#she got that metal rod through her foot and like. at that point i knew 'she's powered by hate injuries only matter when they need to matter'

[smallhatlogan]

noo mizu you fucked up this boss run you took too much damage on the way to fight him you can't fight him now mizu you need to go back to the checkpoint and heal it was just the first run where you learn all the traps and enemies it'll be easier next time mizu pls

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Page of Swords

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | three

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You attempt a new skill. Mando attempts to teach you.

Word count: 4.7k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings/tags: gun usage/mentioning throughout, mature language, pining, more dirty thots-ish, angst because why not, does this count as fluff? sure, gun kink if you squint w/o your glasses

Notes: As the reader (you/us) begins to become more familiar with Mando, his perspective starts bleeding in to the narrative, without a blocked off POV. Also, the reader’s past will start weaving (incoherently?) into the story as well. The large italicized chunks denote past tense interactions (which is probably obvious but who knows any more). Cheers x (gif credit: @djarinsgf)

A shot rings out.

Birds explode from the canopy with offended squawks, squalling in a winged flurry to scatter every which way until they recede again into the green, disappearing back into their hiding places. You groan. You thought you’d be better at this.

It’s not that you thought you were some sort of savant, you just didn’t expect to be this bad. Honestly, it’s embarrassing—you’re embarrassingly terrible— like statistically, you should have hit something by now, but you just keep missing—a crowded tree line in front of you, and not a scratch in sight—nary a singed branch nor a bullet holed trunk. It’s almost impressive how poor of a shot you are—and you would be, if you weren’t so damn exasperated with the whole affair. With a frustrated grunt, you throw your hands up, brandishing the weapon haphazardly.

“Careful,” Mando warns slyly, “you could hurt someone with that thing.”

“Yeah, well at least I’d hit something,” you grumble.

The kid had been fussy - almost unbearably so - in the weeks that followed your short stint on Bajic, and your party was itching for some time off the Razor Crest. After his third tantrum in a day, Mando decided to land on some unknown planet you couldn’t even spell to stretch your legs and take a breather.

You had almost sobbed when you saw him drag his menagerie of weaponry over. You knew what this meant, you knew what came next—his weekly, routine buff.

You think he’s doing it on purpose.

Ever since the first time, when you damn near had a conniption ogling him, you swear it’s like he’s doing it just to mess with you. He isn’t—of course he isn’t, rationally you knew that, in fact there was plenty of evidence to the contrary. He’s a Mandalorian—weapons are apart of his religion for kriff’s sake—but Maker does it seem intentional. Premeditated. It’s like you can feel the blistering ray of his gaze on you as he takes his time, roving a leathered hand over the bulge of the shaft—greasing it, stripping it, part by metal part…

It’s all in your head, you told yourself. It’s all in your fucking head and you need to get a grip.

Immediately you sprang into action, busying yourself with anything you could get your stupid, little hands on—in this case, being one of his many blasters.

“I wanna give it a go,” you said.

He let you, surprisingly. He hesitated, at first, his helmet tipping at a disbelieving angle. But he gave in—it took less effort on your part than you’d figured—and Mando conceded. He obliged.

How hard could it be? You thought.

Famous last words.

He’s parked there, settled on a throne of crates pushed flush to the Crest, slouched against the outer hull of the ship as he cleans, from the looks of it, every item in his arsenal—a front row seat to your pathetic endeavor and you’re failing—epically, ridiculously—shot after errant shot.

You line yourself up, scrunching your face in concentration as you bare the blaster in your hands. Maybe this time…

You fire off a round and an animal scampers scared in the thicket. Nothing. Another sublime miss.

You hear a noise come from Mando’s direction, something subtle like a blip of static through his helmet - Maker, he’s laughing at you - and you pivot around to him.

“What,” you ask, although it's less of a question and more of a griping pout. He replies with silence, that fickle language he's mastered to perfection all on his own, his focus pitched down to the bristled rod he’s driving in and out of his rifle, scouring out the residue from the inner barrel. “Ugh, what Mando?” you say, just shy of a whine, one hand slotted on your hip, the other dangling by your side, the pistol foreign and cumbersome in your grasp.

“Didn’t say anything,” he replies with a half shrug, his pauldrons shifting so imperceptibly you almost miss it. You pause, hurling him a look that misses him completely before you heave a frustrated sound.

“Fine, you show me how it’s done then.”

The T of his visor finds you. Its cold and unknowable as he rolls his helmet, tilting it up to you, hands slowing their ministrations to a rest. He’s wears a glare, carved into the steel hollow of the plates—unamused and smoldering—and with it, you feel small; microscopic and withering under his pointed gaze— suddenly too exposed in the open patch of jungled wilderness they’ve landed in and your mouth tweaks, teeth grazing the plush there. You assume he won’t do it. There’s no way he’ll rise to such obvious of a challenge, but he’s sighing—you can see it in the slant of his armor—and marching towards you before you can take it back, drawing closer and closer until Mando’s slated in front of you, expectant and postured and you forget— like the skip of a record, you forget why he’s even there— not a foot before you— and your eyes dance across his helm, flickering back and forth.

“May I?” he nods down to the pistol in your hand and you start - oh, shit - and offer it to him clumsily.

Mando squares off against the untamed green. The air lays hot and sticky around them. There is no trace of wind, no glimmer of breeze, and his cape hangs mute down his back. You’d never seen him fire his weapon. He surrounded himself with them, sure, always had at least two strapped to him at all times— probably even slept with one, you reckon— but you’ve never seen him use one.

With one solid movement, he cranes his arm, taking aim.

Now, you aren’t one to condone violence, but he just looks right doing it; an extension of himself with how natural it is, how innate— an added appendage, born unto him. The pistol looks good in his fist, like it couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else, the orange tips of his glove curling around the hilt, looping over that sensitive release.

He has practiced hands. Methodical. Sturdy. It’s sensual, to watch him like this. Pornographic even— sacrilege in a way. A part of you wants to look away and turn your gaze, grant him privacy as he handles the blaster— delicately, confidently. It’s intimate.

The pistol croons in his palm. She bends, supple and lilting. He knows just where to touch, where to stroke— she does anything he tells her. She melts for him.

Warmth pools in your mouth. Mando pulls the trigger.

He lands an impressive shot onto an impossibly narrow tree trunk nestled further in, and your features contort with amazement. Maybe you want to see it again—like a nosy neighbor peeping in through drawn curtains. Maybe you’re being reckless and smarmy, and maybe you know it. A Mandalorian’s got a gun in his hand and you’re prodding him - brilliant strategy, top marks - but your adrenaline is pumping something fierce and you feel yourself grow bold with each seize of your heart.

“Lucky shot,” you huff.

He pans to you, lolling his head, visor locked onto your face. Without flinching, without gracing you with a remark, he raises his arm and fires— doesn’t even have to kriffing look. The scorch mark sizzles - haughtily, jeering - no more than a few inches away from the first. You nearly choke on the arrogance of it— the lazy, smug performance— like he can’t be bothered with any of it, as if your taunts are all so beneath him.

You have to bite down on your lip to stop it from snaking into a wicked grin.

Mando offers the pistol back to you, flipping it grip-side up in a fancy flourish before striding - strutting - back to his post. You shake your head, a determined set to your jaw and you retake your aim, squinting in the hazy afternoon light, pulling the trigger— and nothing happens.

Again, click. Nothing, click after fruitless click. You make a face, pinching—

“Safety’s on.”

You flush, thanking the Maker that your back is towards him, and switch it down with your thumb. “Right,” you mumble sheepishly, wetting your lip. You align your sights, bracing yourself for the impact—

“It’s your stance.”

Three words.

Three words, the only solace Mando provides before devoutly returning to his work.

You wait for him to elaborate, to edify you— for any manner of sage advice— but the explanation never comes; he leaves you like this, marooned with three fucking words and you have to screw your eyes shut. This man is baffling— maddeningly unhelpful— infuriatingly sparse. It makes you want to howl and rip your hair out— and you whip around violently.

“What about my st-”

Your question comes scampering to a halt, tail between your legs, throat gone dry. Mando has planted himself directly behind you— standing so close you can see your reflection in his beskar, see the blush blurring your cheek under the alien sun.

“What uh, what about my stance?” you ask, mousier now, swallowed up by the sheer size of him so near to you.

“It’s not wide enough.”

You glance down at your feet before looking back up to him. “What do you mean?”

“Turn around,” he says.

You quirk your brow at him before he repeats himself. “Turn around and spread your legs. Hips distance apart.”

Fuck, he has no business sounding like that— like bourbon and smoke and iron tang—but you do as he says. You’re shakier than you want to be— you wish you could be cool and collected but you’re not. You’re anything but, and you’re nervous. Maker, Mando makes you nervous— it’s not just the weapon in your hand, it’s him— setting you off and giving you butterflies like you’re some sort of forlorn schoolgirl. You’re a grown woman, and this is what he’s rendered you to— jittery, molten mush. It’s embarrassing. Fucking mortifying.

You guess it’s the day for it.

He doesn’t touch you, but it hardly matters; you can sense him there all the same, a shadow in your peripheral. He leaves a thick breath of space between your bodies and with your back towards him, you can feel the waves of heat radiate off the bounty hunter, pulsing out out out from him and it’s almost intolerable— as if you’ve flown too close to the sun, waxed wings melting in pearled streaks down your spine.

You scuttle your feet open, parting just outside your hips.

“Arms up,” he says, and you hoist them into position. You’re sure you look as awkward as you feel, if not more, all the angles of your body feeling perfectly wrong and misplaced. “Relax your elbows,” he adds, and you do— you try to, at least.

“Too much. Somewhere in between.”

You try again, strengthening through your triceps and down your forearms.

“Better,” Mando gives. You think you feel him nodding approvingly behind you. “The important-”

Kriff, you panic.

You spin towards him, dropping your form and cutting him off with a humbled, worried look, throwing up barricades and hurdles— landmines for him to dodge. Or step on.

“Wait hey Mando, you don’t- I don’t want to take up your time,” you begin.

“You aren’t.”

“I’m serious, I don’t want to bother you with this.”

“You’re not.”

You blink.

“If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do it right.”

He speaks so plainly, unvarnished and matte— unflinchingly earnest in a way that gives you pause. It leaves no wiggle room for interpretation and you sigh, defeated, shoulders slumping as you haul yourself back around.

“Arms up,” he reiterates, but there’s no malice there; he sounds kind— untroubled. It always surprises you how mild he can be— Mando should be anything but, he’d have every reason to, but he’s calm. Patient. You wonder if he even realizes it, if he even recognizes the tenor of his own voice— how gentle it can be— under the helmet. Despite it.

“Think of your posture as firm, without tensing,” Mando explains. “Soften your knees, don’t lock them— same goes for your arms— don’t stiffen against the recoil, let your body absorb it.”

You mirror what he coaches, shooting him a curious, hopeful look over your shoulder.

“There. Good,” he says. “Now, which is your dominant eye?”

Your arms fall down to your sides. “My what?”

“Dominant eye.”

You give him a baffled look like he’s speaking another language - in all fairness, he is - and Mando emits another puff of air through his modulator, chortling.

“Eye dominance. We’re all either right handed or left handed. Eyes work the same— right eyed or left eyed. We favor one or the other— you’ll focus that one to aim.”

Oh, huh.

You still appreciatively, basking in the novelty of the information. “Really? I didn’t know that. That’s- that’s actually pretty interesting,” you muse. “Brains and brawn, huh?” You flash a cheeky grin back at him.

Mando grunts, nondescript and unaffected and robotic but he swears he can feel pink creep over his clavicle, tainting the tan of his skin concealed there.

He fits his gloved hand over yours, if only for a second, and you do your best to ignore the rough patch of his leather grazing against the thin flesh there. You try to ignore the chill that sweeps across the curve of your waist, how the peach fuzz prickles up, electrified and magnetized, as he unfurls your fingers from the gun, letting it slip from your grasp. He tucks it under his arm, keeping it pinned there with his bicep.

“Hold your hands out like this.” Mando shows you, creating an oval with his fingers— like a view finder or a scope. You mimic him, feeling like every bit of an idiot, but you don’t contradict him— you do as he does. “Now, set your focus out on a fixed point through your hands,” he instructs and you do, setting your sights on a gnarled tree branch.

“Got it?” he asks.

“Got it,” you respond.

“Now alternate closing each eye. The image should stay in the frame with one, and then shift out of it with the other.”

You frown, concentrating, and close the right before blinking over to the left— kriff, he’s right.

“Oh shit,” you mumble. “My left. It’s my left eye.”

“You sure?”

You check again, squinting through either eye, the tree bouncing in and out of the frame of your fingers. “Mhm. Yeah, my left eye keeps it centered.”

He makes a thoughtful sound. “Left eyed but right handed. Interesting,” Mando murmurs.

You glance up to him, dropping your hands. “Why is that interesting?”

“Not common. The brain’s typically wired the same way all the way down— one side of the body will be dominant. It’s not usually split.”

“You telling me my brain doesn’t work properly, Mando?” you quip dryly.

“You said it, not me.”

He holds the blaster out to you and you swipe it from him with a huffed snort, returning towards the tree line and stars your face hurts. Your face hurts and it’s burning with this asinine smile that’s digging mercilessly into your cheeks. It makes you want to massage your jaw, get the damn thing to relax. Honestly, it makes you want to give yourself a slap.

“Make sure to cross your center with it. Line it up towards the left.”

“Maker, do you think about all this every time you shoot?” you ask, mystified, as you fix your aim.

“Muscle memory takes over eventually. You’ll get there with enough practice.” Mando replies gruffly and you guffaw, loud and wonderfully ugly. You seriously doubt it.

After a series of very near misses— you are getting closer, you’ll give yourself that— your arms grow tired; the joints and muscles protest as you extend them out from your body, taut and tense— the gun dead weight in your wobbly hands.

Your shoulder smarts where you injured the tendon in the explosion. You roll it out, earning snaps and pops as it notches over the bone there. They told you you were lucky. They congratulated you - it’s not a complete tear! - and it’s on the mend well enough, but it’s weak. It doesn’t matter the weight of the object.

The longer you hold anything, the heavier it feels.

You suppose you could throw in the towel at any point, but the fact of the matter— as terrible and true as it may be— is you want to impress him. That awful, nagging feeling— you want to impress the Mandalorian. You want him proud of you— you want to be nice and shiny for him to admire, like one of the guns he polishes until it’s sparkling, until he can mount it on display and show it off. It’s absolutely nauseating— but you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to, and you don’t. You don’t want to.

He isn’t blind to it. He sees the exertion, the tax— how beads of sweat congress around your temples, dampening the base of your scalp, butterfly kissing your skin with a sheen. A trail of wet salt, one lone pilgrim, ventures down the back of your neck, wandering lower and lower, past the hem of your shirt, disappearing into the soft valley of your spine where Mando can’t follow. His throat bobs rough against his cowl.

Transferring the pistol into one hand, you shake out the other, flexing through it and relaxing your grip.

“Wait,” he says and you cock your head back at him. Mando’s retreating to his pile of guns, rifling through the metal anthill before selecting something sleek and chrome. “Here,” you exchange pistols, giving him back the bulkier of the two. Immediately you feel the relief of this new one— it’s lighter and smaller, slighter in your grasp, too— and you turn it over in your hands, noting the way the nozzlelike barrel glitters in the sun.

You’d almost consider it pretty if it weren’t a literal killing machine.

“That’s a CDEF model. Lightweight, reliable, Dedlanite casing, standard issue for CorSec officers.”

You nod along, as if you have any clue what he’s talking about— you don’t. You really, truly don’t.

“Should be easier.”

“Mm,” you hum out in ignorant agreement, slotting your arms back up into position.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire.” You rest it against the slide of the barrel, hovering nearby.

Mando shifts closer towards you, the grass grinding under his feet as he takes a half step in to your backside.

“Breathe. Don’t hold it in. Let me hear it.”

Fuck, this feels like a sin; this small gap of distance he’s erected between you as tense, as strained and feverish, as whispered confessions in the dark. Like sneaking back into your parent’s house late at night— the morning moon peering down at you with a heavy lidded gaze— knowing, knowing, keeping your secrets to herself, pressing them to her chest, winking sleepily.

It would be so much easier, so much simpler, if he just put his hands on you. Placed your body where he knows it should be, force you into the shapes and positions he’s so intimate with himself, but he doesn’t. He draws it out. He respects your space and autonomy and it makes it worse. Your imagination fills the void separating you two, and it’s running wild and rampant and depraved and—

“Focus,” he utters, his voice no louder than a purr. You’ve never heard something so mechanical make a sound so deliriously smooth, and you have to suppress a nervous scoff. Focus, he says, as if he isn’t suffocating you with how close he’s standing— as if you aren’t enjoying it— as if you aren’t vibrating down to your very bones at the proximity of the bounty hunter—so close, you bet he can hear them, rattling and slapping against each other deep beneath your skin.

“Remember what I said about your posture,” he suggests quiet-like and murmured, without a trace of condescension there—a harmless reminder. You make the adjustment, fixing your shoulders down your back, and release the stress in your arms.

“Firm without tensing,” you respond under your breath—more for your sake than his— striking it from your mental checklist.

“‘Atta girl.”

No.

No no no, Maker, you feel it. You can fucking feel it—how something low and resonant spasms beyond your belly, the clench of your empty cunt at the encouragement—the heady praise of it all.

Atta girl.

He said it softly - rudely husky - just above a whisper, something tailored specifically for you—almost like it slipped from his lips and he didn’t even notice its passing. It meandered out of him, so easy—too easy. It practically sauntered.

You’re trembling— stars, you hope Mando doesn’t see it. It’s humid and muggy and yet you’re shaking as if it’s freezing, as if you’ve got icicled snot dripping from your nose, and your nerves go haywire, fraying in every direction as you sip in a whistled breath.

You can do this. You can do this. Focus.

“Take the shot,” he orders.

Focus.

Pressing into the slope of the trigger, you fire.

You gasp excitedly— a surprised, whooping laugh tearing through you and you whip around, giddy and beaming - bright, beautiful - a lock of hair sticking to your lip. It’s the youngest, the freest, Mando’s ever seen you; maybe the happiest, too, and his stomach twists at the sight, a tourniquet cinching around him, winding and coiling until he’s convinced it’ll burst. His fingers twitch, every instinct begging him— demanding him— to reach out and return the stray strand behind your ear alongside the others but you beat him to it. Deftly, you flit it away yourself instead, and he’s relieved.

Devastated, too. Gutted.

“Did you see that?” you ask, gleeful as a child.

He pries himself off you, dragging his gaze over your shoulder to where you struck the trunk, a coaled mark charred there into the bark, before returning his attention back to you. You meet his eyes, despite the blackness of his helm— you hold them, for a breathless, ageless moment, you hold him there.

“Not bad.”

He can’t muffle the jolt of his heart as it rumbles through his chest, breaking his mouth wide open into an aching smirk. He doesn’t know if you hear it. He fears you might.

He prays you do.

///

“Cooling vents,”

Metal scrapes against the table as you place the delicate bits down, deconstructing the blaster. The Mandalorian nods, silent as a specter.

“Gas refill valve,”

Another clunk.

“Actuating blaster…” You turn over a particularly knobby bulb before peeking up at Mando through your lashes, a wry grin tugging rosy and coy at your lips. “… thing-”

“Module,” Din corrects.

“Module, right, that’s what I said.”

He sits across the galley from you, arms folded over his chest as he eases back against the hull of the ship, overseeing as you take apart the blaster, the slender little thing he gave to you - he rarely uses it anyways - as you name the pieces and parts just like he’s taught you.

“Keep it,” he told you.

You resisted. You fought it, laughed it off incredulously— stubborn to the end— argued you wouldn’t even have a need for it.

“What am I gonna do with a gun, Mando?” you balked, and Maker he’d hoped you’d never have to use it, would never have to see a firefight in your damn life let alone be in the middle of one, but he wants you to have it— have a part of him, strapped to your hip— the closest he’ll get.

He’s selfish. Din is a greedy, selfish man. He wants to see himself on you, wants you to carry him around like a souvenir from something unforgettable— something irreplaceable— a memory like warm bathwater you dip into long after it passes, and he’ll take whatever he can get— just like you, hungry for anything you’re gracious enough to feed him. And fuck, if he doesn’t hate it— doesn’t want to bury that feeling, cold and lifeless, six feet under the earth. No ceremony. No elegies. Dead and gone, returning to the dust from whence it came, crawling back into the ribcage it sprung from.

Din said your name. Firm— gentle, too.

“Keep it.”

They’ve been at this ever since you managed to hit the target that first time. Hours have passed, dawdling by on the fat little legs of a toddler, plodding and slow. The sun had set, and winged bugs the length of your palm had taken up residency in the dark rainforest, making themselves known with a haunting tune, screeching and singing into the lush wood. After the child had tried making a pass at one, no doubt in the mood for a quick snack - isn’t he always - you had agreed to retire back inside the Crest.

You were so excited, your whole face lit up— like fireworks he remembered once, through the eyes of a boy in the summered night— and you wanted more; like a sponge, sopping up all you could, sucking Din in and ringing him out for it and fuck, he couldn’t say no.

He can’t say no to you.

You start prattling out questions about everything and nothing - what blaster do you prefer, do you have a favorite rifle, what’s the difference between plasma and gas charges, you have a flamethrower on your wrist? - and before long you get him lecturing, going on about weapon safety and trigger discipline and slide bites and ammunition rounds and gun brands and serial numbers and Din knows this isn’t you. You’re a borderline pacifist for kriff’s sake— he’s almost certain that if push came to shove, you’d rather lay down your life than take one. You’re no gunslinger, and you don’t hold any aspirations to become one.

But here you are, fist tucked under your chin and leaning in to him, hanging off his every word.

You have no personal interest in weapons. Frankly you’d be pleased if you never held a gun again in your life. No, and whether Mando realizes it or not, you want to know because it’s him. You want to know him. And maybe it’s because its the most he’s given to you since you stepped foot aboard the Razor Crest— almost a month, and what you’ve gotten from him today alone has been more than he’s given in weeks— not a door so much as it is a window into his life, an allowance, a glimpse behind the beskar. Its more attention, more words and insights, more tiny gestures and maybe you’ve been a little starved for it— maybe you’ll eat up any scraps Mando tosses with a calloused glove, molded and rotting, from his plate.

