#he's boarded up all the windows and vents it keeps getting in somehow

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

sometimes i take a look at your guys's favorite dripping wet repressed middle aged blorbos and honestly? i think the right foster cat could fix them

[palindrome-alt]

Digital Stars on The Wall

|| Kieran x Reader ||

Your new dorm room in Blueberry Academy is outfitted with all sorts of futuristic technology. You still haven't wrapped fully your head around the fact that you're physically stranded in the middle of the ocean in a giant submerged dome, but hey, whatever they did to make these screens, the night sky looks almost how it'd be if you were camping out in the wild on a cool night.

||Mild Spoilers for the Indigo Disk DLC!||

Everything about Blueberry Academy feels like it came out of a separate, futuristic world. The chromatic metal that never corrodes, the blue... substance, that flows through the artificial veins in the walls and keeps the place running... Out in the middle of the ocean, it's sort of like the whole megalithic building itself is somehow... alive.

Despite that, there's no electrical interference, no static hiss at the back of your ears as you rest your head against the artificial glass sky displayed on the 'window'. How the director managed to even design the illusion of depth in these screens is beyond you, but instead of square pixels, gentle pinpricks hang above you in the false distance. The fact that they aren't plastered flat to a screen is a mini engineering marvel in itself despite the slightly visible panels if you look closely.  Hand shifting out from underneath deep blue sheets, you run your palm over smooth, slightly grooved glass. It feels like touching a bunch of small bathroom tiles, and though you logically know that there's really only a deep dark ocean stretched out for miles, you almost forget just how far you are from the home you've carved out in Paldea.  You're still somewhat scared of the scientists of this world. Somehow, you don't remember civilization being this... technologically advanced.  Cool air blows through the vents above you, tasting nothing of the slightly salty expanse of water above. With their filtration systems, this might be some of the cleanest air you've ever breathed. It's sterile, much less handmade and aged than your dorm room back in Mesagoza. But somehow, this place has started to feel so comfortable, as if it weren't ever foreign in the first place.  The sound of rustling next to you shakes you out of your thoughts, and you shift back onto your back to get a closer look at Kieran, who you almost forgot was there.

He's stiff as a board, his arms folded on top of his chest, his eyes wide and staring straight at the ceiling.  Aside from his shoes, he's still wearing his full school uniform, and his hair has only just started to slip from the tie he's put it up in. He popped in rather unexpectedly, and must not've thought you'd let him stay, so he didn't think to change into more comfortable clothes. Small frazzled black bunches drape onto the extra pillow you pulled from the closet, and the off-color purple no longer remains the dominant color. 

You shift again, this time gaining his attention by curling against his side and nuzzling into the mattress a little more. He stiffens under the touch, but you can feel his sharp eyes flicker from the ceiling to you, a little more of an edge to him than before that he might not ever let go of. 

You don't move, and he must think you're asleep with how you catch his eyelashes gently lulling, spine slowly losing its tension. He must be so sore from all the clenching he's been doing, if not from how he's been pushing himself up until recently. The events that transpired between you are probably still haunting him, even now. With a fresh set of new skin-deep scars, you know it has to be hard on him. Up until last week, it wasn't even certain if you were both still friends.  He sighs beside you, head sinking into his pillow. Unclasping his hands, he slowly reaches over, testing the waters. He hesitates, looking conflicted over whatever thoughts are running through his head. Whatever he was going to do, he must've decided otherwise as his hand drops just short of you.

His eyebrows furrow, pupils dilating a little when they land on yours.  "S-Sorry." He flinches away, shifting his gaze.  You don't say anything, but the following silence between you isn't entirely comfortable like before. Inhaling deeply, he stiffens back up a little, pretending to look around the room though his focus is still on you. He can't seem to pay attention to anything else right now.

He's been so consumed with thoughts of you for so long that he's a little scared that he can't be normal about it.  You can't know that.  He tries forcing his eyes shut.  He won't be getting any sleep tonight. 

[tenebraevesper]

Five Nights at Freddy's: Obsolete, Night 6: Picking Up The Pieces

''You turn away, I'll be right beside you! You cut me off, but I'll always have another way to find you! My body's still mending, you're in for a sight! Another night but it doesn't get easy, because you're stuck picking up all the pieces that they salvaged! No matter what the ending, you won't last the night!''

 – Salvaged by NateWantsToBattle (Five Nights at Freddy's 3)

xXxXxXx

Sam took a deep breath as she found herself again in the Fazbear's Fright office. She was not looking forward to this, but she knew that she needed to get through this level. She looked around, the office not being that different from the office in Five Nights at Freddy's 3, with the most noticable thing being the huge air-vent right next to the table.

''Hey-Hey! Glad you came back for another night! I promise it'll be a lot more interesting this time…''

Sam ignored Phone Dude's commentary on finding new items for the horror attraction and searched the desk through for any Tapes and coins. Since it was the first night, she didn't have to worry about Springtrap and needed to just keep the systems working. Luckily for her, she managed to find a Tape behind the Maintenance Panel on the box, as well as a coin near the bobble heads on the left side of the monitor.

I wonder what kind of information is Tape Girl going to give me this time.

She stared intently at the window that allowed to see her the hallway, as if expecting an animatronic to jumpscare at her. Even though the night was peaceful, she could feel her heart rate going up. She felt anxious about the upcoming second night, the one where she would have to deal with Springtrap until 6 AM. She knew that he was just a game character, but all the memories associated with him felt overwhelming.

This is something I need to go through. I need to confront him, even if this is not the real Springtrap.

It didn't take too long for her to hear the familiar chime that signaled the end of the night. After taking her prize, she found herself back at the main hub and looked back, seeing Glitchtrap standing behind her, still waving at her.

''Hello? Can you hear me?''

''Unfortunately, I do,'' Sam replied, decided to give the Tape a listen before she continued playing Five Nights at Freddy's 3. After entering the Tape Room, she quickly put the Tape 5 into the recorder, holding her breath in anticipation as she heard Tape Girl's familiar voice.

''The drawers have been emptied out. Someone was here. I don't think it was spring cleaning either. No, there was plastic on the floor. Someone was definitely here during the night. It had to have been the client. I mean, they sent us that stuff in the first place with no explanation. Told us to scan it. Said it would expedite the process so we wouldn't need to program any path finding ourselves. It was a budget things, I guess. It was just junk- circuit boards and things like that. Looked pretty old. Somehow, though, there was usable code on some of it. It seemed to take hold by itself. Things started changing. But then, he started appearing. At least, that's what Jeremy said.''

''The client? What client?'' Sam's eyes narrowed. ''What do they mean by circuit boards?''

She remained silent for a moment as she processed the new information. The client they were talking about had to be a Fazbear Entertainment representative. It's the only thing that makes sense. She returned to the main hub, taking off her VR headset and started pacing through her room. Then, there are the circuit boards. Fazbear Entertainment used some kind of circuit boards to… scan the code for the game? Sam's eyes widened, her lips parting slightly as she stared back at her VR headset. No way… Why would they… Where did they even get those circuit boards?!

She suddenly felt chills flowing down her spine, shuddering.

''Where did they get those circuit boards?'' she whispered, slowly repeating the question. ''What kind of code did those circuit boards have? Why would Fazbear Entertainment take them away?''

She looked up, observing the Golden Freddy plushie on her bed. Her eyes narrowed as she clenched her fists, turning back to the VR headset and putting it on. She had a bad feeling about this whole thing, realizing that there was only one way to get the circuit boards – directly from the source. She didn't even want to think about it, not wanting to process the implications of that.

I need more evidence.

She found herself back at the main hub, with Glitchtrap waiting for her. She took a look at him, wondering if he too was the result of the scanned circuit boards.

''Who are you?'' she asked, but Glitchtrap remained silent, staring back, still with that cheery grin on his expression. She sighed and shook her head, focusing on the monitor.

Let's get this over with.

Returning back to the office, she tried to mentally prepare herself for her confrontation with Springtrap.

''Hey, man- okay, I have some awesome news for you!...''

Paying zero attention to Phone Dude, she started switching through the screens in search for Springtrap. She eventually found him on CAM 10. As long as he stays there, I should be peachy. The first few seconds were just her staring at Springtrap, when the monitor suddenly started to flicker, with Springtrap disappearing and appearing on CAM 09. Sam didn't panic though, simply switching instead back to CAM 10 and activating the Balloon Boy clip.

''Hi! Hello! Hahahahahah!''

''I shouldn't worry too much, since I already know this game inside out,'' Sam muttered, yawning. She knew that it was late in the night and wanted to complete Night 2 before going to sleep. Springtrap eventually returned back to CAM 10, staring at the camera as he idled. ''If you really think you can beat me, you're– agh!'' Sam was startled by Phantom BB, quickly trying to switch the cameras, only to get jumpscared, with Phantom BB screaming at her. As she recovered, she quickly turned to the maintenance panel to fix the ventilation error. She tapped with her food impatiently as she waited for it to be fixed. Once done, she turned back to the cameras, realizing that Springtrap was gone.

''Where are you?'' Sam muttered as she turned to CAM 09. He wasn't there. ''Damn it! Where did he go?''

To her chagrin, the cameras suddenly experienced a video error. Sam turned to the maintenance panel, aware that she needed to fix it as fast as possible if she didn't want Springtrap win this Night. As she turned towards the panel, she saw Phantom Foxy staring at her and quickly looked down.

''Com'n… Faster…'' Sam inhaled sharply as she looked back at the monitors, going through each and every camera in order to find Springtrap. ''Please, tell me he isn't in the vents…''

Suddenly, there was an audio error, forcing Sam to once again fix it without finding Springtrap. Frankly, she didn't remember Five Nights at Freddy's 3 to be this difficult, especially not on Night 2. It was also possible that her reaction was slower due to her being too tired to think clearly or see anything.

As she looked up, she almost let out a scream, freezing when Springtrap suddenly appeared right in front of her, staring at her through the window. ''Springtrap, what the hell?! How did you get here so fast?!''

Springtrap just stared back at her, with Sam being well aware that he was out for her blood. Sam frowned, turning to CAM 02 and pressing the Balloon Boy voice clip.

''Hello?''

''Springtrap, leave!'' Sam said in a firm tone. ''You are not welcome here.''

Springtrap seemed to ignore the Balloon Boy voice clip and instead kept staring at her. Sam pressed the distraction button again, looking back at the monitor and to her relief, Springtrap appeared on CAM 02. Sam realized that he probably had used the vent to travel quickly through the entire building, forcing her to return him back to CAM 10.

''You know, you're still just as sneaky as you used to be when you were still here,'' Sam said bitterly as she forced Springtrap to go to CAM 03. ''You're merciless, determined and you won't let anyone stop you.'' She was suddenly met by another video error. ''You don't care about anyone, but yourself, William.'' She frowned. ''Why should I even bother with you? Sure, there is the matter of closure, but at this point, is it worth it? While I have returned to Five Nights at Freddy's, why should I care about you?''

As the video feed cleared, Sam groaned when Springtrap vanished once again. She found him staring at her intently in the office hallway… again.

''You are not doing yourself a favour here, William,'' she said, glaring at Springtrap. ''You are an awful person, and you know it…'' She activated the Balloon Boy voice clip and looked up, her gaze filled with anger and her eyes watering. ''I was so bitter when you left without a word. If you had at least told me what you were planning to do… I guess, I would've gotten over it… Maybe we could've figured out something… Anything… You shouldn't have abandoned me…'' Suddenly, the lights faded and Springtrap vanished, appearing at the office door. Sam turned towards him, still glaring at the animatronic. ''You're an idiot!''

Then, she heard the familiar chime as the clock turned to 6 AM. Sam suddenly realized that she felt cold. Her heart was racing and there was a tingling feeling in her fingers as she grabbed her prize – Plushtrap jumpscaring her. Shaking him off, she returned to the main hub, staring at the monitor.

''He is gone. There is no reason for me to just yell at a video game character,'' she grumbled and faced Glitchtrap, glaring at the latter. Glitchtrap just waved cheerfully at her, but Sam felt unnerved. It didn't help that Glitchtrap was reminding her of William. ''I'm not done with you either,'' she told him, then exited the game.

Glitchtrap's grin widened.

xXx

''Tsk, tsk, tsk… Someone's angry…'' The voice echoed through the darkness, not caring whether anyone could hear him. ''Or worse… Disappointed.''

A dark purple light illuminated the void, revealing an empty stage with a pair of purple curtains covered in silver stars on the sides. The voice belonged to Glitchtrap, who appeared to be to talk to an invisible audience.

''I wonder, can someone really hold this much resentment?'' he asked in a sarcastic voice, then chuckled. ''Well, of course they can! It's really fun to see people getting riled up, especially if it's the person you love.'' He crossed his hands on his back and started pacing across the stage. ''Seeing her this upset should be something I'd be happy about, yet I'm more excited about the fact that she might slowly be realizing what our connection is.''

He tilted his head, eyeing the empty seats and seeing a humanoid figure sitting in one of the chairs. The figure was slumped over, with a dark red and black blood pool forming below him, as if someone knocked them out. Glitchtrap grinned, placing his hands on his hips and leaned forward.

''Sleeping, are we?'' He waved his finger, as if scolding a naughty child. ''That's fine. We, or rather, I have to still wait for all the right puzzle pieces to fall into place.'' He opened his arms, as if presenting something. ''Then, we can begin with the show!''

xXx

Sam yawned, walking with a tray in her hand to the corner of the cafeteria, Matt being right behind her. While she fortunately didn't have any nightmares, she was still mentally exhausted from playing through Help Wanted. She had figured that eating some food would wake her up properly, so at least she could last for the rest of the school day. She suddenly felt Matt gently nudging her, leaning forward to whisper into her ear.

''Someone's glaring at you,'' he said, walking past her and sitting on the opposite side of Sam. Sam sat on the other side and looked up, realizing that the one glaring at her was her ex-best friend Theresa Clover, aka Tessa. Sam rose an eyebrow, locking eyes with Tessa, who just gave her a hate-filled glare and sat down at an empty table a bit further away from the table where she would usually sit at. The table she was referring to was the one where Violet and her friends, that is, the popular crowd would sit at. Sam hummed, turning her attention to Matt. ''I thought she was friends with Violet. Why is she sitting alone?''

''You tell me,'' Matt replied. ''She was your friend.''

