.

She froze in surprise, her feathers ruffled slightly as he slid down into her wings and put his tiny arms around her neck.

Sighing softly, she wrapped her both her wings tightly around the tiny hedgehog, earning a small giggle from him.

Releasing him from the hug, she stood on her feet and gave him a disapproving look. “Sonic, where have you been? You had me worried sick!” She exclaimed as she looked down at him.

He squirmed and shuffled his feet under her intense glare. “I went to the sandy grass where the ocean is.” He said timidly.

‘Sandy grass? He must mean the beach, but which one?’

Longclaw narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Sonic, did that area you went to have a lot of big black, round rocks near the grass?”

He put his hand under his chin, thinking hard before he gasped. “Yeah! They were shiny and gowed bright in the sun!”

She felt her heart ping in her chest and her face tighten with stress. ‘I was afraid of that, that’s very close to where the village is located.’

“Sonic, I have told you before that you need to stay away from the beaches that have the black rocks near the water! Someone could have seen you there!” She said harshly.

She saw his shoulders scrunch up as his eyes lower, wavering as if to hold back oncoming tears.

Not wanting to scare him even more, she spoke more softly as she grabbed his hands into her wings, giving him direct eye contact.

“I know you like going down there and playing in the sand and water, but it’s too dangerous for you to be down there, especially by yourself where people can see you if you use your powers.”

“But I’m super fast, no one sees me!” He interrupted unintentionally with a hopeful smile.

Longclaw sighed patiently. “All the more reason why you shouldn’t be that far from the hut right now, if you’re near the hut, you’ll have less of a chance to be spotted.”

He lets out a sad sigh and wrings his hands as he rocks back and forth slowly. “But you aways sad and tired, I wanted to get you something so you smile again.”

Longclaw cocks her head to the side. “What? Why do you think I’m sad?”

“You don’t waugh anymore and you don’t smile at the stuff you wike. I wanted to bring you something that makes me happy so that it could make you happy too.”

He then pulls out a small white conch shell from his head quills and holds it in his hand. “I found this for you so you can have the same happy too.”

Speechless, she watched as he lifted the shell to his ear and closed his eyes, smiling.

Granted the last couple of weeks were tough on the both of them, mostly for her. The neighboring village was starting to build more huts and expand their usual hunting grounds, which made them all the more closer to where they were, causing her to do more area sweeps during the night as well during the day.

But she didn’t take account for if he ever noticed her mood changing.

“Here, i show you”

Before she could blink, Sonic rushed up her shoulder again, this time putting the shell somewhat near her ear tufts.

“Can you hear it?” His little tail wagged as she takes the conch from him and adjusts it on her ear tuft.

At first she didn’t hear anything from the shell and as about to put it down, until she heard the faint sounds coming from inside.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the noise as it grew louder and louder only to finally hear a slight tinging sound and....squeaking?

Opening her eyes, she drew the shell away from her head to see some sort of hermit crab emerging from the shell, it’s large claws trying snap at her beak.

Letting out a yelp, she quickly put the creature on the ground and watched as it scuttled away into the brush.

Sonic jumped down to the grass and watched as the crustacean disappeared.

Longclaw moves next to him, placing a wing on his head. “I guess that noise you heard wasn’t what you thought it was?”

He slowly nodded, focus still the brush where it disappeared.

He glanced back at her. “He madded?”

“It’s ‘mad’ and yes he was, I would be too if someone moved my home without my permission.”

“I think he mad cause you have no ears.”

Choking back a laugh, she looked at him with disbelief. “Wha-, Sonic I have ears just like you do.”

He let out a giggle as he shook his head. “No, ears wook wike this.” He demonstrates by slightly tugging his tiny ears. “You just have big feathers on your head.”

“Sonic, that’s actually where my ears are.” She lowered her head for him to see, making the large feathers near her ear folds move back and forth. “You see them?”

He nods, watching with interest as she lowered the feathers against her head.

Curious he reached his hand up and smoothed them down against her head. “It’s soft.” This time using both hands, he started to mess with the smaller feathers on her head.

“Yeah I know.” he started to climb on top of her head, painfully pulling ron the long feathers. “Ok ok that’s enough now.”

She gently pulled him off and set him down. Turning towards the horizon, the sun was starting to dip into the ocean, it’s light casting dark shadows on the trees.

“It’s starting to get dark now, it’s time we head back to the hut Soni-.” She stopped to see the toddler had disappeared once again.

‘Oh for Gaia’s sake’

“Sonic no more hiding ok? We have to get back before it gets too dark.”

Hearing the leaves rustling from above, she glanced up to see him crouching on one of the thick branches right above her head.

His eyes lit up when she saw him and started to giggle loudly before moving towards the other branches on up ahead.

‘Well at least he’s heading towards the hut.’

Letting out a low chuckle, she shook her head and continued toward the bridge that connected the lower area to their hut on the top of the hill.

‘This little one certainly is quite the bundle of energy this world has been missing for so long. With everything that’s been going on, it definitely needs it again.’ She started to frown as the hut came closer into view.

‘Did we do enough? Did I do enough? Everything my family, my people went through, fought through so much peril and tried to keep the balance, but it seems to be getting worse as the years pass and now I’m taking care of a child who could be the only key to the-.’

“Wongcaw!”

She jumped as she heard Sonic yell her name and saw him standing on a tree root about a foot in front of her, tapping his foot with a pout on his face.

He pointed a finger at her as his pout deepened. “No more frowning!”

Longclaw blinked rapidly as she let her face loosen. “Oh it’s alright, I’m not sad anymore Sonic.”

Although her face showed that she was fine, her voice was betraying that statement.

And Sonic caught onto that fact quite quickly.

As she walked closer to where he was, still deep in her thoughts, he began to think of something he could do.

‘Ooh I know!’ His tail wagged back and forth as he got an idea and went to put his plan in motion.

Getting into a pouncing position, he grinned mischievously as the owl came closer.

Raising his hands up, he charged straight towards her, making small roaring sounds as he did.

Coming completely out of her thoughts due to the sudden noise, she turned her head to see where it came from, only to feel a light weight hit against her torso.

“What in the-?”

Looking down, she saw him trying to wrap his arms around her and looking up at her with a very playful expression.

Before she could get a word out, Sonic started to wiggle his fingers her sides, continuing to roar at her.

“I not Sonic, I am tiger! Rawr!” He exclaimed as he zipped up to her shoulder and scribbled his fingers into the side of her neck.

Unaffected by the adorable attack, the owl simply smiled at the hedgehog’s attempt to cheer her up as he continued to jump around her body, trying to find a weak spot while letting out tiny roars and growls

“Soni-, hey ok you don’t have to do thAT!” She yelped as he hit a sensitive spot right underneath her wing. The sudden jolt knocking him off her wing and onto the grass.

Despite landing hard on the ground, the toddler started to laugh hysterically at Longclaw’s reaction.

Rubbing her side, she looked down at Sonic, who was still giggling uncontrollably, while holding his hands to his stomach.

“It seems like that made you laugh more than it actually did for me.”

“Cause your voice went all funny when I tickled you there!” He gasped as he dissolved into giggles again.

Letting out a laugh as well, she crouched down near Sonic and gave a playful expression.