Even if it’s this, even if its fucking firearms.

You want to know.

It’s who you are: it doesn’t matter what someone’s passionate about, you’re interested in their interests. You care what they care about. If they matter, then it matters. It’s who you are, webbed and weaved into the innermost fabric of your being, and you can’t pretend to be anything else; you don’t know how to unbecome.

You’re splayed before him— a bleating heart, kaleidoscoping and blooming and twisting in his hands. If only you could pry open your chest— turn yourself inside out at the seams, spill yourself to splatter, sanguined and slippery right there on the deck. You’d do it, if you could.

Am I loving enough  Am I giving enough  Have I paid my debts  Am I worth this now, finally— Worth that which I offer, have I earned it back

So effortless, this vignette, seated here in his galley, dismembering a blaster and labeling the parts, terminology klutzy on your tongue— tripping over yourself just to get it out— looking to him for hints and clues, fluttering your doe eyes with cartoonish bats.

He answers. You laugh. He smiles.

The kid is in his pram, entranced by all the shiny baubles and bobbins just out of his reach - thank the Maker -  and giggles at their little game— happy, for once, just to watch.

You and me both kid, Din thinks. You and me both.

[ughdontbeboring]

Highway to heaven

ok so uh…this is my first time posting something I’ve written, idk why this particular one keeps begging to be posted it’s antsy af and I hurt my own feeling, I wrote it monthsssss ago and just went back to add to it sooooo here yall go 😩 also no permission giving for anyone to reuse this in any form, but please reblog, like, leave nice comments all that good shit 😘

also written with PoC in mind (though the only mention of something specific is hair) and not really sure what warnings to tag so if any just let me know!

now let me go hide 😁😁😁

x

She stretched one of her arms out the window, Feeling the air rushed past it, pushing her arm up and down. Her smile completely contagious. She was the happiest she had been in the past few weeks and August knew it. He didn’t need to be around her that whole time to know, he always seen it the moment she saw him and her mind could process he was alive and back with her.

Since he came home less then 24hrs ago from his most recent mission, he hadn’t seen the smile drop from her face, he knew she could say the same about him.

Usually he drove but he couldn’t resist when she begged him to let her drive his super expensive white sports car. He obviously didn’t get to drive it much as he was always away, and when he was home he mostly spent it trapping her in their bed or away on a surprise vacation, like today. After hours of catching up and fucking her on every surface of their shared home he surprised her with a week away in a cabin. The cabin was his own and was well equipped to deal with anything that may arise, completely secured.

He knew he could be called back into work at any moment but he had good insight that he’d have at least a week where he wouldn’t have to leave her or the cabin. Maybe just for more champagne and her favorite dairy free ice cream depending on her mood during their stay but that was it about the only thing that could get August to leave.

Her laughter brought him back to the present moment. He smiled as he turned to her.

“Yes?”

“I asked if you like what you see Walker” she said throwing him a quick flirty look over her shoulder before focusing on the road. “Your staring at me all doe eyed” she giggled.

He laughed and shook his head, he was completely smitten and they both knew it. Anyone who spent time around them could see it was mutual. For as hard and cruel of a man as August was and seen as, she was his weakness. His weakness and strength actually, because he would do any and everything for her and that could be used in either way. She was the light in his life and she loved him completely, wholly.

“I love what I see actually” He answered staring at her again, watching her bite her lip as a smile took over her face. Her eyes caught his for a moment as she ran her hand down the side of his face, nails and fingertips leaving a tingling trail behind, as he stored this moment and everything about her in his memory, he would need it for when he left on this next mission. Bringing anything personal or that would lead anyone back to her was not an option for him. She was well aware of what he did and why she couldn’t call, only wait for his calls. He pushed it from his mind, praying it would be a while before he had to leave her again.

She hummed to the music as they noticed the traffic up ahead, must be road work August thought. His fingers tapped the car door as his arm lazily hung half in and half out. He noticed her head snap down causing her long box braids to sway. She looked toward her feet, her face confused when she looked back up ahead of them.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

Her stomach dropped and her skin turned to ice as she her eyes went back and forth between her foot and the traffic coming closer up ahead. She was unable to form words to tell him, her mind raced with what to do. Her face turned to him completely in fear, mouth slightly parted in a silent cry. August body went tense, rigid as a steel rod as he slowly grasped what he thought was happening, it can’t be.

The brakes

Someone cut the breaks

August looked up at the traffic in the distance that they were speeding towards, he had to push back the thought who and of when someone would have had the opportunity and focus on what was happening. His mind snapped out the fog when he heard her.

“August!”

She was trying to pump the break, willing it to start working as tears ran down her face.

“August it isn’t working!” She yelled.

August scanned the scene in front of them. Up ahead was dead stop traffic, and on their sides, woods and then metal railings dividing it from the other on coming traffic. There was no clear opening to drive into. The traffic would cause head on collision which had a high chance of death and the railing along the left sides of them also had a high death rate surprisingly. The trees and boulders of the right side weren’t an option either. He couldn’t eject them out of the car at this speed, especially with the traffic that’s following further behind them. Cars wouldn’t have enough time to stop if they didn’t notice their body’s on the pavement. Another sure death.

He looked up at her as her own eyes searched looking for an exit, an out point. Her face slowly succumbing to grief as she realized they had none. Every option a high chance of death with the speed they were going.

The knot in August stomach was a feeling he had never felt before. He had been so careful with her, to keep her out of the line of danger. Some how he had missed something and literally put her in the front seat of danger.

“Turn the steering wheel towards me and get down! By the time we make impact-“

“No!....No!” She yelled through her tears and sobs, she had realized what he was trying to do. He wanted to take the impact, he wanted his life on the line not hers.

“Please August! There must be another-“

“There isn’t!! Turn the wheel now!! We don’t have time!” He yelled as the traffic got closer. Their speed closing the distance fast.

Her eyes danced over his face for a moment, a dreadful feeling growing in her stomach and spreading through her body, it was completely unbearable. She couldn’t live life without him. It wasn’t possible, she loved him too much. She would die for him.

“I’m so sorry August, I love you” she said as she stared into his eyes, praying he seen everything she wouldn’t have time to say to him again. Her words were a wrecking ball into his very existence, it shattered his world.

His hands shot out to grab the wheel, as the understanding what she was saying hit him. It was too late though, she was turning the wheel and swinging the car in the opposite direction from what he instructed. If he tired to grab the wheel now he’d only cause the car to flip into traffic. He had no doubt her side would make impacted as the car swung and headed to slam into traffic.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him, she wouldn’t. She wanted him to be the last thing she saw even if it meant watching his desperate fight to save her. His eyes wild and full of fear, tears falling freely as he looked back and forth frantically before they finally landed on hers. Defeated.

She was a lively young woman she loved life before August BUT life with August was unmatched. So when she smiled at August, the kind of smile that told him she had been happier in the last 4 years with him then she had been her whole life, he felt his blood go cold.

No. He couldn’t give up. Not ever, especially not when she smiled at him like she was willing to lose it all to save him. She already saved August everyday of his life since he’s meet her. Saved him over and over again without even knowing it. When she snuggled into his chest late at night, barely awake, running her fingers through the lite fur of his chest hairs and lazily kissing the same spot she saved August, save him from night terrors of all the horrible things he’s done. When they swam naked in the Caribbean ocean off a secluded beach on that one vacation early on in their relationship and her wet body pressed into his begging for more kisses under the moonlight she saved him from ever wondering what life without love was like. What could life ever be without her? That kinda of world didn’t make sense to August.

August grabbed at her to pull her closer to his side, but her seatbelt prevented him from shielding her body with his when they felt the impact and then instantly the loud crash and breaking of glass completely over taking his senses before everything went black..

part 2 unknown

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

As Usual

Pairing: Mando x Reader

Summary: When Mando finds himself in need of some help in a tiny village on Arbiflux, he may leave with more than he expected. 

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual assault (or at least alluding to it), a lot of unimportant OC’s with names to fill the town

Word Count: 5700

A/N: This is my first Mando fic so I’m really sorry if it sucks. I tried though and if you guys enjoy this, I have an idea for another one.

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The Mandalorian caught your attention the moment he walked into your family’s blacksmith shop. Tall, angular, and mysterious, the man landed his ship in the large clearing just on the other side of the river from where your town was and made his way across the utilitarian wooden bridge directly to the shops. You watched in curiosity as this new stranger made his way into your village, a small bundle of something you couldn’t make out walking right next to him. 

You had heard stories of the Mandalorians and the Great Purge, though you were no expert by any means on anything other than simply knowing they existed. Seeing one in person though felt surreal. For all you’d known, they’d been killed off years ago. But apparently not all because one was approaching you quickly. 

“Can I help you?” You asked, taking your worn protective leather gloves off and walking towards the open mouth of your family’s forge where the Mandalorian had approached. 

“I need a part for my ship to be fixed.” He answered shortly in a vaguely robotic voice. 

Tousling your fingers through your locks, you attempted to blindly force the stray hairs into place, “Well, we don’t get too many visitors with ships here. Your best bet for finding someone who can fix your ship would probably be in the city.” 

“Where is the nearest city?” He questioned, lifting a small bundle of tan fabric off the ground. Your brows furrowed when you saw that there was a small wrinkly green baby but the Mandalorian tucked the child further into his chest, almost shielding him from your view for some odd reason. 

Writing the action off, you pointed to your right with your thumb, “About ten miles west.” 

“How long is it to travel?” 

“On foot, about four hours. With a kaadu, maybe two.” You explained, gesturing to the large reptilian creatures in the pens around town. Mando sighed heavily and you got the impression he was on a limited time constraint, “What do you need fixed?” 

The man shifted, “The ventilation system. The fins on the fan are damaged, blocking it from spinning. The oxygen is hardly circulating throughout the ship.” 

“Broken fins? They metal?” You asked, to which the man just nodded, “I might be able to help if that’s the only problem. Can I see?” 

The Mandalorian led you back to his ship and you walked inside, skin crawling with excitement. You’d never been on a ship before. Like you’d told the man earlier, they never really landed in your little village and you seldom traveled to the bigger cities. It was like a metal maze, cramped but still somehow roomy enough to be comfortable. 

You took in your surroundings as he led you through the small hallways, stopping when you saw an almost book-like assortment of massive sheets of a black substance with what appeared to be carvings of screaming people. An uneasiness settled in the air that the Mandalorian noticed, glancing back over his shoulder to see you looking at his assortment of bounties that had been frozen in Carbonite. Since people had come after him, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the criminals he had yet to deliver but the thought was always pushed off. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere. 

“They’re alive. Just should have cooperated.” Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words so he continued reluctantly, “Bounties.” 

“Oh, you’re a bounty hunter?” You asked, relaxing slightly. Knowing that whoever these people were were both criminals and still alive, you felt a little better. They must have been pretty bad people if they had bounties on their heads. 

You were far from naive but you weren’t well experienced in matters of the universe. Arbiflux had been your only home, and, even then, you seldom left your small village. Always work to do, anything to help your family. You’d always dreamed of adventure though, getting off the forested planet and exploring the galaxy. The Mandalorian must have travelled all over the galaxy in his line of work and seen so much. It made you envious. You took his silence to your first question as an agreement so you continued, “I’d imagine work would have taken you all over the place. I’ve never left this planet. Hell, I’ve only ever left the village a handful of times.” 

“I have been to quite a few planets.” His modulated voice humored your musings, turning to continue his way to the ventilation system. 

You trailed behind, vague metal echoes following your boot covered footsteps, “What are they like?” 

“A lot of desert planets. Some have swamps. Some have forests. Some are just cities. A few are all ice. Some are a combination.” As he spoke, you fantasized about all the planets that could be out there. You had done so many times before and every time the new planets became more and more fantastic, sometimes to an unrealistic degree. But how could anything be unrealistic when you didn’t really know the constraints of reality in your own universe? 

“I’ve always wanted to see them.” You mused out loud, “Your ship is really nice by the way.” 

Mando looked back at you and, although you could see no hint of expression behind the helmet you immediately recognized as being made from beskar, he had an eyebrow cocked at you. It didn't sound like you were making fun of him but he knew the Razor Crest was anything but. "You haven't seen many ships before, have you?" 

 With a small shrug and slightly twisted face, you shook your head, "We don't get too many people coming through town and I don't make it into the city often." 

Mando almost felt bad for you. He had learned how to read people easily and you were an open book. It was in the way you stood, the words you spoke, the way your eyes twinkled in amazement at the smallest things on his ship. You were a girl who loved her family and had a sense of duty to them. He assumed by the look of the shop you worked in that blacksmithing was a generational career, probably dating back to your grandparents, at least. He could see the love for your community and home but he also saw a fire for adventure, for anything other than what you knew. With every word, every little subconscious movement, his image of you became clearer and clearer. 

"This is the fan." Mando stopped suddenly and pointed to an open panel in the ship's wall. You halted quickly, having almost forgotten why you entered the Razor Crest to begin with. "The rest of the system works. I was able to fix the wiring. It's just this part here that was damaged and now it won't rotate. It won't circulate the oxygen." 

He stepped to the side, allowing you to step in and inspect the damage. It was a long cylindrical metal piece with five slanted blades evenly spaced around the circumference. There was a mechanism in the middle that led you to assume that it spun around on some metal rod and the blades circulated the oxygen throughout the ship. Sure enough, two of the blades were bent and crumpled, so much so that when you gave the device a little test nudge to see if it would spin at all, it only rotated an inch or so before the crumpled fans hit another part of the system with a klink, preventing it from moving more. 

"As long as these just need to be flattened and straightened out, this should be a breeze. I could have it done by the end of the day." You continued to inspect the blades to get a full understanding of the damage. "So what happened to it anyway?"

"There was an altercation on board with a passenger. A stray shot from her gun hit the panel that used to cover this and it bent everything up." Mando remembered the fight with the Twi'lek woman. She was a fellow bounty hunter, yet another person who wanted the money for the Child. 

The slight black scar from the laser on the wall confirmed the report and you ran your finger over the smudge, curious to see if it would wipe away. It didn't. "Sounds like such an interesting life." 

“You said you could have it done by the end of the day?” The Mandalorian ignored your wistful comment and set the Child on the ground, making sure he stayed in eyesight. He didn’t see you as someone who would harm the baby but he also couldn’t be sure after everything that had happened. 

You nodded, “Yeah, this looks pretty simple. But you’re going to have to take it apart. I have no clue how any of that works and I don’t want to be responsible if it breaks.” 

“That’s no problem.” The Mandolorian stepped over and pulled on a few wires, disconnected a few fuses, and before you knew it, the overall fan had dislodged from its place with a hiss of decompression. He turned it in his hands until he found the button he had to push to unlock the mechanism holding each blade in place. It took no time before he handed you the broken blades one by one. 

You held the blades in your arms, moderately sized at about 18 inches long and 9 inches across. Leaning forward, you inspected the intact ones to get an idea of how these needed to be shaped. “Well, there’s not much to do in the village while you wait, I’m afraid. There’s a little bar you could hang out at I suppose. They serve some decent food.”

“Thank you. I’ll be around.” He responded in his typical concise manner. 

The blades really were quick work, like you’d expected. What took the longest was the order you had before, which was making the metal wedges of Naz Ta’ron’s ridge plow that he’d ordered to be made last week. Farm equipment made up most of your work, unfortunately, aside from the occasional weaponry. The weaponry never took too long, definitely not as much as you’d like. Making swords and hatchets was a hell of a lot more interesting than manufacturing plows and wheels. 

By the time the sun had just begun to set, you had finished the third blade, dipping the last blazing orange, newly repaired fan blade into the large bucket of water, bubbles sizzling aggressively at the contact with the nearly molten metal and cooling it rapidly. After setting it down on the workbench to cool, you untied your leather smock and brushed the loose strands of hair out of your face. As far as you could remember, these looked exactly like the intact fans back on the ship, though in better condition. You had no idea what they looked like new but this had to be close. 

*

Throughout the day, you’d watched from afar as the Mandalorian had wandered through the booths before returning to the ship with what you presumed to be a basket full of supplies. That was earlier in the day and he’d since been waiting in the bar you’d told him about earlier. You powered down the forge and gathered the fans before walking over to the bar. It was only a few buildings down, no more than a few hundred feet away, so the walk was quick. People meandered around town on their usual paths, the ones you came to know each person in the small village to take by heart.

When you entered the bar, the usual people were in there. K’jann Ving, Jared Amavia, and Haera Kiwai all sat in their usual seats with their usual drinks. All so usual. The only thing out of place was the Mandolorian sitting at the booth in the corner with his little baby whatever-he-was. 

He noticed you enter right away, which wasn’t saying much considering the small size of the room. You walked right up to the table, “Fans are all finished up. Figured I’d drop them off.” 

You placed the sheets of metal on the table. The Mandolorian reached down beneath the table and pulled out a small brown bag, “How much?” 

“30 credits?” You estimated, not really knowing how to price such a repair. Compared to other weapon repairs, though this was only slightly more because there were more than one things needing repairing. 

The Mandolorian began to sift through his bag, presumably counting out the coins. The little green baby by his side stared up at you with adorable large eyes and cooed. You couldn’t help the smile that crept on your face when his tiny arms reached out towards you, though you made no move to pick him up, opting to give him a tiny wave instead. Babies had always seemed to like you. Your nieces and nephews had loved you from the moment they were born. 

A commotion sounded from outside the bar that stole your attention away from your payment and the Child. Your brows furrowed when you made eye contact with K’jann, who looked equally as confused as you did. Jared stood up from his spot at the bar and walked to the door, “What the hell is going on out there?” 

Before he could find an answer, a bright flash of light struck him in the chest and he fell, lifeless. You shrieked and jumped at the unexpected attack. “Get down!” The Mandolorian demanded, pulling you closer to him before shoving the table over. He pushed you to the ground, scooped the child up, and placed him beside you hurriedly before you could comprehend what was happening. You were lying on the ground on your back, using the table as a wall of sorts to shield from the gun shots that were assailing towards you. 

“Protect the Child!” The Mandolorian demanded of you, his voice surprisingly calm considering he had just been randomly attacked. 

The baby reached up and clung to your shirt, struggling to pull himself up into your arms for protection. You reached around his body and scooped him up, flinching when a blast of laser zinged a little too close to your face for comfort. 

“You’ve been a hard one to reach, Mando. You could’ve just given us the Child and it would all be done with but now we’re gonna kill you, take the kid, and your shiny armor.” A man’s voice taunted from the other side of the table barricade. 

What the hell kind of trouble was this guy in?! 

The Mandolorian jumped over the table and you reached out for him, his cape slipping through your fingers as he disappeared into the fight “Wait!” You called out to now avail. What the hell was he doing? There were a few grunts and groans. The laser blasts stopped being directly in your direction and began to be shot more erratically around the room. 

“Get him out of here!” The Mandolorian’s modulated voice yelled at you from the other side. 

This was it. You were going to die. This was what you got for craving adventure. 

The baby squirmed against your body, making little fearful noises. Rolling over onto your knees, you scooped up the baby and held him tightly against your chest before reaching into your pocket and procuring a blaster. Peeking around the corner of the table first to ensure that it was clear to run, you took off like a bullet, darting as quickly as possible to the door. 

The Mandalorian was fighting against two humans, a Rodian, and a Cerean woman at once. It appeared like he had them until the massive Cerean woman pinned him on the table, hand crushing over a part of his forearm that he seemed in a struggle to have access to. 

You didn’t know anything about this man other than the fact that he was a bounty hunter with a broken ventilation system. Why did you want to help him? Why were you putting your life on the line to aid him when you knew damn well he could very clearly be in the wrong? Why did you trust him so much when you knew literally nothing about him? 

The Cerean woman fell on top of the Mandalorian the moment you pulled the trigger. He groaned at the heavy weight but used her body to knock one of the human men down. He quickly tapped on his forearm, right where the woman had been pressing, and a large flame shot out towards the Rodian, who shielded his face. 

You began to run towards the door again, so close to escaping with the child, but something hard suddenly knocked your feet out from under you and you crashed to the ground with a painful thud. You clutched the baby close to your chest as you fell, using your body to shield him from the impact. Your eyes opened to see a tall Zabrak woman that you hadn’t seen previously standing over you. 

“Aw, Mando! Using some little village girl to save the kid? That’s a new level of low.” She chuckled sadistically, rolling her eyes from the Mandalorian and back to you, “Sorry, babe, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. Hand over the kid so I don’t have to kill you.” 

You froze in fear for a moment, brain stuck buffering in a desperate attempt to comprehend the situation you were in. 

“Guess I have to kill you.” She continued with an unapologetic shrug after only a second or two. She had a large staff in her hand that she spun around with skill, picking up enough momentum for the black metal rod to look like a blur, before slamming it down right where your head was. Thankfully, you rolled to the side just in time for the stick to slam into the ground with enough force that it very easily could have killed you. 

Without a second thought, you aimed the blaster that was still in your hand just in time and shot her square in the chest. Her body crumpled into a heap of black robes, her staff clattering to the ground. It took you a moment to realize that the commotion had ceased. 

The Mandalorian hurried over to you, “Are you okay?” 

Your whole body was shaking but you nodded, adrenaline pumping through your veins, “What the hell was that about?” You demanded, sitting up finally. When you looked around, you noticed that everyone who had attacked was dead. The other patrons of the bar had seemed to escape. 

Mando reached to take the kid from your grasp but stopped when he noticed how the small alien snuggled into your body like it was the safest place in the galaxy. You looked down to inspect his little body for injuries but he thankfully appeared unharmed. “I’ve been quested to bring him to the Jedi. He was originally a bounty I was supposed to bring in but I learned that the man who wanted him was going to hurt him. I couldn’t give him up. It’s my duty to protect him. People all over the galaxy like this have been trying to get the bounty on both of our heads.” 

“What’s so special about him?” The baby looked like any other baby alien. You hadn’t necessarily seen many baby aliens but this one didn’t seem particularly extraordinary. 

“I honestly don’t know for sure. I do know he can do things with his mind when he wants to, though. I figure it has something to do with that.” He extended a hand, pulling you up to your feet, “I’m sorry you got involved.” 