''Well, since Tessa basically used me in order to get closer to them by offering them to come to my place and use my stuff, like video games, I assume she ran out of stuff she could offer them,'' Sam replied.

''That's what happens when you become friends with people who just want stuff from you instead of liking you for who you are,'' Matt noted. Sam nodded and turned to her food, only to hear Matt add, ''So, anything new you want to talk about? You did show me around Ricky's and you said that you played Help Wanted last night.''

''Honestly, I don't know whether I want to talk about it,'' Sam replied. ''I've been processing a lot of things and I'm currently trying to make sense of them.''

''Do you think that talking with me would help you process that information easier?'' Matt asked. Sam remained silent for a moment, as an image of Springtrap flashed through her mind. She shivered, shaking her head.

''Not now,'' she replied. Matt gave her a sympathetic look.

''No problem,'' he said. ''Just give me a call whenever you're ready.''

''I will,'' Sam told him, then after a moment of pause added, ''You know, confronting my own past was a good idea. I haven't really had any nightmares and there were a lot of emotions I needed to deal with. It feels like a relief that I'm over some stuff, but this was the easy part. I haven't tackled the more difficult issues yet.''

''Do you think you'll need support with that?'' Matt asked.

''No, for now, I'll try go through it by myself,'' Sam replied, then smiled. ''You know, you should think of a career as a therapist considering how much you insist on helping me.''

''I'm not really interested in that,'' Matt said, shaking his head. ''I mean, sure, I don't mind listening to your problems because…''

''They're sounding crazy?'' Sam cut him off. Matt gave her a sheepish look, with Sam smirking. It didn't often happen that Matt would get nervous over something. Usually, he would always be calm, cool and collected, so it was unusual to see him freak out over something, even if it was something seemingly insignificant.

''Uh, that's not what I meant,'' he quickly replied. ''I don't think you're crazy at all.''

''Then you're one of the few people who think that,'' Sam told him, sighing. ''Sometimes, I think I'm crazy, only to remind myself that crazy stuff happened to me. Admittedly, I choose to participate in that, so it was my fault…''

''But, you haven't chosen to let a murderer roam free,'' Matt told her in a hushed tone. Sam blinked, staring at him for a moment as she realized that he was referring to Connor Davis.

''Of course not,'' she replied in a defensive tone. However, she had to admit that she did let a different kind of murdered roam free and regretted it.

Matt rose an eyebrow, adding, ''I know that there's a lot of stuff you haven't told me yet. I can still sense the agony attached to you. If you want to carry that burden alone, that's okay. Still, you shouldn't feel guilty over the things you have no control over.''

Sam remained silent, actually wanting to tell him that things were a bit more complicated than that, but then she realized that maybe, just maybe, she was the one who was overcomplicating everything in her mind. Sure, this wasn't what Matt wanted to tell her, but her attempts of outright blocking memories and emotions associated with them didn't help her with dealing with her past.

Still, she was determined to change that.

xXx

''Sam, are you done with your work yet?'' the manager, Kylie Anthelm, asked Sam, who was in the back room, working on the animatronics. Sam looked up, shaking her head.

''I still have some work to do on them,'' Sam replied, with Showtime Freddy sitting on the table in front of her. ''Don't worry, I'll close up.''

''Okay, but don't stay too late. It is a school night after all,'' Kylie replied, closing the door. Sam sighed and turned back to Showtime Freddy, having unbuttoned his vest and shirt to gain access to the hatch behind which his endoskeleton was. She reached inside Freddy's chest, carefully moving away some of the cables that were covering the circuit boards, exploring the already familiar wiring and mechanical parts.

''So far, everything's fine,'' she muttered, only to rise an eyebrow when she came across a particular circuit board. It was something that had always been there, having caught her and Springtrap's attention once, but they had no answer back then. However, now she was interested in finding out more about it.

''Give me a moment,'' she muttered, focusing on one particular circuit board, trying to figure out how to remove it, or at least getting a better look at it. She reached for it, but she couldn't take it out for closer analysis as it was attached to the endoskeleton via several wires. Don't I have some kind of document about this thing? She grabbed her flashlight and managed to turn the circuit board around, finding something carved on the plastic.

''HW: Freddy Fazbear (Copy),'' Sam muttered as she read the carving on the circuit board. She stepped back, leaning against the table. She hummed, ''HW… HW… HW…''

''…It was just junk- circuit boards and things like that. Looked pretty old. Somehow, though, there was usable code on some of it…''

It then hit her. Sam froze, her heart racing. She was shaken to the core.

''HW – Help Wanted.'' She turned to Showtime Freddy, staring at the animatronic. Showtime Freddy just looked back at her solemnly, as if understanding what was going through her mind. Sam's lips parted as she observed him in stunned silence. ''Freddy… I-Is this…'' Before she could finish her question, Freddy's eyes glowed briefly as he looked down at her, staring at her in silence. Sam gulped. ''T-That's how you know… That's how all of you know… That's why you guys acted as if you were possessed, but never were.'' She took a sharp inhale. ''You have the memories of the previous animatronics, as well as what is going on in the Help Wanted game. You know exactly what is going on.'' Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the animatronic, adding in an demanding tone, ''Am I right?''

''Is this what you believe to be the truth?'' Freddy asked her. Sam was caught off guard by the question. Admittedly, she wasn't completely sure about it. She lowered her head.

''Honestly, I'm not sure whether that's the case,'' Sam said. ''How would Fazbear Entertainment even be able to salvage circuit boards from the animatronics; that is, if they did that. I acknowledge it would be possible for them to perhaps find something, but it sounds so crazy.'' She frowned. ''However, Fazbear Entertainment isn't a stranger to using shortcuts. Not to mention, they wanted to make the game experience as authentic as possible, didn't they? So, what if they could re-use the old animatronic programming? What would they want to achieve with that?'' She stepped back. ''More importantly, what about the old Five Nights at Freddy's games. As much as I saw, Help Wanted kept re-using some segments.'' She shook her head and looked back at Freddy. ''Freddy, what exactly do you guys know?''

Freddy glanced down, looking at his open chest, with Sam realizing that he probably wanted her to close it in case she was done with checking on him. She quickly placed the circuit bord the way it was and closed the hatch, leaving Freddy to button his shirt up.

''So, what can you tell me?'' she asked him.

''Keep in mind, I cannot answer all of your questions,'' Freddy told her, patting the place next to him on the table. Sam sat next to him, curious about what Freddy would tell her. The Showtimes weren't really talkative about things that didn't concern their performances, usually remaining vague about everything else. ''I will tell you what I know, though.''

Sam nodded, staring intently at Freddy. It was strange to talking to the animatronic, but she was glad that there was someone who could answer some of her questions. Moreover, Freddy wasn't someone she feared, being kind and friendly towards her. He did have a protective side, as she saw him once leading away a girl who had been excluded by the other children and cheering her up.

''When I woke up for the first time, the stage I stood on was nothing like the one at this place,'' Freddy said, with Sam giving her a curious look. ''Then, all I saw was static. I did sense something… It was a rage unlike any other, as if I was trapped and I wanted to find the person who trapped me, and murder them.''

Sam felt goosebumps all across her body, with chills flowing down her spine. Despite Freddy's calm tone, she could sense the resentment in his voice.

''I didn't understand what was going on with me. I was convinced that I was malfunctioning,'' Freddy continued.

''What about the others?'' Sam asked.

''They experienced similar memories and thought the same,'' Freddy replied. ''However, when a technician would enter the room and attempt to repair us, we would black out. When we would wake up again, the technician would either be screaming in panic or unconscious.''

''So, you don't remember what you did to them?'' Sam asked.

''No,'' Freddy told her. ''We decided to put up an act, though. We thought that there was a good reason for scaring them and we didn't think much about it. For some reason, nothing happened when we were with you.''

''Maybe I'm not a threat?'' Sam suggested. ''I mean, there has to be a reason not to scare me to death or hurt me in some way.''

''Well, you certainly don't pose a threat to us,'' Freddy noted, his eyes narrowing. ''However, the bunny animatronic that would accompany you, Springtrap, did.''

''Freddy, could you tell me why exactly you felt that Springtrap was a threat to you guys?'' Sam asked.

''It's hard to explain, but whenever he was present, I and the rest would feel this unexplainable rage and resentment towards him. We could see the man behind the mask,'' Freddy told her, frowning as his voice turned into a growl. ''We knew he was the murderer.''

''I see…'' Sam muttered, shuddering. ''Could you tell me more about what you felt? As well as what you remembered?''

''What I felt… There were so many different emotions…'' Freddy said, closing his eyes and reminiscing. ''There was anger, depression and fear.'' He then gazed at Sam. ''At nights, we would also see a shadow-like figure standing at the back of the restaurant.''

''What?'' Sam was surprised, giving Freddy a look of concern. Freddy shook his head.

''The others and I don't believe that the figure was real,'' he added. ''It was probably a mix of those memories, which felt as if they belonged to someone else, and what we saw and knew.''

''This sounds quite creepy,'' Sam said.

''It was, but we knew that the figure couldn't hurt us. We wanted to know what was haunting us, though,'' Freddy said. Sam fell silent for a moment as she tried to process everything.

''Okay, I just need to think through the whole thing,'' she said. ''According to those Tapes, if whoever set them up is really telling the truth, Fazbear Entertainment may have collected a bunch of circuit boards, very possibly from the animatronics, even though I have no idea from which ones. They didn't use the code only in Help Wanted, but they also used the code in your programming so you would act similar to the previous animatronics.'' She took out her smartphone, finding the document with the files about the animatronics. ''Found it! 'It should be noted that some of the coding had been taken from an already pre-existing source in order to make the animatronics more authentic and their behavior closer to their predecessors. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for any unpredictable action committed by the animatronics.' I knew that there was something!'' She turned to Freddy. ''So, you are remembering what the previous Freddy Fazbear had probably experienced. Or perhaps, the child that was trapped inside the animatronic.''

''It might not be everything, though,'' Freddy replied, with Sam giving him a curious look. ''Sometimes, we feel as if we're being watched. As if someone is with us constantly, in our minds, and it drives us crazy.''

''Do you have any idea what it is?'' Sam asked. Freddy gave her a serious look.

''It's evil,'' he said. ''We know it's evil and that it's broken. It's insanity incarnate.''

Sam was silent for a moment, biting her lip. ''You're referring to William, aren't you?'' Freddy stared at her for a moment, then nodded. ''Although, there is something else I've been wondering about.''

''What is it?'' Freddy asked her.

''In those memories, have you seen a bunny, different than Springtrap, with stitching all over the costume and wearing a purple vest?'' Sam asked him, holding her breath. Her expression was hopeful, yet fearful. She wanted to know the answer, yet she was afraid of knowing it. However, she needed to figure out what was going on in order to move on.

Freddy slowly nodded. Sam inhaled sharply.

''That person would stare at us, waving at times and asking 'Hello? Can you hear me?','' Freddy told her. Sam's eyes widened and she felt the chills running down her spine.

''He did…'' she whispered. What exactly have I contacted? What is inside that game?!

''Sam, are you okay?'' Freddy asked her worriedly. ''You are so pale.''

''No, I'm not okay,'' Sam said without even thinking. ''That thing… That bunny… I named him Glitchtrap and he is waving at me inside the game, asking the same question. If he was just a video game character, something the game developers added into the game, he shouldn't be part of your memories. He shouldn't be able to haunt you.''

''Yet, he is,'' Freddy said.

''At this point, I don't think he is a video game character,'' Sam said. ''Maybe, he is something that was brought over via the circuit boards.'' She shuddered. ''Honestly, I'm not sure whether I want to know what exactly he is.'' She then sighed, burying her head into her hands and groaning. ''God, I need to check the official version of the game to see whether I can find him there. This is so awful, but I have to do this.''

Freddy gave her a look of concern, tilting his head.

''You know, if you ever need a hug or comfort in some way, you're always welcome.''

Sam smiled and hugged him, burying her head into his chest. Freddy certainly lived up to his species of a teddy bear, being quite cuddly. As Freddy released her, Sam took a deep breath.

''Okay, I feel a bit better,'' she said. ''Thank you.''

''You're welcome,'' Freddy replied, getting off the table and turning to Sam, grinning at her. ''Now, don't forget, if you ever want to have some fun without a worry, you can always pay us a visit.''

''I'll keep that in mind,'' Sam replied, smiling.

xXx

Despite it being late in the night, Sam decided to play the official version of Help Wanted, trying to find the Tapes that were scattered across the game. She did find a few Tapes, as well as the Tape Room, but to her confusion, instead of warnings offered by Tape Girl, they contained Phone Guy's phone calls from the Five Nights at Freddy's games, like some kind of masterlist. Also, there was no trace of Glitchtrap.

''Damn it,'' Sam muttered as she took off the VR headset. ''This is not what I thought would happen. I hate this.''

She turned the game off, having realized that the official version of Help Wanted was completely useless to her. The only thing she could rely on was the beta version of the game if she wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery. It felt like some kind of nightmare.

''Fine,'' Sam muttered, opening the beta version of Help Wanted. Once she found herself back into the main hub, she turned back to Glitchtrap, who was still waving at her, seemingly blissfully unaware of what she knew.

''Hello? Can you hear me?''

''Yeah, I can,'' Sam replied. ''Tell me, who are you?''

Glitchtrap remained quiet, staring back at her. Sam sat on her chair, crossing her legs and staring at Glitchtrap.

''What do you want me to do? Should I play through the entire game or should I quit? Are you trapped inside the game? I know you're not part of it,'' she asked. ''Where did you come from? Why are you here? What is your real name?''

''Hello? Can you hear me?''

Sam frowned, sighing. She was already sleep deprived and she needed to go to bed. Turning off the game and the lights, she crawled back into her bed, falling asleep soon. Her dreams were filled with darkness, illuminated by a strange, purple glitching.

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[fulldreamsahead]

City Hustle

Last night I had a dream where I was watching Ed Edd and Eddy in New York City. Of course, Eddy was obsessed with trying to busk so they could get cash for illustrious candy shows, but they took time to entertain each other's interests too. One such example was going to a live performance for Double D. It was pretty high art, but waiting out front was like waiting in line for a carnival game. The facade of the building didn't seem real and was instead an intricate painting of the wonders you would watch inside. Eddy pinged this as total scam, but Double D had heard good things. Ed got sidetracked and split off somehow so just Eddy and Double D made it in. There everyone was placed in this dark room where there were individual school chairs spaced so far apart you couldn't even lean all the way out of your chair to reach your partner.