“Well do you know what’s more dangerous than wild tigers?”

Sonic shook his head, still giggling and his smile growing wider. “No.”

She raised her wings in a menacing fashion out towards him.

“Giant owls who like to eat cute little hedgehogs!” She growls as she lunges at him.

Sonic shrieked and turned to run, but Longclaw managed to swoop him up and wrap him tightly in her wings before he could.

“NOO! Don’t eat me!” He squealed with laughter, scrunching his shoulders and ducking his head as she nipped at his tiny ears.

“I’m gonna gobble you up! Nom nom nom!” She said playfully as she nuzzled her beak into his neck

Sonic continued laughing as he attempted to push her head away, only for Longclaw reach up with her talon and used one claw to scratch at his belly.

Letting out a high pitched squeal, he kicked his legs as he tried to protect his stomach and neck from the attack, but couldn’t due to his hysterical laughter.

Feeling the claw make it’s way up to his armpit, he squeaked in alarm and curled up and rolled up in his ball form, giggling lightly as he caught his breath.

He heard Longclaw let out a couple of laughs, causing him to peek his eyes out at her, seeing her smile slyly at him as she carried him and continued walking towards their home.

“See? I told owls were more dangerous.”

Unrolling completely, he let out another giggle as held onto her breastplate, calming down.

“But you nice.” He said after a moment, looking up at her.

She stopped, looking down the small child in her arms as she thought about what he said.

“Yes, i am. Lucky for you that I am huh?”

Sonic let out a slight laugh as he snuggled closer to her armor, closing his eyes. “You smiled.”

“Hmm?” She paused right as she opened the door.

“You smiled.” He repeated as he let out a yawn, eyes still closed

As she opened their door, she felt a smile come to her face. ‘Yeah, I haven’t felt this happy in...awhile.’

As she put him down in his makeshift crib, she looked down at him as he napped. Her wing stroked his head as he snored silently.

‘It’s mostly thanks to you for being here that I know life can be bright here once again.’

[mercurypilgrim]

“Why are you being nice to me?” prompt please! XD

(Ask, and ye shall receive! ;) ) Odessen was… cold.

Fia shivered as she stepped off the shuttle, pulling her cloak around her shoulders.

The Force was in such serene balance, it almost made her head spin.

It was strange really, to be so overwhelmed by balance.

She was nervous.

Master Till'in had always mentioned that she needed to be more level-headed, but it was hard to quell the squirming feeling of nerves that made her feel a little sick.

From her spot off to the side of the ramp, she watched the rest of the inhabitants of the shuttle disembark.

She had recognised a fellow Jedi in there, but the others were unknown. A trio of surly looking soldiers in Republic armour had stuck closely together, watching everyone else with thinly veiled suspicion. A quiet woman in the garb of a spacer had played with her holopad the entire journey, and the other Jedi had been content to meditate by themself.

Fia had felt quite out of place, even as the other Jedi had opened an eye to give her a warm smile before slipping back into their mediation.

This was the most nerve-wracking thing she had done since passing her trials to become a Knight, and that was on her second try.

She looked up in a watery blue sky garnished with puffy clouds, and breathed in cool, crisp air.

She had always loved being out in the fresh air.

Her former occupation as a crew member on a junk hauler on Raxus Prime seemed impossibly long ago now, but the distaste of fumes and industrial spaces lingered.

Gingerly, she followed the quiet spacer as she headed for the huge staging area, hewn from the rock. The sheer scale was impressive enough, but the fact that it had been done so quickly was astonishing.

Glancing around, she felt strangely guilty for being here, as though she was invading the space. People baring Alliance insignia hurried back and forth, some dressed in fatigues and others in officers’ uniforms.

It all felt awfully familiar, and at the same time, completely out of place.

She swallowed hard when she spotted a figure in a dark robe, hood over their face and a lightsaber clipped to their belt, hurry past them with a thunderous expression on her face. Stark crimson tattoos covered her face, and Fia knew what that meant.

She was so busy staring, she almost bumped into the spacer when she suddenly stopped.

Flashing an awkward, apologetic smile to the dark look thrown her way, she peered through the throng of people.

A woman in fatigues and with the baring of someone used to being listened to was standing waiting for them, her face stony. She was backed by a cohort of neutral looking assistants, all of whom stayed quiet.

“I am Lieutenant Fisher,” the leader introduced, her accent placing her from one of the Imperial fringe worlds. She was a mountain of a woman, standing tall and broad. Her sharp dark eyes and closely cropped hair gave her the air of someone Fia would never ever cross. “Welcome to Odessen.”

She continued her welcome, and Fia strained to listen for fear of missing a single instruction. Her mind tended to wander easily, and she always tried listen extra hard to people who looked like they could break her in two.

Eventually, she heard that she and any other Force inclined recruits were to head for the Force Enclave. Having no idea where this was, she resolved to follow the kindly Jedi she had met on the shuttle.

They were already following one of the assistants, and Fia scrambled to keep up.

The Jedi shot her a little smile when she joined their side, quiet and calm.

Fia wished she could be so composed.

She followed the two as the assistant led them through a maze of rock hewn corridors, passing rooms and doors by the dozen. She craned her neck to take in every detail, turning her head to look at everything on their path. People were everywhere, going about their business as though they weren’t part of the most amazing thing Fia had ever seen.

The Alliance was monumental.

Amazing.

Awe inspiring.

How could she not want to be a part of that?

She-

She blinked, pausing.

She didn’t see her Jedi companion anymore.

She didn’t see the assistant, either.

Attempting to squash the panic threatening to rise in her belly, she looked around and found herself completely lost.

She had been so busy staring at everything that she must have missed them turning off down another corridor.

Wringing her hands, she headed back the way she came, recognising none of it.

It was quiet here too, and as soon as she spotted someone that she could ask, they hurried away with their heads in a holopad or call.

Calm.

She needed to stay calm and normal and peaceful.

She was lost.

Oh, what if they thought she was a spy? They had Imperials in the Alliance so what if they wanted to torture her because she had wandered into a restricted area and she had only stepped off the shuttle half an hour ago and now she was poking around where she shouldn’t and-

“Are you alright?”

She jumped, her whole body tensing as a sudden voice cut through her growing fright.

She whirled around and, to her horror, came face to face with black armor and amber eyes.

She blinked, wringing her hands.

“Ahh, I- I’m really sorry!” She burst out with, mouth moving faster than her brain. “I didn’t mean to- I mean, I just got off the shuttle and then I lost the person- the guy I was following, and- I’m sorry.”

She cringed as the Sith, for he couldn’t have been anything else with that armour and those eyes, looked at her.

“You’re lost? Well, it happens.” The Sith smiled, showing sharp teeth. She squeaked, and his eyes crinkled with humour. “But I asked if you were alright. You look a bit shaken. Do you need a sit down? A shot of whiskey? Maybe a hug?”

Fia stared. The Sith didn’t seem angry, and he sounded like he was teasing her.

 She looked at him more closely.

He was Mirialan, tall and solid looking under that armour. His face was decorated with geometric tattoos, and his eyes were bright golden amber against dark skin. Orange ringed his iris like a mockery of a limbic circle, and she marvelled at it. He was smiling at her.

“I- um…“

He raised a dark eyebrow, and it disappeared under the mop of curls that reached down to brush his shoulders.