You shook your head slightly, looking around at the bodies littering the bar, two of which you were responsible for killing, “You said they were going to hurt the baby?” You asked rhetorically, “It’s no problem.” 

“Do all small town blacksmiths just carry blasters on them?” He asked, nodding towards the gun that was still in your hand. 

You tucked it away again, “We’ve gotten a few less than pleasant visitors from neighboring cities and towns. Just some jerks who come to town looking to pick a fight with the men or take what they want from the women. Pull out a blaster, it’ll usually put them in their place.” 

Mando thought about what that actually meant for a moment and a few more pieces of the puzzle that was you began to click together in his head. He couldn’t help but wonder how many times you’d had to pull the gun on a man who was trying to take advantage of you and the thought made his heart sink. He didn’t know you nearly at all but nobody deserved that. There was a twinge of protectiveness in his chest that made him want to track down anyone who’d ever threatened that sort of harm to you and show them just how good at killing the Mandalorians really were. 

There wasn’t time for that, though. If these five bounty hunters were here by now, there’d be more soon. He couldn’t risk getting caught up with any more people who wanted to take the Child. “Well you’re a good shot,” He complimented with a small nod of his helmet, “Anyways, we need to take off now. If they already knew we were here, others will be here soon. You said the parts were ready?” 

You nodded, “They were. I’m not exactly sure where they are now, though.” Your face twisted as you gestured around the freshly wrecked bar, furniture pieces just as strewn out of place as the cups and plates that were on them.

The two of you looked around for the fans and people from around town slowly funnelled into the bar, also helping to clean up the debris from the attack. “You need to go.” Zim Golu, the bar’s owner stood over Mando, who was crouched down to pick up one of the fans that he’d finally found. Zim Golu’s arms were crossed, his cheek bleeding from being hit with something during the fight. 

“I’m sorry about the damage,” Mando stood up, “I just need to find a part for my ship and we’ll be off this planet as soon as it’s installed.” 

Zim Golu stepped closer, “I don’t care about your part. I want you out of my bar.” 

You looked over from the next table over, setting down the chair you had picked up where it was supposed to be. “What’s the problem?” You questioned, walking over to the pair with furrowed brows. 

“There’s no problem.” Mando responded calmly, “We’ll be leaving as soon as I find the pieces I need.” 

“No, he’ll be leaving now.” 

The Child, who had been wandering around the building while you all cleaned, came up and held onto your leg. You glanced down before gently running your fingers over his head. “We cannot leave without these pieces. The oxygen can’t move through the ship without them. We barely made it here as it was.” Mando again was calm but insistent. 

“What don’t you understand, Mando? Look at the trouble you’ve caused my bar and this whole town.” Zim Golu clearly had no intention of backing down, despite the fact that the intimidating Mandalorian towered over him. 

You stepped forward and extended your arm between the men, “Mando, why don’t you go back to the ship and wait there. I will look for the pieces and deliver them when I find them.” You sent Zim Golu a look that told him that that was what was going to be what happened, whether he liked it or not. “How’s that?” 

The bar owner shot Mando a dirty look before pointing to the door, “Don’t come back to this place again.” 

Mando stood strong and emotionless under the shield of beskar and stared down Zim Golu as he walked away. 

“I’ll meet you at your ship in a few. We’ve already found two so the last one shouldn’t take long to find.” Mando looked down at you while you spoke. You handed him the first two fans you found, “Maybe you can get these installed while you wait. I’m sorry about Zim Golu. He’s always cranky.” 

“No, I understand. I’d be mad if my bar was destroyed by strangers too. Thank you for looking. We’ll be on the ship,” He beckoned for the Child to follow him out the door but the baby was hesitant, only wanting to be near you for some reason, “C’mon.” Mando picked up the baby and carried him out. 

Finding the last fan was more difficult than you had hoped. When the table was pushed over, it had been kicked under a shelf in the corner and it took you lying face down on the ground to finally see it. 

When you got to the ship, you awkwardly stepped up onto the ramp that led up to the Razor Crest and just up to the entrance of the main hull, “Uh, hello? Mando? It’s Y/N. I found the fan.” You announced, looking around while you waited for the man to appear before entering the ship. 

He climbed down a small ladder and approached you. You extended the fan blade out to him, “Here it is. Sorry it took so long.” You apologized, following Mando as he took off down the hall towards the ventilation system. “How did the other two fit? Is it working?” 

He stopped by the busted open wall panel that was supposed to conceal the ventilation system and pulled out the cylindrical piece that the blades attached to. He slipped the last one into place and it fit perfectly, “They fit nicely. Now we just need to see if it works.” He slid the mechanism back into place and reattached all the wires that he’d removed earlier. “Stay here and tell me if it spins properly. I’ll head up to the cockpit and activate it.” 

With that, he disappeared before you could protest (not that you were going to) up to where you assumed the cockpit was. You waited patiently until the low hum of the ventilation system kicked on and the fan began to rotate without a hitch. The Child waddled around the corner and right to you, arms up, asking to be held. You lifted him into your arms with a smile and held up your palm to him, “We fixed it! High five, buddy. Or, well, high three, I guess.” You chuckled, counting his fingers. The baby didn’t understand what you were trying to achieve so you gently tapped the palm of your hand against his in a forced high five. 

“Is it working?” Mando’s robotic voice asked from behind you and you spun around to face him. 

You nodded, “Everything’s looking good.” 

Mando immediately noticed the Child in your arms but, for once, he didn’t tense up at it. You felt safe, which perhaps was an error to assume such characteristics, but he couldn’t help it. Besides, he’d never seen the Child so affectionate with anyone other than himself. “Thank you for all of your help. I’m sorry about the trouble we brought with us.” 

“It’s no problem. If I’m being honest, it was kind of thrilling.” You chuckled, looking away with a small blush. That probably made you sound crazy. 

A silence settled over the two of you and Mando watched as your attention quickly turned back to the Child in your arms. “He really likes you.” Mando noted, “He’s not usually like that.” 

A small smile appeared on your face, “Well I must say I’m pretty fond of him too. He’s adorable. And, for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is really noble.” You told the Mandalorian. Why did complimenting him give you butterflies? You had no idea what the man looked like. For all you knew, he could have tentacles for a mouth or four eyes. But, regardless, there was just something about him that made you uncomfortable in the best way - in the sort of way that left your skin crawling with excitement and a constant little urge in the back of your head that made you desperate for him to like you. 

“I appreciate that.” 

Another small moment of silence again left you rocking back and forth on your heels. “Where are you off to next?” You inquired curiously. 

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out though. Tatooine isn’t too far from here. We might go there and lie low for a day or two.” Mando responded. 

A question had been whirring around your mind since the Mandalorian first arrived and enlisted your help but you didn’t realize how hard asking it would actually be. You knew, though, that this was your last chance. “Can I come with?” You asked, the words coming out quickly. 

“This isn’t a passenger ship.” He answered simply. 

“I don’t mean like a taxi or whatever. I mean... “ You struggled to figure out how to ask, “Can I come with you guys? Wherever you go, I don’t really care. I don’t have any money to pay you but I can help however you need. I have some survival skills in the wilderness. I can sort of fix some things. I have child care experience. And I’m a fast learner for anything else you might need.” You chewed your lip while waiting for the Mandalorian to respond. 

“Why would you want to do that?” 

You sighed, “I just… I don’t want to die here knowing I never did anything but smash metal with a hammer. I don’t want to spend my whole life stuck in this little village when there’s an entire galaxy out there to see. I understand that joining you would mean a life of danger but I think I’m willing to risk that.” 

Mando pondered the proposition. He had no actual need for a companion on his journey to deliver the Child to the Jedi but he could see the potential luxury in having one. Clearly, the Child really liked you. Fighting and caring for the Child was difficult at times and having an extra pair of hands would definitely prove helpful. Although you weren’t a trained warrior, you could hold your own in a fight and had no problem pulling the trigger when the moment called for it. You did have the ability to fix things that he wasn’t able to, at least when you had the proper tools. 

Beyond that, he could see your desperateness to leave this planet. Mando had never been what many would call a “softie.” He did what needed to be done and would do whatever it took to meet those ends. He had his ethics, of course, and obviously he felt bad for the people that he couldn’t help but he had to admit that he often had the “not my problem” mentality. Perhaps it was attributed to his newfound position as a father figure or maybe it was because he actually cared about you for some unknown reason, but he found himself sympathizing with your situation. He could see in your eyes that you saw hope in him and the Razor Crest as a way to get off Arbiflux. This was your opportunity to leave behind a life of “the usual.” But he still couldn’t help but find himself stuck on what you said earlier about the men from neighboring towns coming in to take advantage of the women here. The fact that you carried a gun in an otherwise safe community simply to defend yourself against men like that actually enraged him. His “not my problem” mentality seemed to be receding to his yearning to help you in some way, especially after all you’d done for him. 

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “People try to kill us almost everywhere we go. You will never be safe. Can you handle that?” 

With a hard swallow, you nodded your head. 

“We are leaving in thirty minutes. Take only what you need.”

Your eyes widened with surprise and a big smile spread on your face, “Wait, are you serious?” 

“Yes. As long as you understand what coming with me entails, I could use the help.” Mando didn’t actually hate his decision to allow you to come with. Part of him was actually a little excited to have another person, an actual companion, on board. Of course, he would gladly kill you or strand you on an icy planet the second you indicated any harmful intent towards the Child but that seemed highly unlikely at the moment. 

The way you did a little excited jump made him smile under the helmet. Your enthusiasm and gratefulness gave you a humble, real, and, frankly, slightly adorable energy, despite the badass edge of literally forging blades and shooting people. “Thank you so much! You won’t regret this. I will be right back!” He watched as you ran off the Razor Crest, presumably to your home to grab a bag of personal belongings. 

Mando moved to the main hold and sat on a box, the Child standing on the ground and looking up at him. He could have sworn that the little green baby was giving him that look. It was the look that kids gave their friends when their crush walked by. “Hey, knock that off. You better be on your best behavior for her. She’s willing to help you not get killed so be thankful she’s coming along.” Mando told the tiny being, who just giggled in response. “We’re just helping her! It’s not like that.” Mando insisted to the Child, exasperated with his silent (imagined) insistence. It didn’t occur to him that he really was just arguing with himself. 

He stood up and did a once around the ship to try and work out the logistics of living with you. Frankly, he wasn’t sure where you’d sleep or how living with another person was going to work as it had been so long since he’d spent more than a few days with someone. All Mando knew was that he wasn’t totally dreading your company.

[chaoticallysapphic]

the great divide part four

summary: Who knew that eight words would be your undoing. If you had known then what you know now you wouldn't have signed up for Suyin's dance troupe, you probably would have left Zaofu just to be safe. But you didn't and fate had branded you with a path that chained you to someone who would break your heart. 

a/n: This is an 18+ chapter, if you aren’t an adult please do not read. As always thank you to the amazing @medeliadracon​ for beta reading this

word count: 4k

You don’t know how you're going to pull off a lie this big, when it came to the secrecy of your relationship with Kuvira it was more like omitting the truth, you technically are close friends you just didn’t elaborate on how close. 

Before today that was the biggest lie you’ve kept, but as you slowly drive to the front terminal of the main dome you realize how much easier it was to keep because you weren’t keeping it from her. 

Instead of speeding off towards your destination, you take your time, the sooner you arrive the sooner Kuvira would send men to look for Suyin and Zhu Li. Part of you desperately wants to floor it, Wei didn’t hold back from his punch and now you feel the beginning of a splitting headache seep through your head. 

But you’ll be fine, a little pain will be okay so long as everyone is safe. When you get a bit closer, the sight before you has you stepping on the brakes. The domes… They’re gone. The sun has been down for hours and yet the city is visible as the metal that once protected it is laying on the ground. What has she done?

Your heart pounds as you pull up to the entrance of the city, some guards are standing by the empty tram when you pull up. Killing the engine you jump out and grab your chest from the trunk. “Why are you alone?” One of the men asked, most likely the one in charge of this section. 

“Something happened, I need to see Kuvira immediately.” The authoritative tone of your voice, a way you’ve never really spoken before, sets the guards in motion. One of them takes your chest and gently places it inside whilst the other heads into the operating booth. You step inside the empty vehicle and sit down by a window. 

The doors snap shut and with a slight jolt, the tram comes to life. You nervously fiddle with your hands as you try to come up with lies for any questions she may fire your way. The entire ride you keep your gaze on your lap, not wanting to see what's become of your hometown. You don’t want to see your parents anymore, not until you’ve achieved your goal. The idea of them seeing you, thinking you're on the wrong side of history makes you sick to your stomach.

After a few minutes, the tram comes to a gentle stop and the doors open up, when you look out you realize you're in the Beifong dome, there’s a residential area in here as well but it mainly consists of the family grounds. A guard steps in and takes your chest for you. 

“I’m meant to take you to Kuvira” he explains, his eyes stray to your cheek for a moment. You stare back until he realizes he’s been caught. His eyes widen as he clears his throat and begins to walk off. You follow after him, keeping your gaze straight ahead. 

It shouldn’t shock you, but when he leads you into the Beifong estate, you can’t help but feel like you don’t belong. The only other time you’ve been inside here was a few days ago when you tried to peacefully convince Suyin to concede but it feels like forever ago. 

You lose count of how many turns you take before he reaches a sitting room, different from the other one, that has it’s doors already open. Kuvira is sitting on the couch with a clenched jaw whilst Baatar is standing by the alcohol cart. When you both step inside, Kuvira’s eyes snap to you, her gaze darkens as it settles on your face and she immediately gets up to walk over to you. 

“What happened, where’s General Yin?” She barks out, her fingers reach up to lightly touch the bruise. Upon contact you flinch away, hissing in pain and her gaze softens. Baatar looks over his shoulder and scoffs at the sight of you as he downs his drink. 

“I…” you begin, your voice shakes. “He attacked me.” Baatar looks at you with a brow quirked in skepticism. 

Kuvira’s fast reddens in anger, “what do you mean he attacked you?” 

“H-He and Zhu Li they were… I guess working together I don’t know it’s a blur.” She stares you down and you feel so small under her frightening glare. What could make this more believable? You think, and it hits you, tears. 

You’ve never tried to cry on demand before but you squeeze your eyes shut as you force flashes of some of your worst nightmares to play before your eyes. 

Kuvira admits she loves Baatar. 

Your parents dying. 

Her… dying.

All three squeeze at your heart but your pesky brain focuses on the last one. An image of her laying on the rubble of a building with a rod stuck in her stomach as blood drips from her mouth. Her skin is becoming paler by the second and no matter how loudly you scream for help, everyone around you stands and watches as she dies in your arms.

Hands gently cup your jaw and pull you out of your torture, Kuvira’s glare has vanished as she tries to wipe away your tears. “What do you remember?” 

Her voice is soft now, soothing even. You let out a shaky breath as you force yourself to focus on that awful scene. “He stopped the car a-and they both got out. She tried to make me come with but I wouldn’t and…” 

You hear Baatar spit out “spirits,” as he refills his glass. Kuvira stays quiet as she listens, silently urging you to continue. 

“He got so angry, they… um they fought about it and I tried to stop them both but he got so angry at me for messing up their plan that he... “ You gulp, “I woke up with a dart stuck in my neck.” 

“Where’s the dart?” Baatar calls out, Kuvira rolls her eyes at his question as she reluctantly drops her hands and takes a step back. You dig your hand into your jacket and fiddle with it, your hands are clammy so it keeps slipping. Finally, your fingers wrap around it and you pull it out for Kuvira to see. 

She grabs it from your hand and growls out “this is one of our own.” She looks into your eyes once more, at your messy appearance and tears rushing down your face. Your mind twists the image of her death, in this version her death is your fault… You didn’t do enough, didn’t stop this in time and she paid the price of your inability. You choke out a sob at the idea of her wheezing as blood gushes from her head. “Let’s get you to your room.” 

Kuvira settles a hand on your shoulder and leads you away, the guard with your chest follows as you walk down the winding hallway before stopping at a large door. The guard opens it up and places your chest at the foot of your bed before scurrying out. He closes the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone. Kuvira flicks her wrist, effectively bending the lock into place before pulling you into her arms. 

You grip the back of her shirt as you continue to cry, you can’t will the image away now no matter how hard you try. It’s ingrained in your brain, clawed itself into the deepest corners of your mind, and settled in for life. 

“You're safe,” she says softly, one of her hands running through your hair. “I won’t let anyone ever lay a hand on you ever again.” She kisses the top of your head before gently tugging you towards the bathroom. She lets go of your hand and begins to fill the bathtub up with water. You bend your armor off then take off your clothes. Your eyes never leave her form as she grabs some oils and bubbles from a cabinet and pours some in, a rosy fragrance fills the room as the bubbles multiple. 

Kuvira turns the water off and turns to look at you. “Will you… get in with me?” Kuvira nods and helps you get in the tub before beginning to undress. You pull your legs up to your chest and space out as you look at all the bubbles in front of you. 

You don’t think you’ve taken a bath with her before. The showers on the train were small and she’d usually enter your room a little bit after midnight. She climbs in behind you and slides her legs on either side of your hips. You rest your head on her chest and sigh. Being close to her like this helps ease your fears and worries. 

The Beifongs are hopefully far away from here by now, and Kuvira is very much alive as she wraps her arms around your waist. You think she bought your lie, you think if she didn’t you wouldn’t be taking a bath right now. 

At some point she cleans the dirt off your face with a wet cloth, she avoids your bruised cheek though. With her free hand, she brings her thumb up and gently places it on your lip as her fingers gently grip your chin to make you look at her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” 

“It’s not your fault, Vira.” You press a kiss to her thumb as your hand trails up to her cheek. She leans into your touch, the two of you sit there staring at each other until you feel your skin turn pruny. 

Reluctantly you both get out of the bath and wrap each other in robes, she pulls you into a soft kiss that you eagerly reciprocate, one of your hands went up to her bun and pulled out the pins keeping it in place. Her black waves fall around her shoulders in a beautiful mess of curls, you think, while you pull away from her, how lucky you are to have been given such a beautiful soulmate. 

“It is my fault, everyone knows I’m close to you and the target on my back grows larger with every day that passes. What if next time they kill you?” Her voice cracks at the end and your heart breaks because you just had a bit of a breakdown at the idea of losing her, so you understand.

“I am not going to die, I promise. I don’t think anyone is stupid enough to try that.” People may not know that you're her soulmate but they do know that you two are very close. She runs her fingers through your hair and sighs. She pulls you out of the bathroom and towards the bed where she begins to untie your robe. 

You flush as Kuvira slides it off your shoulders and lets it fall to the ground, at the sight of your naked form she groans before pulling you into a gentle kiss, her hands come up to cup your face- for the side that's bruised her hand lays on your jaw- as she softly licks your bottom lip and you open your mouth up for her as you wrap your arms around her neck.

As her tongue caresses your own, you feel something wet drop onto your face that has you slowly pulling away and opening up your eyes. She’s crying. “Vira…” 

Her lips brush against your own as she says in a pained voice “I thought you left me when an hour went by without your arrival.” Your heart clenches. You begin to kiss away her tears, she squeezes her eyes shut as you try to ease her worries, her fears. 

“I’ll never leave you,” you whisper in her ear, your lips trailing down her neck as you leave soft kisses against her tan skin. “I might be upset but I will never leave, love you too much to leave.” She pulls you into another kiss, this one a bit more forceful, she’s trying to fill herself up with you to keep surviving, you're her fuel and she’s running low. 

She slowly walks you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed, you fall onto the plush mountain of pillows as Kuvira unties her robe before straddling your hips. “I love you,” she murmurs as she kisses your neck, one of her hands placed beside your head to hold herself up while the other slowly run down your side, her fingers light as a feather. 

Those soft lips you love oh so much trail down your collarbone, she places a kiss right between your breasts before lifting her head to lay a soft kiss to each nipple, you arch your back, letting out a soft whine as she softly licks at one of them, then blows onto it. She repeats herself with your other one before continuing to trail her kisses down to your core. 

Kuvira kisses your hip bones before nuzzling her face in your stomach and sighing. One of your hands goes to softly grip her hair and she looks up at you through her lashes with her gaze so full of love it leaves you frozen in its wake. Kuvira places a kiss on your stomach before trailing down once more. She leaves a soft kiss on your pubic bone before she slowly ducks down and licks a strip up your slit. You let out a sigh of relief and wiggle your hips, trying to get more out of her. 

She uses her fingers to spread you open as her other arm drapes itself across your stomach to keep you in place. Kuvira continues to slowly lick up a few more times, each time her tongue reaches your clit she applies a bit more pressure, leaving you a panting mess in need of more. 

Finally, as if deciding you’ve suffered enough she dips her tongue inside you. You throw your head back as she uses her thumb to gently rub at your clit, her gentleness is so different from her usual rough behavior in bed (not that you mind, you love both sides of her) but you don’t think she’s been this slow and loving with you since her engagement. 

Kuvira pulls her tongue out of you and replaces it with fingers, her mouth immediately gets to your bundle of nerves where she wraps her lips around your clit and sucks. The arm thrown across your hips moves, her hand going to squeeze at your breast. “Fuck… Vira,” you moan out as she continues to pump her fingers deep inside you at an agonizingly slow pace. 

She removes her lips from you for a moment to say through pants “I just wanna feel you, all of you,” before diving back in. Both of your hands tightly grip at her black tresses, pulling a moan out of her that vibrates against you. She feels you clench around her fingers so Kuvira adds a third and slightly picks up her speed. It’s not as fast as she usually goes but she wants to gently pull it from you, wants to take her time with you because she was so sure you’d finally left her. 

“Come for me, love. Please.” She says, having briefly pulled away from you, she’s swirling her tongue around your clit with her fingers curling inside you, her hand once squeezing your breast is now gently rolling your nipple between her fingers. When she thrusts her fingers back into you, you snap. A string of loud, breathy moans escapes you as you ground yourself on her fingers and let go. 

She fucks you through your orgasm, licking around her fingers as she continues to pump into you. When you feel yourself slowly come down, you gently try to pry Kuvira off of your sensitive core. She resists and instead pulls out her fingers which she happily sucks clean, her gaze locking with your own. When she’s sucked off all of you, she leans down and licks you clean. You jolt at the feeling of her tongue licking up your slit and let out a soft cry, “Kuvira.” 