In the darkness an elephant style montage reminiscent of Dumbo started, but from Double D's point of view there was something wet dripping in his corner that shouldn't have been. He looks up to see where it is coming from and an air vent drops some nasty water right into his eye. He blinks it away, but it burns and he blearily exits the performance to wash it out. Eddy doesn't notice and is just bored with all the fake rigamarole. He does notice when the show is over and both his companions are just gone. He is forced to exit the show out through some back door instead of the entrance and sees the building is connected to all the others. Not interested in following the crowd to the real exit, he searches this area which leads down a hallway. The hallway dumps to a single window that he cracks open to get onto a fire escape.

Listless and not sure where too look in such a big city, he hears a harmonica. Looking down over the bars, Eddy sees Ed on the sidewalk busking. He's proud that Ed is following orders and keeps from shouting out because the street urchins seem entertained and he doesn't want to thwart cash. Looking out at his sliver view of the city, he sees a strange ooze blob slip into central park. Beyond confused, he sits up and rubs his eyes thinking it was just an illusion. He then sees a very strangely clad Double D run after it so he starts descending the stairs.

Hitting the ground running, he drops into an area of central park where the lake has dried up in the summer heat. It's not totally gone, but it is a muddy embankment and Double D is waist deep and struggling with something. That being very much unlike him, Eddy wades in, despite being real upset about messing his clothes up, and approached Double D who he can now see clearly. Double D is dressed as almost a harlequin version of himself and his sclera are now black while his pupils are now red. Put off, Eddy asks what's up with him and Double D is slow to respond in an off kilter way. He responds that he needed a human host to stop the release of his brethren and Eddy has no idea what it means.

Harlequin Double D searches Edd's memories and finds that Eddy likes cash and tells him it's for a scam. Eddy is on board and asks what needs to be done. Double D is trying to dry up the rest of this bed to trap the ooze because it must maintain its moisture to keep living or it will go dormant. Double D feeds Eddy a pipe that will suck up the remaining water, but Eddy has to wade into what's left of the lake. Up to his arm pits and getting deeper, Eddy holds the hose above his head until Double D shouts out that it's here. Eddy turns and finds the ooze monster right on top of him. It's a humongous blob three times his size and getting bigger in the water. It has Double D's black and red color scheme and crazy eyes. It has also set its sights on destroying the hose which Eddy is holding. Barely able to move in the water and mud, Eddy turns to try to escape with the ooze monster right on there.

[oh-for-fic-sake-library]

A Suitable Alternative chapter 2 (Final)

Masterlist

Summary: you new life with vader begins, and though unexpected your not entirely unhappy about it.

Warnings: suitless vader, coercion, dub con relationship, power play, canon typical violence

A/N:Here is a second and final part to my vader fic. I dont really want to get suckd in and make a long fic, i have too many. But i will be doing little anakin and vader oneshots and drabbles in the future

Your eyes flicked to the open living area. The footfalls of Vader moving around did little to calm your nerves. Today was your debut. Or as you'd mentally dubbed it release day. Well, maybe that was a tad harsh. You reasoned with yourself. You weren't a prisoner here, well possibly? Since the whole incident with the fifth brother last week Vader had made it his life's mission to keep you in his quarters until you were quote; 'recovered from the trauma and ready to take your place'. And somehow your new wardrobe had been delayed. Which you didn't believe for a second. Everyone knew when Darth Vader wanted something it was on board within hours. You thought it was more likely that he wanted to have a few days bonding with you. And he did.

Your terror of this frighteningly beautiful man had subsided somewhat. The situation you found yourself in wasn't entirely unpleasant. You were treated impeccably well. It wasn't hard to forget just who he was inside your newly appointed home. You had taken a few days to acclimatise to seeing him without his mask. Whilst at the same time pretending nothing phased you, it was difficult. So much had changed for you, suddenly you were spending more time with him than anyone ever had since he'd appeared out of thin air alongside the empire itself! You shared a home, wardrobe, facilities even a bed.

That had terrified you the first night. He'd dressed you in one of the tunics as a makeshift night dress. You knew he could have someone go and collect your things from your room but he opted to have you draped in his own oversized clothes. You were surprised he even had casual clothing, but then again even a sith lord had the odd free days to relax in his home.

After letting you change in the bathroom he'd slowly coaxed you into bed like a scared child. It took a few tense moments but you did give in. Swallowing back your fear and climb into the bed resigning yourself to his will. He was smug, watching as you crawled below the sheets and turned glancing out of the window to the slowly moving stars as the executor glided through space, passing the odd asteroid and planet.

It was the one thing you truly adored. You didn't have windows in any of your previous rooms. You'd never really seen the stars pass you by before. You could watch the soothing sight all day.

You'd panicked when he'd laid beside you and shuffled close, pressing a hand to your shoulder and lightly drawing your attention to him. You were concerned he'd do something, that he'd expect something. But he kept his word, he didn't push you. Instead just stretched an arm out below your head letting you rest on him, occasionally running his fingers through your hair. And then looked out to the stars with you perfectly content, before striking up a conversation.

He asked about your travels, homeland, childhood, family and education anything he could think of to keep the conversation flowing. It was like he didn't want you to sleep, he wanted to savour the time he had with you. Like he had to hear you speak to prove to himself you were here. It was the first time you got the feeling he was lonely.

From then on it became a nightly ritual, talking until you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore. And that wasn't the only thing that became a daily occurrence you had breakfast, lunch and dinner together every day. He would vent about mistakes others made, missions and upcoming events in the next few days and secret imperial business; which your entirely convinced he wasn't supposed to share with you, but you still tried to help. Even if he did wave it off and settle for threatening or replacing the commanders. He didn't have the same attitude towards the storm troopers though?

You found it odd, but never brought it up. You didnt want to make him think he was being soft on them, your sure he'd do something drastic if he ever thought he wasnt scaring the piss out of everyone. He did infact enjoy that, it amused him to no end watching those around him quiver in his presence. But he wasnt always talking about the empire, he also made a point to speak of your work, ideas hobbies and of course your future together.

It was strange, youd formed an attachment to him. A familiarity, it was easy to forget who he was sometimes, especially when he would entertain you in trivial small talk during meals. And then youd spot the lightsaber on his belt, or his mask on one of the many stands scattered around the place. It would flush through you like ice, youd stiffen a rush of panic overwhelming you followed by him sighing quietly and then he'd draw you to him once more as if trying to condition you into being at ease around him.

The only way you could describe it was they were two different people. Lord vader was the mask, he had always been that imposing tall figure, billowing cape and harsh mechanical breaths and very heavy handed in everything he did. And then there was Vader himself; beautiful, intelligent and dare you say needy? Funny? Allbeit his humour was a little dark and dry for your tastes but you could appreciate some of his witty quips. But nothing detracted the fact he was clearly unstable, possessive and devestatingly strong.

But he seemed willing to put you at ease. He answered your questions most of the time. Sometimes he deflected, but with every refusal he did offer you something else in exchange. Youd asked about his past, who he was before vader was born. He'd gone rigid and trapped you in a stern icey stare before telling you the past was the past and he wont relive that weakness.

Yet he followed this harsh rebuke by offering explanations about his suit. It was nothing more then a means to strike fear into people. That vader was born from the ashes of his own failures and his suit was his new identity. Ending by saying that there was nothing more to the suit itself. Well thats what he said but you couldnt help there was more to it then that.

Yet you still got uncomfortable. Sometimes you'd say something that insinuated a future seperate from his and he would quickly react with a firm yet frustrated quip. Snapping at you to stop being ridiculous, and remind you he would be beside you always. That you were his and there was nothing in the galaxy that would change that. Then his anger would grow, his frustration would boil over and he'd spit venom at you. Voice his own insecurities in some teasing yet vague threats.

This was always resulted in a quick bout of damage control. Youd found out quickly that for someone so unapproachable his love language was touch. Youd grasp his hands holding them close to your chest or tuck yourself against him making yourself small whilst seeking him out. Whispering you were sorry and hadnt meant for it to sound the way it did. Pleading with him to forgive you. Going as far as to press gentle kisses to his hands and wrists, initiating any type of loving embrace or gesture you could. He always calmed when you acted on your infatuation.

He would sag, relaxing and quickly capture you, dragging you close and embrace you tightly. Though he never apologised. No, his anger was always justified. But he would defuse the tension warning you to be careful with your words, to think before you speak. He wanted you to be utterly convinced of your shared future and impending marriage. So much that it was ingrained into your subconscious. He wanted to stop these slip ups, you were his now and forever and you had to come to terms with that and create yourself a new path. A new future. One that had snuck up on you quicker then youd thought possible.

Okay. Okay... Okay, this is okay. Isn't it? Maybe. Maybe not. Fuck. Your eyes ran over the woman in the glass. Black. All you saw was black, velvet, leather and chiffon draped over you like a sea of unending darkness. The clothing was flattering, comfortable and practical, the leggings were a surprise. Something had told you lord Vader believed in more traditional gender roles and once he mentioned a new wardrobe you feared you'd be permanently donning a dress!

But no, thankfully you were placed in a long flowing tunic styled top held securely with a leather underbust styled waist coat. And behinde you fell a thin chiffon black cape. Flowy, feminine just like the rest of your outfit, it was clearly designed to mimic vaders own menacing outfit. But with a faint soft aesthetic to it, less brash and more refined. You were meant to compliment Vader, not out dress him. You moved this way and that watching the cape flutter behind you, it was attatched to the stiff paundrons protruding a inch or so from your shoulders.

"Stunning, my colour suits you." Vader called from the entrance of the bed room. You looked at him through the mirror and bit your lip, cheeks glowing, you couldnt help it when he was looking at you like that! Arms crossed smirking at you like the tempting devil he was, blue eyes flickering amber as they ran lengths up and down your frame. Fuck.

"You think so? I thought it washed me out?" You uttered trying to deflect slightly. You still found it strange having him compliment you. It happened quite often, though sometimes felt more like he was appraising you and preening 'oh look at this pretty jewel in my collection'

"All the more reason for me to bring a flush you your cheeks" you huffed averting your gaze trying to compose yourself. He was far to good at making you squirm. It wasnt fair, the way he could so easily make you flustered and embarassed. Simple blunt statments and well timed innuendos made sure to remind you that he intended to have you in every way possible.

"You are magnificent. You look powerfull, regal. Mine" the words were liquid silk, heated promising. But chilling in their meaning. He was claiming you publicly, making sure everyone who saw you shadowing him in the halls understood you were spoken for. It was like a child taking their new toy out to show it off. But there was little you could do about it. And honestly what could you complain about? You were dressed in comfy expensive clothes, ate amazing food, slept in a luxurious bed and found yourself a gorgeous partner. And above all you were safe. Untouchable. The only thing you had to worry about was vaders temper. But you were working your way around that, he needed to be needed, he craved soft, gentle. He wanted love, or atleast affection.

"Thank you my lord." You hummed sweetly turning to face him peaking up at him trying not to look as anxious as you felt. The reality of being seen out with him today.

"What did we discuss?" You faltered at that snapping your eyes to his. And he stared at you with an exhausted look. If he'd been a lesser man he'd have rolled his eyes. Your shoulders slumped and you tucking into yourself hands absentmindedly pulling on your clothes anxiously.

"Y-yes, right. Vader i apologise" your reply was cut short when he crossed the space, hands raising to your cheeks and ha cupped them almost sweetly, pulling you to face him once more. Youd niticed he hted when you avoided looking at him. He always wanted your attention. He was forever drawing your attention to himself.

"Do not look so sullen little one, it was not a chastisement. Just a reminder" he soothed you rubbing the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs. You blinked up at him still at a loss, these strnge affectionate moments were still foreign to you. It was alot to grow accustomed to. He drew a heavy sigh and tipped his head to the side, his hands began smoothing out your hair.

"I understand things will take time, you must adjust. Im simply trying to help you from new habits. We cant have you living in the past. Nothing exists but our future together. At least not for you anyway" he explained for what felt like the thousandth time. You nodded to him weakly, making sure not to pull away from him. The last time your tried to on reflex he'd fixed his hands round your jaw, pressing his fingertips tighter so you couldn't pull away. It was one of the few times youd been close to weeping, frightened youd angered him.

"You do look delectable in your new wardrobe. I am going to have to keep my witts about me whist your around the other men aboard" he uttered aftter a few moments and leant in pressing a kiss to your head before stepping back and marvelled at you. And then froze, frown marred his face.

"I sense your fear, what has frightened you? You know i would never allow you to be attacked again. If anyone dares to release a harsh breath in your direction it will be their last" the question was quickly followed by a promise to protect you. It would have been chivalrous decree had you not known he was utterly serious about murdering anyone on board whoxd dare make you uncomfortable. But you had to smile, ignore the violence and accept that his darlness was apart of him and the way he expressed himself.

"I know that, i trust you. Im just... not one for change. Everything is changing" you said with a light smile bringing your own hand to his wrist rubbing the skin, whilst leaning into hos hand lightly. He drew a deep breath before craning forward kissing your hairline and then stepped back.

You twisted your hand removing it from him but he quickly found it again squeezing it in his holding you delicatly. You released a deep breath as you successfully shook off your unpleasant fear of being the cause of another death. Not that you cared about the fitfth brother. Well not much, youd never liked him but that didnt mean seeing him brutalised and killed had been your idea of a good time.

"This change is good little one." He coaxed slowly leading you away from the mirror and in to the larger open space on the room.

"Yes, yes i know my lor- vader. I will get over it, just some beginners nerves i think? After all I do have a new position now. Its quite a climb" your words faltered as you struggled to find the appropriate words for your new position.

"You have no need to be nervous, i am here. I will always be here. Now why dont you show off your new uniform properly hmm? Give me a little spin~" he guided you infront of him before releasing you and grinned insisting you spin for him with a quick gesture of his finger swirling around.

You did as he asked spining around for him letting him admire you dripping in the clothes he had provided for you. You could feel the victorious grin he wore. Smug and cocky drinking in the sight of you. His prized trophy. He reached out smothing your cape back down to sit aginst your back and then coiled around you, tucking you below one arm.

"Very good. You truly are ravishing. Are you ready for your surprise?" He asked raising a brow at you, grinning wide a bright excitement across his face, eyes sparkling with his own elation.