“A sit down then. Come on, I’ll show you the cantina.”

“I’m supposed to be going to the Force Enclave.” She managed shyly, and he waved a dismissive hand.

She stared. Those gauntlets had claws on them.

“Oh, they can complain if they want.” He grinned, leading the way, and apparently expecting her to follow. “You need a drink.”

Fia cringed.

“I don’t- uh, I can’t really have-“

“Booze? Fair enough. I think they have Xambu juice in this week.”

What in the name of all the stars was Xambu juice?

She followed along meekly, half expecting the Sith to turn and go for her throat.

“I’m Ven’fir, by the way.” He introduced as he led her into a corridor with more people. The air was more relaxed here, and she could hear music getting louder as they approached, as well as the sound of talking and clinking glasses. “You’re one of the new recruits, yeah?”

She nodded, trying to keep pace with his long strides.

“Yes. I’m Fia. Uh, Knight Fia.” She corrected with an awkward smile.

He grinned at her again, and she was struck by how not-menacing it was.

“Not used to the rank yet?” he asked pleasantly, leading her into a cantina. It was a huge space, the craggy rock ceiling giving it a rather unique atmosphere. It was fairly quiet at this hour, but there were still enough people to give the place a low buzz of sound.

She shook her head.

“It’s been two years.” She admitted. “But I’m still not used to it.”

“I know the feeling.” He replied vaguely, and she wondered what he meant.

He rattled of an order to the serving droid and handed her one of the glasses that it returned with. The liquid inside was clear, but too thick to be water. It had a pretty iridescence when it caught the light, and a bright pink fruit on the side of the glass.

The Sith was drinking the same thing.

He led her to a table and settled down, clearly expecting her to join him.

He raised a glass to someone who waved at him, shooting them a grin and wink.

Fia was feeling quite overwhelmed. She took a drink of her strange beverage and found it to be deliriously sweet. It was pleasant and fizzed on her tongue as she tasted it.

“Why are you being nice to me?” she blurted, sitting awkwardly in her chair.

She Sith blinked in surprise, glass halfway to his mouth.

He took a drink, swallowed it, and shrugged.

“Why not?” he asked, “What good would being cruel to you do me?”

Fia wasn’t sure how to answer that without offending him.

He noticed her reluctance to speak, and a knowing look crossed his face.

“It’s because I’m Sith, isn’t it?” he said, taking another drink. “You thought I would go out of my way to torment a Jedi.”

She cringed, her cheeks heating up. She wrung her hands in her lap.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.” She assured. “That was really rude of me.”

He gave a little smile.

“It’s alright, I understand why you’d be nervous. We were on opposite sides not too long ago, after all.” He reassured. “Every Sith here is here because they want to be, same as every Jedi. They’re not all saints, but they’re Alliance.” He said firmly. “And that means they’ve chosen to leave everything they’ve ever known just to be here, just like you.”

She swallowed painfully, nodding.

“Yeah, I- I know. I’m just being stupid. I do that a lot.” She offered him a smile and was relieved when she got one back.

“Oh, there’s plenty of stupidity here.” He laughed, and the sound was loud and restrained. “Mostly from me, or so my advisors tell me.”

She frowned.

“Advisors?”

Important people had advisors.

He glanced at her, sly.

“Yeah. I was a bit… less than completely honest when I introduced myself earlier.” He admitted with a sheepish grin. “The name’s Ven’fir Quinn, Darth Venator and Alliance Commander. Nice to meet you.”

Fia stared at him in horror as he offered her his hand to shake, clawed gauntlet and all.

Unable to keep a straight face, Ven’fir couldn’t help but laugh.

His laugh was loud and infectious, and soon she found herself giggling too.

The knot of nerves in her belly untangled itself and melted away, and finally she felt like she was safe.

[starl1ght-child]

Folie à Deux II

Part 2 of the Paramour Series [Read Part 1 on AO3] Chapter 2 : Ikhnaie [WC : 2.4K]

perma tag list : @mail-me-a-snail @speed-boop @shins-wife @eeviethree @squadnos

Rose didn’t stay in her Tower apartment for long.  After her first few patrols, she found that she was more comfortable out in the wilds than she was in the Last City or at the Tower.  She built herself a home base underneath the protection of a cluster of willow trees.  The hanging branches provided her coverage from prying eyes.  She kept a bedroll in the corner and installed a small kitchen so she could cook for herself whenever she was home.  The cabin was like a small greenery.  She set up an irrigation system so that the plants she cared for didn’t die while she was on patrols and some UV lights and heat lamps so they could thrive in Old Russia’s cold climate.  She raised a small herb and vegetable garden, along with some sunflowers, roses, and lilies.

She would come to the Tower weekly for supplies, but otherwise, she stayed out in the thick forests that stretched an entire region of the Cosmodrome.  During one of her trips into town, she found a vendor that sold custom class armor for Guardians, made out of incredibly strong but lightweight metal or fabric.

She bought a cloak from him, the first of many.  But it was her favorite.  It wasn’t heavy and didn’t weigh her down, but it kept her warm and it moved behind her like a flag in the wind.  The cloak was the color of sunflowers, the design that started at the top of it was intricate, almost resembling the outline of the bloom, with petals that drifted down the length of it.  Those designs were what drew her attention in the first place.  The top was held secure on her shoulders by sturdy metal plating that clipped onto her breastplate.  The hood was wide and loose, and it covered her head before it pooled on her shoulders.  Oftentimes when she was tracking down a bounty, her Ghost would tuck herself into her hood and rest in the crook of her neck.

After a couple of months of successful patrols, Cayde offered her a chance to officially join his scout network.  She was an excellent tracker and with Fallen and Hive constantly encroaching on their borders and Guardians disappearing, he needed her to start tracking down Guardians who were missing in action.  Rose took the position gladly.  

And she was good at it, too.  Rose was good at finding people who were abducted, lost, or just didn’t want to be found.  She always got there just in time, Arc Light dancing around her body, cloak flying behind her like a pair of wings.

People had started calling her Ikhnaie.

Rose was supposed to operate a search and rescue on a Guardian whose final transmission was a panicked request for backup.  They were investigating a Hive nest somewhere deep in the Cosmodrome, preparing it for a strike team when something went wrong.  The Hunter’s comms had been dead ever since. 

Rose got the briefing almost immediately and headed out into the wilderness to find the missing Guardian.  It was the Vanguard’s hope that they could find the missing Hunter quickly and bring them in, securing what intel they had managed to find.  They gave her the coordinates of the Guardian’s transmission, but it was only a starting point.  She would have to follow any trail of them from there.

She left by midday, armed with a hand cannon and a shotgun, a few flares in her pack, and a long, sturdy rope slung across her chest, and rode fast on her sparrow towards their last known location.  She arrived by nightfall at the entrance of a cave somewhere deep in the mountains of Old Russia.  She hopped off her sparrow as it transmatted away.

“Iris, show me those coords again,” she said as she crouched down at the mouth of the cave.  It was dark and seemed to go on forever.  The light that her Ghost emitted didn’t give her much more work with, either.  The coordinates popped up behind the face of her helmet and she glanced at them briefly.  Compared to their current location… that Guardian was somewhere in the depths of this cave.  There was almost a kilometre between her current location and their last known.  Rose sighed, checked her ammo reserves, and placed a hand over her breastplate as she stood, slender fingers covering Alpha Lupi’s crest.  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.”