Once she deems you clean enough she pulls away and leaves a soft kiss on both of your inner thighs before climbing up to kiss you. You moan as you taste yourself on her and eagerly grant her access to your mouth where you both softly run your tongues across one another. You ease your grip on her hair and slowly move them down to cup her cheeks. 

You both kiss each other for a few minutes with your legs wrapped tightly around her hips before you slowly pull away, with both hands on her shoulders you flip the two of you around so you're on top, she laughs, full-on wide smile, head thrown back laugh and you grin. 

“My turn,” you say, kissing that spot right under her ear, and her laughter halts as her breath hitches in her throat. You place a knee between her legs, situated against her core and she immediately rubs herself against it, she’s already so wet which you know is from getting you off. Kuvira might be the dominant one out of the two of you, but she got off on pleasuring you. 

“Y/n '' she moans out as you trail your lips down to her breasts, knowing that her neck is off limits you begin to litter her chest and shoulders with as many lovebites as you can, she continues to grind herself against you. Something about her so desperately trying to get off on your leg has you moaning as you wrap your lips around her nipple, you look up at her through your lashes. The sight is a masterpiece, Kuvira’s head is thrown to the side, half-buried in a pillow as she lets out sharp pants with love bites scattered across her tan skin. 

You release her nipple, taking the neglected one into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the hardening bud. Giving a gentle tug that has her reaching to pull your hair, you let go of it and crawl down. You remove your leg from Kuvira’s core, causing her to emit a frustrated groan.

But you ignore her, when you get down to her lower regions your eyes land on her soulmate mark etched across her left hip bone, “Would you mind helping me memorize the routine?” glares back at you. It seems like yesterday that you nervously walked up to the woman you thought was just so beautiful and said those words. You press a gentle kiss to her mark, Kuvira looks down at you with this gaze full of unending love that makes you want to cry. 

You pull away from her and work you way down to her glistening slit, her slickness is covering her thighs, and fuck, Kuvira never loses control like this. You press a trail of kisses up her right inner thigh, once you get to the very top you lick her thigh clean before turning to do the same to the other. 

Finally, you decide enough is enough and press your tongue inside of her, swirling around and caressing her walls. Kuvira lets out a raspy gasp and she pushes herself against you, loving the way you're making her feel. You gently press your thumb against her clit, adding a bit of pressure before rolling it between two of your fingers. Goodness, Kuvira tastes amazing and you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of her, you fervently keep going, your tongue slowly darting in and out as it licks up any of her cum and soon Kuvira clenching against you, her thighs came up to wrap around your head but you don’t mind, it just makes you go faster, trying so desperately to push her over the edge.

“I’m… I’m gonna” she moans out as she tilts her hips up and lets out a scream that has her biting the pillow beside her. You hum in approval as she lets go and licks her up like you're a starved woman. Slowly her legs loosen and then fall back down, her thighs shaking as you pull away from her. You pant as you try to catch your breath, some of her cum drips down your chin and onto your chest, the sight has Kuvira’s eyes widening in delight.

 You climb off the bed and grab two towels, one of them you use to wipe your face off and between your legs whilst the other is for your lover. You climb back up and gently wipe away the mess you’ve made, she grabs your hand and tugs you forward, effectively getting you to fall onto the bed. You toss the dirty towel behind you and pull her close, resting your head on her chest. 

“I love you,” she says, her voice is raspy and low from her screaming. You press an innocent kiss to her chest and whisper back “I love you too.”

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

Perhaps it’s the fact that your sleeping in a new place or the fact that your tongue fucking caused her to sleep in. All you know is that when you open your eyes, the sun is up and has cast the room in an ethereal type glow. Your heart drops as you hear the sounds of the guards outside practicing fighting in what once was the meteorite garden and people walking past your bedroom door. 

“Vira…” You whisper and gently shake her awake. Your lover’s eyes slowly flicker open and stare back at you in confusion. “Vira everyone's awake.” 

The effectively wakes her up, she pushes you off of her and looks around the room in a panic, her hair is an absolute mess that has you swell with pride, and your eyes land on her chest. Spirits you did a number on her. She immediately gets up and looks around for her clothes, not even bothering to put her robe on. You get up to help her, as you make your way to the bathroom to search, you both stop dead in your tracks. 

There’s incessant knocking at your door, well more like slamming, it stops for a moment and you wonder if the person has left but your hopes are dashed when in an all too familiar nasally voice you hear “Y/n let me in!” 

“Why?!” You shout back as you shove your lover in the bathroom, she closes the doors behind her and you quickly throw on and tie up a robe. When you walk past the large mirror by the door you stop, there is no denying what just went on in here. Spirits the smell is still here, but then a thought strikes you as he goes back to pounding on the door. 

Baatar is necessary for Kuvira to succeed… And you don’t want her too. You let out a deep sigh, preparing yourself for what's about to happen before unlocking the door. The second he hears the click of the locks he’s opening the door himself and pushing through, you stumble back and glare at him. “What the fuck, Baatar?” 

“The staff said she didn’t leave this room last night, so where is she?” He growls out. Baatar pushes past you and looks around the room, taking in the tossed cloths, extra robe on the floor, and rumbled sheets. “Spirits Baatar I know you hate our friendship but do you really think you have the right to act like this?” 

“It’s lunchtime,” he spits out, spinning around to stalk towards you. “She is up at the crack of dawn every morning to practice her bending and go over any paperwork that may have accumulated, then we eat breakfast together and go over blueprints that I made!” He points to himself, screaming out the end of his sentence. Out of fear maybe, or pent up anger you honestly don’t know, you slap him across the face.

The sound echoes through the grandiose room as he holds his reddened cheek. “What are you trying to say, Junior?” 

“I know your in love with her, you practically eye fuck her anytime she enters a room, it’s so disgusting and desperate and I know she is still here so where is she?” You want to bend the metal around him and fling him through the glass window, but he needs to know. He needs to find out. 

“I don’t know you,” you lie, your eyes flickering to the bathroom door. Baatar looks over his shoulder at where your gaze strayed before stalking over and wrenching open the double doors. Inside is Kuvira, hair still a mess with her boots and pants on in the middle of buttoning up her shirt. All of your bite marks are on display for him to see. 

“Baatar…” She begins, his face is beet red with his fists clenched at his sides. “I can explain.” 

“How long have you been with her? How long have you been lying to me!” He tries to get in her face as he did to you. You think he’d have learned after you slapped him but it seems the lesson didn’t stick. Kuvira bends a large piece of metal off the wall and pushes him back with it. Baatar goes flying onto his back and slams into the foot of the bed. 

“I don’t answer to you, I don’t know what makes you think you could ever treat me like that, I am the great uniter and I do not take lightly to men trying to instill fear in me,” she growls out. Stalking towards him with her shirt still unbuttoned, she grabs onto the collar of his shirt and pulls him up into a sitting position. Her face is so close to his, “I wanted to keep you around after I broke it to you, but if this is how you're going to act, then I might as well lock you up like I did your family.” 

His eyes widen as Kuvira calls for the guards, “at least tell me how long, how long did you make a fool out of me?” 

“Three years,” you answer. His mouth drops open in shock as the guard's filter in, “take him away and lock him up. I’ll stop by to talk to him later.” The guards grab him by the arms to drag him away, he doesn’t stop them as he tries to process your words. Three years.

[wordsfromthesol]

Pretend to be Friends

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @anousiemay @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial​ @zphilophobiaz Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Summary: Red Hood took an interest in a the new vigilante in town…you. Warnings: Injuries, language Word Count: 2.0k A/N: Still in Mobile and haven’t had much time to write, so this is one I finished before work went crazy. 

"So, you must be new." You heard the voice echo behind you. Letting out an exasperated sigh, you turned around to face the vigilante. It was only a matter of time before one of the big ones discovered who you were.

"Not really. No." The response was short and bitter.

"Ouch, alright. Well, I'm Red Hood."

"I know." The words left a bite in the air as you leapt off the building.

The next three nights your vision was plagued by that irksome red helmet. How he figured out where you were still puzzled you, but if he was going to stick around you might as well talk to him. "ALRIGHT!" You screamed across the alley way towards the building you saw him lurking on. "I give in!" Though his face was covered, you knew he was smirking underneath the mask as he sauntered towards you.

"So, Eclipse, is it?" Red Hood named you as he approached.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised." You scoffed at the vigilante name you had chosen. "So, why have I had a tail these past few nights?" Though you rarely used the confrontational approach in real life, once you put on the mask you gained a newfound confidence. And tonight, you were putting that to use.

"Oh…I just…well you didn't seem to have anyone. And this job is dangerous." Though that was partially true, there was also something about you that intrigued Jason…though he couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was.

"Well I don't see any Red Hood minions around either."

"Yeah, but I have friends." He pointed to his helmet, "if I need them." You didn't bother with a response, instead choosing to look out over the city below. You knew there were other vigilantes, but it hadn't registered that they may actually know each other. "Just let me give you my number. In case --"

Before Red Hood could finish the sentence, you interjected. "I think I can handle it. Thanks." And with that, you were gone again.

**

The next few nights you didn't see the familiar red helmet looming in the distance…maybe you actually did scare him off. Though just as the thought crossed your mind, the vigilante collapsed on the roof's edge next to you.

"Quiet night, huh?"

"Yeah. All I had was a purse snatcher."

"Dang. Was really hoping to get some punches in." Red Hood almost seemed disheartened that crime was low for the night. You almost didn't ask, but the non-vigilante side won out this time.

"And why the need to punch someone?"

Even through the helmet, you heard the hero let out a big sigh. "Just family issues. My older brother is driving me crazy. And then the old man comes in…let's just say I didn't stick around to be further berated."

"Oh we've got family issues, do we?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow at how much Hood seemed to be opening up to you.

"Ha! My family is one big issue."

"Do they…uh…" The question didn't need finishing.

"Unfortunately. Yours?"

"Oh…uh." You were unprepared for the rebound question. No one ever seems to actually take an interest in your life. "No. They don't. I don't have many though and none of them live close."

"I don't blame them. Gotham is one big clusterfuck after another."

"Yeah." The two of you sat in silence for almost an hour before finally parting ways.

**

After that night it wasn't unusual for Red Hood to join you on patrols or stake outs. Finally, after a few months and a close call, you took him up on his offer.

"Alright Hood, you win." You commented as you approached his perch on the roof ledge.

"Well I always like to win…but what exactly did I win?"

"I'll take your number. For emergencies."

"What happened?" You could hear the apprehension in his voice.

"Nothing!" You spat out the word, not realizing the question had barely left his lips. He stood there, staring at you in silence. You were determined not to break, but then he took his helmet off. The domino mask underneath wasn't enough to cover up his concerned expression. "It was nothing, I promise. Just a close call. I didn't even realize how close until after the fight was over. And I saw a bullet hole in the brick, inches from my chest. So I just thought…well you're right. This is a dangerous job and I should have someone to call if I need backup." Content with your explanation, Red Hood stretched out his hand, gesturing for your phone.

**

Red Hood started showing up on almost every patrol. Though he seemed content to let you do the fighting, he was always there waiting on the rooftop afterwards. You began to think it almost pointless to have his emergency number, when was always a block away, waiting for you to join him. That was until you had to use it. It had almost been a year since you met Red Hood when the fateful night came.

You had been chasing down a new drug ring starting up in town. Following the dealer into the alleyway, you were met with two burly men armed with 9mm pistols.

"Is this your definition of an ambush?" You scoffed at the turnout as you barreled towards the two. Though just as the two landed against the asphalt, you heard a crack as a force pulled your leg from under you. Turning around, you saw another man holding a baseball bat. You took a sharp inhale and ran at the new assailant. As he fell to the floor, you heard more voices and footsteps. Angry voices. Putting as much force as possible on the uninjured leg, you hopped over to the nearby fire escape ladder. Jumping up, you slowly crawled up to the landing and pushed yourself against the wall. You pulled out your phone and texted "911" to Red Hood as you hoped the reinforcements didn't find your hiding place.

Almost as soon as the new goons saw their co-conspirators laying on the asphalt, they left. You only had to wait a few more minutes before you heard the familiar sound of Red Hood's motorcycle. A sigh of relief flooded your body as you hopped back over to the fire escape ladder.

"Eclipse?!" You heard Red Hood's exasperated cry through the alleyway.

"I'm here!" Before you could continue or explain, Red Hood interjected.

"What the fuck! You send a 911 text and then don't answer your damn phone! I thought you were dead or bleeding out or some shit!" Red Hood couldn’t seem to stop the spew of words leaving his mouth. Your feet…or rather foot, finally hit the ground. You winced from the pain shooting up your leg as you leaned against the cold metal. Hood immediately noticed your expression change. "What's wrong?" He realized this should have probably been his first question, after all this is the first time you had ever asked for his help.

"My leg." You nodded towards one of the assailants on the ground. "That asshole blindsided me with a bat." You watched the anger surge through him as he came to your side, you were almost glad the culprit was unconscious. Who knows what Hood would have done to him.

After one look at the damage done, Red Hood made another call. Apparently he did have other vigilante friends. "Red Robin, I'm going to need the car. And get the doc ready."  

"Really, it's fine. I'm sure I can take care of it." You tried to weasel your way out of, well not only meeting more vigilantes, but also owing Red Hood a favor.

"Yeah…right." He glared at you, as you clutched the fire escape. "Totally in hand." Before you could protest, he was picking you up and carrying you to the edge of the alleyway. A car abruptly came to a stop in front of you and another hero stepped out.

"So you're the one Hood's always sneaking off to hang out with." A devilish smirk lined the dark haired boy's face.

"Can it replacement. Motorcycle's over there." Red Hood pointed a block south. As Red Robin began his walk, Hood screamed after him, "AND IF I SEE ONE SCRATCH ON IT!"

**

You pulled up to an unfamiliar place, but Red Hood already proved his connections in Gotham…so you supposed you had to trust him. Not that you had much of a choice at this point. There was no hope you were moving on this leg anytime soon.

"So, whose this doctor then?"

"Someone we trust. When the patch ups are too much for us to handle ourselves." He said it as if what happened was normal, no big deal. You couldn't get anymore questions out before you were met with a pretty blonde doctor and a wheelchair.

"Do I want to know?" She questioned as she wheeled you into the building and straight to the x-ray room.

"Just an asshole with a baseball bat and some luck." You tried not to look down at the damage it had caused. It seemed like hours went by as your injured leg was manipulated in ways it definitely shouldn't have been. Finally, you were wheeled back to a room. Much to your surprise, Red Hood was waiting patiently for you.

"Well?" He blurted out the question before you and the doctor could even get in the room.

She let out a deep sigh, "Well it's not great. A section of her fibula is shattered and she has a compound fracture in her tibia."

"So surgery?" Your voice went solemn.

"Unfortunately. Fairly routine though. Plates and a rod will reconnect your fibula, and we'll put some pins to realign the tibia."

"Great. So does that happen here…or…?" You still weren't sure how you were going to get through all of this without anyone noticing or revealing who you were.

"Here and now. We…" the doctor turned her head and glared at Red Hood, still lingering in the room, "will leave you to put on a gown. You can keep your mask on."

**

You assumed hours had passed, but it only seemed a few seconds to you. As your eyes fluttered open, you first noticed the new bandaging around your leg and then your eyes drifted to the man sitting in the corner of the room. "Why are you looking at me like that." You weren't even sure how your mind formed a complete sentence.

"Doll, I'm not looking at you like anything. Stop being paranoid."

"You don't have to pretend to be my friend or anything." The words were falling out of your mouth before you could stop them. Why would you even say that?

"Well, I'm not pretending. You know me better than anyone." At this point Jason was pretty sure that the combination of pain medicine and the anesthetic was causing the bizarre line of questioning. You had to have known that you were friends, right?

"Please, I don’t even know who you really are."

"And that is why you know me best. No preconceived notions."

"Oh so you're important then?" You chuckled before adding, "or just a dick."

"That's my brother." Red Hood laughed at the pun you didn't understand, before looking over and seeing the confused sad look gracing your features. "Look, I don't even know if you'll remember this…" He slowly pulled off the domino mask hiding his face. "But my name is Jason, Jason Todd."

A faint smile graced your lips as you followed his lead, "Y/N, Y/N  Y/L/N." The two of you broke out in laughter at the drama of it all before hastily putting the masks back on as you heard footsteps headed your way.

[sweet-lemon]

Intruder pt.2

Diego x Reader

Part1

Summary: Reader gets to see the mysterious superhero again.

y/e/c= eye color

y/h/c= hair color

It's been a week since your apartment was almost robbed. You hadn't seen Diego since, and you began wondering if you'd ever see your tupperware again. You were starting to run out of the plastic containers. Maybe you should stop giving them to people, they never returned them. Maybe you could give baked goods in plastic baggies?

You were too busy thinking about alternatives to plastic baggies that you didn't notice your shift was over until the other waitress walked up to you.

"Hey y/n, are you heading home or what?" She asked pulling on your apron strings.

"Y-yeah, sorry I got distracted for a minute there." You said untying your apron and taking it off.

"You've been doing that a lot lately. Are you okay?" She asked looking worried. You really liked Kathy she almost left like an aunt the way she looked after you.

"Still a little shaken up about the break-in last week, but I'm fine really." You replied getting your purse from under the counter and getting ready to leave.

"Alright, but please let me know if you need anything. I'm always here for you." Kathy said as she started walking towards a waiting customer. 

"Thanks Kathy. I'll see you later." You said heading out the door.

You had to get some groceries before you went home. The grocery store was just a block away so the drive there was only a couple of minutes. 

You quickly grabbed the groceries you needed the next week and were now deciding on what you wanted for dinner tonight. You were kind of in the mood for some garlic bread, so spaghetti it is. You rounded up the noodles and sauce then headed towards the bread aisle. Homemade garlic bread always tasted amazing.

By the time you got out of the grocery store it was starting to sprinkle. You walked faster to your car knowing it was going to be a heavy rain. You had gotten a flood warning on your phone about an hour ago. 

You loved driving in the rain. The sound of the rain drops hitting the roof of your car and your favorite song playing softly made the ride home so relaxing. 

Pulling out your umbrella, you tried balancing all the grocery bags and racing towards the apartment building. Sometimes you really hated living on the third floor. Once inside your apartment you piled the groceries on the table and took a moment to catch your breath. You must have been distracted again because you didn't notice the person standing in your living room.

__________ "So when are you going to see that girl again? Those brownies were really good." Klaus asked walking into the kitchen. He was rummaging through the pantry looking for something to snack on. 

"Why would I see y/n again? I stopped a robbery from happening, it's not like I was invited into her place." Diego said. He was cleaning some of his knives that he currently had spread out on the kitchen table.

"Well you can at least return her tupperware, and while you're there ask her for some more brownies." Klaus managed to find a box of cinnamon toast crunch and was eating it straight out of the box. 

"Well if she wanted it back she wouldn't have given it to a complete stranger." Diego said without looking up from the knife he was polishing. 

Klaus propped himself up onto the kitchen counter and watched his brother. He popped another handful of cereal into. "Or she does want it back and y/n gave it to you because she wants to see you again."

"Why would she want to see me again?" Diego said as he froze in place and tightened his grip on the knife. 

"I don't know, maybe she likes you." Klaus noticed the blush on his brother's cheeks. Well shit, Ben was right. He saw Ben smirking at him from the other side of the kitchen. "Or she's just nice and wants her stuff back." He added.

Diego nodded seeming to agree that she was nice. "Where is the container by the way?" He asked looking around the kitchen. 

Klaus opened the cabinet next to him and took out the container. He was excited at the prospect of getting some more of those brownies that he didn't want his brother to change his mind. So he grabbed another handful of cereal and left Diego alone in the kitchen. 

He kept cleaning the rest of his knives, thinking about what he might say to y/n. Diego didn't like getting close to people because of his line of work, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. Her y/e/c eyes and y/h/c hair and how soft her lips looked as she smiled. He also couldn't get the image of her jumping out of the hallway with that big metal rod. It made him smile every time. 

By the time he was done cleaning his knives it was 4pm. He figured she must be home by now and he could stop by for a quick visit. He grabbed the tupperware from the counter and headed out. 

Making his way downtown Diego noticed the rain clouds gathering in the sky. Hopefully he'll be able to see her and get back home before the rain starts coming down. 

Staring up at the familiar gray apartment building he tried guessing her apartment number. He remembers she lived up on the third floor and looking at the buzzers near the door there were only four apartments on that floor. 

After apologizing to two elderly women and a college kid Diego came to the conclusion that y/n wasn't home. The clouds had gotten darker and started to release a light sprinkle. He looked down at the plastic container in his hands and decided he should just leave it for her since he was already here. 

Diego already knew his way into her apartment. He would leave the container on her kitchen counter with a note for her. At the moment he thought it was a pretty smooth plan. Girls like mysterious guys, right? 

Heading towards the back alley and climbing up the fire escape the rain started coming down harder and faster. He made sure to watch his footing on the slick metal stairs. Reaching her window he noticed y/n had replaced the broken one from last week. 

Taking out his thinnest knife he began picking the window lock. He was careful sliding it open, not wanting her to have to replace another window. Once inside his quickly closed it before the rain started coming inside. 

The place looked a lot better than the last time he was here. The guys really trashed it when they tried robbing the apartment. He took a look around, confirming that y/n wasn't home yet. Setting the container on the kitchen counter he found a notepad nearby and a pencil. After thinking about what to write he quickly scribbled on the paper:

'Hey, it's Diego. We met the other night. Anyways, I just wanted to make sure you were okay and return the tupperware you gave me. The brownies were really good, my brother really liked them.' 

Looking down at the note he wasn't sure what if he should throw it away and start over. Maybe he could write down his name and leave his number. 

While he was contemplating what kind of note to leave he heard the unmistakable sound of keys opening the door. Shit this was going to look weird. He needed to get out of here before you found him in your apartment.

Diego rushed into the living room, but by then you were already walking towards the kitchen. There was no way he could open the window and sneak out without you noticing. He felt like such a creep just standing in your living room looking at you sitting down to take a rest. He couldn't take how weird this was.

"Mh-hmm." He cleared his throat to get your attention. 

You quickly jerked out of the chair looking towards the living room. You stepped back reaching for anything on the kitchen table to defend yourself with. Grabbing a hold of something you watched as they walked towards you. 