"Surprise? what Surprise?"you asked tilting your head at him, scrunching your nose in confusion. He hadnt mentioned anything about a surprise. Only telling you that today youd start your new duties which consisted of joining him about the ship, shadowing him like a makeshift assistant.

"Well if i told you it wouldnt be a surprise now would it~ Follow me" and with that he swooped out of the room completely and glided across the living area. Right towards a very uncomfortable looking captain. You stopped still, locking eyes with the anxious looking man. This doesnt feel right.

"Captain? What a surprise?" You asked trembling slightly, feeling a deep dread. Panic like youd never felt before burrowing into you like a parasite. But you didnt know why, you couldnt understand it. You stepped forward hesitantly trying to keep yourself in check as your mind raced over all the possible reasons the captain was here.

"Im afraid i could not wait. I feel it would be best if we were to, expedite our union, i see no reason to wait" the sith anounced still striding towards the pale man, quivering in his boots. He was sweating and looked queasy but was outright staring at vader, drinking in the sight of his lords maskless face. You could understand. It was such a momentous thing, to see the frightfull lord in all his glory. Being able to categorically rule out the rumours of knarled twisted features and horrid burns mutations and from interspecies breeding. And instead see the sith for waht he was, a stunning powerful young man.

"It is a little known fact that captains are still able to marry those onboard the ships they command. Even in the empire." Vaders words halted your thoughts, yet somehow you still moved forward, inchingntowards him and his surprise. What? Already? No, he wouldnt do that yet would he? You twisted your head slightly before reaching out grasping for vader in what you hoped looked like casual affection. But it was to anchor you. You needed to hold onto something before your knees collapsed in on themselves and you crumpled to the floor. Vaders was glancing at the captain in warning, eyes burning making it clear the man was to hold his tongue over the next few moments.

And then the dark lord turned to you, one hand meeting yours before settling it in the crook of his arm playing the part of a gentleman. He nodded gifting you another bright grin and then pulled you closer to stand infront of him. He blinked tipping his head waiting for your reaction.

"Marry? He can marry us?" You breathed out, surprized and very very uncomfortable. As much as you knew this was the end game for lord vader. You were not prepared, youd belived hexd take you to mustafa first. Or atleast have the ceremony there. Not on a war ship.

"Indeed. He can and he will." He nodded once more, ending his reply with another threatening look cast to the man who looked like he was about to pass out. But overall vader sounded almost proud of himself. It was clear he thought the surprise and shock on your face was a good thing. And maybe it was? You werent crying or pleading. You cowered back slightly gulping down the dread you felt, you couldnt risk upsetting him now. Not infront of company.

"You look unsure little one, I will not waste our time together. You are mine and theres no reason to delay our future together. This is for the best" vaders words were laced with a soft warning, his bionic hand pressing against yours pinning it to his arm in a tight cold grip.

"We are not revisiting this discussion, ive made up my mind. You know this. Do not begin to disappoint me now little one" the chiding held a sharp egde. Threat of retribution shpuld you even think to argue woth him. His plans will not be ruined. And honestly you were not even stupid enough to try.

"oh no, vader no i was not; im just surprized. When you said we'd wed soon i did not realise how soon" you panicked rounding on him slightly, your other hand coming to rest ontop of his own vice like grip. You plead with him wide eyes glossing with tears, your hand moved smoothing over his skin thumbs circling over his wrist.

He held your gaze, nostrils flaring under his slowly rising temper. Lips thin and eyes glowing dangerously. Your heart thundered in your chest. It wasnt working? You dropped your gaze, slumping and released his hand slowly.

"Please vadet,don't be put out with me. I didnt mean it the way it sounded you know what im like. Id hate for you to think that i was against this in anyway. I truly meant no offence." He hummed relaxing his hold on you and released a deeper breath. You peaked up at him from the top of your eyes taking another half step closer. He settled somewhat as you drew closer, as if he realised you were not going to turn tail and flee. You continued to calm him spurred on by his sublte change in stance.

"It's just i? I suppose its selfish of me but i had silly hopes for our union is all, picking out a dress and flowers. Its what every little girl dreams of. But i will be happy aslong as i have you. Im not refusing you,not in the slightest. Id hate for you to ever think that, because i would never do that to you my lord. Never" you explained, choosing to play the little girl card to wriggle out of the hole youd somehow began to land yourself in.

He held your gaze for a few long moments and then sighed blinking slowly and released your now throbbing hand. You smiled but didnt move, instead squeezed his arm trying to reassure him you were staying here.

"A wise decision little one. unfortunately i have no time to give you a wedding you deserve one day i will make amends. But i have managed to aquire this at least. Here" the warning was more sinister then you'd anticipated. But the half explanation soothed you somewhat. He was once again gifting you with some semblance of consideration, letting you hold onto some sort of hope that he cared for your feelings. The words hung in the air for a few seconds before a hand rose. He held out a ring, pinching it between two fingers letting you pluck it from him.

You inspected it. It felt weighty, large and menacing. Clearly this was not yours it was too large, this ring was meantmfor him. It was neither gold or bright silver but an odd dark silver colour reminiscent of pewter. It was plain, nothing engraved or embedded into it. No decoration whats so ever. You closed your fist around it and plastered a smile on your face before looking back up at Vader.

"Shall we?" You said managing to bypass the panicked lump in your throat. You slowly felt dread build inside of you. You wanted to scream. This felt so insane, so fast and frightening. You were realising this was really happeneing and there was nothing you could do or say. You were trapped, no matter how delicatly he treated you, or how sweet his words and affection were. You were no longer free, you were his now. Completely and this man would keep a tight grip on you from here on out.

Vader beckoned you, holding out a hand clasping yours quickly and directed you to stand beside him and then shifted his attention. Suddenly the captain was pinned in place with a feirce look. It was only then you noticed a slim datapad in the poor mans quivering hand.

There were no fanatical speeches about love or family. No mentions of a pitiful romance or passages read on the sanctity of marriage. Only a few words about loyalty, strength and honour. And then vows, odd vows. Promises of obedience, surrender and worship. You vowed to serve him, to remain by his side and honour him. In return he will protect and provide for you and any children you may birth. It wasnt exactly the best exchange, but you were in not position to argue, you had nothing to bargin with, vader could take what he wanted if need be. So you'd be wise to accept whilst you had the illusion of choice.

You opted to smile pleasantly, reciting your vows watching carfully as vader seemed to visibly relax once youd played your part beautifully. Giving him exactly what he wanted without a fuss. The way you had submitted so quickly made heat rush through him, you were perfect. He'd enjoyed the light gasp as he'd placed his ring onto your finger. Your eyes lit up as you saw it for the first time, he had been unsure about it. He didnt know what youd want, all he knew was he wanted it to match his. From the look you gave him he had done well the delicate black band with light scrolling engraving across it. You were pleased, shocked but please nonetheless.

The ceremony was no more then ten mineuts, it would have been faster had the captain not stumbled over his words anxiously. Fear had made the man incoherent at some points in the small paragraphs. But even if the blithering idiot hadn't messed up the final kiss couldnt have come fast enough for vader. He needed it, the finality.

You stood listening as the ceremony drew to an end, with the fatefull words 'you may kiss the bride'. Your eyes flicked to vader unsure of whether he would indeed kiss you publicly. You shook your head subtly and made to pull back from you once lord now husband. You tried not to let your disappointment show, he didnt strike you as one for outward public affection so you shouldnt be surprised.

But as you tried to pry your hand that had resigned in his since donning his ring. He grunted, squeezing your hand. Suddenly he was on you, his human hand capturing your neck, thumb below your jaw, and hand stretched around covering your neck, fingers curling around you grazing the sking below your ear.

You cast a final worried look to the male beside you before. Opening your mouth to remind vader you had a guest. But what came out was a muffled cry of surprize when vader tugged you close before pressing his mouth to yours. You froze unprepared for his affection so much so he had managed to draw you into him, coaxing you to his own chest. Tilting his head before plundering your mouth. His lips moved against yours with delicate groan. Your eyes closed and cheeks flamed, unsure of what to do. All you did know was the captain was watching you with a weird fascination. It made you self conscious, youd only ever kissed once before;that had been at one of your freinds birthday parties years ago with a fumbling boy fresh out of his acne phase.

Vader chuckled drawing back a little taking a good look at you. You were his. He had a wife again. This time things will be different. He could love you freely without fear. This time he will be able to protect you, simply because youll obey him without question.

He descended again devouring you harsher this time, teeth biting and nipping at your lip making you whine in light pain before pressing forward. Plunging his tongue int your mouth lapping at your own before prodding you, encouraging you to join him in the kiss.

You did so carefully still aprihensive. Gingerly prodding at him, lapping and nibbling testing out what he liked and disliked. Your soft kissing and light exploring touch was met with light groans of praise. You relaxed smoothing your palms over his chest, remembering the lean muscles hidden beneath the thick suit. Just as you were melting into him, moaning into his mouth enjoying the kiss. You heard the captain Shuffle on his feet. Your eyes snapped open and attempted to tear yourself away from vader in a panic. He tightened his grip on your neck growling, jerking you forward drawing your attention back to him taking control. Once again you were reminded vader enjoyed your attention, he doesn't tolerate it wandering from him.

It was a few moments later when a loud thump rung out vader finally let you pull away. You eyed him for a moment only to look away as he made a show of lapping at his bottom lip, eyes half lidded stareing at you hungrily. He made sure not to let you get too far as you pulled back searching for where the thump had come from. His hands dropped to your waist keeping you close, chest pressing against his.

You panicked momentarily glancing around where the captain had been. Then gasped seeing the captain in a crumpled heap on the floor. You forgot to breath, your world stopped. No. No way, not again.

"Oh- shit! Vader he's? Is he alright? Did he passout? We should call the medic droids;" you began squirming in his grip, not beliving what you saw. He'd just passed out, he must have. There no way vader would have killed him, vader needed him to pilot the executor right?

"Hush, all is well. He served his purpose" he hummed pulling you closer resting his chin on your head kissing your hair lightly and wrapped his arms around you. Paying no mind to the dead captain on his living room floor.

"Did you? While we were?" You flushed eyes widening as you realised vader really had used the felxing of his hand on your neck to choke the captain. You stomach churrned, anxiety tugging at your chest like a horrid vice squeezing your diaphragm painfully.

"B-But he is the captain. Dont we need him to pilot the ship?" You asked pressing a hand to your chest rubbing trying to fend off the pain. Your eyes flicked from the captains body, to vader who chuckled shaking his head at you like you would a child.

"No, a team of twenty officers pilot the ship. His job is to coordinate them....Think of it this way, the co-pilot just got a promotion."

"You seem a little too upset, did you know him personally? Was he a friend?" His words grew sharp, the arms around you began tensing, squeezing threateningly. You whined shaking your head, quickly trying to backtrack and calm him before he became enraged.

"No, no ive never met him , i just wondered... this is such a huge vessel and i thought he must have been specifically trained to pilot it. I'd hate the thought of you wasting such a valuable member of the crew over me." You clarified, uttering the first thing that came to your head. Ending with a slight manipulation, wanting him to think you were only concered about his ship and reputation. Not the man who lay dead at your feet. Because god forbid he ever think you felt any sympathy for another man.

"I dont want to weaken you in any way, not even by havingnyour men killed... you have lost a powerfull force user and a trained captain because of me" Vaders eyes bore into you, gauging your reaction before he smiled his tightly squeezing arms loosening their hold.

"So sweet, so innocent. I could just eat you up sometimes. But save your worries we have many officers onboard equipped to pilot this vessel. And many force sensitive inquisitors at our disposal. Its how i keep them on their toes, they work harder if they understand they are replaceable" he cooed at you quietly, and then preceded to reassure you, explaining away the crew and reasoning he had for such a large staff turn over. You nodded dilligently, not really taking anything in.

"Besides he saw my face. No one in the galaxy is allowed that privilege. Except you of course wife~ Come you shouldn't dwell on this. Whats done is done. Instead focus on our happiness. We are now married." He exclaimed, rocking slowly side to side with you still keeping you tangled in his arms.

"Wont you smile for me love? It should be the happiest day of your life" his hand moved pinching your chin tilting you to look up at him. You forced a smile, beaming up at him like the glowing bride you were meant to be. Apart of you mused that things werent soo bad. He was a devastatingly handsome man to be married to, and powerful. He could look after you, keep you safe and sound, fed protected. And all it would cost is? Obedience and a semblance of love. Honestly you were sure you would come to love him, something tells you you wont have a choice in the end. So atleast you might get a true happy ending.

"Theres my good girl" he praised grinning down at you before dipping down clearly going in for another kiss.

Just as your lips were a breath away there was a loud sound ringing out from the door. You yelped jumping almost headbutting Vader. He growled glaring at the door, you wondered how it didnt melt under the anger. He sighed and stepped away from you, releasing you entirely.

"Ugh they are early. I apologise love, I hoped we would have a little time to ourselves to celebrate our union" he scowled as he spoke, disappointment curling into the words.

"Would you let them in. I called for them to clean up" he asked over his shoulder whilst stepping past you heading towards the bedroom. You spun watching him with a frown looking to the door and then bck to the room Vader was heading to.

"Clean up?" You asked unsure what he ,eant. But he sent a glnce over his shoulder nd nodded to the captain. Oh. That.

"Just instruct them to dispose of that mess.I wont be a moment, just finish dressing and once they are finished we will be off"he paused at the entrance to the bed room, and leant forward pressing a hand to the wall tapping it in thought.

"Do not worry they will know what to do, and i will just be in the other room. Id also like for you to put them in their place. Think of it as a? Practice run. I do expect you to mke use of your new title little one" his eyes pinned you to the spot, halflidded and buring with a promising heat before he spoke aagain.

"I dare say I will find it entertaining. But remember nothing will happen to you, my sweet little wife. You are untouchable now. Perfectly safe. " you drew a deep breath as he disappeared into the other room. Safe? Just who the hell is at the door? You pondered for a second before heading to the large main door and pressed your hand to the locking pad. The doors opened with a sharp hiss.

"Grand inquisitor, second sister?"You greeted politely praying you hadnt sounded to uncomfortable. Your stomach twisted and it took everything in you not to stagger back from them defensively. The two black clad visitors looked furious. Fuck.

"You?! i mean Lord vader had sent for us? He has a task?" Grand inquisitor snapped, only just managing to conceal his anger when he remembered that lord vader might be within hearing distance.