Her first steps into the cave were determined.  At first, there was nothing, everything seemed like it was normal.  She followed the Guardian’s footprints that were just barely recognizable in the dirt.  When she reached the halfway point to the transmission’s location, Hive corruption started to fester and cling to the walls of the cave system.  Rose hated the way it seemed to move and breathe as you went by.

Rose’s footfalls became quiet and cautious the deeper she went in, the closer that she got to the missing Guardian.  She was right on top of their last known coordinates, they were just below her.  Down a dark hole that seemed to lead to nowhere.  She reached into the small pack on her hip and pulled out a flare, ignited it, and dropped it down.  As it fell, she counted the seconds before it hit the ground below.

Five long, quiet seconds before the distinct thunk as it hit the bottom.

“Iris,” she whispered.  “Be ready to light my spark in case this hurts more than I think it’s going to.”

“Why?”  The Ghost sounded so worried as Rose stood up, pulled off the long rope that was slung across her chest, and tied one end around a sturdy rock.  “Are you insane?”

“Only way to find that Guardian is to go down.  And that’s a long fall.”  Rose tossed the rope down the hole then cracked her knuckles and did a few side lunges to stretch her legs.

“Why don’t you just climb down like a sensible human?”

“Iris, we are running out of time.  Stand-by for resurrection.  Just in case.”  Before her Ghost could continue to try and argue, Rose jumped down the hole.  She hit the bottom hard and tucked herself inward, rolling to the side to try and break the fall.  She moaned in pain from the impact.  She felt like she had shattered her ankles, but she could stand up just fine.  Rose walked over to the rope that was dangling behind her and gave it a firm tug, satisfied that it didn’t come loose.  

Iris appeared by her side.  “You’re an idiot,” the Ghost sighed.

“I dunno, I think I stuck that landing pretty well,”  Rose laughed quietly.  “Now focus.  That Guardian has to be around here somewhere…”

The hole they fell down led into a completely new area of the cave system, this chamber was wide open and damp, but there was more Hive corruption here than what she’d seen above her.  The Hunter cloaked herself and turned invisible as she scoured the room for that Guardian and looked for any other offshoots of the cave that they could have gone to hide in.

Rose felt her stomach lurch when she found their corpse, bloody and mangled by the Hive that likely overwhelmed them.  Their Ghost was in their hand, dead as well, drained of its Light.  Her invisibility faded as she crouched down beside their body as her Ghost hovered over and examined them.  There was a pile of empty magazines on the ground.  They spent every last bullet trying to survive.  Rose closed her eyes.

“COD was a single GSW, just underneath the thoracic cavity.”  

“A gunshot wound?”  Rose was astounded by that conclusion.  She looked over at the wound; it was torn around the edges.  She’d never seen any bullet make a hole in someone like this before.  It completely ripped through the flesh with a strange, jagged edge that curled around the outside of it.  “Are you sure?  What kind of gun are we talking about, Iris?”

“I don’t know… It’s not like any wound I’ve seen before.  Guardian… look at this…”

Iris’s light flicked over to their hand.  The Hunter shifted closer and tilted her head with curiosity.  A single, black petaled rose was perfectly tucked in their hand underneath the dead Ghost, clutched in their fingers.  Rose reached over and gently picked up their Ghost, then picked up the bloom just as carefully.  She examined the petals underneath the light from her Ghost.  They were black like the midnight sky and fragile, and dipped in the victim’s blood.

She felt sick to her stomach, but she didn’t know if it was from the smell of the Guardian’s corpse, or if she felt sick from the blood that dripped from the rose onto her fingers.  She closed her eyes and pressed the back of her hand against her helmet, as if she was covering her mouth, and swallowed down the bile that rose to the back of her throat. 

Out of nowhere, a low chittering.  Her head shot up and she stood, rose and the deceased’s Ghost in her hands.   She recognized that low rattle, it sounded like teeth grinding and chattering with a low groan that hissed through the silence.  The Hive were coming, and they could smell her Light.

“Iris, to me,” she said as she started to walk away from the corpse.  She tucked the Ghost and the rose into the pack on her hip.  “We need to get out of here.”  Her Ghost flew over to her quickly and disappeared.  Rose ran over to the dangling rope, jumped into the air and grabbed hold as the chatter grew louder and screams started to echo through the chamber.  She climbed up the rope and pulled herself up, her feet caught the sides of the hole to give herself some leverage.  She pulled herself over the ledge and started to run, her footfalls echoing off the stone walls.  The chittering started to grow louder and louder as Thrall filled the cave behind her.

“C’mon, Rose,”  she muttered to herself as the Thrall started to catch up.  “C’mon.”  Arc Light started to dance around her body, it spread up her arms and her legs as two blades formed in her hands.  Her speed hastened and she cut through any and all Hive that got in her way.  Black blood from their bodies splattered her armor and cloak.  As she neared the cave’s entrance and the light of day started to illuminate the tunnel, the Thrall started to back off.  It was just after dawn when she stepped into the light.

Her legs were sore from sprinting for so long, her pulse was thumping hard in her carotid and sweat slipped down her spine.  She summoned her sparrow and sat down on it to rest, pressed her fingers on the release for her helmet, and air hissed as the pressure released.  She pulled the helmet off and placed it on the hood of her sparrow.  Rose leaned back on the seat, trying to get her breathing under control.

“You alright, Guardian?”  Iris asked as she materialized out of thin air.  “You’re blood pressure is really high.”

Rose turned towards her Ghost and narrowed her eyes.  “Oh, yeah, I’m fine, I just climbed out a hole and ran for my life from a horde of Thrall, no biggie.”  Her eyes rolled as she reached into her pack and pulled out the dead Ghost.  She grimaced at the sight of it, now that she was in some better lighting.  It’s shell was all beaten up and it’s Light was gone.  “I need to notify the Vanguard that their scout was murdered,” she sighed.  She slid the Ghost back into the safety of her satchel then slid her helmet back on her head.  “C’mon.  Let’s head to the Tower.”  She leaned forward, grabbed the controls of her sparrow, and punched the throttle.  After a wide turn around through the trees, she headed off for the Last City.

She gave the report when she arrived.  Every gruesome detail.  She placed Ghost on the table.  Hopefully the Vanguard could get any of the information they needed, but Rose advised against sending a strike team down there.  Their numbers down in that cavern were astounding.  She blamed herself for not getting there in time.  Maybe if she had been faster, she could have saved them before they ran out of bullets.

When she told them about the rose, she saw all of their shoulders tense up.  Ikora was the first one to turn to her.

“Rose…”  The Warlock Vanguard sighed.  “There was nothing you could do.  They were likely dead before we even assigned you the extraction.”

“Who did this?”  Rose asked, her voice was tense with frustration.  Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides.  “You say that like you know who’s responsible for all of these unexplained deaths and disappearances.  Who is doing this to us, Master Rey?”

“We don’t know who they are, Rose,”  Ikora said firmly.  “Nor do we know their motive.  We just know that they are out there, and that they will not stop.  Several of my Hidden are trying to track them down.  Please, do not worry yourself with this.”