"Hey-hey it's okay. Just me." Diego said putting his hands up. 

"What are you doing here?" You asked relaxing a little.

"About to be attacked by a can of tomato paste by the looks of it." He joked pointing at your hand. 

Looking down you noticed the can in your hand. You huffed out a small laugh putting the can back on the table. 

"I was actually returning your container. I was going to leave you a note and get out of here before you showed up." Diego motioned to the counter with his head.  

You saw the note on top and made your way towards it. You quickly read the note before turning back to Diego.

"So your brother liked the brownies." You said beginning to unpack your groceries.

"Yeah, he actually wanted me to ask you for more." He replied walking over to help you.

"Did you like them?" You asked.

"I actually didn't get to try them. My siblings ate them before I got any." Diego scratched the back of his neck looking shy.

You smiled at how cute he was. After meeting him last week you had researched him and knew about his siblings. You thought it was sweet that he was reconnecting with them.

"Well, I should get going." He said heading towards the front door. 

"The rain outside is getting worse. Why don't you stay for dinner? The storm should be over by then." You said chasing after him.

Diego's hand was on the doorknob ready to head out. He looked unsure but after a few seconds he put his hand down. 

"Sure, but you have to let me help cook." He said. You beamed up at him and nodded. 

"So what are we making?" He asked as you both walked back into the kitchen.

"Spaghetti and meatballs!"

[uhhhhhhhhhsblogyea]

This is a surprise!

cw, attack, killing, slight demspey x richtofen, and religion, theres a good bit of that in there

[i wrote this awhile ago so theres not much of shipping material in this i was just like oh yeah this sounds cool]

[ 1 ] chapter 1 ; bump in the road 

Demspey hums a song to himself, something he heard while going through the teleporter awhile back. He wasn't sure what the name was or the lyrics, it was just a catchy tune. If he had to guess, it came from the future. The sounds in it were definitely not from the 1930's.

Rictofen laughs and looks at Dempsey, "Dempsey, what does LMG stand for?" Dempsey smirks at this, turning to look at the doctor. He knew what to say, thanks to training the recruits. Maybe he could punch Richtofen for being stupid, just like he did to the recruits. 

While Dempsey gives a minute of silence while looking over at the German, who takes out the summoning key, counting over his items before summoning the rift to their next place. “You sure you want to know?” He chuckles. 

“Why of course! Why, I wouldn’t of asked if I knew already.” Richtofen hums, confused by the American’s laughter.

"If you say so. It stands for Lick My Gibblets." Dempsey struggles to hold back his smile, knowing his foreign teammate wouldn't really understand what he meant - not to mention he’d look stupid for not knowing what it really meant. What a funny thing. 

While the two were conversing, Nikolai and Takeo had stepped into the rift, Dempsey following suit before Richtofen grabs him, "I am certain you were lying. What does it really mean?" He demands.  

Dempsey grunts, pulling Richtofen off him while saying. "Let me go, dumbass!" Dempsey sighs, walking through the portal between worlds.

Richtofen failed to specify where exactly, but, at this point the American wasn't surprised though he wasn't any less annoyed. 

"I wasn't aware it was LMGD..." The German ponders before following the bunch with a chuckle.

Tank steps out of the rift, meeting the other two, but it takes him to realize he stepped out into something he didn't expect. "What the fuck?" Dempsey is surprised, not prepared for the foot of snow on the ground. Pine trees of many kinds surround the area, being in a secluded area. Everything is covered in snow, pretty much abandoned. 

"Oh my, this is quite the surprise." Richtofen speaks up, making his presence known as the blue rift crackles and closes. 

"I wasn't prepared for this myself." Nikolai speaks up now, giving a slight shrug. "German," he addresses, "with the time traveling I'm sure you'd know where we are." He doesn't believe the legitimacy of Richtofen's surprise, Dempsey can understand why. 

Takeo chooses not to speak, fixing his pants to go over his boots so no snow falls inside of them while Dempsey watches the Russian and German grow tension.

Takeo stands upright. "Let us talk with honor." He looks at the both of them and nods.

Richtofen looks at Takeo, sighing before nodding. "If we came here there is something we need, so let's go look for it. We'll have to hurry up and find a spot to 'bunker down' before the next wave arises." The German man had done air quotes before pointing a lanky arm towards the large gothic church a-ways ahead of them.

The front of the quite beautiful church is a triangular shaped building, much like a house or meeting hall that extends into a tower that looks very much similar to a clock tower with a bell, considering there's a clock on the front.

 There's other rooms on the side of it but a lot of wires and metal rods are sticking out on the top of the tower. There's designs in the stone, stained glass of religious figures. Such a shame the full beauty was lost when the glass is cracked and broken in areas, boards nailed over any thought of entrance. 

Something's off about it though.

As they trudge through the snow, Dempsey notices the metal rods. He looks to his left to see Nikolai, the man who seems unbothered by this cold.  "Hey Nik, maybe Richtofen's right about something being here. As much as I hate to give him the benefit of a doubt, the wires and rods on the clocktower gives me the idea something's here." 

Dempsey raises his hand and points at the clock tower briefly, giving Nikolai enough time to glance it over. The Russian man follows Dempsey's hand, taking a second before seeing the same. "Perhaps, American. You do have a point." 

[ 2 ] chapter 2 ; welcome to hell, american

There's a blue beam of light, signifying the existence of the mystery box inside the church. Demspey hums, quite happy about that at least. Hopefully Samantha was nice enough to spawn some hidden ammo stashes for when they ran out or get low – he was quite notorious for being trigger happy and running out of ammo quickly. 

Hey, at least he took care of his gun when he had the time to.

They continued to make their way through the snow, had it only being less than ten minutes of arrival. Dempsey noticed that Takeo and Richtofen were colder due to not having jackets or long sleeves like he and Nikolai had. Richtofen seemed extremely cold although, compared to the headstrong Japanese man who refused to admit he was cold. Tank sighed heavily, taking off his jacket and holding it out to Richtofen. 

"Dempsey? Why are you giving me your jacket? You're-" Dempsey held up his hand, making Richtofen take it. "Doc, you're shivering more than any of us. You're also the one we have to follow here, I don't want to hear you whine about wanting some soup and your nose being stuffy." The American rolls his eyes, forcing a shiver from surfacing. 

Richtofen thanked him and put on the marine's coat. It was warm from his body heat, and quite soft on the inside. Dempsey wasn't going to lie, Richtofen looked quite cute in his coat. 

"Oh focus Tank!" He shakes his head, yelling at himself in his mind. Dempsey powered through the cold the best he could, not wanting to really show how cold he did feel in just a t-shirt. His pride wouldn't let him.

Eventually they reached the entrance, wooden planks nailed over the two doors to the church. Nikolai takes his hammer from his belt and starts to pry the nails out of the boards. Dempsey helps without speaking, pulling the bloodied planks off and stack them aside. It was kind of nice how they silently agreed for once.

Unfortunately for them, it took a good bit to clear the entrance to the church which means they had to sit in the snow and cold wind longer than they wished. Things were placed behind the doors, benches and heavy boxes filled with bibles and books, being barricaded from the inside. They moved into the hallway after forcing those things aside, Takeo giving a shiver. 

"I expected it to be... warmer." His nose wrinkles as he breathes in the stale air, looking to the side to one of his friends. Dempsey had to agree, but he took a step forward, walking down the carpeted hallway to double doors that were once barricaded. Emphasis on once. 

The items that blocked the doors were knocked and spread all over, blood that seemed old and semi-recent splattered on the ground and walls. He hummed, why was there new blood? To be honest he never saw any zombies openly bleeding and spilling their guts out randomly unless they were shot or killed. 

This was the room people would come to pray and listen to someone speak about religion, sitting on the wooden benches. 

Dempsey suspects that someone or something is here, and he's not sure what. Maybe he's not as dumb as the others say he is.

At this point, Dempsey couldn't give a damn about how Christian churches worked after contemplating it. He just wanted out. 

"Scan over this area, I'm gonna take upstairs." He says to the three who had gone and caught up with him, to which the others nod. He goes to walk towards the stairs, placing his hand on the metal railing. He halts at the third step to turn back to the group. "Richtofen." He calls. 

The German seems a bit startled at first, "Yes, Dempsey?" He strides over to Demspey on the stairs. "How about you come with me, we'll do two and two. That way none of us die for good." Demspey offers, though it sounds more like a command. 

Richtofen hums, tapping a finger on his chin before saying. "Fine Dempsey! Let's go take a look around, shall we?" Demspey nods, heading up the stairs with Richtofen behind him.

"Take that room, I'll be over here." He points to a random room on the left, it looks like a storage room. Dempsey walks down the hall a bit, getting a gut feeling to draw his pistol so he does. He pushes the door open to a room with furniture, sheets placed on top of them. 

"Right out of the horror films," He laughs a bit. He walks around the room, looking for crates, chests, anything that looks like it would stash ammo. 

There's soft footsteps behind him as he's rummaging through a box. He notices them as they stop, getting up and turning around to see who he thought was Richtofen. "Did you f-" 

Dempsey couldn't finish the sentence before getting attacked by an old woman, but she wasn't a zombie. He falls to the ground, his pistol clattering against the wooden floor. "Get off of-" Something sharp sinks into his shoulder near his neck. Her fucking teeth. 

He starts to reach for his pistol while fighting against her grip, eventually grabbing ahold of the gun and shooting the lady in the head. God, he hoped she wasn't someone important.

He begins to sit up, her blood spilled all over his shirt. He grunts, throwing her body off. Richtofen comes running in, "Dempsey! What happened?" He looks at him, getting up. 

"I'm fine Doc, I killed it. She must've just got affected by the 115, that's all." He reassures him. 

"Why don't you help me look around in here? Take these sheets and use them for bedding, might be good." Dempsey causally changes topics, stepping over the corpse and taking an already dirtied sheet to clean the blood off himself. 

Now that he thinks about it, he feels a little weird. There’s tingling around where she had bit him. Dempsey knows that isn’t a good sign, especially in his book. 

______

sorry if its super long, im on mobile !!

[robbyrobinson]

GODS AWAKEN: CHAPTER 27

The mad emperor dashed at Camila at lightning speed faster than her eyes could perceive. Huge gashes were torn into Camila’s clothes from the razor-sharp teeth of Belos’s suckers. Camila desperately tugged at her attire to withdraw more parchment paper.

“You have gotten heinously slow throughout the years haven’t you, daughter?” Belos snickered.

Ignoring him, the middle-aged mother successfully discards a glyph from her shirt and slams it on Belos’ hideous face. He was propelled further away. Camila, with the parchment still in her hand, held it out defiantly. On the paper was a sketch of waves representing wind.

“Wind spell,” she stated in a matter-of-fact way.

Belos chuckled. “But your mind is as sharp as ever.”

Belos lifted himself off the ground with his abdominal tentacles and reclaimed his staff. He raised it skyward summoning a rumbling quake underneath the ground of the coliseum. The force underneath shifted its motion and erupted out of the ground sending dust and rocks in the air. The beast possessed a huge gaping maw fixated into a permanent scream and beady yellow eyes. It lunged towards the mother in relentless speed.

Camila grabbed another parchment from the spot between her chest and slammed it on the ground to activate it. She hadn’t foreseen any possible method of getting out of the way of the rampaging worm and even if she did, its frame was too colossal. The worm dipped down claiming the mother with its mouth and taking out a large chunk of the ground.

“How unfortunate,” Belos noted.

As he looked at the worm again, he was taken aback. Red flames flickered out of the sides of the worm’s body and burned it from the inside out. Belos flicked his finger uprooting roots from the ground to restrain his daughter. Brown, hickory roots wrapped around her waist and limbs slamming her with savage force. Belos waltzed towards her holding his hands out again. This time, the illusion of an axe was levitating above his head.

With swift motion, Belos clutched the axe and brought it down.

Camila breaks the root wrapped around her waist and rolled over. A swishing sound droned out and before Camila knew it, a small segment of her front hair was sliced away falling to the ground before her. Camila sighed in relief.

The brown-haired girl grimaced and pulled her wrists together breaking the roots between her hands. She ducked again when Belos brought the axe back down.

“Hold still, miscreant, it will only last a second.”

Camila rolled over thrashing her leg out. Her foot hit the handle of the axe and sent it sky high. The axe materialized before the two.

Another parchment paper rolled out this time Camila hit it with her foot. A wall of ice grew from the ground slicing off Belos’s tentacles.

“Gah!”

The Emperor’s weird alien blood dripped from the stumps of the tentacles and corroded the soil. “Not bad; a minor scrape nonetheless.”

New fleshy tentacles sprung from the stumps hissing and writhing towards the human woman. They opened their blood red maws showing off their razor teeth gnashing and clicking like needles. They shot at Camila again this time managing to make a hit on her.

Camila was knocked to the ground again. The papers were scattered all over. The middle-aged mother reached out her hand to grab one, but Belos’s staff stamped down on her exposed palm.

“Ugh!”

Belos laughed to himself again. Like before, his ribs scraped against each other as he laughed and wheezed. Gunk fell out of his mouth as his hold over his staff began to falter. “End of the line.”

Back at the laboratory, Luz and the gang finished up on their stockpiling of glyphs. Luz made a dash down the stairs to marvel at her work. “Do you think that should be enough?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s blow this joint,” Eda noted.

Luz looked around the laboratory again seeing all the boxes containing the enchanted armor. She grimaced still sensing the screaming emanating from the armors’ metal shells.

“Are you okay, kid?” Eda asked.

“Belos had created those suits out of the broken souls of witches; if we’re really doing this, I feel we should give some peace to the poor things.”

Eda scratched her chin. She sighed deeply. “Eh, fine.”

Eda entered her house casually throwing aside any of the unconscious bodies of the guards. There was a crashing sound and a few mini explosions, but the Owl Lady returned holding a few flasks.

“Edalyn, what are those?” Lilith asked concerned “and what is that purple substance inside of it?”

“The seeds of some poppy plant that I got from the swamp; just grind em up and light a match and voila...a magic bomb.”

She passed the flasks – about six in total – and also gave them a stick to grind the seeds into a powdery substance.

“Make sure to completely grind them otherwise the explosion fails.”

They pressed down hard on the seeds and scraped the smaller pieces counterclockwise until they were soft as feathers. “Typically takes about ten seconds to completely pulverize them.”

After the task was over, they poured the powder in a long trail leading towards the entrance. “Oh, so this is like gunpowder,” Luz said.

“Yes, Luz, it’s like ‘gunpowder’.”

Luz took one last look at the laboratory to soak in the knowledge of what she was about to do.

“You still want to do this, Luz?” King asked.

Luz nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Luz took a parchment paper containing the fire glyph placing it on top of the trail of powder. Gently pressing it, a small flame started and completely consumed the paper. As the flame grew larger it quickened its pace eating away at the powder. The trail of powder would ultimately come to an end once it connected with the crates containing the statues. Another trail led towards the portal machine and quickly ignited a large fire.

“We should leave now.”

Luz and the team met up with Amity and her siblings and dashed further down the halls. Large walls of fire licked at the powder seeking more to consume and destroy. The flames rose higher and higher now reaching the stairs.

Belos now had his hand wrapped tightly on Camila’s hair. Tugging it, he lifted his fist. Lightning flickered from his fingers. “It is a shame that you have driven me to this point.”

Camila scowled at him. “Enough with this talk. Do your worst.”

“With pleasure.”

Before he could strike Camila with the full brunt of his electricity, he was caught off guard by a sudden tremor.

“What in the-?”

A cloud of smoke spewed from his palace blasting chunks of debris skyward. The ground shook again at the further destruction. The explosion sent a wavelength leveling half of the palace and bringing the final nail in the coffin towards his laboratory.

Belos dropped to his knees. “This can’t be...how?”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Camila beginning to collect herself. He made a grab for his staff, but Camila batted it away.

“This cannot be how this all ends.”

Belos stood up and growled showing his large, inhuman teeth that were sharpened and crooked. His tentacles flailed around in disbelief. “My plan has failed.”

“What plan?” Camila asked “you already failed to execute me like you wanted.”

Belos turned and grit his teeth together. “That was only a small sample of my revenge.”

Camila raised an eyebrow.

“I had served the Isles for fifty years all for one purpose: when my master escaped from his prison, I asked him to destroy your world. But I saw that if I were to have summoned the Outer Gods to the Isles...”

“What that you’d become one?” Camila interrupted.

This elicited a shrill chuckle from the Emperor. “Close, but no cigar: when the gods would arrive from the portal, I would steal their powers and become all-powerful.”

“But what of your master’s plans?”

“I don’t care one lick about Nyarlathotep’s whole goal of destroying the Isles and recreating it in his image. It should be ME and me alone who could bend and mold the Isles to my liking. Once I became a god of my own design, I would turn on my master and kill him.”

“Oh, you mean with this?”

An irregular, bizarrely angled instrument sliced into Emperor Belos’s chest and ripped through his wicked heart. Belos coughed up purple pus which dripped down his chest. Belos wheezed in agony and turned around with bulging eyes. He saw the Black Pharaoh standing behind him holding the other half of the instrument in his hands.

“L-Lord...” Belos coughed again. His lungs were filling with his own blood.

“If you really wanted to kill me, you shouldn’t have shouted your plan out loud.”

“B-But...how...?”

“Don’t act like I did not know your true allegiances. You planned this for a long time ever since I noted that you had your own agency.”

Belos wabbled to his knees. His life was painfully draining out and flooding the ground.

“After all, I switched out the Shining Trapezohedron with a decoy after all.”

Nyarlathotep crossed his arms and looked down at his servant. Belos slipped off the instrument and laid sprawled on the ground. He covered his chest with his hand to placate the internal bleeding. “Please, master, give me another chance.”

“Oh, so now you’re being a loyal servant?” Nyarlathotep said rolling his eyes.

A dark mass descended from the Crawling Chaos’ body and became two dimensional as it slithered on the ground. Belos’s shadow grew larger from the waning sun and seemingly was trying to flee from the mass of Nyarlathotep’s shadow.

The shadow produced long, spindly fingers and grabbed onto Belos’s leg. Emperor Belos’s physical body was tossed on the ground and dragged alongside his shadow’s leg. Belos was pulled closer towards Nyarlathotep’s body.

“No, master please! If you do this, I will lose my personality. The very fabric of my being will cease to be.”

Belos clutched his tentacle appendages on the opposite sides of his body and jammed them tightly in the ground. “I’m sorry...please, please have mercy!”

Nyarlathotep’s shadow was that of a fisherman’s rod. It nudged the shadow’s leg a few times and loosened its grip. About two seconds later, enough time for Belos to relax, Nyarlathotep’s shadow tugged again, tighter this time and pulled Belos further.

“Have mercy!!”

Belos disappeared underneath Nyarlathotep’s garment. And it was then that the Emperor’s rule over the Boiling Isles came to an end for whatever made Belos himself was stripped away from him making him become nothing more but a memory. Camila shivered unsure of what to do or say.

Nyarlathotep smiled wickedly. “Let the game begin.”

[thenonsensetronaut]

Cast:

-Wanda Schenn

-Conrad Twelve

-Kennedy Rodgers

-Gabriel Griffith

[The following is my contribution for the Firefighters LMLC Exchange. This one's for @korethekiller! Enjoy!]

    Conrad looked at the scrap of paper, then at the door the small group stood before. The door itself was just about as nondescript as possible, no signage to indicate anything of note behind, but they’d been following extremely detailed directions that had led them right here. Behind them, Gabe was tapping his foot impatiently while K-Rod quietly adjusted one of the bolts on his left arm. Conrad knew Chicago best of all of them, even if Chicago had changed a lot over their lifetimes.

    “We’re pretty sure this is the place,” they said softly, hesitating to open the door. “But if we’re wrong, please don’t hold it against us.”

    “It’s been almost an hour,” muttered Gabriel. “At this point I’ll take anything.” He pushed ahead and reached for the handle, but Kennedy stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

    “We agreed to let Conrad take the lead,” he said in the same calm tone he usually affected. “Let them be sure.”

    Gabe scowled but relented, shrugging as he stepped aside. Conrad took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. They weren’t wrong often, and ages on the road had made them fairly confident about following directions, but the writing had been a bit tricky to decipher. Regardless, after a moment, they gripped the handle and pushed open the door.

    The trio were immediately greeted by a completely different space than the dockside warehouse they’d just gone through. Wood paneling adorned wide walls and gentle yellow light spilled from chandeliers hung from low ceilings. Booths cushioned with plushly stuffed maroon leather lined one wall, with round tables spread out just far enough to give ample space dotted the main floor. An enormous bar took up the wall opposite the booths, and a small stage with thick velvet curtains stood proud but empty opposite the door.

    “We guess we found the right spot,” Conrad said with a smile.

    There weren’t a great many people inside yet, but it was early enough in the day that none of them had expected a crowd. One or two, they recognized from the stands. Diehard Chicagoans who’d found their way here by luck or accident, one of whom was bold enough to have brought along a jersey from the gift shop. Conrad couldn’t see whose name adorned the back of it, but it was unmistakable even having been slung over the back of a chair. A slight woman in a white shirt approached them with a smile, pushing a strand of straight, dark hair out of her face.

    “We’ve been expecting you,” she said to the trio. “The boss reserved her favorite booth for you. I’ll let her know you’re here, if you’ll just follow me.” She turned and led them back to one of the booths closest to the stage, letting them ease their way in. The seats were luxuriantly comfortable.

    “Drinks to start you off?” she asked.

    “Hakushu whisky, one ice cube,” Gabe said immediately. It was a typical flex from the star pitcher, going for something esoteric and expensive, but the young woman just nodded and looked around the table.

    “Do you have a carajillo?” K-Rod seemed almost hesitant to ask for the coffee cocktail, but the gal responded in the affirmative. “Delightful.” He relaxed visibly. Rodgers didn’t really drink, and it was entirely possible that he couldn’t and just pretended to, but the beverage would at least smell very nice.

    Conrad considered their order for a long moment. A dozen lives’ worth of history had left them with complicated feelings on alcohol, and while they didn’t abstain they were fairly certain they’d end up having to haul Gabriel home. 

    “Just a club soda for us,” they said after a moment. It seemed the safest choice, and the woman gave that same pleasant nod as before. 