"Oh that. Yes. Please come in" you stepped back letting both of the inquisitors into the living space then reached over closing the thick doors once more. They stared at you, curious and spitefull gaz3s mking you want to shrink away from them. You werent a fool, these two were nasty pieces of work, cruel and vindictive. They were snakes and how Vader trusted them with anything amazed you, you wouldnt trust them as far s you could throw them. But then again, vader was a threat to them, they feared him enough not to fuck around and find out. You on the otherhand were an easy target.

"Im pleased to see you are well, we were concerned when you disappeared without a trace" second sister hissed with thinly veiled malice. The type of threateningly polite tipne only females could manage. Bitchy, nasty. Dangerous. You winced slightly and made your way around the room making sure not to turn your back on them. You didnt trust them out of your eye line.

"I have been taking some personal time, after everything that happened." You replied calming your breathing finally rounding one of the larger sofa's in the room placing it between you and the two force weilding occupants.

"Ah personl time, and new robes? A promotion? Or Acknowledgment of your service to the empire?" The grand inquisitors words sparked a chuc,led from second sister. Their eyes flicking to one another with amusement. You bristled at the insult that sat on the edge of his words. Whore. Thats what they saw you as. Vaders cock sleeve was another term youd heard them utter. You clenched your jaw and glanced away from them choosing to ignore it. But paused whe. You noticed you were hovering by the bed room wall, vader was behonde you, he'd step in if they tried anything.

The thought of your new unintentional husband slaughtering these two if they tried anything shouldnt have mde you giddy. But it did, there was something to be said for having that type of protection from such a sinfully wicked man. His immense strength was your new sheild.

"Yes you could say that. Something to thank the inquisitors for. Though the circumstances were... unpleasant the outcome is, preferable" you smiled tightly, casting a quick glance over your shoulder hearing some movement from behinde the partician wall. You visibly relaxed. Vader was only few feet away and could hear everything. And something told you he'd made himself heard to remind you of that fact.

"Im glad we could be of service to you. Its telling that you take your personal time here of all places. And to think you tried to deny your... association with lord vader so desperately." Grand inquisitor uttered with a laugh once again calli g you a whore without actually saying the words.

"It's laughable really we all knew it" the other woman added, laughing along with her commander. Ganging up on you like bullies on a playground. You growled feeling a rush of hopelessness and anger swell. A small voice began whispering to you, you could have mistaken it for someone else uttering spite in your ear. 'How long? How long will you let this go on for? Why are you letting them talk to you like this? Use it. Use the rage, its there for a reason' you snarled shaking with fury clentching your fists letting your anger seep through your stance.

"Knew what exactly?" You snapped at the two chuckling vindictive fools. They faltered, frowning when they saw you standing tall, back straight muscles tight and eyes blazing.

"You know very well;"

"Im afraid i dont. Would you spell it out for me? If not wait until vader is here? By all means ask him. Im sure he will indulge one of you." You sneered cutting off the womans rambling attempt at cutting you back down to size.

Both inquisitors shared a look, they looked unsettled. Confused by your rage. You were meant to be spineless, weak! Somebodymeone they could always push around and frighten. Yet? No. You looked different. Confident and assertive, angry. They eyed one another again shiftingnon there feet slightly before decideing to change tactics and steer the conversation away from what ever outburst was awaiting them if they continued to pry.

"Where is lord vader? Its seems unusual for him to be absent when he requested us, especially when he calls us into his own rooms" grand inquisitor asked trying to sound high and mighty, beliving him being here was an achievement, something he could brag about being called to the lords private chambers.

"Vader is;" you began with a smile realising that the man was trying to not only diffuse the situation but also regain control by name dropping your superior.

"Lord vader, he has a title" the other woman sneered once again testing you, trying to provoke you with a correction. Your gaze snapped to her, she flinched. You mentally pat yourself on the back. You were uncomfortable, anxious about this whole dominance thing. But you were more concered with the repercussions from Vader if you didnt heed his request. But even you took a second or so to appreciate that thrill seeing someone grow rigid and wary just from a single glance.

"Vader is occupied." You snapped at her actually feeling insulted by at the tought of being corrected by this woman who still seemed to think you were below her.

"Occupied?"

"Yes. And the only reason you are here is deal with that." You huffed waving a hand in the direction of the dismissed captain lying out of veiw, save for his feet pomeing out from behinde one of the leather sofa's. Both inquisitors frowned before side stepping, peaking around to see who had fallen ill of their lord.

"I-is that the Captain?" Second sister uttered outloud a light tremor to her voice. You could tell she was pnicked, the cptain was an extremely high ranked trusted officer. And to have been killed? Well it meant either vder was in a bad mood, or just plain furious. Both were never a good thing especially when you were due to see vader yourself. Youd much rather encounter him on a good day.

"Yes... It was unfortunate. But? Whats done is done." You finished repeating the words of vader himself. Only this time they seemed to settel more, there meaning truly sinking in. His life was over, done, gone and there was no bringing him back. No reason to mourn or fret over it. Much like life before the incidentwith the inquisitors? The life of a faceless engineer in the empire fleet. Your anonymity was a thing of the past, or it will be soon. You could feel it, the way your mind resigned itself to your new position. Youd always served vader, you just had a different role now.

"You've been called to clean up this mess"

"Of course, those are our lords orders" you bit your lip harshly. Did you dare push futher? Could you? 'Yes, assert yourself Lady vader' you gasped head tilting slightly, listening out in the direction of vader. For a moment you felt you might be going mad especially when neither inquisitor reacted to vaders voice coaxing you to retaliate. 'Im here, im always here wife' you tensed but nodded minutely locking eyes with the two people infront of you. You knew exactly wahat to do.

"No. They are mine. Though im sure vader wont mind me commanding you over such trivial things" your words escaped with little thought that time. You were beginning to understand why so mny superiors hd n attitude, it was invigorating commnding others with lttle consequence. Your tempted to order one of them to retrieve some caf for you, but the fear of them spitting in it was enough to deter you.

"We do not obey orders from a" grand inquisitor snarled eyes burning whislt taking a threatening step towrds you. It seems youd found his boiling point. You almost shrunk back at his menacing approach, but somehow held firm remaining still. Your stomch twisted in knots as you continued to stare him down. Quietly praying vader would hurry up nd pop out from his hiding place.

"From a what? Though do be aware you must choose your next words carefully, very very carefully there will be repercussions should i not enjoy them" your unsure how but you mnged an even tone, kept your words calm but sharp all the while praying vader would realise you were beckoming uncomfortable now. You were scared, fearfull of what a split second of anger could result in if the grand inquisitor did loose his cool and used the force against you.

"Or else what?" The hiss ws pure venom, he towered over you standing inches from you, the tip of his boots brushing yours. You opened your mouth to reply but couldnt, the words left you.

"You witnessed first hand what happens to those who antagonised my wife" You relxed instantly as your husband spoke whilst entering the room with an air of sinister mischief. But also a dull rage, he glanced at you quickly noting the how panicked youd seemed. And how close the grand inquisitor had gotten.

Vader straightened an rm out beckong you to him as he slowly crossed the space in measured steps. You side stepped the offending male and tucked yourself into vaders side, placing yourself under his cape smiling up at him thankfully as his arm curled round your waist.

He hummed in approval he definitely wanted to intimidate his inquisitors letting them know of the real connection between the two of you. Not that they could see his amusement below his mask that was now firmly placed on his head, shrouding his true beauty below the intimidating visage. You tried not to let him know you were uncomfortable with the way he'd orcastrated this little reveal. But your unsure if you managed to conceal it.

"Yes my lord" unlike you the two force weilders before you managed to shake the fearful shock within seconds at the revelation and snap into a tight posture. They looked to you with anxiety in their gaze, clearly wondering if their disrespectful teasing was going to cost them. You simply faced forward as yur husbands hand glided to the small of your back absentmindedly.

"I expect lady vader gave you her orders? Complete your task by the time we return." vader ordered befor turning to you dismissing the two underlings to their task.

"We have much to do this morning" he informed you acting as if you were still the only two in the room.

"W-we do?" You frowned, you hadnt realised you were busy today. Vader hadnt told you what you were doing, just that you were going to be with him for the morning. But then again you were quickly finding that vader didnt prewarn you. He planned things and then sprung them on you last minute.

"Yes, today we will visit the control center where you will install your track and trace protocol and whislt we are there we can inform the copilot of his promotion, nothing too exciting i assure you" he continued mking sure the other two could hear him. It was petty in a way, vader was flaunting you. Letting the inquisitors know you were to be conducting important business and trailing after your husband all day. And they will spend the morning as clean up crew.

"Im sure it will be exciting enough for our first excursion my love, im eager to join you, as much as i adore our home i do need to stretch my legs, a few laps of the halls will be some much needed exercise." You replied with a smile allbeit a nervous one. you hadnt tried to play anong with vader like this, so you were unsure if he'd reciprocate but it was worht a shot.

"My lady have i not provided you enough stimulation?" You could feel his smirk. As he teased you, playing the small game youd initiated just to spite the others into an awkward unsteady footing. He couldnt help the little thrill as he saw your tiny sadistic streak rear its head once more.

"I apologise for this oversight. I will be sure to indulge you more frequently in the future" with that you laughed out loud shaking your head at him before drifting closer placing a hand to his bicep squeezing lightly in thanks. He hummed to you raisingnhis other hand to pull yours down along his arm leaving it to settled in the crook of his elbow and held it there.

"As you should husband~"You told yourself you were playing a part,to piss off the other two currently on clean up duty. But there was a certain flutter of excitment, you couldnt help feel that the little vindictive victory over the inquisitors was just the first of many new privileges. And the fact vader had not only tolorated but actually played along with your spiteful little game helping you to tease them made you giddy. Were you aprihensive about your future with him? Sure. But so far the title lady Vader was working out smashingly.

"Come let us go" Vader spoke casually before stepping forward. He was pleased. There had been slight hiccups today but the way you'd obeyed him so quickly and stood up to the two inquisitors that had tormented you. You'd also trusted him to protect you if the inquisitors tried to attack. It was perfect and definitely made him realise he had chosen wisely. You really will be the perfect little wife he needed. And he doubts it will take long for you to fully submit yourself to your new role. When that day comes and you've truly proven yourself, you'll be rewarded. Given the honour of carrying his child, the heir to the galactic empire. He couldnt wait to have it all.

[heartofwritiing]

Almost lost you

Paring: Druig x fem!eternal!reader

Summary: During the emergence, you think you lost Druig and your emotions overcome you.

a/n: I watched eternals at 3am when it drop on disney+ and haven’t been able to stop thinking about it (and druig) so heres this brian child lol also a little note on the backstory the reader has the same type of powers as wanda but instead of her magic being red it’s gold like druig’s eyes turn when he uses mind control. she can’t fly as high as Ikaris either but can still float. also I might’ve been a little bit too dramatic but I was feeling like garbage when I wrote this and was kinda venting :/ listen to this while you read 😉

Warning(s): Spoliers for eternals!, mentions of/and death, angst, crying, violence, acting on emotions, fluffy fluff, happy end don’t worry :) ignore any mistakes made I have no beata reader :/ 

gif by @emcu7o

The Domo was approaching the Indian ocean as you were all suiting up for whatever battle was to come. You were nervous, to say the least, you didn't know what was going to happen. This plan Phastos and Sersi had could fail, you all could fail and the earth would be destroyed. You tried to keep a positive outlook on the situation as you waited for everyone else to finish getting ready. It was weird being back with everyone again, after everything that occurred in Babylon you weren't sure you’d ever seen your fellow Eternals again. You were only just with Ajak a few  months ago but then she told you to go find Sersi. But how could you have known she would be killed by a deviant? Then you lost Gilgamesh only a day ago to the same Deviant but after what’s happened you were glad everyone was together again. You stood looking out the front window of the domo to see a volcano bubbling in the distance and a presence came up behind you. 

“Hey, you okay?” A soft Irish accent spoke close to you. 

It was Druig. You were honestly surprised he was coming up to talk to you considering he hasn’t seen you since 500 BC and he left you with the others. You thought you had something with Druig but you were wrong. The months that passed after that night you were heartbroken and you stayed with Ajak, and she healed you in more way’s than one. She looked after you and cared for you while you were mending the wound Druig left in your soul. During that time you went back and forth traveling around the world and living with Ajak in South Dakota. Even Sprite lived with you both for a while until we were both set off to find Sersi in London. 

You nodded at Druig still keeping your eyes out the window. You really weren't but you were trying to keep your emotions in check for the sake of yourself and the team. 

“Just a little nervous.” You say truthfully. 

You turn your head to look at him for the first time. He’s wearing his black robes and his hands are behind his back as he also looks out onto the landscape you’re approaching. He notices you staring at him so he looks over at you and your eyes meet and your breath catches in your throat. You’ve missed his eyes and how they would be brighter when they caught the light and somehow got bluer. His lips began to form a little smirk as you continued to stare into his eyes realizing his suspicions were correct. You missed him just as much as he missed you. You could tell he wanted to say something to you, It was hanging on his mouth. 

“Listen, I-” he starts.

“We better get down there,” 

It was Sersi, she looked like she realized she was interpreting something between you both and she gave you an apologetic look. You nodded at her and gave Druig a look that almost said we’ll continue this conversation when this was all over. 

You, Makari, Druig and, Sersi all teleported down to the surface while Thena and Phastos stayed on board to distract Ikaris if he showed up. You all stood in a line ready to form the Unimind and gave each other reassuring looks before Druig begins. He gives you one last look of affection before he nods to Sersi. You watched as he closed his eyes and when they opened once again they were glowing gold as energy began to form around him. Then it began to form around the rest of you lifting you above the ground. The bracelets Phanstos made were working, You could feel everyone connecting and joining together. The feeling came and went as Druig was hit with a blast of Ikaris’ lazers in the back and rolling forward. You fell back to the ground and could feel the energy surrounding you disappear. You weren't quick enough to react as you watched in horror as Ikaris grabbed Druig by the throat and soared into the sky. Ikaris then throws Druig down and then his eyes shoot beams and drive Druig into the ground and rocks. You feel frozen and your heart drops. 

“No!” 

The scream you let out is strained. there are tears streaming down your face for the only man you ever loved, and all you did was stand there. You never even got to tell him how you felt. Sersi and Markkari are also in shock as they watch Ikaris force him into the earth also feeling helpless. You've sunk down to the floor, your knees buried in the sand. You reach out with your mind to feel Druig but there's nothing. Your connection with his thoughts are gone, your hands grip your chest and Ikaris is floating back down to where you all were standing. 