Rose’s entire body went rigid as her muscles tensed with anger.  “‘Don’t worry myself with this’?  Are you actually telling me not to worry about someone who is out there, killing guardians for sport?!  Most of the people who have gone missing are scouts, Ikora!  Do you really think that I shouldn’t be worried about it?”

“If you wish to step down from your position, we would—”  Zavala started.

The Hunter slammed her fist on the table.  “Like hell I’m going to step down!”  She snapped.

“Easy there, Rose,” Cayde butt in before she could start cursing out the Vanguard Commander.  He turned to the Titan adjacent to him.  “She’s the best scout I got, Zavala... maybe we could—”

The Titan shook his head.  “Absolutely not.  I won’t put any more of your scouts at risk, Cayde, we can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

“If anyone could find this guy, it’s Ikhnaie!  She earned the name for good reason!”  Cayde exclaimed.  He turned back to Rose.  “If you’re up for the job, of course.  I don’t need to tell you about the risks, you already know them.”

Rose placed her hands flat on the table and looked at the dead Ghost that was between them.  Cayde was right.  She was the only one who was uniquely skilled with tracking.  And she had the rose to go off of.  Evidence that was so uniquely theirs, she could follow similar signs.   Look for patterns in the deaths and disappearances.  But it was dangerous.  Even if she found them, there was no telling if she could get out alive.  She closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath.

“When do I start?”

masterlist

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 17: Dragon Rising (part 1)

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 17: Dragon Rising (part 1) by C_R_Scott Chapters: 17/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Batfamily-centric (DCU), Tim Drake-centric

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary:

Tim and Lucien make it back to Dragonsreach with the intention of dropping off the Dragonstone and then going to the Temple of Kynareth for some well deserved and long overdue rest and recovery... But then again what is it that they say about the best laid plans of mice and men...?

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

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

At the annoyed look Jarl gave him, Tim realized his "Timothy Wayne" mask must have slipped a bit. He slipped his "mask" back on and gave the Jarl an apologetic look. "Forgive me, Jarl Balgruuf," he said, speaking up a little louder than before and motioning vaguely toward the right side of his head. "I took pretty nasty blow back at the Barrow and I'm still can't hear well out of this ear. Can you repeat what you said?"

Balgruuf sighed. He looked at Tim and repeated his last statement, a little louder this time so Tim could "hear". "I want you to go with Irileth and help her fight this dragon!"

***

At first, everything went along as both Tim and Lucien had expected once they left the camp they'd rested in after leaving Bleak Falls Barrow. They spent nearly the entire day walking back to Whiterun, with a brief stop by Riverwood to drop off the Golden Dragon Claw with its original owner. Of course it was well past sunset by the time they entered Dragonsreach, but not so late that the people they needed to speak to were asleep. 

Once inside Dragonsreach, they immediately delivered the Dragonstone to a very pleased court wizard Farengar, who had been speaking with a strange hooded woman before their arrival.

Tim only halfway paid attention to Farengar and his guest. He barely stifled a yawn as he felt a touch on his good arm.

"Finally," Lucien whispered behind Tim with what sounded like a great amount of relief as Farengar was distracted speaking with the woman. "I know it's late, but let's get out of here and to the Temple. If we're lucky, a priest or priestess will still be awake and can take a look at your injuries."

Tim nodded wearily. This most recent journey to Whiterun felt longer and more taxing than his previous travels to and from the city. He knew his body was close to his limit, and he could feel the fever from the night before creeping up again.

Unfortunately, Tim had no luck to speak of that evening as Jarl Balgruuf's guard Irileth stormed into the wizard's room, announcing that a dragon had been sighted nearby.

***

Tim bowed his head to the Jarl, shaking his head slightly. He didn't even bother masking the apologetic disbelief in his tone. "I... I would love to help. I really would. But--"

Jarl pointed at Tim. "You survived Helgen, so you have more experience with dragons than anyone else here."

"More experience? Is that what we're calling it now?" Tim echoed under his breath as he found himself unwillingly reliving memories of the disaster at Helgen and his first-hand trauma due to the flames of that black dragon. He wanted to snap at the Jarl, to tell him that he was an idiot and he was not going to go anywhere near any more dragons. He wanted to storm out of Dragonsreach and put as much distance between himself and this castle as he could. 

Instead...

"I... I'll do what I can, Jarl Balgruuf," Tim muttered in a defeated, obedient tone with his gaze lowered before turning on his heel and walking down the stairs as quickly and politely as he could towards the doors that would take him back into the city of Whiterun proper. 

***

"Timothy! Wait! Tim! Stop!" 

Once outside Dragonsreach, Tim didn't stop walking until finally, at the base of the large tree in the courtyard of the upper district of Whiterun. Lucien caught up with him and forced himself directly between Tim and the path leading down another flight of stairs to the marketplace. Lucien seemed a bit winded, as he'd had to dash to catch up to the young man before he got completely out of reach. 

"What do you think you're doing?!" Lucien demanded after he caught his breath enough to speak. 

"Please Lucien... Just get out of the way. I have to catch up with Irileth."

"Why?! You are in no condition to face down a rabid skeever, let alone a full blow fire-breathing dragon!"

"The Jarl asked--"

"The Jarl is an idiot!" 

Tim looked at Lucien with a startled expression. 

Lucien appeared absolutely beside himself with frustration as he continued on his rant. "Just because you survived the dragon at Helgen doesn't mean you have anything significant to contribute to a fight against it now that's reared its ugly face again. Clearly you are not fire-proof, and you are in no way armed or armored enough to face down a monster of that magnitude, ESPECIALLY after everything you went through in Helgen and in the Barrow and after an entire day's travel on foot from the wilds of the hold all the way to the city! 

"Besides, anyone with eyes can see you're not well! Even Irileth gave you a look before she went out to gather the rest of her soldiers after the Jarl made his ludicrous demand!" Lucien took a moment to pause and catch his breath again. When he spoke, it was with a more even tone. "If the Jarl wants extra bodies and blades to throw against that beast, he's got a whole boatload of Companions waiting right there who would be more than happy to add dragon-slaying to their list of accomplishments." Lucien threw an arm at the nearby mead hall of the Companions' guild made from what looked like an overturned viking longboat. "All he has to do is walk down the damned hill or send a messenger if he's too lazy for even that."

Lucien gave him a pleading look. "Timothy... You're not even a citizen of his Hold. You're just... passing through... and you owe Balgruuf no allegience."

Tim wavered. If he was healthy, if he wasn't sick, if he had his Red Robin gear, he knew he could help the soldiers of Whiterun fight this dragon and win. It was what he did as a Titan. It was how he was raised as a Bat. But he was sick and injured and if he tried to fight in this state, he could very well find himself dead, or responsible for the death of others.

Lucien could see the conflict warring on Tim's face. It confused him. Why would anyone suffering as much as he was right now with illness and injury want to continue fighting when the should be resting and healing? 

"You don't have to follow the Jarl's orders," Lucien said gently. "It's not like you're a soldier and he's your comman--"

The scholar's eyes widened as he had a flash of insight. He immediately thought of Tim's skillful fighting style both with his quarterstaff and bare hands as they went through the Barrow. He remembered the young man's strategizing as they came upon bandits and traps and draugr. He recalled in his mind's eye not just the burns on his arm and back, but also an odd collection of other far older battle scars peppered across his torso and limbs. He gazed at Tim as if seeing another part of him for the first time. 