    “I’ll get those to you right after I let the boss know you’re here. Enjoy your stay!”

    As she walked away, Conrad let themself relax into the seat. When the three of them had been invited out, it had been a bit of a surprise. Only Kennedy had even known the place existed before, but had never been here personally. 

    “Did Wanda tell either of you why we’re here?” they asked.

    Gabriel shrugged. “I assumed she finally figured out that we’re amazing and wanted to socialize away from the Firehouse. I knew they had a side hustle or two, but this place is very nice.”

    Kennedy said more with the words he didn’t use, as he often did. “We don’t get that many days off.”

    Conrad frowned. It wasn’t as if they didn’t trust Wanda, or anything like that. It simply seemed sudden that this particular group would be let in on what had previously been something of a secret. They looked around the bar -- speakeasy? -- as Gabe and Kennedy continued the conversation. Gabriel, true to form, lamented that he wasn’t pitching every game, while K-Rod stated with no reservation that that sounded very tiring. It made sense, then, that they were the only one to notice when Wanda approached the table at that inhuman speed of which only she was capable.

    Wanda was seated at the booth before Griffith or Rodgers noticed anything was amiss. Even Conrad had missed her actually sliding past them to sit nearest the wall. Wanda Schenn wasn’t exactly aloof, but she was fairly private. That made it all the stranger when she threw one arm around Conrad’s shoulders. The other extended over the table waving someone closer.

    “Drinks are on me tonight, pals,” she said in a husky alto. “I do own the place, after all. Except yours, Griff, I only stock that crap for blowhards like you. You’ll enjoy it and you’ll pay for it.”

    Gabe was more visibly surprised than Kennedy, but then, he was more visibly most things than Kennedy. With the metal face and the one eye, K-Rod wasn’t exactly an open book. Gabriel, despite his avian features, was almost comically expressive.

    “Wanda!” he said, the feathers around his neck rising. “When did you-”

    “Literally about a second before she started talking,” Conrad interrupted. There was some kind of competitive and undefinable thing between the two of them, and if not headed off properly it could devolve into a bravado-fueled contest of one-upsmanship. That was not what Conrad wanted tonight.

    To his credit, K-Rod seemed entirely normal.

    “Good evening Ms. Schenn. Thank you for inviting us to your lovely establishment. Might I ask, while we-”

    “Hold that thought, K,” Wanda said. “Drinks are here.”

    The skinny woman in white was indeed returning with a small tray holding four glasses. A coffee-cocktail which smelled wonderful for K-Rod, a bubbling glass of soda water for themself, three fingers of wildly expensive imported whisky for Gabe, and-

    “Your usual, boss,” the woman said, handing over a martini glass with a smoky-white sphere of ice resting in a small amount of clear liquid. A skewer pierced a pair of blackberries and rested on the rim. “One Full-Moon Martini.”

    Wanda grinned as she raised the glass to her lips and took a long sip. The icy moon lolled gently as the liquid beneath it diminished. Once the glass was resting back on the table, Wanda put her chin in her hands and looked over the little group.

    “Underhanded,” she said, apropos of nothing. Gabe immediately rankled, feathers down the back of his neck rising, but the other two gave no indication of any response yet. “Cool your jets, GG, it’s not gonna be all of us. But I’ve got a line on a special item. Just one, for one of us. Called you all in here to figure out who’s getting it.”

    Conrad blinked back a wave of confusion.

    “If you found it,” they said, “shouldn’t you be the one to use it?”

    It was K-Rod who filled the moment of silence. “I believe,” he said, “Wanda is proposing we figure out what would best benefit the team. According to League rules, an Underhanded pitch only scores Un-Runs on a home run. Thus we should calculate which of us allows more home runs than hits and act accordingly.”

    “I don’t want it,” Gabe said in an instant. “I’ll win my games on my own.” 

    Wanda chuckled but said nothing, which seemed to rankle Griffith even more. He stared at her for a long moment, eyebrows furrowing until K-Rod broke the tension.

    “I believe, statistically speaking, Conrad should be the one to take it. They have given up the most home runs, and-”

    Conrad was biting their lip. The glass in their hand cracked and shattered, dropping a pall of silence over the table. Wanda waved over the girl and indicated for towels.

    “Don’t give it to us,” they said slowly, looking over their hand to make sure no shards were in the skin.

    Wanda leaned back, expression quizzical.

    “Why not?”

    “We… Honestly, we don’t know. There’s something inside of us that really doesn’t want it. If you gave it to us, that would be… bad.”

    Gabe swallowed his slug of whiskey in one go, setting the glass back on the table with a resolute thump.

    “Wanda, as much as I hate to say it, you’re good. If you were throwing underhanded, you’d be extremely difficult to defeat. Why don’t you keep it and we’ll see how it goes.”

    With that, he excused himself from the booth. “I’m going to refresh my drink.” He was looking vaguely toward the bar, but his eyes were unfocused. “Rodgers, seeing as I’m just back from my Hawai’ian sojourn, come with me. You can catch me up on what I missed last season.”

    “I really feel I should-” Kennedy started before Gabe wrapped a wing around his upper arm and tugged. “Oh! Well alright, ah, hm. Where to begin?”

    The pair walked off toward the bar, K-Rod starting to unload a season’s worth of shenanigans.

    Wanda took the towels and sent the young woman off, cleaning up the mess herself. Conrad tried to protest, but a hand and a stern look from Wanda set them to silence again. A moment later the spilled drink was sopped up and the broken glass was gathered in a neat little pile.

    “Do you want to talk about that?” Wanda asked softly. Conrad let their eyes rest on the detritus of an outburst they didn’t fully understand.

    “We’re not sure we can,” they answered. “We just… There’s something about this. About everything that’s been happening lately. We can’t explain it, but we think one of us, or maybe more, has dealt with something similar before.”

    “Well sure,” Wanda said with a shrug. “We’ve all been through a lot. Hell, I’m still grappling with everything before the Descension. That’s plenty of baggage on its own.”

    “We know.” Conrad cringed. “We didn’t mean to imply…”

    “You didn’t. I’m just letting you know that, maybe more than the others, I can sympathize. You can talk to me, if you want. I’m here for you.”

    Wanda rested a hand atop Conrad’s. That hand was hot, steady, strong. Conrad glanced at it and looked away again, but they let a small smile find its way to their lips.

    “We appreciate it. You’re a good friend, Schenn.”

    Wanda looked back over to the boys at the bar. Gabe had his next drink, which he was nursing as Kennedy animatedly told some story or another. If Wanda had to guess, the topic was some Socks antic or another.

    “We have to have each other’s back out here,” she said. “It might look like we have it all, to the people who don’t bear this burden, but I know damn well that everything can be ripped away from you. That you’ll have to rebuild everything in a new place, maybe even a new time. If we can’t count on each other, we have nothing.” She pulled her hand back and sipped at her drink. “If, or when, you want to talk about anything, you know where to find me. How about for tonight, we just have a nice time?”

    Conrad nodded. “While it lasts,” they said softly. Some part of them knew that the world would shake around them soon enough, that everything would change and maybe never be the same again, but for now? For now it was enough to be here, and now, and let the past stay quiet within them.

    For now, it was enough to be with friends.

[ren1327]

Sweet Survivor Ch.4

As soon as the door shut, Darius and Sammy sandwiched Ben into a hug, causing him to groan.

“Guys. Uh, Yaz looks like she needs some first aid.”

Kenji lifted her, eyes burning through Ben. “Lead the way.”

Ben limped forward, Brooklynn giving him a side hug and whispering, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Ben led them to his room and Sammy and Brooklynn helped her recline on a bed.

“Oh, my gosh…it’s like a cloud!” She sighed happily.

Bumpy groaned happily as Yaz scratched under her chin.

“She’s so big now.” She hummed as Bumpy nuzzled her side.

“We should treat that as soon as—” He yelped when Kenji pulled him into a tight hug, his nose smooshed into his chest.

Kenji said nothing, just squeezed him one more time before taking off the fanny pack and holding it out to Ben, who held it with trembling hands.

“You kept it.” He said.

“I couldn’t…it really saved our butts against Toro.”

“What?!” He yelped before hearing Yaz hiss in pain. “Eh…later.”

Ben looked through the bags from the infirmary and found an ankle brace, bandages and some metal rods to make Yaz a cast. He knew how to do it.

But now he was worried if he should do it...

“Ben?” Sammy asked.

“I, uh. I can do it, but I’m scared I might do it wrong. It’s dislocated and you might have a fracture…”

“Ben.” Darius said. “You have first aid training, right?”

“Yeah.”

Kenji threw his hands up. “Paging Dr. Ben, Nurse Kenji is here to help.”

“Wh-What?” Ben asked.

Kenji sat next to him at Yaz’s feet. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I got your back.”

Ben blushed and smiled, nodding.

“This is gonna hurt. Sammy?”

“On it.” The Tejana said.

Sammy sat behind Yaz, bracing her hips with her thighs and holding her hands for her to squeeze.

Yaz blushed as Darius gave her a leather phone case.

“Bite on it. We can’t be super loud yet.” He said.

She huffed and put it between her teeth. Brooklynn placed her arms across her remaining leg.

“Is this okay?” She asked, the athlete nodding.

“Okay, Darius, make sure we have some light.” Ben said.

Darius shined a lamp over them.

Ben took hold of Yaz’s socked foot.

“You got this, Ben.” Darius said, Kenji nodding and holding Yaz’s knee still.

“Okay. One…two…”

SNAP

Yaz shouted into the phone case, squeezing Sammy’s hands and thrashing.

“We got you. We got you.” Sammy said as Ben quickly wrapped it.

“Kenji, bring me that ottoman.” He said and wrapped cold packs onto Yaz, placing it gently on a pillow. “There we go. Keep it elevated.”

Yaz sniffed and Sammy wiped away her tears. “You did great!”

“Thanks.” She croaked.

“Here.” Darius said, giving her some pain medication and water.

“Okay, we’ll need to keep you stationary for a couple days.” Ben said.

“Not just me.” She said. “You think I don’t know the signs of a bruised tailbone? You’ve been standing as much as possible despite your shaking legs.”

“I’m okay.” He said, wincing when Bumpy bumped his hip.

“Yeah, no.” Kenji said and scooped him up bridal style.

“K-Kenji!” He stuttered.

“I claim adjoining room as guys room.” He said to the others.

“Um, actually…” Darius said. “I think we’d be better higher, for a better vantage point.”

“What about Bumpy?” Kenji asked. “And the Pteranodons?”

Ben shivered and Kenji held him tighter.

“There’s a second garden area overlooking the courtyard on the sixth floor.” Brooklynn said, pointing at a brochure. “Would that be okay?”

“It’s a part of the spa.” Darius said. “But…”

“There’s a maintenance elevator. For the ballrooms and upstairs kitchen.” Kenji said. “I’ll take Bumpy and Ben.”

Darius nodded and went into the hall to find a luggage cart. “We’ll get Yaz ready to be moved. Then we can gather up the supplies and make camp up there.”

Brooklynn giggled and Darius blushed. “Again.”

Kenji smirked as Darius gave them one of the universal keys and keycards.

“Be careful, Man.”

Kenji nodded.

“You too. Got precious cargo.” He said and started off towards the east lift. Ben wrapped his arms around Kenji’s neck, Bumpy following behind and stopping every so often to much on a fresh flower or two.

“Hey.” Kenji said.

“Y-yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve—”

“Stop.” Ben said, swaying as Kenji stilled. “You guys made the right call. I mean, it’s just me.”

“What the heck, Ben?!” Kenji snapped. “Just you?!”

He put him down on his feet.

“I…I was so…” Kenji sighed. “I was so scared you were dead!”

He hugged him close again.

“I thought you were gone…And…” He pulled away, holding Ben’s shoulders.

“I will never let you down again.”

Ben blinked up at him with almost owlish eyes.

“I…” He blushed and nodded. “I trust you.”

Kenji picked him up again. “Then let’s find the luxury apartment. Dad let me stay there when we visit. It’s got three rooms and is a few feet from the spa and garden. Not to mention the ballroom right down the hall.”

“You really spent a lot of time here, huh?”

“Yeah…Dad was always busy and Candy…it was kind of awkward.” Kenji said.

“How?”  Ben asked as they got to the lift, the doors opening for Bumpy to shuffle in. Kenji got in next to her, pressing the 6th floor button.

“Candy tried to be my mom, but she…she didn’t sign up for this. Who dates a guy and tries to be a parent to his rowdy kid when he wont even…She use to make these ugly burnt grilled cheese and lumpy banana milkshakes because she wanted to make me food herself?”

He laughed. “I always eat every bite.”

Kenji smiled, thinking of his stepmother and her pretty face and timid eyes.

“She would even trick my Dad into bringing me along on trips sometimes” He said. “But Dad wanted me to try out the camp. And…he wanted Candy to relax.”

“Is she busy too?” Ben asked as the lift dinged softly and they walked off.

“She has her own brand of natural and pure beauty products…” He said. “And she’s gonna have a baby soon.”

He paused in front of a large door. “Dad’s psyched.”

“Oh…I’m sorry.” Ben said.

He opened the door and Kenji propped it open, walking in and kicking open a sliding door to gently lay Ben down on his side.

“I’m gonna go help them bring stuff up.” He said as Bumpy settled in an open area to nap.

“Kenji.” Ben called.

He stopped and looked at Ben.

“I’m glad you came. To camp, I mean.”

Kenji smiled. “Me too.”

Ben flopped on his side as Kenji left, rubbing his cheeks to lessen his blush.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Operation Steel- Eye,”

This is probably the last bit I will be doing on this particular thread because I want to do more with it in the book version, but hopefully this will get you guys interested in how things turn out. 

They had gone through another attack. The rundi chairwoman had not been expecting it, but all of a sudden there were voices, and shouts, and people running this way and that, she had been hurriedly bundled into a truck and driven for over an hour in the opposite direction with no idea what was happening, and no one that seemed to want to tell her what was going on. When they finally stopped she was told there had been another attack, and they were trying to get her as far away from the fighting as possible.

They waited there for over half a day, and only began their return journey when a spotty call came in over their radio to drive them back. When they reached camp, a good portion of it had been damaged, especially alone the suwards side, though, as she got out of the truck, she was told they were lucky, and the ashfall cleared enough that their long range weapons became more effective, driving the Drev off for a time.

“However, I don’t think I need to tell you how imperative it is that we get operation steel-eye up and running.” The admiral was saying leading her through the camp, as the soldiers scrambled to repair and re-supply themselves for an attack that could happen at any moment. Ever since the supply ships had been able to get through the atmosphere, thing in camp were looking a little less bleak.

The wounded were better cared for, and the soldiers were receiving more rations. 

Though the ash was still a heavy nuisance, and kept the days mostly dark, they did have occasional times of clearance that allowed them to see the sun.

She moved into place behind the admiral, who had led them to the new medical tent, less of a tent now and more of a pop-up shelter, with reinforced siding, and an actual door. Stepping inside, she couldn’t help but gawk at the difference just a few days of supplies had made. The floors and walls were a uniform steel grey, and proper decontamination equipment was brought in to rinse ash from their bodies. Instead of suits to put over themselves they were washed off and given entirely new sets of clothes.

Stepping onto the ward was a much greater relief. The place was spotless clean, bright white lights shone in from above, and instead of rolled mats on the floor, there were cots, clean bandages, and monitoring machines hooked up to each of the wounded soldiers beeping away with their vital signs. Instead of moaning and pitiful whimpering from earlier, they were silent most of them asleep, all of them heavily drugged under vast swaths of pain killing medication. The first half of the room housed newly injured soldiers lying on cots their missing limbs bandaged and properly cleaned.

But the back of the room, well the back of the room was where things changed. 

The fruits of operation steel- eye. At least twenty soldiers, this being the first medical tent, she was told there were twenty more soldiers in the second.  They did not lay on open beds, but instead hung from the walls in various states of unconsciousness, pinned there by the thick metal contraptions welded to their bodies. A main rod of the metal was riveted down their backs curving around onto their hips and then locking at the knees, similarly with the arms.

Metal protrusions connected to the underarms and over the back of the hands. 

It was a strange sight, and made her rather nervous as she somehow felt the wrongness of the steel next to delicate skin and bone.

Theadmiral stepped forward to examine the sleeping soldiers, “We lost 20% of these brave men and women after the first few hours out from the operation. Bacterial meningitis, and the occasional paralysis. A few of them just stopped breathing, but that could have been a reaction to the medication. This is all we have left.

The rundi chair woman stepped forward looking up at the sleeping humans their eyes close, their faces so much more peaceful now. As per usual she was drawn to one human in particular, the only human that she actually knew on sight based on their history together, or their acquaintance.

From her reports, this human had been the first human ever to meet nonhuman life, and had been instrumental in language acquisition for their linguists, and now here he was reduced to nothing more than a piece of hardware to be upgraded and augmented for the purposes of better battle strategy

The thought made her sick and uneasy. The more she thought about it, the more she was coming to realize that the humans and the Drev had more in common than anyone else on this battlefield, both of them were unwaveringly brutal, the Drev with tearing off limbs…. And the humans continually asking their soldiers to give when they had already given so much. With this thought her eyes shot down towards the human’s new robotic leg still and silver in the painful overhead lights.

No other species had ever considered such a thing as an alternative option, adding machinery to bioology….. As far as she knew there was nothing human’s couldn’t replace, and that thought made her wonder…. How far could they go before there was no more human left before the machine took over completely?

As she thought looking up at the sleeping human the admiral came to stand next to her looking up at the face of the sleeping human.

Her eyes drifted downwards, noting a strange dissimilarity in one of the human’s arms. With one hand she pointed out, “What is that.”

He glanced towards, “Oh, well, that is a drug port.”

“A drug port?”

“He nodded, unfortunately due to our time constraints we cant let their injuries fully heal, which means we will be mainlining morphine during combat, but due to the nature of the side effects of morphine, we are going to have to pair it with a drug classified as a stimulant to keep alert during battle.” 

The rundi chairwoman shifted nervously, “I… not to question your methods admiral, but havent you asked enough from them. First they lose their limbs, then you splice them with robotics, and now you are keeping them drugged.” The admiral looked down at her with a cold unreadable expression, “You wanted us to win this war, and sometimes we have to do things that don’t make us sleep so well at night.” 

There was an awkward pause of silence between them, but she let it go.

What did she know.

The humans probably knew what they were doing.

***

Lieutenant Adam Vir woke slowly, but he did it without pain. 

In a somewhat drowsy haze, he floated upwards towards consciousness like one would float upwards through a pool of warm salt water. lights , beginning as big fuzzy circles, soon condensed themselves downwards into sharp points of light. The buzzing in his ears followed suit morphing and churning before turning dowards and sharpening out into a baseless echo. The echo that soon turned and warped again until, “Lieutenant, Lieutenant, can you hear me.”

The light jumped first to one eye and then the other.

He blinked past the pain squinting as he tried to make out the room ahead of him.

His fuzzy surroundings condensed, contracted, and then finally sharpened out, to the face of a woman. She was small petite, with black hair pulled up in a bun, and large, thick framed glasses. She had one hand on the side of his face as she flicked the light between his eyes.

He groaned slightly and shifted.

“There were are, that's good, can you focus here on the light and follow it please.” It took him a moment to comprehend what she was saying, but finally followed the little pen light with his eyes. She clicked it off andplaced it in her pocket, “Very good.” Reaching out she felt the side of his neck and up under his jaw, “Turn your head to the right…. Now left…. Now open your mouth…. Tilt your head back.” He did as told, though somewhat groggily. As he tried to tile his head back, he felt something strange flexing with him, “Very good, now can you wiggle your fingers for me.” He did as requested tilting his head down to look at his body, which he now realized was hanging upright instead of lying down. 

He blinked again, trying to push a haziness from his eyes as he squinted past his hands and down towards his legs. They were bare mostly, which is how he noticed the metal prosthetic so quickly. 

He missed her next couple of words as sounds and images came flooding back to him. Ashfall, a dark silhouette looming over him, the sharp point of a spear, and terrible horrible pain.

Something was beeping frantically off to his side.

A hand rested on his arm, “Come on back to us Lieutenant, you’re safe here.” He opened his eyes again looking over to find the admiral standing next to him, “There we go.”

He blinked again.

“How are you feeling?” The man asked

“Not… in pain.” He responded thickly

“Try flexing your toes.”

He did as told looking downwards. His left foot flexed just fine, but the right remained still. He grew sick felt his stomach churn.

“Hm that…. Wait, hold on there kid, we need to power it on.” A sudden relief washed over him as the woman bent down to engage the limb. The Admiral patted his shoulder, and suddenly his eyes widened, he could FEEL his leg, could feel the woman’s fingers as they moved across the metal, could feel it as if it was his own skin. 

He shivered, and then shuttered goosebumps erupting across his entire body. She looked up at him, “Can you feel that.”

He nodded dumbstruck, eyes wide.

“That's good, now do what the good lady says and try to raise your arms.” 

He did as told, and nearly clobbered himself in the head as his hands and arms flew upwards. He jolted in confusion, staring down at his arms in shock. He flexed hs fingers watching as tiny metal bits flexed with him clicking softly. He flexed his arm again and it felt as if he wasn’t even moving it, instead being dragged along by the metal frame which held his body.

He dropped his hands again.

“Reduce the response time on those,” the admiral ordered, “Let him get the hang of it first.” The woman adjusted something on the leg. He shivered again, feeling her fingers, the sensation was so real, he expected to look down and see his leg back, but predictably it was still metal.

“Go ahead and flex your toes now.” 

Nervously he did as asked,and this time the toes of the prosthetic twitched and then curled inwards. He moved one, and then the other and then rolled them tilting his head back and closing his eyes, feeling as if he was in ecstasy.

“Good.” All around him, the other soldiers were doing the same. Across the way, a soldier, who was missing three of her limbs had tears spilling down her face as she flexed her new arm.

Another was blinking through a robotic eye and speaking for the first time…. With a mechanical jaw.

“Lets lower him down slowly let him feel the ground. They rushed to do as told racing over to the wall and slowly lowering him towards the ground. His feet made contact with cold metal…. He could feel it, the cold through the soles of his feet, the only difference was that…. Without skin, he didn't feel that subtle deflection as skin puckered and flatted about objects.