“Druig’s gone.” Ikaris’ words are like a dagger driving into your chest. 

Suddenly the emotion is too much to keep inside and your whole body is pulsing with power and rage. Gold wisps of energy explodes all around you as you wail out. It causes the earth to shake and crack all around, splitting the ground in half. It’s so much that you send Markkari and Sersi back behind you, knocking them to the ground. You bolt up and float towards Ikaris, bringing your hands together to make a ball of gold energy and send it straight through his chest. You’re now close enough now to lay a punch to his left jaw, then another on the opposite side. You get a few good hits on him before he blocks your next attack you both continue to assault each other, you’re sure your body will be bruised with the amount of force he’s hitting you with. With that last punch he give you, it sends you sliding back across the sand, and once you’ve stopped your sprint back towards Ikaris to land another punch. At this point, your eyes and hands are glowing gold from your energy and powers, your anger, grief, and revenge all pouring out through it. Your arms twist around creating wisps and sparks of gold energy around Ikaris trying to pull his limbs away from punching you but he pushes through and attacks you, throwing a punch that makes you dizzy. Once you’ve composed yourself, with one big push of energy, you throw him back into a rock wall. his body creating a gap as rocks fall onto the sand from the sudden force of Ikaris being pushed into it. You were sure that wasn't enough to put Ikaris down because now he's back up again and aiming his laser beams at you. you try to conger a shield with energy but you're too late, suddenly you're being thrown back and soaring through the air until your back hits a boulder sideways and you land on your side in the sand. Your breathing is labored as you try to sit up but your chest hurts too much. You look up and can see Markkari zipping around and getting a few hits on Ikaris and then finally pushing him into the rock wall once again with a final push of kinetic energy. Then your vision is going black and you’re passing out. 

-

When you open your eyes again you can feel a someone behind you trying to support you up. You groan as you turn onto your back to see Phastos kneeling beside you. He sighs once he realizes you’re awake and breathing. 

“Y/N, you’re okay, try not to move too much,” He says calmly. 

“Where's Ikaris?” you wheeze out. 

“Don’t worry about him right now, I need to get you to the domo you’re badly hurt-“ 

“Where is he?” you sit up now using Phastos as support to pull yourself up, rage is spilling from your lips. 

“I had him but he got away, Sersi is dealing with him,” Phastos explains. 

You now try to stand up and Phastos sees this and tries to help you up but you push him off and start walking in the direction you sense Sersi and as you do you're staggering. 

“Where are you going?” 

“to kill Ikaris.” you spit. 

Phastos runs up to get in front of you and grabs you by the shoulders and stops you in your tracks. 

“killing Ikaris isn't going to make things better,” he starts. 

“yes it will-“ you seeth trying to push past him. 

“It won’t help-“

“Phastos, please!” 

“This isn't what Druig would’ve wanted!” 

His name makes you stop you completely trying to escape Phastos’ grip and your whole mood shifts. 

“He wouldn’t have wanted you to get revenge. or get hurt, or worse killed.” 

“We all know you cared for Druig, loved him even.” 

You hang your head and your arms fall to your sides in defeat. You sink to the floor and cover your mouth with your palm and Phastos follows you. Tears fall silently down your face as you cry. What were you doing, this wasn’t right of you to do, you were blinded by revenge that you let it take over you. Phastos was right, Druig or Ajak wouldn’t have wanted this. For you to avenge them, if Ajak could see you now you know she’d be disappointed. 

You cried as Phastos sat by your side, a comforting arm on your back. Until you felt a strong energy surge pulling you up into the air and extending your arms. gold symbols weaved their way around you and you look over to see Phastos in the same position a few inches away from you. Then you can feel everything. Everyone with you is connected by the uni-mind. You could even feel the fallen Eternals with you in spirit. 

Sersi had done it. You all did, you stopped the emergence before it could destroy the earth and you couldn’t believe it. Everyone met back on the beach once it was over, Ikaris was dead and Tiamunt wasn't going to destroy Earth. Sersi brought you into a warm embrace and you winced when she squeezed your torso a little too tight. 

“Sorry,” she pulls away. 

“It’s okay,” You groan out holding your side. You knew you had to get to the Domo and rest before you felt worse. 

“How did you do it?” Makkari signs. 

“I don't know, it's like some power went through me, when I touched timuts palm, I felt energy surging through me.” Sersi explains. 

“We were all connected, I could feel it, I could feel the others with us,” you professed tearfully. 

Sersi smiles sadly as a tear falls down her cheek at the memories of her fallen family members. You hugged Markkari and Thena as well before something in the back of your mind was telling you to look to your left. 

You could sense Sprite coming from over the cliff and onto the beach but you could hear another voice calling out to you in the corners of your mind. When you pulled back from Thena, you all saw Sprite. Your smile drops and you scolded her for what you see. 

“Sprite, now you are just being cruel.” your eyes well up with tears again seeing Druig or illusion Druig walking towards you. 

“Im not doing anything,” She says defensively. 

Fake Druig just smiles as he walks closer to you. 

“It's really me love.”  

god, it even sounds like him why was she doing this to you? 

“Seriously Sprite, enough! you knew I cared about Druig too much now stop!” you cried at her.

He finally reaches you and puts his hands on your shoulders and to your surprise, they feel real, but you don't buy into it. 

“It’s okay, m’alright. I'm real. feel me.” he coons, reaching for your hand and places your palm on his cheek ever so gently. You gasp out taken by surprise that his hand or cheek doesn't vanish when you touch them. 

“Druig?” you whisper in disbelief. 

“It’s me, it’s me,” he chants in a low voice, placing his forehead against yours and you stay in that position. You smile as you blink more tears. You look into his beautiful blue eyes and gasp in realization and his eyes peer back into yours. 

“Oh my love.” you whisper, pulling him into a tight embrace. when you break apart he's grinning from ear to ear. 

“Druig, I love you so much, I should have gone with you all those years ago in Babylon, after you left it was like I lost a part of myself and I never want to be apart ever again.” 

He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, which you eagerly kiss back with as much love and affection as he does. your arms find their way around his neck to pull him in closer as his hands are flat on your lower back pulling you flush against his chest. You place your hand on his cheek and caress it softly with your thumb, feeling his skin against yours. When he pulls back a smack fills the air when your lips break apart. 

“I should’ve asked you to come with me but I knew how loyal you were to Ajak I didn’t want you to have to choose between me or her.” Druig shakes his head. 

“I would've gone with you if you had asked me, I would've followed you anywhere Druig.” You proclaimed. 

He almost sighs at hearing you say that. It’s taken him years to cope with leaving you behind but deep down he always regretted it. But now knowing that you would've gone with him no questions asked makes his heart swell. 

“I love you too. so much.” He beamed. 

Your smile gets even wider with hearing him say those words. He leans his forehead on yours one last time before you face the group who are all smiling at you for finally confessing to one another. Sersi looks as if she’s about to cry, Thena is smiling admirably, Makkari looks so elated for you both and sprite gives you both a nod of approval. You're a blushing mess as you and Druig walk side by side as he supports you. 

“Finally!” Phastos lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Oh by the way, thanks for the bump on my head you ass!” Sprite scowls at Druig. 

a/n: Thanks for reading! I might start doing a taglist so please comment or go to my inbox and I’ll add you! 

[moonbaby26]

Title: What’s in a Name?

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from last chapter. You and the others are finally homeward bound, flying back to the U.S. from the events in Egypt and Greece. You get to hear a little more about Peter’s eastern European roots while passing time on the plane together.

Warnings: None, just fluff and Peter being Peter.

Notes: I know where some things I’m referencing don’t match the comics. Blend of comic canon and the movie version going on here.

Chapters: Previous Chapter Here

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

The morning sun was still low and red on the horizon as you’d stepped back out into the open air of the flight deck. But seagulls were already calling from somewhere up above as men milled around, checking and readying a set of helicopters that you knew would soon be taking you ashore.

You wouldn’t miss this boat itself of course, none of you belonged here after all. But you’d be lying to say it’d been easy to let go of Peter when morning had come. You’d woken up far more tangled than you remembered going to sleep as, chest to chest, his good leg wrapped over you and one of his hands somehow far up the back of your shirt.

The longest part of getting ready had been the procrastination of leaving that bed. After that, it only seemed like minutes before you were all awkwardly standing up here now, waiting on next instructions. It wasn’t as if you’d had anything you could pack after all. Besides that somewhat silly polaroid picture you’d seen Peter carefully stowaway in one pocket of his shorts, you had no possessions to speak of here. Even the shoes they’d given you were some poorly fit military boot. The tops of them scraped against your ankles as you walked and you’d be glad to be rid of them whenever possible.

The Professor and Moira approached after another moment, Moira hurrying a little more as one of the helicopters began to fire up, followed by the other soon after. She had to speak louder over the rising noise of the blades rotating faster and faster.

“Keep these on you!” She called, going to each of you in turn, handing over a U.S. passport with a driver’s license closed separately inside. She only opened them briefly to check that she was matching each to the correct person. “The flight we’ll be taking is just a commercial plane. The government has contracted them and dictated the pickup and landing points, but it’s civilian pilots and flight crew. Normal security still applies, but only those with U.S. citizenship are allowed aboard.”

As she’d gotten to you and Peter, she’d handed both passports to you as you’d had your hand outstretched, and he’d still been holding on to his crutches. You quickly opened one just to see which was yours, so you could pocket only your own. The first one opened was his however, but even in the low light of early sunrise, your brain hitched on something unexpected.

The picture looking back at you was clearly him, albeit a little younger, and with slightly longer hair than the way he wore it currently. But that wasn’t the issue. You reread the name printed in front of you more than once, before glancing up to him as if to confirm.

It said Pietro Django Maximoff.

“Your real name isn’t Peter?” You asked, even over the helicopter noise before you could stop yourself. But the realization was already dawning on you almost before that last word left your mouth that so many people were called one name by friends and family even if their legal name may still be another. You felt a bit stupid then for your reaction, instantly wishing you could take the question back.

But thankfully he only leaned in with a smile, taking his passport and license from you even as he spoke right against your ear. “Define real.” He pocketed them, before continuing. The helicopters were at their full ready now. “But it’s a bit loud here, babe. I’ll tell you all you want to know about my sexy alter ego later, deal?”

—————————

By the time you’d gotten to the airstrip on shore, it was full morning sun now. And just as Moira had said, there was already a large U.S. commercial jet waiting there. You also found out you weren’t alone, as you’d had to join a line of people already waiting to board. They were checking credentials as people moved up one by one onto a mobile stairway that had been rolled up flush with the plane’s open door.

Looking around you, most of the would be passengers still looked like military of various branches though. Army, Navy, Air Force, they still had on their uniforms. But there were others too, likely diplomats being evacuated you thought. Men, women, even a few children as you’d seen the curious eyes peeking out from behind their parents’ legs as you all had also moved through the line.

“It had to be damn stairs,” Peter mumbled as the two of you neared closer to the plane. Without any actual terminal here, boarding straight from the tarmac was the only option.

“If Hank can help carry the Professor up them, wheelchair and all, I’m pretty sure I can handle you.” You responded, only meaning to give him a little grief.

But he just spun things right back on you of course. “Oh, you can handle me any time.”

And when your stare said you didn’t seem to find that quite as funny as he did, he only shrugged, still smiling. “Sorry, you left yourself wide open for that one.”

“I did.” You admitted. “But I still want to hear the story of that driver’s license. And why did you even have one to begin with? Seems a little unecessary.” You said, still moving up every few moments as you neared the bottom of the stairs.

Yet he just kept smirking at you, almost a seeming delight in his eyes then, realizing that you were that curious about it. “Now who’s impatient?” He taunted, just before turning back to flash said documents to one of the workers now checking them.

“Do you have anything to declare?” The woman asked him.

With the way he paused, you knew his brain was churning then to select whatever he would deem the funniest or wittiest response. But as odd of looks as you were all already getting, mostly from Hank and Kurt’s vivid blue skin as usual, it probably would be best not to test the waters any further. You did want to get home after all.

“We don’t,” You answered before he could, relieved when she seemed to want to hurry you all aboard and away from her as much as you did. She handed Peter’s passport back to him, then took your own in quick succession to glance it over as well before seeming satisfied enough as she handed it back to you.

After you were past her, it was the issue of the stairs however. Obviously they expected Peter to just figure it out, but you knew you could lend a hand. The trick was going to be in trying to keep that act of levitation a little more subtle though, still being in mixed company here.

“You should have let me have a little more fun with her,” Peter said, though glancing back with some curiosity as you moved behind him.

“I don’t want to make a scene,” you responded quietly. Really, referring to her just as much as what you were about to attempt. “Pretend you’re going up the stairs anyway. Move a little like you’re walking.”

The person in front of him on the stairs wasn’t looking back, and only more of your friends were directly behind you. With the sidewalls of the stairway also going up about waist high, the people still on the ground couldn’t see the little glow that went around his legs as you willed him to levitate just high enough that his cast didn’t drag the steps as you both continued towards the plane’s door.

“Woah, hey at least give a warning.” He responded, lifting his good leg up enough for it to also miss the now passing steps even as his crutches hit once or twice.”

“I did.” You answered, though still trying to look past him the whole time to make sure no one was looking back from the plane’s doorway. Once you’d gotten nearly to the top, you set him back down to do the last couple steps on his own and enter the plane normally.

Once inside though, the aisle really was too narrow to use his crutches properly. Maybe on a more normal flight more measures would have been taken to assist the disabled, but there sure wasn’t anyone offering anything today.

Kurt was behind you, and offered to take the crutches while Peter put one arm over your shoulders and you both half hobbled, half shimmied awkwardly down the aisle until you reached the first open seating.

Being a larger jet meant for transoceanic travel, there were seats in groups of three on both the left and right side of the plane, but a row of four in the center as well. You ended up in one of the rows of three on the side, letting Peter take the aisle seat to have more room for his leg, while you sat in the middle, and Kurt beside you at the window as he’d laid Peter’s crutches down on the floor underneath the seats.

You finally felt like maybe you could relax a little then, just glancing around a bit. There were some old magazines in the seatback in front of you, but probably not much of anything else any of you could really do now in however many hours it’d take to get stateside. You were pretty sure a passenger jet like this would be a good deal slower than the high tech military one you’d gone to Egypt in.