"Wait. You ARE a soldier... of some sort... aren't you?"

Tim nodded reluctantly. "In my homeland, I-- well my entire adopted family really-- we're..." He trailed off a bit as he tried to figure out the best words to give to Lucien. "... peacekeepers for our city. For Gotham." He raked his hand through his hair. "It was our mission to protect the citizens from threats both inside the city and beyond. The mission... always comes first."

Lucien sighed. "Well that explains a bit," he murmured with a small groan. "The way I see it, Timothy, you have two choices before you right now. One... You can disregard the Jarl's order entirely. You're not his citizen or his soldier. You've gone above and beyond already getting that Dragonstone for him. He technically owes you a favor, not the other way around. We can either go right now to the Temple over there so you can start the healing process, or we can just leave Whiterun altogether. I'll pay the carriage driver whatever he wants to leave tonight for Solitude. It may take a couple of days, but at least this way there's no risk of being dragged into any more of the Jarl's nonsense. We'll either find another priest in another town along the way, or we can go straight to the Temple of the Divines in Solitude once we get there."

"And the other choice?"

"The other choice is..." And Lucien returned his pleading look to Tim as he continued reluctantly "... you continue after Irileth and complete the Jarl's ridiculous unreasonable request. You do your best to assist against the dragon, but knowing you're likely to get yourself hurt even worse or killed in the process."

Tim stood for a long moment in silence. He looked to the doors of the Temple of Kynareth with a longing expression, and for a moment Lucien was hopeful that the young man would choose the path of self-preservation. 

Then Tim bowed his head solemnly.

"I'm sorry, Lucien," he whispered as he turned away from the Temple and walked around the scholar to go down the stairs leading toward the marketplace and the path leading out of Whiterun. "If there's some way for me to help Irileth and the soldiers, I have to at least try. If I don't at least try, I don't think I could live with myself." 

He did pause and looked up at Lucien from the bottom of the stairs with sad, apologetic smile that frankly broke the poor scholar's heart. "Thank you for worrying about me, though, and taking care of me the past couple of days.  I... really appreciate all you've done. You're a good man, Lucien Flavius. I'm lucky to have met you." Then Tim gave him a half-hearted farewell wave and continued on the path to catch up with Irileth and her soldiers, leaving Lucien behind.

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

Warning: This is being pantsed more than plotted, and this is not beta read. We'll see where this journey takes us. Mostly I'm just doing this for my own amusement.

Note1: If you have any questions about the playthrough and Tim's feelings/experiences that aren't described in the chapters, please ask me in the comments. I'll do my best to answer your questions as best I can.

Note2:

And so we start the "Dragon Rising" questline of the main story arc of Skyrim. Lucien gets more insight into Tim's character as a person as his disdain for the Jarl of Whiterun grows.

Honestly, even in previous playthroughs of Skyrim, it always struck me as kinda stupid that the Jarl would ask our Dragonborn to go help Irileth fight the dragon at the watchtower before even considering reaching out to the Companions that are right down the street from him. Balgruuf, as a character, never struck me as especially bright either in matters of politics, war, or governing. Clearly the ones managing to hold Whiterun Hold together are Irileth and Proventus.

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#batfam fanfic#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#afewnovelideas

[fire-the-headcanons]

Follow the Beacon Qrow—An Extension of Ourselves

[Link to Masterpost]

[Sh*t, meet Fan. Fan, this is Sh*t.]

[tw for mortal terror and panic attack]

The cafeteria was a little creepy with so few people in it—maybe the echo was more pronounced or something. Qrow ate quickly, eager to leave and get back to work, and a few minutes later he walked back out of the warm dining hall into the freezing courtyard.

The crowd around the tower had grown in the past few minutes, and Ozpin had joined it. Lionheart, Mesánychta, and Carmine stood with three other Huntsmen he didn't recognize, and one he sort of did. Qrow's steps faltered as he squinted at the man, trying to place him. Was he in one of Summer's comics? The scale mail and battleaxe were familiar somehow... He seemed to sense he was being watched, his gaze wandering over the courtyard until he met Qrow's eye.

Recognition struck like lightning, searing through every nerve but lingering in his shoulder.

You're a child.

Last time he saw that face, it was filled with horror and fear. The Mistrali Huntsman, the axe-wielder that had been hunting Bones.

The one that got away.

The one he nearly killed.

Frowning, the man tilted his head. Qrow turned and pelted blindly down the nearest alley. His sword— both of his swords—weren't even waiting to be summoned in his weapons locker, they were sitting on the workbench in the forge.

A few people called out after him as he tore past and he ignored them, sprinting for the student entrance. Nobody would be using it during the break—the dockside door was more convenient. Right now he just needed to disappear.

Sure enough, the classroom was empty. He barely slowed to weave through the workbenches to the back of the room where the Mk. I lay next to Beak's partially-assembled frame. He just had to grab the sword, get to Raven, gather their things and—

Pain seared down his arm, locking his hand on the sword's hilt. He had to run or they would die. Had to—to—

He couldn't move. The only place Raven could take them was home and he couldn't move.

They could run. Make in on their own. Vale would be too small to hide in but if they could just get to Mantle or Vacuo—

—but they had almost no money left, Vanta only gave them enough for a one-way trip. And if Huntsmen were looking for them, they'd need a smuggler's help and that would cost even more.

Vacuo, then. They'd trekked halfway across Anima to get to Beacon. If they had to make it through the Sanus mountains then that's what they'd do.

Except it was the dead of winter, now, and completely unfamiliar territory. They had no supplies and no time to prepare—they'd freeze or starve before the Grimm even had a chance to wear them down. Raven would give up and take them home to the tribe, already sick and exhausted.

But she would never even run in the first place, would she? Raven missed them. She wanted to go back. As soon as he told her he'd been recognized there'd be no persuading her into anything else. Even if he tried to run on his own, she would just grab him—

Panic clawed at his lungs. Each useless, gasping breath shot pain through his chest and down his arm. He was going to die. There was no way out, nowhere else to go. Nothing had changed. Bones was dead and his Semblance was still out of control. If he went back they'd only kill him again—and Raven, too, for helping him—

He wanted to scream, needed to, but there was no air.

He couldn't.

He couldn't go back.

... Nothing the Huntsmen could do to him would be worse. They wouldn't even hurt him if he lowered his aura when they asked him to—then one shot and it would be over. They'd probably bury him. The tribe would never be so kind. Bones had led them for decades, protected them, and they left him in the street as soon as he was gone.

Qrow's hand trembled, rattling the sword against the wood as he lowered it back onto the workbench. Raven… she'd escape, easily, and they'd welcome her back if she came alone. The tribe only hated her because she stuck up for him. It was his fault that they'd ever left home in the first place.

The classroom door creaked open, the racket from the forge outside jumping in volume and sending a painful shiver through Qrow's chest.