He tried lifting the knee of the new leg, and it came as told. He flexed the ankle, and the foot moved seamlessly with it.

“Wow.”

It was almost as if his leg was back, almost as if….

Embers fell from the sky, and that dark shape moved closer to him fro the darkness.

A hand rested on his shoulder and he jerked away, “Stay with us lieutenant.” The admiral moved forward taking him by the shoulders, “Look at me.”

He did.

The other man’s eyes burned hungrily, “This is your chance…. For revenge, to make them pay for what they did to you.”

Adam nodded, but at the same time, something inside him felt very uneasy. IS revenge what he really wanted…. But of course it was… wasn’t it, that roach had taken his leg..? But shouldn't he feel more?

“And, you will help win the war, no more casualties, no more pain. You do this and it will all be over, you’ll have served the UNSC, the GA, and earth….. Can you do that for me?”

Of course the admiral was right.

“Yes sir.” 

[zagi-the-creator]

Kimetsu no Yaiba: Enmu’s Backstory (Fan-Made)

 The sun shone brightly through the window of an ancient house, illuminating a drab room with a wooden bed and a single, small lump on the floor. The lump was covered in a tattered blanket and stained a strange, dark red. It trembled, almost as if it couldn’t stand to see the sunlight. It raised a pale hand to close the window.  “Get up!” came a shout from the door. “There’s work to be done and you’re the only one around to do it!”  The lump sighed and stood, shaking off the blanket. “I’ll be right there,” it whispered in a soft, shaky voice. “I promise.”  “I can’t hear you!” the woman on the other side of the door yelled. “Get over here now before I confiscate that ratted blanket too!”  “I’m coming!” the lump cried, a good bit louder this time. Its voice cracked at the last syllable, giving out entirely by the end of the short sentence. “It’s always like this,” it thought. “If only I could have a break or at least a little time to heal up…”  The lump sighed once more and reached out to open the door. Before it could get to the door, however, the woman on the other side flung it open, knocking the lump over. She grabbed the lump by the collar and pulled it up onto its feet. “You good-for-naught servant! I swear on the dead soul of your blessed father that if you don’t fix yourself up and respond properly, Enmu, you will be thrown on the street for the swordsmen to deal with!”  Enmu shivered. The awful swordsmen were something of a nightmarish legend in the village of Tasukete. They would come through in bright cloaks every once in a while to search for the mythical man-eating Demons and kill them brutally. It was even rumored that they would toy with the demons and tempt them with the local village children. Enmu had caught himself secretly wishing to join these swordsmen and get revenge on the horrible family he lived in, but he had stopped himself every time. “Only sadists would do that,” he had thought to himself somewhat regretfully. “And my father never liked those kinds of people.”    Now, the threat of being thrown on the street was quite common. However, it still alarmed Enmu each time that it was brought up. This time was no different. He nodded slowly to the woman to show he understood.  “Use words, Enmu, you aren’t mute yet,” she snapped. He attempted to reply, but his voice simply wouldn’t work. It came out as a raspy bark, which sounded rather similar to a fox. The woman huffed and dropped him, letting the lump (now somewhat recognizable as a small, boyish figure) find his footing. The impatient lady then walked out of the room, expecting Enmu to follow her (which he did.)  The sun was high up in the sky now, indicating it was probably around lunchtime. The bright light from it reflected off of the body of a pitch-black train engine nearby, which was almost entirely covered by rust and ashes. This engine had been at the station for the last week or so, and from what Enmu knew, it had only been used once in its lifetime.  “You’ll be cleaning this off today,” the lady said. “You know where to find the supplies; I expect you to be done by this evening.” Enmu stared at her for a solid minute in a state of shock. “There’s no way I could get this garbage heap clean in such a short time! I’d take the streets over this," he thought desperately.  But alas, he could not speak, and the lady left to head back indoors. Enmu slowly walked over to the engine to inspect it and see what he would need to get the rust off. The more he looked at it, though, the more fascinating it was to him. At first glance, the engine looked like a simple hunk of metal. When he examined it closer, he noticed the vast complexity of it; each part was there for a reason. Each plug, valve, rod, was there for a specific purpose. It had to be. Enmu rushed indoors to find the supplies to clean it off in hopes of discovering more about this foreign technology.    Time passed slowly as he cleaned off the engine. By the time he finished, it had gotten quite late, and the moon could be seen over the horizon. Enmu stepped back to look over his work, about to collapse from exhaustion. He sighed in relief; it was completely cleaned, top to bottom, not a single part left dirty. Now that it had been cleaned off, Enmu could see the full engine. It was an incredible sight; it was a beautiful shade of black with golden accents across the front and along the sides. There was a plate on the front where a name might have been written at one point. Enmu was just about to examine the plate further when the woman from earlier flung open the front door.  “Are you done, you useless git?” she demanded, her voice clearly audible from across the station. Enmu cringed at the sound of her voice, and he almost ducked to hide behind the engine. “I’m done,” he whispered, then paused in amazement. “My voice seems to have healed,” Enmu mused, “that’s impossible, it never heals that quick…”   “I can’t hear you!” The woman yelled, approaching the train where Enmu stood. “Speak up, boy! Nobody will care about what you say if they can’t hear you say it!”  Enmu stood straight with a sudden surge of defiance. “Maybe I don’t need to be cared about,” he replied, looking the lady in the eyes. “maybe it isn’t my fault that I can’t speak well-”  The lady swung at him, pinning him against the ice-cold side of the train. He yelped and attempted to back away, but there was no escape.  “Is that any way to speak to your mother?” the lady roared, infuriated at Enmu’s defiance. “You should learn your place! You should be infinitely grateful that I brought you into this world and allowed you to live in this station!”   Enmu was trembling. His newly regained voice seemed to have failed him once again, and he was filled with a deep sense of regret for speaking so outwardly. He wanted to speak, to apologise, to cry out, but he was shaking too badly to do so. Then, mother raised a hand, potentially to slap him again. Enmu turned away, hands raised defensively, his eyes closed tightly in anticipation.

 But her hand never reached him. Enmu opened his eyes a little. He saw a tall, well-dressed pale man standing in front of him. The man’s back was turned, so Enmu could not see his face, but he seemed to have caught Enmu’s mother’s hand and was holding it tightly by the wrist. “That’s enough,” the man said quietly. “You’re acting quite childish.”  Enmu’s mother was shocked. “Where did you come from?” she inquired, understandably shaken by the sudden appearance of the man. “Why is it your business what I do with my son?” The man turned to look at Enmu. His bright red eyes seemed to pierce Enmu’s soul, seeing right through him and sizing him up. “This man is something else,” Enmu thought, in awe. “He’s different, somehow…”  Eventually, the man turned away to face Enmu’s mother again. She watched wordlessly, judgmentally, as he raised a hand. In one swift move, he sliced her head clean off with his wrist. It landed on the grass with a solid “thunk.” “You don’t deserve to be alive,” the man said with disgust. “You’re the scum of the earth. How presumptuous of you to blatantly disagree with the Demon Lord …?” Enmu finally found his voice. “The Lord of Demons?” he inquired, utterly fascinated. The man turned toward Enmu and, after a pause, nodded. “And you are?” “E-Enmu,” Enmu stuttered, now somewhat afraid of the man. “My name is Enmu.” “And you’re not at all bothered that I killed your mother?” the man asked. Enmu thought for a minute. Somehow, he wasn’t that concerned with it. He had never seen this much blood before, and he had never witnessed murder, yet it didn’t bother him in the slightest. “No,” he said slowly, “It doesn’t really bother me.” The Lord of Demons looked him over curiously, as if considering something. He was silent for quite some time; enough time for Enmu to get a proper look around him. The blood of his mother had seeped into the ground, staining it dark red. “Thankfully, none of that got on the train,” Enmu thought with relief. “I just cleaned it off… Wait-” “The train!” he said suddenly, and stood. “What will I do with it now? My mother wanted it for something important, but now... you know,” he looked over at the decapitated corpse (which wouldn’t be operating a train any time soon).  The man (or rather, demon) examined engine thoughtfully. “It does seem like a waste to let it rust here,” he remarked. And then, as if he had come to a conclusion about something, he looked back at Enmu once more. He placed a hand on Enmu’s shoulder. “What would you do,” he said, smiling slightly, “if you had the opportunity to become a demon like I am?” Enmu was surprised. “Me? But, I’m not very special. I don’t have any talent, I don’t have any special skills,” “You have yourself,” the demon said quietly. “And you have a lot of potential. You could be quite useful to me.” The small boy looked up at the demon and smiled. “I think that would be wonderful.”

[kristannafever]

Mountain Man - Five

Kristanna modern au

Rated: MA

WC: 4296

~Collab with @lukin08

Chapter Index

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

Kristoff woke slowly, wrapped around something incredibly warm.  He blinked in the dark, suddenly remembering everything and who was in his arms.  He went to move but his muscles refused to cooperate.  Despite how tense and awkward he felt last night when he dozed off sleeping next to her, right now he was comfortable.  Very comfortable.  Anna was breathing deep with sleep, the movements very evident under the arm that was curled around her.  It was then he realized his hand was tucked just below her breast and that he could feel the curve of it through her sweater resting ever so gently against his thumb.

He definitely needed to move, was about to, when he felt the dip in the middle of the mattress where his body usually laid alone. He was the one who had invaded her side of the bed.  It was him who had sought her out in his sleep by rolling over and putting himself around her.

That idea scared the hell out of him.  

He made the decision to move again, only to have his muscles hesitate once more.  He had no idea what time it was.  Perhaps it was the middle of the night.  He didn’t want to disturb her.  She had spent all day helping him and she was probably still tired.  Anna had proved to be a great help, he could stand to let her sleep a little longer.  This way if she was cold, she wouldn’t have to wake him up to ask him to hold her.

He yawned and relaxed his tense muscles, knowing he wouldn’t get any more sleep for having to remain still so as not to wake her.  He dared to inch his face a little closer to her hair, breathing in the scent of it.  He could faintly smell her shampoo; soapy, clean and not overly floral.  

My God, she is warm.  

Kristoff started to think about all the tasks he had to face in the morning when suddenly he was in a flowered meadow, Anna running there beside him in a yellow sundress, her hand pulling his in some unknown direction which he eagerly followed.  He startled back to consciousness, incredulous that he had actually dozed off.  That was the absolute last thing he thought he would be able to do.

He just about moved away from her then.  Just about.    Then he relented quickly and reminded himself he needed rest to get through the day ahead.  With that, he fell back asleep once more.

*****

They both stood on the porch looking up into falling snow.  It had accumulated so much overnight that everything was covered in a foot and a half of fluffy white flakes.  All the new fallen undisturbed white powder was a breathtaking sight.

“This is one big system,” Anna grumbled, wrapping her arms around herself.

Kristoff looked at her grim expression, wondering what he could do to make her feel less like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world.  He fumbled with the words in his mind, trying to think of the right way to talk to her when she grew impatient with his silence and spoke instead.

“So, are you checking your lines again at some point? We’ll need to fix that rod.  I’m actually surprised that rope got us all the way back here.”  She frowned when he couldn’t respond. “Or do you have other stuff going on?”

He blinked himself out of his stupor. “Uh… yeah, I should fix that rod.”  Her eyes narrowed.  “I mean we, if you don’t mind helping?”

Her face relaxed and she smiled.  “Not at all.”

“Right.”  He nodded and trudged towards the small shed, glad that she seemed a little happier now than when the had walked outside to see all the snow.  If she needed a task to take the scowl off her face, he would give her plenty of them today.

Anna removed the cover off the sled and waited while Kristoff grabbed some tools they would need.  From the corner of his eyes he watched her fidget as he went through a bin of scrap metal looking for something that would work to do the fix. He knew she was itching to talk. She liked to talk.  It was hard for him to understand that.

He dumped everything in a pile as Anna leaned over the rod assembly with him.  She didn’t make a peep as he pulled the hunting knife from his belt and cut the leather cord she had made with her gloves.  

After he sheathed the knife, he handed her a crescent wrench and asked her to remove the ski.  She did as she was asked while Kristoff went over to his work bench and grabbed a hook from beat up coffee can and hung it in a free space on the peg board on the wall above the cabinets.  He took the leather cord and wrapped it around the hook, wanting to keep it in case there was ever a need for something like that.  So many things could happen unexpectedly, he never threw anything away.

Anna already had the pieces apart when Kristoff crouched back beside her, looking bored out of her mind.  He needed to say something.  She looked like she was ready to explode from the silence, but it was clear she was trying so hard to respect his space and wait for him to speak first.

“So… you have any kids?” he asked.  He didn’t think she did, but he wanted to try and make conversation so that she wouldn’t look so dejected.  It was the first thing that popped into his head and he hope she didn’t see him wince at the realization of what he asked.

Anna laughed.  “No.”

“Someday though?  Are you a kid person, or a non-kid person?”

“Oh, I am definitely a kid person.  I love kids.  I really hope I can have some of my own someday.  But that clock is certainly ticking and quite honestly I’ve been too busy to even try and find myself a man.”

“You mean they’re not lined up at your doorstep?”

Anna snorted a laugh until she saw his strained smile and seemed to realize that he had been serious.  Kristoff knew he should try and play it off as a joke, but he had genuinely thought that she would be sought after.  She was gorgeous and smart and tough.  Annoying to him, sure, but she seemed like the perfect catch for what he remembered most guys looked for in a woman.  How the hell could she not have men all over her?

They both fell silent and Kristoff busied himself as he began to remove the entire steering assembly.  He was at a loss on how to keep the conversation going.

“What about you?” Anna asked after a moment.  “You never wanted kids?”

Kristoff’s hands froze as he was removing a bolt. He had not expected her to ask him that.

“Sorry,” she murmured at his silence.  “None of my business.  Let’s forget I said anything.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he said, brining his eyes up to hers. “I just… I never thought about anything besides this life.  I never took the time to consider anything else.  It was just… this.”

Anna’s eyes became sad.  “You never wanted companionship?  Never wanted to have a family?”

Kristoff’s heart started to hammer in his chest. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid.  This was why he hated talking.  No one understood him.  It was only three years ago that Frank had to fly him back to White Mountain when he had fallen deathly ill from an infection from the tiniest scratch of a rusted nail. It only took one look at his appearance for people to shake their heads. The nurse who attended him had looked at him like he was an idiot.  The doctor berated him being so far from civilization without a means to call for help. He had never been so glad to be back at his cabin when he was healed and well.  It was absolute hell having to lay in that hospital bed while everyone who came into the room all but sneered at him.

Kristoff shook his head.  It was all he could give her.  He didn’t trust himself to speak in that moment.

Her eyebrows twitched upwards quickly as if she was saying ‘okay then, whatever’ before she moved her eyes back to the snowmobile.

Kristoff resumed removing the assembly wondering how things had gotten off track so quickly.  It was his fault, he realized.  He was the one who asked her about kids first.   He had completely forgotten how people have proper conversations.  Of course she would ask him something in return.

The assembly finally came off and Kristoff looked over the broken part.  He was going to have to weld the damn thing.

“I only have one welding shield.”

She looked at him a moment before understanding crossed her face.  “Okay. I’ll just go chop some wood or something.”

“You don’t have to-” he started, but she was already heading out the door.

He sighed, shoulders slumping, feeling strangely defeated. The truth was he never gave his decisions, or his future for that matter, any thought.  He didn’t have time to.  He just lived every day that came without worrying about what he would be doing in five years.  Or ten years. He certainly never thought about what he would do when he was too old to eke out a living in the middle of nowhere. It honestly never crossed his mind to consider it.

Now it seemed to be all he could think about.

~ ~ ~

Anna chopped and stored two cords of wood before she got tired and retreated back into the cabin.  She felt a little bad about pressing Kristoff with her questions. What was it about him that she just needed to know?  Whatever it was, it kept nagging at her to try to make sense of it all.  But she couldn’t understand how someone like him, with his kindness and obvious gentle nature, could want to spend his entire life alone.  It didn’t add up to her.  He had so much more to offer the world than simply living all alone in one of the most remote places on earth.

Still, it was not her place to make such judgments. People had been doing the same thing to her all her life and she knew all too well how much that hurt. Kristoff didn’t deserve that.  And not from her.

Anna threw a log on the fire and went over to his little bookshelf to see what he had.  Most of them were about trapping, skinning and wilderness survival.  There was also a book on basic first aid and medical procedures.   Then there were a few classics.  Anna picked them up one by one looking at them.  

‘The Call of the Wild’… Fitting, Anna thought with smile.  ‘War and Peace’, ‘Don Quixote’, ‘Robinson Caruso’… he even had ‘The Lord of the Rings’ trilogy.  Anna looked at a few more, pulling them all down and leafing through the pages.  It wasn’t until she reached the last book that she understood immediately that it was his favorite.  The beat-up copy of ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’ was dog-eared on almost every page, probably from having read it so many times that he always ended up stopping in a different spot.  Every other book had only a fraction of bent pages as this book did. While Anna had never read the book, she had seen the movie.  She wondered what about the story made it his favorite.

She tucked the book back into its place and stood to look around the cabin wondering what to do next.  There were no dishes to do.  She had no idea what, if anything, he ate for lunch.  She didn’t want to snoop… well, she did, but she wouldn’t.  

She took a seat at the table and grabbed the pack of cards.  She shuffled them and laid them out to play solitaire, trying to understand again how Kristoff could live this way, wondering if he was truly happy.

~ ~ ~

Anna was nowhere in sight when Kristoff was finished with the repair on the sled.  He looked around the small clearing, thinking that she might be doing something outside. He had thought after he shut the welder off that she might return to help him install the assembly, but she never came back.

He knew she had chopped some wood for him.  He heard each thwack of the axe until he had fired up the generator to run his welder.  He went over to his wood shed and looked inside, surprised by how much she had done.  It certainly was a big help to not have to do it himself.

He went into the cabin and found her sitting at the table playing solitaire.  When she looked up at his entrance, he was happy to see that the sadness he had seen earlier seemed to have left her eyes.

“Got it fixed?” she asked.

He nodded.  “Yeah, all put back and everything.”

“That’s good.”  She started putting the cards back into a pile and slid them back in the box. “Now what?”

“Well, I have a bunch of pelts to deal with.”

“I could give you a hand with that.”

“It’s… well the way I do it, um, you might think it is disgusting.”

“I’m not squeamish.”

“Not even when it comes to brains?”

Anna’s mouth popped open.  “Brains?  You have got to be kidding me?  What the hell would you be playing with brains for?”

Kristoff’s cheeks flushed with heat.  “It’s not… I mean, I boil them to tan the hide.  It’s an old method… you know what, never mind, I’ll just do it myself.”

Fuck, he was not used to having to explain this shit. He was turning to head back out the door when she spoke.

“No, no!  I’ll help!” she insisted, and added under her breath, “beats sitting around with nothing to fucking do.”

“What?”

“Nothing!”  Then softer. “Nothing.”

He eyed her a moment, feeling a twitch of annoyance. All she seemed to be able to do was focus on the cons of his life without bothering to consider the pros. Not that he could blame her, he supposed.  She just didn’t understand.  Never would. Better to leave it alone and just tolerate this shit until the weather was clear enough that she could leave.

Until then, he could at least be civil.  

~ ~ ~

It had been dark for hours by the time they were finished with the task.  Anna was dead on her feet and shuffled into the cabin behind Kristoff, plopping herself into the chair at his table and putting her head in her arms.

Kristoff didn’t speak but Anna could hear him going down into the cellar and then preparing food and wondered idly if he would put more finesse into the meal like he did the night before.  She supposed she should help him, but damn was she tired. There was no sign of the fatigue on Kristoff, which she understood from doing this every damn day, but still!  

“You want some coffee or something?”

Anna smiled into her arms.  After the day they had and all the work Kristoff had put in, he had still taken a moment to ask her if she wanted what had to surely be considered an indulgence.  Every time she thought she had a small piece put in place of trying to understand him, he’d throw another wrench at her and shatter it.

She lifted her head to look at him.  “No, I’m okay, but thank you.  I think I just need food and sleep.”

He gave her a smile.  “You and me both.  It was a long day.”

“Insanely long,” Anna chuckled and finally stood to take off her coat and boots.  With that accomplished she settled herself on the floor in front of the fire.  After taking the chill off her bones she asked him if he needed any help with dinner.

“Nah, I got this handled,” he said and continued to work in the kitchen.  

After a moment his head turned and he looked over his shoulder at her.  Anna was embarrassed to be caught starting at him again and was about to apologize hen he opened his mouth.

“If you want, there is a fur in the chest at the foot of my bed.  You can grab it to sit on if it would be more comfortable for you.”

Anna smiled at that and told him she was going to take him up on that offer.  He returned to making dinner and Anna went into his room and opened the chest.  She pulled the white and grey fur out and was about to close the lid when her eyes stumbled on a photo of Frank.

Pinching her lip in her teeth and taking a quick look behind her to make sure Kristoff was still occupied, she set the fur down and fished the picture from out from under the stack of blankets.  Frank stood there next to Kristoff in the small clearing where she now found herself, only there was a simple shelter for protection from the elements and nothing else.

The men were standing about where the cabin now resided.   There was no well, no shed, nothing. Anna imagined it was the very start of Kristoff’s journey to build a life for himself up here.  Turning the frame over in her hands she saw there was writing on the back in Franks neat scrawl.  

‘Humble Beginnings.  Good Luck my friend’, it said.

It hit Anna in a weirdly emotional way.  To see Kristoff back then, looking so damn young, with a short beard and a big smile, nothing but clear excitement for his endeavor. And Frank, giving the camera a thumbs up.

Who took this photo?  Was it set on a timer, or was there someone else up there with them that day? Did his parents ever visit?   Had they ever seen their son’s lonely life up here in the middle of nowhere.

Anna looked back into the chest, needing more. Moving the blankets aside, she found a neat stack of 4x6 photo’s in the corner of the chest.   Quickly, she began leafing through them to find that Kristoff had taken consistent track of his progress in building his homestead through the photos.  Anna watched the small clearing transform into what it was now.

The next photo Anna gazed on was much different. It was of the clearing where she landed her plane, in its summer glory, full of the purple lupine flowers she loved so much.  She loved flying in the summer, gliding over the sea of purple in the mountains.  Everything was so vibrant that time of year.  As much as she loved them, if she was honest with herself, she’d never really taken the time to think about how beautiful they could be with this perspective.  The photo was so serene, it really deserved to be enlarged and framed.