You were only looking up at the light and air vent controls above your seat next as a sudden movement and curse surprised you as your eyes darted back to the aisle.

“Goddamnit.” A man said.

His soft sided suitcase had just burst open, spilling most of his clothing onto the floor as he then paused to shove it back in as best he could. He struggled with the zipper a moment, but it only slid back and forth uselessly, no longer sealing the bag back. “Cheap ass government issue,” He added, finally just picking up the whole thing and holding it closed against his chest as he walked on.

And that random event would have been nothing more to you, except for the way you saw Peter move his head back then, sucking in a pained breath through his teeth as he gripped the armrest between you.

Kurt noticed too, leaning forward as he asked, “Are you alright, Peter?”

“Yeah, sure,” He grunted.

But as you glanced down to see Peter’s other hand now clutching his broken leg, you also saw a newly materialized pair of sunglasses pressed between his fingertips and the cast. As well as a military jacket now folded messily under his seat.

“That was you.” You spoke abruptly, yet low enough just for the three of you. “You took those out of that man’s suitcase!”

“Well I didn’t think the stupid zipper was going to break when I tried to close it back! He’s right, that was a cheap zipper.” Peter admitted.

“And you hurt yourself trying to get back into the chair didn’t you?” You chided a little more, not quite sure what was worse, the thievery or the recklessness.

“I hit my foot on that damn bracket, and the vibration went through the bone.” He motioned to the metal bracing that bolted the seat in front of him to the floor.

“Thou shalt not steal,” Kurt said, not judgmentally, but just as if this should be an inherent truth as he still looked to Peter with concern.

“Oh man, so I get like twelve hours of flight time to look forward to, trapped next to you two goody two shoes then? Awesome.” He joked back, though already looking back down then at the sunglasses in his hand with a little admiration. They had a mirror finish as he spun them over in his fingers. “And hey, you guys are the ones who burned up my last jacket back in Egypt, remember? I’m not going home empty handed. I’d been wanting one of those army looking deals since we got here. Buzzcut there seemed like he’d have one.”

“Mama look!”

All three of you paused your talk then to see a small boy now standing in the aisle as the movement of people had slowed once more with passengers stopping to put their luggage in the overhead bins. But his mother didn’t seem to be paying him any mind as he continued to point. She was talking to the man in front of her as that man fought with an oversized suitcase.

The boy continued staring though, likely at Kurt. But it wasn’t really a fearful gaze, more excited than anything.

“Guten tag,” Kurt said cheerfully regardless, just waving in return.

And at that the boy’s eyes really went wide. “Sprichst du Deutsch?” The boy stammered a little, yet with the biggest grin.

“Ja, ich komme aus Bayern.” Kurt replied.

And that spontaneous connection over a surprise shared language would have been truly adorable too if Peter wasn’t suddenly leaning right over you to interrupt it.

“Yo, Kurt, ask him if I can borrow some of his markers!” Peter pleaded abruptly.

“What?” You and Kurt both said almost simultaneously.

“The markers, he doesn’t need the whole box. I only need like three colors, tops.” Peter answered, motioning back to the boy. And when still neither you or Kurt seemed to understand this sudden sense of urgency, Peter actually put his hands together like making a little prayer. “You told me you didn’t want me to steal, so I’m trying not to. Come on, at least a red one?”

Kurt really was confused then, but he did lean forward, saying something else in German to the boy.

At that request the boy did look down at the coloring book rolled in one of his hands, and the small pack of markers sticking out of his pocket that evidently Peter had somehow put a target lock on.

But he really did like Kurt apparently as after only a couple moments of thought, the little boy opened the marker box to pull three out.

“Sweet!” Peter said as the child handed over red, black, and blue to him. “I’ll give them back in a bit, right?” Peter added though, smirking at him. “Thanks, little dude.”

And it was all just the oddest thing to you as the boy only happily waved bye to Kurt after, the movement of people starting again as he and his mother continued on to go sit a few rows further back.

“I don’t even know what just happened,” you said after they were gone.

“That was world class negotiating, babe. I mean Kurt literally just smooth talked some colors from a kid with a coloring book in his hand on a twelve hour flight.” Peter responded.

“You are actually going to give them back though aren’t you? You told him you would.” Kurt replied with a little concern.

Peter kind of shrugged, “I mean yeah, I guess so.”

“He’ll give them back,” You added for him. “Or I will.”

“Okay, okay, jeez. Yes, it’s not going to take me hours to do anything. Ever. I’ll have this baby gussied up in no time.” Peter responded, patting his cast gently. “You can’t leave a blank canvas to a guy like me. Especially if I have to stare at this thing for weeks.”

And he was right, you weren’t even in the air yet before he just started doodling away.

————————————

Thankfully the plane only stopped one more time, at an air base in France to pickup more U.S. government evacuees, before at last the wings were over water and you were finally pointed home.

By now Peter’s cast looked more like those advertisements or example sheets on the walls of any tattoo parlor. Yet when you made a comment as such, the sly grin you got in return made you instantly wish you’d thought that through a little better.

“Ah, so you’ve been in a tattoo parlor then?” Oh he was so interested in this topic now. You could see that wolfish look coming into his eyes. “You’ve got some ink somewhere?”

“I don’t.” You’d thought of doing it though, quite a bit actually. But it was such a commitment. You’d probably keep that tidbit to yourself for a while though, lest he try to drag you immediately to a tattoo shop on the drive to D.C.

“I’m not totally sure I believe you.” He answered, though leaning in to whisper in your ear after, “Think you’ll let me check some time?”

The fact that he was still so bold with Kurt literally right beside you, made you wonder if you really should be making sure whatever rental car you ended up with later was just some sort of bucket seat tiny two door thing. If it was a boat like sedan with a full bench back seat, you might actually be in trouble tonight.

“We’ll see,” Is all you answered back though. At least for a moment before you realized now was as good a time as any to flip the conversation back on him.

“So when do I get to hear the Pietro story?” You asked, relaxed into your seat as much as the small space would allow. “Kurt and I have nothing else to do. Let’s hear it.”

“The who?” Peter teased back, just working on giving one of the pin up girls he’d drawn a little better shading.

“Or Django. Either Pietro or Django, they both sound pretty interesting I think.” You replied playfully.

Peter glanced at you, but smiled a little. “You’re just going to be disappointed actually. I was just hyping it up, there’s really nothing to it.”

“Then go on, it’ll be a quick story then.” You still wanted to know more about him of course, and every piece was just another part of the whole picture.

“Django was my grandfather. Mom’s dad back in the old country.” Peter replied, still just finding more and more little details to add to his drawings. “I didn’t really know him. Mom never liked to take us back there much to visit. I mean it makes more sense now of course. She didn’t want my Dad to know where she was. But back then I just figured she thought that place was creepy.”

“What place?” Kurt asked innocently enough. You both were actually equally curious to whatever Peter might say about his family. Like he’d said before, Kurt wasn’t used to having friends his own age. And learning more about each other now was all part of growing those bonds.

“Wundagore Mountain,” Peter replied. “And trust me, as much as it sounds like the newest ride at some amusement park, it’s totally not. I remember being like five and going back there thinking Dracula himself was going to yank me out of that freaking soviet tin can Mom was driving us around in. Wanda still swears she heard voices up there. I mean I don’t know, we stayed with Mom’s aunt one time and she tells us this thing so creatively called Man-Beast was going to come down off the mountain for us if we didn’t behave.”

Peter glanced over to the both of you, further clarifying, “Not like Hank or anything though, it was basically just a werewolf I think. But if it’s a werewolf, call it that you know? What the hell is a Man-Beast? They had so many weird things that could take children. I feel like every story was, oh but don’t do that or Porga will get you. Oops, you talked back to your mother? Guess Tagar is coming tonight. Darn, forgot to brush your teeth? Nice knowing you, kid, Bova’s going to take you to live in the woods forever now.”

You were sort of just staring and listening, but out the corner of your eye you saw Kurt only nodding as if in complete understanding. You would hazard a guess that parts of Bavaria evidently had very similar folklore. Between the two of them, they could likely trade stories like this the whole flight.

But Peter just continued, “But yeah, Django was my gramps, just met him a couple times. And Pietro...well that’s just me. Like I said, nothing special. I was Pietro all the way until Mom started us in kindergarten.” He smirked a little. “Guess she figured the dorky little Jewish kid with the curly brown hair needed all the help he could get fitting in with all the John’s, Mark’s, and Scott’s of the world. And yeah, feel free to tell Summers I said that later.”

So she’d Americanized his name. It wasn’t unheard of with first or second generation immigrants, but still there was something a little sad about that. Yet you smiled softly, that image of the kindergarten age Peter frankly adorable in your mind. “You were a baby brunette?”

“Until the old X-gene flared at 12 or whenever that was yeah,” But he paused, a little surprised, just then realizing what look that was on your face. “Oh stop, you’re picturing it now aren’t you? I was a total dork, don’t do that. Seriously, no! I swear I will never let you find those pictures.”

But you just kept grinning. “No need. I can imagine this forever.”

“Hell, where is Jean?” Peter looked around in a little show of dramatics. “Memory wipe needed on aisle 3, Red.”

It was just too funny though, and honestly it made all the sense in the world. The physical resemblance between Peter and Erik would have been a lot more noticeable had they both still shared similar hair color and texture. Yes, you would bet Peter’s hair had even had that bit of auburn in it too back then.

“But I do have a question,” You spoke then, your tone sincere. “What do you actually want to be called?”

“Sexy?” He answered at once.

But you didn’t let him off the hook that easily, still waiting patiently for the real answer as you just watched him.

Finally he relented, but still seeming a bit non committal. “I mean I’ve heard both for so long, I answer to either. Really, I do. But if the Django comes out though, that’s Defcon 1. It means I’ve done something catastrophically wrong and Mom is about to go full on nuclear on my ass.”

You considered this for a moment, before trying it. “Pietro,” you said, looking for any difference in his expression.

He did grin at you, eyebrows going up a little.

“Peter?” You asked then.

And to that he just continued to smile. “Babe, it’s like you’re trying to pick the name of the new dog.” He raised the pitch of his voice a little, imitating a generic wife you guessed. “Honey, which one does he like better? Did his ears go up at that one?”

“Hey, I’m just trying to figure things out,” you defended. “Guess I’ll just go back to imagining all that curly brown hair now.”

“Noooo.” He whined.

———————————

The three of you had joked and talked for quite a while. But somewhere, maybe about two thirds through the flight, things did quiet back down. Eventually you decided to try and sleep some if you could. You weren’t tired yet, but you knew you would be by the time you landed.

With the difference in timezones, even though you’d left early in the morning Greek time, it would likely only be around lunch time in the U.S. after landing. While you already would have been traveling for almost twelve hours.

It was as if you’d get to repeat the day all over again. You had all that time still ahead of you, including having to convince the Professor to let you drive Peter home.

You closed your eyes for a bit, thinking of all the hypotheticals of what you could say. What you would argue if needed, and what Xavier may say in response. But as you tried to let your thoughts drift further, you realized you’d crossed your arms, little chill bumps on them as you opened your eyes to look up at the air vent above you.

Was it stuck open? You fiddled with it a moment, but felt no difference. Shifting to sit back up a little, you looked at the seatback in front of you again as well, in the pouch there with the old magazines.

“They don’t have any blankets,” Peter said quietly, easily interpreting the reasoning for your search.

You’d thought he’d already been asleep just as Kurt was though. You were surprised as Peter reached out, smoothly laying that jacket over your chest and arms. The one he’d taken earlier.

“See.” He added. “Crime does pay sometimes.”

You gave him a skeptical look still, but the jacket really did make the difference as you leaned back again in the seat, snuggling into it. “Thank you, thief.” You answered softly.

“Any time.” He smiled a little, before reaching down to click the button on the armrest between your seats. He moved the armrest up and out of the way, then running a warm hand under the jacket to find one of your own.

You grasped his hand when they met, intertwining your fingers together.

“Have a nice nap, see you in Jersey.” He said, yet closing his own eyes as well.

“See you in Jersey, Pietro.”

You felt him squeeze your hand more at that, and you couldn’t help but smile.

————————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[need-a-fugue]

Trustworthy (Chapter 3)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Does fluff warrant a warning? Well, before we get into the gritty mission, here be some fluffy fluff. Oh, and language. Because I speak that shit.

Thursday came sooner than anticipated, and with it came that awful rush of dread that enveloped you each and every time you set foot in an airport. You’d think you’d be over this by now, your job shuttling you off to the far corners of the Earth, making it so that the only way you could ever get to where you needed to be – Bogota, Juarez, Islamabad, home – was by plane. But… no. The fear of plummeting to an inevitably fiery death inside a giant can filled with the recycled breath of dozens – even hundreds – of strangers was one you were simply never going to get over.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding,” Benny barks out amid a thunderous laugh as he watches you down another pill and chase it with a tiny bottle of vodka. “Is it even safe to take Xanax with alcohol?” he asks, his face screwing up in confusion, a hint of concern breaking through the amusement. “Are you so scared of flying that you’re willing to risk an OD?”

“Seems strange, given your profession,” Tom mutters as he sidesteps Ben to slide into the row of seats behind you.

You offer no reply, instead blinking your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the awful activity of preparing for takeoff. The doors haven’t even closed yet, people still steadily boarding the plane, your new teammates still stowing bags and chatting merrily around you, and yet you’ve already buckled in, pulled the lap belt as tight as it will go, and downed your second Xanax in an hour.

“She’ll be alright,” you hear from above. You crack open a single eye and look up to see Santiago looming over the back of your seat. “Fish,” he calls out, tossing a quick glance at the man still struggling with fitting everything into the overhead compartment. “You sit with her. Tell her about all the times you’ve flown. Keep her calm.”

“I’m calm,” you mumble under your breath.

He looks down at you and raises a brow, gaze holding yours even as he tells his friend, “And don’t let her pop any more pills.”

“No shit,” Ben chuckles as he steps out into the aisle, relinquishing his seat just as Frankie finally slams shut the door on the overhead bin. “We’ll have to scrape her off the floor otherwise.”

Frankie slides in next to you, the tiny armrest barely allowing for any space between you and the scorching heat radiating off of him. Normally you might be okay with that, it certainly felt good in the chilly parking lot the other night. But right now you’re feeling flush and hot and on the verge of possible combustion, the odd suck and click sound of the plane’s door shutting and sealing you in causing a bead of sweat to begin sliding down your temple.