"Sorry the meeting ran long," Carmine said, cheerfully, tossing her coat onto the shortest hook. "It's been a hell of a week, I can tell you—" she froze as she met his eye, the smile sliding uncertainly from her face. "...Qrow...? Are… are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He could barely get the words out with so little air, and his voice squeaked and cracked. Where was the Mistrali Huntsman?

"You…" her expression grew pained. "Slow down, okay? Slow breaths. You look sick."

Qrow fought to control his breathing. She'd been standing next to him in the courtyard. If… if she really didn't know… then he must not have recognized him. He could have just been wondering what a student was doing at the school on vacation, or staring at the half-assed dye job—hell, Qrow had stared at him first, that was reason enough—

His hair.

He was clean-shaven, wearing Huntsman armor, half a world away from that burned-out village and Summer had dyed his hair. The man hadn't recognized him.

Summer had saved his life, maybe Raven's too, and she could never even know.

"Qrow, do you know why Huntsmen and Huntresses forge their own weapons?" Carmine asked, climbing onto the stool next to him and making no move to pick up any of the tools on the bench. He shook his head, and she continued. "I forget sometimes that you never went to combat school… When you make something, when you give it time and energy, you put a little tiny bit of your aura in it too. I could build this much more quickly alone—easily—but then it wouldn't have any of you in it."

Relax. Just relax. If they really didn't know, the panic could give him away. Play along. "What—what does that do?"

"You can wield your aura more easily through something that already contains a piece of you, whether you're channeling a Semblance or just your will to protect and survive. Didn't you notice a difference between the gunblade and the Mk. I?"

"It was a little easier to use. I-I thought it was just the modifications we made." Gods, he was welcome for the distraction.

"Oh, that certainly didn't hurt!" Carmine smiled. "But experience has told us that Huntsmen and Huntresses master their weapons more quickly, and more strongly project their auras through them when given a hand in their creation."

"So…Raven doesn't have that."

"Eventually, she will, but it takes years of care and use for your aura to build up in the same way on an ordinary object. The modification she made to the sheath doesn't hurt."

It made sense, but... "How do we know all of this?"

"Well, I know from experience," Carmine chuckled, sliding down off her stool and walking over to her personal workbench before seizing a twisted pair of pliers. "My Semblance is a little unusual. If an object has enough aura inside it—if it's handmade, or well-loved—I can guide it back to its proper shape."

Her hands glowed orange, and the pliers slowly righted themselves, straightening as the bolt tightened and rust disappeared. When her aura faded they clearly weren't new, but scratched and dinged in a comfortably broken-in way. "Saves the school a fortune on repairs! But it wouldn't work on a new one. The things have to know what they're supposed to be."

She pressed the tool into his hands, and he turned it over a few times. There was no sign it had ever been damaged. "That's amazing."

"I see a lot of you in this design," the Professor hummed, looking down at the frame. "You may have started out with just a sword, but with hard work and a stubborn streak that can rival even your team leader's, look what it's turning into." She patted his arm almost affectionately. "Do you want to keep working or do you need some time to rest?"

"I want to keep going."

Carmine grinned from ear to ear. "Like I said. Stubborn!"

[I have been waiting for this chapter for over a year.]

Next Chapter: Summer—Frantic Calls

[marshmallowbee13]

Love Like Yours Fest 2020

Ch 6: Nothing Can Harm You

Lucio was furious. Not just that his miracle healer had up and left without so much as a word, but that Nadia had gone on a vacation without him! In retaliation, Lucio kept Ramona annoyingly close. Every meeting, every public appearance, every meal, Ramona was ordered to be at his side. The only time she got alone time with Asra was when they slept.

So, of course Ramona was ordered to accompany him when he visited the Colosseum.

Lucio was all about appearances. So this is why he made a point to dress Ramona like his own personal doll. She wore a silk dress of sparkling crimson with glittering gold jewelry. She was dressed like some foreign mystic seen in adventure books, the resplendence rivaling Nadia. Nadia was there, only to keep Ramona safe, in case Lucio or the courtiers tried anything.

Ramona bristled at the energy the Colosseum gave off. The first time she'd been there to heal Muriel, she had been slightly panicked and didn't give the place's vibes any thought. The bloodlust, the tragedy... It was a terrible aura that made Ramona feel sick to her stomach. It sickened her, how anyone could find all this violence anything close to entertainment. They were sat in the Count's box, Ramona and Nadia to his right, Valerius and Vulgora to his left. Lucio stood to give a speech and hype the audience up for the "show".

Ramona felt the roiling ocean of dread in her stomach become absolutely tempestuous. Muriel had won every fight so far and for this, all of Vesuvia wanted him dead. She wished she could silence them. Muriel wasn't some cold-hearted killer like Lucio was portraying him as. He was quiet and sweet and though he kept to himself, he was always kind to her.

That was Muriel, not the monster Lucio was making him out to be.

The man entered the ring to the sound of boos and jeers. Ramona had never seen him in his full costume. Between the curtain of dark hair, the black leather armor, the blood red loincloth, and the bear pelt on his back, Muriel definitely looked the part of a villain. Despite the costume, Ramona could tell how uncomfortable Muriel was. He always hated crowds. This must be a living nightmare for him.

The first opponent stepped out to the sound of cheers. The stress was too much. Ramona ran. Out of the box, down the stone corridors, and towards the exit of the Colosseum. She couldn't bear to watch her friend get hurt. If he got hurt, she couldn't heal him. Lucio made sure of that by making her heal himself that morning. Before Ramona could leave the building, she was violently slammed into the wall. A golden hand held her by the throat against the cold stone. She whimpered, trying desperately to loosen his grip on her.

"Are you trying to make me look like a fool? I am your Count! You do NOT walk out on me! You're lucky I value your powers or I wouldn't have hesitated to throw you into the ring with the Scourge. Go back to your seat, magician. You leave when I do." Lucio let go and Ramona sucked in a breath. She felt his icy gaze on her every step of the way back to her seat. Nadia gave her a questioning look, but Ramona avoided eye contact. She sat still and quiet, gaze focused on her lap.

The battles went on. One by one, Muriel fought for his life against other opponents. He won everytime, but the victories were bittersweet. He survived another day, but bloodied his hands with another death. Ramona couldn't imagine what he was feeling right now. Muriel swung his axe down on the last opponent and glanced up to the box, a look on his face begging for it to be done already. The look broke Ramona's heart. She wanted to do something. But what?

When the Count's entourage returned to the palace, Ramona excused herself and searched for Asra. She followed his magic signature to the library, where she found Asra napping while Julian rambled on about something. Sensing her presence, Asra opened his eyes in time to catch her as she launched herself into his arms. She was trembling, and her aura felt unbalanced. She buried her face into his neck, just breathing in his familiar scent.

"What happened, Sweetheart?" Asra asked. He pulled her back to look at her face when he noticed the darkening marks around her neck. Ramona had never seen Asra angry until now. "Did Lucio do this?!" Julian, who had been watching their reunion from his desk, stood and quickly made his way over to them.

"Let me take a look." He asked her questions, making sure there was no damage to anything internal.

"I'm fine." Ramona said.

"Is Muriel-?" Asra knew where she had gone and now he wished he'd gone with her, if only to protect her.

"He's... alive." Ramona answered.

"That's... That's good." Asra breathed a sigh of relief. He hated seeing his friend in that horrible place. If only there was something he could do...