“You find it okay?”  Kristoff called from the kitchen.

Anna startled, almost dropping the entire stack of neatly organized photos.  With her heart hammering she put everything back where she was pretty sure she had found it, grabbed the fur and went back into the cabin proper.

“Yes, I did, thank you.”

He was looking at her carefully and Anna felt like admitting she had been snooping in his things might be a pretty terrible idea right now.

“I… um…” a thought struck her and she held up the fur. “What animal is this?  I just can’t figure it out.”

The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly upward.

“Artic wolf.  About five years ago a pack wandered down the valley and that guy took a little too much interest in me.”

“What happened?”

Kristoff shrugged his broad shoulders.  “Nothing too exciting.  He just wandered into the clearing and really wanted the Martin I was in the process of unloading from my snowmobile sled.   I tried to scare him off by shouting at him but he kept coming, so I had to grab my rifle.”

Anna’s eyes went wide.  “Oh my god, did he attack you?”

“Um, sort of?  He launched at me so I shot him before he could, you know… bite me.”

Anna shook her head slowly and looked back down at the fur in her hands.  She hadn’t even thought about wolves.  Come to think about it, there was probably a whole host of animals out there that would kill them if given the chance.  

Kristoff turned his attention back to the counter so Anna laid the fur on the floor in front of the fire and took a seat.  He came over shortly after and set some meat to cook in a cast iron pan and rice in a pot.

“You want some vegetables?  I have some canned peas I can stir into the rice?”

Anna smiled at that, enjoying the fact that he was asking for her input on dinner now.  “Sure, that sounds great, even if canned pea’s taste super weird.”

“Weird?” he smiled at her.  “They taste great.”

“Says the guy who doesn’t have access to fresh vegetables.”

His smile fell a little and Anna immediately regretted opening her mouth.  Apparently, he didn’t like being teased about his life.  She was about to apologize when he moved and pulled the rug back to go down to the cellar.  She sighed and reminded herself once again to be polite.

Anna moved to get out of his way and he finished cooking in silence, then brought a steaming plate of food to the table and set it down in front of her.

“Thank you.  I really appreciate this.  Not… not just dinner, but all of it.  The food, letting me stay, um… sharing your bed… and all that.  I’m sorry again for invading your life so badly.”

“It’s fine,” he said softly, not lifting his eyes from his plate.  

Anna repressed a sigh and turned her attention to her own food.  The meat was… well she had no idea what the hell she was eating.  It was gamy but slightly tenderer than the first meal she had had here.  And the rice and peas were exactly what she expected; decent, but lacking salt.  

She was halfway through her meal when he spoke.

“How is it?”

Anna looked up and met his eyes.  “It’s good.”

He nodded and returned to eating.  Anna shrugged and did the same.  She was about three quarters finished when he spoke again.

“I keep meaning to start a garden.  I’ve wanted to for a long time.  But… I always seem so preoccupied with everything else to find time to get it started.  Not to mention the growing season would be rather short for how much work it would be…” he shrugged, clearly not knowing what else to say about it.

Anna felt bad all over again for teasing him about the peas. Clearly it had bothered him more than she initially thought.

“Well, they say canned vegetables have just as much nutritional value as fresh, so… you know… you can easily manage without them. Errr, I mean you do, you do easily manage without them.”

His head nodded slowly.  “Right.”

Anna sighed.   His plate was empty and once again he had dished her in as much as himself. This time however, she really was full.

“Do you want to finish mine?”

He held her eyes for an almost uncomfortably long moment before he gave her a small nod.  “Sure.”

Anna did her best not to watch him but it was hard. She supposed she should be cleaning up the dishes but her body refused to follow her command to stand.  It wasn’t until Kristoff finished his last bite and took to his feet that Anna did the same.

He met her eyes and his head tilted slightly to the side as he appraised her.

“You look exhausted, Anna.  Go settle yourself in bed.”

“I can help.  It wont take too long if we both-”

“It’s okay,” he shook his head with a small smile.  “I am just going to stoke the fire and do these in the morning.  I’m tired too.”

She smiled back at him.  “Okay.  Thank you. And thank you for dinner.  And… everything.”

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered and turned away to take the dishes to the kitchen.

Anna went to the bed and slid beneath the flannel covers, eagerly waiting for her furnace to join her.  If he didn’t offer to hold her to keep warm, she was going to ask, because she needed sleep and the only way she was going to be able to accomplish it was if he was keeping her warm.  That was the only reason.  Warmth. Survival.  It had nothing to do with anything else.  The way her heart quickened when he held her was just her nerves. Yup, just nerves.

He joined her a few moments later and settled on his side. Anna bit her lip, about to ask when he spoke.

“Do you want to sleep together?” then added quickly, “So that you don’t get too cold?”

Anna grinned into the dark and did her best to keep her voice level.  “Sure, that sounds good.”

The mattress shifted and Kristoff pressed against her back and settled his arm around her waist.  

“Thank you.”

“S’okay,” he yawned.  “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Anna whispered.

She was still listening to his breathing, wondering when he was going to fall asleep, when unconsciousness claimed her.

--

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[lilixloveswhump]

Collar

Whumptober 2020 - Day 2 (Prompt: Collars)

start//end masterlist

TW: swearing (one word), mention of rape, collared and leashed, electricution/taser, pet whump, lady whumper

“Oh, you’re awake!” Her voice was chipper, sending a jolt through Felix’s body as She flipped on the light. He shielded his eyes as he peered up to look at Her, watching as She swiftly entered the cage, just as She always did. He whimpered as he struggled to drag himself backward, tripping over his limbs, unable to even crawl properly with how weak he felt. It was too cold down there, he was always shivering and he hadn’t had a proper meal in, what, days? He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, whether it was day or night, September or October. All he knew was hunger, cold, darkness,

And Her.

She smiled at him, Her lips covered by the mask but he could see the crow’s feet at Her eyes. He couldn’t tell if there was genuine happiness or not. He couldn’t tell which he preferred.

His breath hitched as She reached a hand out at his throat, freezing him in place as She wrapped it around his neck, the smooth leather of her gloves caressing over the fine hair running down the nape of it, sending shivers down his spine. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears threatening to slip through when he couldn’t even manage to utter a desperate “please.” He was like a baby doe in the headlights when it came to her, halting all movements and willing himself to completely disappear from existence. He whimpered quietly as he felt something wrap around his throat, slight pressure on his adam’s apple following.

Felix caught the amused chuckle that escaped Her chest as She did so, and it only made the tears fall faster. She enjoyed his fear, and he could hardly even blame her. It was silly, She hadn’t even done anything to him, yet, and he was still a blubbering mess. She pulled back and Her hands were gone, but the tight sensation on his neck remained when he opened his eyes. His hands immediately reached up to feel it, eyes widening at the leathery texture and twinkling in confusion at the subtly ‘clink’ when his fingers grazed the front.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah!” She waved a finger, ending in a crude point. “Hands down.” He stopped, his hands falling to his lap as he feared the consequence of continuing to mess with it. A collar, it must have been a collar. Would it shock him if he touched it? If he tried to take it off? God...would it tighten? Could it cut off all of his airways, would he slowly suffocate if he tried to figure out what on earth was hanging from the front? He didn't know, and he didn't care to find out.

"Don't worry, pet. You'll see it soon." She said, tilting her head to rest it on her hand. She heaved a satisfied sigh, eyes crinkling up as she smiled at him. "You've been so good, my sweet little angel." She uncrossed her arms and dug into her pocket, pulling out something pink and wrapped up into a coil around her hand. His jaw wobbled as She approached, his mind jumping to all the possibilities of what the thing could be. Was She going to whip him? It didn't look like a whip, no, no. It looked…it looked like string, but…it was far too thick to be…oh. His heart stuttered as he heard the click, the woman's face suddenly down next to his. He hadn't realized until it was on, drooping down from his jugular and swooping back up into Her hand. It was a leash.

"Stand up." He barely heard her, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was leashed. He was collared and leashed like some kind of animal. It was a nice leash too, a silky little pink color, one he figured was probably used for bedroom purposes. Was this what this was? Holy fuck, was She going to rape him? The shame crept at his face, staining a bright crimson color up to his ears. He was sure he'd begun to cry again. A slight tug pulled him from his thoughts, the flimsy rope bouncing on the air between them. "Up." She repeated and he pushed himself to his feet. He still didn't know what the collar did. It was best not to test it.

The woman reached into Her pocket once more, pulling out a small capsule. She shook it in her hand first once, twice, a third time, then cleared her throat as Felix flinched back, a long cane-like rod protruding from Her hand. She pressed a button and it zapped, little bolts of electricity lighting up the sides as She presented it like some kind of show.

He got the message, swallowing hard as She turned around, tugging on the leash gently to egg him along. He followed Her out of the cage, the first time he'd set foot outside of it since he'd been there. She led him to the stairs and he reached for the railing, halting as She spun around, reaching the cane out to where his hand hovered. "Ah, ah." She tsked, shaking Her head and watching as he brought his hands back together, clasping them in front of him before nodding approvingly. "Good boy." She sang, flipping back around and continuing up the steps.

Felix could feel the temperature change even before he stepped through the door. Her house was nicely decorated, and he figured She must have been wealthy, which only scared him more. If She was a powerful person who knew powerful people, She could totally get away with this sort of thing. There were a lot of windows, he noted the pulled curtains as he followed Her through the house. It must have been night as there wasn’t any light seeping through the cracks. There was no point in hoping a nosy neighbor would spot him.

She stopped suddenly at a mirror, a fancy one mounted to the wall at shoulder height, framed with shards of opal and pearl. “What do you think, pet?” Felix found himself in the mirror, slightly less horrified than he expected to be, but then again, things were always worse in his head.

The only part of his face that was sunken was his eyes, heavy bags laying underneath them from sleeping on a cold floor, but he didn’t look starved. He wasn’t as pale as he thought he’d be, and it made him wonder if he had been exaggerating his shivers. Around his neck was a leathery, baby pink collar, a bell hanging just beside the clip to the leash. Next to it dangled a piece of metal; a nametag, in the shape of a heart. He moved his head a bit to get it to shift in hopes to read what She’d named him.

“It’s quite nice, isn’t it?” She chimed, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his reflection long enough to look at her. “I was originally going to go for black, you know. But…” She wrapped Her hands around the back of his neck, a few fingers creeping up to comb through his hair, “I think the pink suits you well.” She whispered into his ear and Felix felt each individual goosebump rise on his skin. “Now, pet, what do we say when someone gives you a gift?”

He finally moves his eyes, widened with horror as they laid on the serpent of the woman standing next to him. A gift? He didn’t ask for this, he didn’t ask for any of this. So he just stared, mouth agape, wondering how anyone could be so twisted.

“Oh,” She tutted, taking a step back from where She was hugged up on his shoulder, shutting her eyes in disappointment. She shook the capsule again, the cane coming out with a sharp ‘thwap!’ “I don’t own dumb pets.”

It only made contact with his skin for half a second, but it sent Felix to the ground, clutching his calf and shaking in disbelief. 

“Now, love,” His eyes blew wide as the tip of the cane was pressed under his chin, lifting his head up to look at Her, the crow’s feet once again in the corner of her eyes. “What is it that we say?” She didn’t even give him the grace over hovering over the button, her thumb instead placed on top and he knew all She needed to give was slight pressure to fry his brains.

“Th-thank you.”

A noise of satisfaction leapt from Her throat, her shoulders bouncing happily as another hand found itself tangled up in his hair. “You’re welcome, Angel.”

[spectralscathath]

Stories are Truer Than the Truth

Fair Game Week, Day 3: Family/Weapons

Lámfada, they called him. For his skill with the spear. He was skilled in all he tried his hand at, a warrior, a leader, a god king. And then there was Memory, or perhaps Mind, for the all-seeing crow, who flew around the world every day to bring knowledge to a different god king.

But the pieces fit, somehow. A hero and an omen, a fisherman and a scarecrow, Lugh and Muninn.

Clover and Qrow.

Ao3 link

“Where did you learn close combat like that?” Qrow looked up at Clover’s question, sitting just against the wall of the main training room as he sharpened Harbinger. He noticed that Kingfisher had been extended to the pole’s full length, resting casually over one of Clover’s shoulders.

“My partner in school. He was a hand-to-hand specialist. He taught all of us.” Summer had mandated it, that they’d all learn how to fight in each other’s styles in case weapons got switched around in a fight. 

Since she was the one who always dropped her weapon at least once a fight without fail, he could see why.

“Was that Tai?” Clover tilted his head. ‘You’ve mentioned him. Before. Your nieces’ father?”

“That’s the one.” Qrow set Harbinger aside and stretched out, hooking his hands behind his head as he leaned against the wall. “He’s still in Patch, teaches at Signal. They need him there.” Qrow could have really used him here, though. Taiyang was his best friend, and even calling him that felt like he was underplaying their bond. They’d been through a hundred hells together. 

“From what I’ve picked up, he sounds like a good man.”

“He is.” Tai, Ruby, and Yang were the only family Qrow had left, and he’d protect them. “How about you, who was your partner in Atlas?”

Clover chuckled and sat down beside Qrow, resting Kingfisher beside Harbinger. “You’ll never believe it.”

“Try me,” Qrow dared.

“Robyn Hill.” Clover pulled out his horseshoe and spun it on his fingers. 

Crow snorted with laughter before he looked at Clover and saw that he wasn’t kidding. “Holy shit, really?”

“Would you believe that we were best friends?” Clover smiled wryly.

Qrow considered it for a minute. “You did seem like you knew each other, personally.”

“Team TRCH,” Clover pronounced it ‘torch’. “I think we were pretty cool. Robyn and I are the only ones who are still active, though. Teale disappeared years ago and Hibernus gave up on being a Huntsman.”

“Sounds similar to STRQ.” Summer disappeared, Raven quit. Tai had to step back and focus on their girls. “Teams rarely stay together after graduation.” He had a feeling team RWBY would learn that eventually. Once they were older.

“I can think of one, but that’s not my story to tell.” Clover tossed his horseshoe in the air and caught it again. 

Qrow watched him play with the lucky charm and switched his gaze to the man himself. “But you do have some stories that are yours.”

Clover quirked a brow at him. “I’ll bet you do too.”

“I got plenty of stories in here,” Qrow tapped his temple. “Hard to keep ‘em all straight, sometimes.”

Clover’s eyes gleamed like chips of malachite. “We could trade.”

“Or you could fight me for them.” Qrow suggested, with a joking roll of his shoulders. Truthfully, he was interested in sparring Clover. He wanted to see how he fought. Fighting styles could tell him more about a person than anything else, sometimes. 

Clover grabbed Kingfisher and stood up. “You’re on, Qrow.”

Qrow arched his back to pop out the clicks before he stood up, carrying Harbinger with a languid grace. “By your leave, Shamrock.”

Kingfisher’s hook was already in motion, rocketing towards Qrow’s face as the fishing pole followed the line of Clover’s cast. His shoulders and back had twisted into the movement, his stance grounded but light.

Qrow deflected it with Harbinger’s blade, his own stance nearly weightless on the ground as he held back from one of the reckless charges he would have had in his youth, taking a moment to go over what he knew.

Kingfisher was best at range, where that fishing line and hook could give Clover complete control of the fight. He had no doubt Clover could fight in close, but that just made it fun. 

Qrow smirked and attacked, charging in as he watched Clover reel the line back in. The faint scrape of metal on the ground told him to jump, just barely dodging the hook before it could clip his heels and catch his ankle. His shoes barely touched the ground for a moment before he pulled from his scythe footwork and spun into an overhead blow, forcing Clover onto the defensive.

Their weapons clanged, Qrow continuing the momentum of his spin with a heel kick to Clover’s thigh. “First hit to me. First story to you.” 

Clover grinned at him as he let go of Kingfisher with one hand, quickly tossing a punch. Qrow darted back, unlocking the blades. He didn’t go far, immediately bringing his sword around for a side strike.

Clover parried, using the fishing rod as a spear. “My mother’s name is Uzume Ebi. My dad, Ciaran, took her last name when he moved to Argus. We moved to Mantle when I was eleven to be with my grandfather, Balor.”

Qrow nodded and spun again, aiming for the other side. “Any siblings?”

“Heather, younger sister. She’s a brat.” Clover had a fond look in his eye that didn’t diminish the way he switched his grip on Kingfisher, using the harpoon function to stab at Qrow’s solar plexus. 

It hit him, a glancing blow but a hit nonetheless. Qrow stepped back and started circling Clover, the other man matching his steps as he gestured at Qrow with his free hand. 

Qrow smirked and tossed Harbinger in the air to switch hands, showing off as he slicked his hair back out of his face. “Raven and I were communally raised.” He wasn’t getting into the bandit shit. “In Mistral. Looks like you and me got the same roots.”

Clover grinned and loosened Kingfisher’s hook. “Guess so.”

Qrow’s eyes gleamed before he attacked, deciding now that they’d had a small taste of what the other could do, it was time to kick it up a notch like real Huntsmen. His sword slashed with sweeping arcs, forcing Clover to either dodge or block blows that could cut through stone pillars. 

Each attack flowed into the next before Clover found his footing and ducked under one sweep, Kingfisher’s hooking around Qrow’s ankle at the same moment he smashed the blunt end up under Qrow’s jaw. 

Qrow turned his fall into a flip, landing once on his hand in a move that wasn’t exactly his favourite as he kicked up, forcing the fishing line to extend out with him. He got back onto his feet and grabbed the razor wire, hooking his leg around it a few times before he forcibly stomped and sharply slid his foot back. The sudden yank pulled Clover forward and right into Qrow’s cross.

Clover grabbed his hand before he could retract it and threw Qrow over his shoulder, where Qrow tossed Harbinger so he could land on the blade’s hilt, standing upright on his perch. 

Clover pulled Kingfisher’s line back in. “How about we save the rest of the stories for after the fight?”

Qrow  backflipped off his sword and landed neatly on his feet, cape fluttering behind him as he lifted his blade from the ground. “Deal.” Harbinger’s gears creaked as he shot a round at Clover, the other Huntsman deflecting it.

Clover set his stance and Kingfisher’s hook flicked out, the wire looping at it. Qrow shot it out of the air and transformed, flying above Clover before he reverted mid-twirl, bringing the sword down in an aerial attack.

Clover got Kingfisher’s pole up between them before he headbutted Qrow in the face, Qrow’s free hand reaching down to grab the fishing pole and flip himself over Clover’s head. He hit the ground behind Clover and tossed him with all his strength, returning the throw from before and following it up with another downwards cut. 

Clover rolled out of the way and got to his feet, aiming for another jab with Kingfisher. Qrow grabbed it and yanked Clover closer, hitting his gut with the hilt of his weapon. Clover stumbled back, leaving Qrow to close the distance with another slashing spin. 

Clover got up an arm, blocking the hit entirely on his own aura. Qrow darted back from whatever answering attack would be coming his way, dodging a somewhat feral strike from Kingfisher. 

Qrow gave him a look to make sure they weren’t pushing it too hard, Clover giving him a confident smile that Qrow rolled his eyes at. Cocky bastard. 

Clover moved like he was about to cast Kingfisher’s line at him again, before his hand slipped to his belt and instead that dratted horseshoe of his was flying towards Qrow’s nose. He caught it in his hand and got his sword up in a block just in time to prevent Clover from whacking him with the pole. 

He considered his options for a moment before he tossed the horseshoe back at Clover’s face.

Clover moved his head to the side to dodge with a laugh, the metal charm hitting the ground behind him as he strained against Qrow’s defence. Qrow let him for a moment, pushing back just as hard, before he transformed and flew under Clover’s arm, aiming for another sky hit. 

Call it his bad luck or Clover’s good luck, but the fishing pole made it there right before Harbinger would have landed a blow, Qrow’s feet hitting the ground as Clover faced him. 

Clover’s boot shot up right before Qrow could break the blade lock, catching Qrow right in the stomach with enough force to send him flying. He got back up, readying Harbinger’s shotgun. 

Clover tossed Kingfisher up out of his hand, only by a few inches, just enough to switch his grip and find the balance point of the harpoon form. Within a moment his arm was up, arching past his shoulder, his entire body flowing with the throw as he turned his weapon into a spear. 

Kingfisher sailed right by Qrow’s ribs, catching his cape and ripping it backwards until it hit the wall, tugging Qrow along from the force of the hit. His back hit the wall and he looked down at the weapon tucked neatly between his arm and his side, his heart thudding in his chest as he noticed it had grazed the fabric of his shirt, tearing down to the white undershirt. 

He swallowed and looked up as Clover walked up, hand landing firmly on Kingfisher’s pole as he got a little closer then was necessary, grinning self-assuredly. Qrow gave him a matching smug smirk. “Nice throw.”

“Thanks. I’d say that move was pure skill.” He placed his left hand on the wall beside Qrow’s head, just close enough that Qrow could see flecks of gold and emerald green in those teal irises. Harbinger went slack in Qrow’s grasp, the end of the blade tapping the ground as his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.. 

“I’d believe it.” Clover had moved like the spear was second nature to him. “So I guess I owe you a story now, Shamrock.”

“Fair’s fair. We’ll trade.” Clover yanked Kingfisher back out of the wall with a heft of his shoulders, eyes glittering like gemstones as the harpoon slid carefully between Qrow’s arm and torso. 

Qrow caught a flicker of deviousness in those eyes before Clover masked it with concern. “I didn’t catch you, did I?”

Qrow glanced down at the sliced fabric of his shirt , aura preventing any actual injury. Pretty close shave there. He reached for it on instinct before Clover’s hand rested over it, making him practically jump in surprise at the warmth the other man radiated. 

“Sorry about that,” Clover patted his side in apology, not sounding sorry at all. 

Qrow scoffed, grabbing Clover’s wrist before he pulled away. “How concussed are you?”

Clover chuckled at that, his laugh rumbling from his chest like honey over gravel. “You’ll have to do better than that to take me down. Maybe I’ll let you have another try later.”

Qrow quirked a brow in interest. “Now that’s a rematch I wouldn’t mind.”

--

These are not literal constructs so much as imaginative recreations- Mr Ibis.