"I'm breaking him out of there." Ramona said.

"What?!" Both Asra and Julian stared at her in surprise.

"It's not right that he's in there. Every day he risks getting hurt, or worse. Lucio has had a grip on all of us for too long. I want to go back home. I want to be with you without fearing for our safety, for Muriel's safety. I'm going to break him out."

"Who is breaking out whom?" Ramona hadn't noticed Nadia had joined them in the library. "I came to see if you were alright. When you returned to the box, you seemed... Oh, my." Up close, Nadia saw the bruising Lucio had left around the magician's neck.

"Nadia, I... "

"Did Lucio do this?"

"Yes." Asra answered, still upset. He removed his gold choker and placed it around Ramona's neck. It covered most of the bruising, which made him feel a little better. Besides, Ramona looked good in it. Perhaps he should get her one? Asra pressed a kiss to her cheek and held her close both for his comfort and hers.

"I'm fine, really. It's a little sore, but I'm fine. But... The man we watched today... The "Scourge"... He's a good friend of ours. He's a good man, not the monster Lucio makes him look like. He doesn't deserve to fight for his life like that."

"And you want to set him free." Nadia smiled. "You have a good heart, Ramona. How can I help?"

"The Countess involved in a heist?!" Julian grinned. "Absolutely scandalous! Count me in, too."

...

A cloaked figure moved through the shadows of the city, unnoticed by anyone still in the streets and patrolling guards. They made their way towards the circular structure in the center of the city, that dreaded Colosseum. A sneaky spell placed upon them made it all too easy to walk right inside without alarm from the guards.

Down below, Muriel sat in his cell, still shaken from his fight earlier. Too many dark thoughts swirled in his head.

Not your fault. Muriel heard the voice in his head. It came from his mind, and yet, at the same time, from the cell beside his. From Inanna. She'd been speaking to him for the last few days. They had brought her here to halfway starve her until she was vicious enough to send into the ring. Against him. But she was kind to him. She always had kind words, despite their inevitable fate.

"But it is. The man I killed... he had a family..." Muriel started, but an odd sound shook him out of his misery.

Someone's coming. Muriel's gut clenched. Who was it? Lucio? The family of one of his victims looking for revenge? He wouldn't blame them. He wouldn't fight them.

The door to his cell creaked open and there in the doorway stood a short, cloaked figure.

"Who are you?" Muriel asked. The figure pulled back their hood and Muriel's eyes widened.

"Ramona?"

"Hi, Muriel!"

"What are you doing here? Where's Asra?"

"I'm busting you outta here. Asra's making sure the coast is clear. Come on! Before the guards wake up!"

"I can't." Muriel said, showing her the chains that bound him to his cell. She approached him and tugged the chains. "You can't break them. I've already tried-" Ramona tugged harder, straining from the exertion. Muriel opened his mouth to dissuade her when a glowing crack formed in a chain link. And another. And another. In a shower of sparks, most of the length of chains that had kept him in place disintegrated. He was free. He stared at Ramona in shock.

"Don't just stand there! We don't have much time!" Muriel snapped out of his shock with a shake of his head.

"Not without Inanna." Muriel wasted no time, breaking down the door to the cell beside his. Ramona had expected another person, but what she found instead was an enormous black wolf. Ramona was surprised, but Muriel seemed to trust her.

"It's nice to meet you, Inanna." Ramona smiled. The wolf looked at her wearily, huffing in return. "Come on."

They met Asra at the entrance. Asra gave a relieved smile at the sight of his friend.

"Muri."

"Asra."

"I'm sorry this happened to you. I thought by taking that job, you'd be spared any trouble. But Lucio played us both. I'm sick of seeing everyone I love get hurt by him." Muriel glanced at Ramona and only just noticed she was wearing Asra's choker... and the bruises it barely covered. Lucio hurt her, too. Muriel frowned.

"Then let's get a move on. We have very little time." Ramona said. She and Asra held hands, combining their magic to place a cloaking spell over all of them. As the magic settled over their skin, Muriel noted it felt much like standing in the rain on a summer day.

Asra led them out to the streets where a plain black carriage was waiting for them. Sitting in the driver's seat was Julian, "disguised" in a god awful blonde wig. Asra took a spot next to him in the front, while Muriel, Inanna, and Ramona squeezed into the carriage itself. They quickly took off as fast as they could safely go without launching themselves into a canal. Muriel watched Ramona, trying to figure her out while she was distracted with Inanna.

"Awww, such a pretty girl!" Ramona praised, scratching behind Inanna's ears. Inanna's tail thumped happily against Muriel's leg.

"She's a wolf." Muriel said. "Not a puppy."

"If she were dangerous, she wouldn't be following you." Ramona replied.

"You saw me in the ring. I have blood on my hands." Muriel said.

"I did see. I saw how uncomfortable you were. I know for a fact you weren't there for fun. Or else you wouldn't have had those chains." They both glance at the chainless shackles still around his wrists.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, until they made it to the edge of the forest. Julian stayed behind with the getaway carriage while Asra and Ramona walked with Muriel through the woods. Asra held a lantern, seeing as they both used up a lot of magic that night and neither had the energy to conjure up a light on their own. Inanna ran circles around them, sniffing everything and enjoying her freedom for the first time in who knows how long. Finally, they made it to the hut in the woods.

"Welcome home." Ramona commented. The weight of everything finally caught up to Muriel. His lip trembled and tears welled up in his eyes. He was free! He was home! He fell to his knees, sobbing. Asra and Ramona were right at his side, doing their best to soothe him.

"It's been quite the change, huh? Let's get you inside, okay?" Ramona suggested. Muriel nodded and stepped through the door. From the light of the lantern, Muriel could see that the place had been cleaned up. Or at least as clean as it could be. Ramona got to work lighting a fire in the fireplace.

"So the cabinets are stocked with enough food for a couple weeks, there's some other supplies in that chest in the corner and a new change of clothes on the bed. Would you like me to step out while you get more comfortable?" Ramona asked. Muriel glanced out at the darkness thought the window. He shook his head.

"Just... turn around."

"I'll fix a little something for you to eat." Ramona turned from him and busied herself at the corner that served as a kitchen. Asra helped Muriel out of the damned costume and into something... normal. It felt good, taking off the black metal armor.

"What do I do with these?" Asra asked, motioning to the costume in his arms.

"Burn 'em." Muriel grumbled. Asra nodded and tossed the load into the fireplace.

Now in fresh clothes, Muriel sat at the table where a sandwich on a plate waited for him.

"Why... Why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice to me?" Muriel asked quietly.

"Why not? You're our friend, Muriel. We care about you. We'll always care for you." Ramona said, dropping a friendly kiss to his temple. Muriel blushed bright red.

"We need to get going." Asra said. "Ilya's waiting for us and we need to be back at the palace to create an alibi so Lucio can't pin this on us."

"You should stay." Muriel said, so quietly, Asra almost didn't catch it. "He won't find you here."

"There are still things we need to do at the palace. But we'll be back in a day or two. And when this is all over, I promise we'll be together. All of us." Asra smiled in that way that was impossible to resist. Muriel nodded and worked on his sandwich.

"We'll see you soon, Muriel." Ramona said before following Asra out.

@lovelikeyoursfest