“Truth be told, I’m not too wild about being on flights where I’m not the pilot,” he says, his soft voice pitched perfectly to sound just over the hum of the plane, the new buzzing in your ears, and the sudden woosh of air from the vent that he reaches over to switch on above you.

“Comforting,” you mutter, shutting your eyes against the harsh, dry air blowing down on you, but inclining your head back into the steady, cooling stream just the same.

“Just don’t tell her about how many times you’ve crashed, Fish,” Ben laughs from across the aisle. You bolt upright and crane your neck around the man beside you so as to stare the giggly child down, wide eyes gleaming with a very real threat that actually causes his smirk to break and a subtle, “sorry,” to slip past his lips.

Frankie takes your hand, pries it away from the armrest that you’d been holding in a death grip, and he gives you a little nudge with his elbow, encouraging you to lean back in your seat. “I’ve never crashed,” he corrects, shooting Benny a swift, reprimanding glare before turning back to you. “I’ve just… had a couple of rough landings. But each time everyone walked away fine.”

“Yeah?” you question, critical brow cranking high. “And how often do people walk away from rough landings on a commercial airplane?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Not often,” he admits. “But they also don’t go down often, so there’s that.”

Your eyes blow wide, slight gasp catching in your throat as you eke out, “Are you trying to jinx us?”

He twists in his seat to look at you, his fingers wrapping just a little bit tighter around your hand as you inadvertently shake in his grasp. “Trust me, princesa, this is the least dangerous thing we’re gonna do this week.”

The heady bolt of fear subsides a bit, quickly replaced by a tinge of confusion – princesa? – and a hint of irritation. Your face twists into an overdone pout – “Don’t call me that.” – but you can’t deny that his words do, somehow, put you at ease. Or perhaps the Xanax is just kicking in. Either way, you find yourself settling back into the seat, body and mind both suddenly sluggish and heavy. You twist towards him, away from the window and the blinding glare of the early morning sun as it reflects off the stark white wing of the plane, and you let out a small disgruntled grunt as the too-tight lap belt digs into your hip.

Frankie easily contorts himself in his seat so that he’s able to face you bodily, smiling – perhaps teasing – eyes never disconnecting from yours as he too settles in and reclines his head to the headrest. “Gotta have some kind of callsign over the radio,” he states, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a coy, crooked smile. “You don’t like princesa… how about loquita?”

“Fuck you,” you bark out amid a snort of a laugh, the offended pitch to your voice and wide-eyed stare setting him to very nearly vibrate with stifled giggles.

He takes a moment to swallow down his obvious amusement, holding your gaze all the while. Then he clears his throat and pulls his features into a stern set. “Don’t take it personally. I’d call anyone who hates to fly crazy.”

You issue out a short, incredulous scoff. “Maybe if I were the pilot, I’d like it. If I were in control.”

“Yeah,” he admits with a nod and a sigh. “That helps.”

But the truth is, you don’t actually think it would help that much. Because, well… “What person in their right mind thinks, you know what I’d like to do? I’d like to ignore the fact that God gave me legs instead of wings and I’d like to leave the ground. I mean… the ground is the safe place, man. What are you thinking?”

He smiles over at you, a soft, tender expression that sets off a flutter deep in your core. “What kind of person wants to stay on the ground with everybody else when they can climb into the heavens and move through the clouds?”

You bite back the grin that begs to break out and instead flatten your face in the most deadpan expression you can muster. “Are you fucking with me right now?” He merely shoots a wink in response, the light from outside your window reflecting in his deep brown eyes as they pierce into you. You roll your own eyes, but can just barely hold back the quirk to your lips as you say simply, “You’re the crazy one.”

He lets loose with a soft chuckle and shifts further in his seat so that he’s entirely facing you. “You never wanted to play in the clouds?” he asks, grin pulling wider. You feel a new heat – a welcome and comforting one, not the panicky, dizzying burn from before – blossom inside of you as you notice a single dimple cave in on the side of his stubble-dusted face.

A long sigh escapes you. “I mean, I did watch a lot of Care Bears growing up,” you offer, working to keep your expression still and set. But his smile simply grows and it’s just a breath of a moment before you break and let loose with a beam of your own. “God,” you nearly whine as an airy chuckle spills out of you. “Play in the clouds? You’re so cheesy.”

“Hey, I happen to really like cheese.” He raises a rather serious brow as he asks, tone low and sincere, “Can you imagine what the world would be like without cheese?”

You force a stoic glare, bite back a smile. “It’d be terrible. No nachos or pizza…”

He shakes his head slowly, sadly. “All the macaroni would be naked.”

You release a soft sigh. “One third of those popcorn tins would be empty.”

“Or filled with, I dunno, kale-dusted popcorn or something.”

You snort out a laugh, nose wrinkling in disgust. “What would we eat with tomato soup? Grilled eggplant?”

He shrugs. “What would Green Bay fans wear to the game?”

And again, you laugh, this one full and buoyant. “Poor Wisconsin, their entire economy would collapse.”

“What about the French?” he asks.

And it’s your turn to offer up a shrug. “They’ve still got wine.”

He stares at you for a lingering moment before his eyes flicker just past and out the window. “Maybe it sounds a little cheesy,” he begins, ticking his chin towards you, towards the tiny airplane window behind you. “But look out there and tell me there isn’t a part of you that wants to climb out there right now and bounce through those fluffy little bastards.”

Your brows pull tightly together, a quick flicker of pure shock shooting through you and causing you to whip around so fast that a crack sounds from your spine. Outside the window are, in fact, hordes of white puffy clouds peppering the bright blue sky. “What…?” you choke out, utter confusion lacing the word.

When had you taken off? When had you reached altitude? How had he managed to distract you so effectively as you climbed thousands of miles into the sky in this deathtrap tube?

You stare out the window for a long moment, giving yourself time to breathe, to comprehend. Allowing your fingers – which had just clamped painfully down on Frankie’s hand yet again – to slowly relax and loosen their terrified hold. No, there’s no part of you that wants to go out there and bounce around in the damn clouds. No. Way. In. Hell. But there is a part of you that begins to get lost in the soft, subtle beauty stretching out all around you. It’s still scary as hell. But it’s also… amazing.

Frankie watches as you continue to gaze out at the sprawling sky, bright blue on this beautiful day, a day he’d like nothing more in this world than to be out in, flying through the wide-open sky. Your hand remains wrapped around his, even if the intense grip has slackened. And your shoulders are still nearly pressed to you ears, so tense and taut. But there’s a sort of wonder wrapping about you now too, a look of, if not joy, at least appreciation.

“Los cielos,” he mutters from behind, seemingly to himself, his tone dreamy and airy and full of something like… wonder. You toss a glance over your shoulder and catch the way the sun lights his face as he stares just past you, his eyes fixated on the world beyond. You stare for perhaps a beat too long, not realizing until his gaze slowly shifts from the window to you, catching you in the act. The dimple caves again, wide smile pulling once more as he locks onto your eyes, light laughter bubbling out of him as your gaze pings away in a swift moment of embarrassment. He squeezes your hand, tightening his grip on your fingers for a single, quick, perfect millisecond before he utters, honeyed voice once again carrying more than a hint of teasing, “Cielo.”

Confused, you look back up at him, your brow twisting. But you let out a groan the moment he tenders another wink, the moment you realize that he’s just offered up another ridiculous callsign suggestion. You roll you eyes again, but make no move to pull out of his hold nor turn from his heated gaze. “So much cheese…”

He laughs again, his grin pulling tight as he watches you settle back into your seat with an exhausted sigh. You raise a brow in question, in challenge. And the smirk fades to a stony façade as he gives a single, definitive nod and declares, as though all has been settled, “Cielo.”

000

The flight knocks you for a loop. Less than an hour in, you’re passed out, snoring away on Frankie’s shoulder. You wake at one point to discover a pool of drool leaking from your gaping mouth and soaking through the shoulder of his button down, but you don’t even have the wherewithal to be embarrassed, nor the grace to apologize. Instead, you lazily swipe at the mess and turn with an incoherent mumble before dropping your heavy head against the cool glass of the window. You’re pretty sure you hear the tinkling of laughter coming from across the aisle – pretty sure that’s the sound that woke you from your drug-induced slumber to begin with – and you can definitely discern the throaty whispers of shut the hell up and you’re an asshole, Ben coming from the man by your side. But you’re too laden with sleep to really process or care.

For the next however many hours, you dream. Dream of bouncing through clouds in a bright blue sky. Dream of slinking through the jungle with strange men by your side. Dream of falling and floating and somehow rising to fly. You sleep and dream – and snore and drool – until an all-too familiar laugh sounds from above, a barking command of, “Hey, get your ass up, agent,” echoing in Santi’s exasperated – yet amused – tone. You blink open your eyes, tilt back your head, and see both him and Tom glaring down at you as they stand – bent awkwardly from the low ceiling of the plane – in the row behind. “Everybody else is already lone gone, bonita. Get your ass off the plane.”

Your brow furrows and your middle finger rises steadily upward, but somehow the rest of your body feels too heavy to move and it takes a kindhearted gentleman in a tattered old ballcap to ease you to your feet and out into the aisle.

“The second one was a mistake,” you mutter wearily as you nearly faceplant into Frankie’s chest.

“Yeah,” comes from behind in an annoyed scoff as Santiago reaches over to collect your bag from beneath the seat. “I’m confiscating your Xanax.”

The ride to the run-down inn and resort – far from the city and cheap as all hell – passes in a blur. But by the time you arrive and check into your little bungalow, you’re feeling, if not refreshed, at least awake.

Everyone agrees to meet up at the tiny restaurant at the edge of the grounds in about twenty minutes, just long enough for a quick rinse and wardrobe change. And somehow you manage to be the first one there, allowing you the opportunity to have a quick chat with the bartender – which results in a free, giant fruity concoction – before settling into a table in the corner. You let out a relaxed sigh and breathe back in the humid jungle air, realizing only in this very moment that a part of you actually missed this place. That a part of you might just think of the Amazon as home. You glance around, take note of your surroundings – as you always do, always have done, even before your law enforcement training – and begin to watch the rather handsy young couple at the bar as they giggle and swoon.

It isn’t long before Benny jogs up behind you and drops into the seat on your right. He sets down a fruity drink that looks suspiciously like yours, making you wonder if the bartender treats all tourists to a free, sugar-fueled beverage and perhaps your flirting earned you nothing at all. But as the others meander in and join you, all with mere sweating bottles of beer in their hands, you decide instead that you and Ben must just be the most special of the bunch.

Of course, that notion begins to chafe once Benny turns to you with a wicked look in his eye and pulls his phone from his pocket, nonchalantly swiping though a parade of terrible photos with an all-too delighted smile. The first few show you passed out on Frankie on the plane, mouth gaping wide as you spill drool into his shirt. “Oh, God!” you gasp, only just now recalling the brief moment of near lucidity from earlier in the day. “You took pictures?!”

You give him a quick slap and try to grab the cell from his hand only to have him rear back and laugh out, “Wait, wait, these are my favorites,” before scrolling through the next dozen or so, each picture showing a steady progression of your drowsy head falling from Will’s shoulder down to his lap as the two of you sat in the back on the drive in from the airport.

“You talk in your sleep,” Will states plainly from across the table, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

You cock your head suspiciously at him, gaze narrowing. “Liar,” you accuse despite knowing full well that it’s true.

The corner of his mouth quirks into a crooked grin. “Something about… sliding down rainbows?”

“Ooooh,” you drawl out, nodding your head. “Yeah, that makes sense. Frankie kept talking to me about Care Bears on the flight in.”

The man to your left takes a steady gulp from his beer, a swallow so huge it makes you think he’d been navigating the desert all day, desperate for a drink. “You were barely conscious for more than five minutes on that flight. You don’t have a clue what I talked to you about.”

“Better not have been anything dirty,” Santiago interjects pointedly.

You turn and pin Frankie down with an intent yet amused stare. “I definitely remember something about playing in the clouds.”

“Naked?” Ben asks as he jostles your other side with his elbow.

“Ahora, eso seria realmente el cielo,” Frankie mutters softly, ducking further beneath the bill of his hat and trying desperately not to laugh as you level him with an astounded glare.

By the time the food comes, your table has managed to outdo the small group of college students in the corner in terms of noise, filling the only partially walled-in establishment with a relaxed sort of banter and the occasional booming laughter. Benny continues his jokes and playful ribbing, eagerly pulling you in to blend with his tightknit group. Will and Frankie both remain mostly quiet, despite their comfortable-looking grins and occasional bursts of laughter.

Tom’s demeanor is similar, perhaps a bit less relaxed, a bit more guarded. Even after claiming to be cool with your presence on this little escapade, he’s anything but warm and welcoming to you. It doesn’t escape your notice that he continues to pull Santi aside to whisper what you can only assume are either covert sweet nothings or – far more likely – mission-related thoughts and plans that he still doesn’t quite trust you with. You shrug it off… it’s fine, really. You’ve had to slip into other cliques and clusters before, wedge yourself into a special operations task force or try to integrate in with local police to gain access to intel. This wasn’t your first rodeo. And frankly, compared to the Federales in Juarez, all of these guys had welcomed you into the fold with wide-open arms.

It isn’t long – or it doesn’t feel like long, anyway – before Santi rises and tells everyone that he’s heading to bed. A shit-eating grin passes over his face as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, familiar looking pill bottle. He shakes the remaining Xanax around and states simply, “For once, I’m actually gonna sleep great.”

Tom follows hot on his heels after issuing out – in a tone equal parts dad and captain – “We’re up at 0500 and I don’t want any of you to be dragging ass.” Everyone nods their assent, but the moment he and Santi are out the door, Ben promptly buys another round and the four of you who remain settle into a new rhythm that lasts until the tiny restaurant and bar finally shoos you out so they can close for the night.

The lot of you wander the grounds of the inn for a bit after that, indulging in the cool breeze after hours of sweltering heat, and continuing to laugh and talk. But as you make it back to the bungalows, the brothers break away, Ben disappearing into his room without so much as a grunt of goodbye, and Will raising a pointed finger high and telling you and Frankie both to, “Get the hell away from these mosquitos and go get some sleep. Otherwise, Redfly’ll be raining down shit on everyone in the morning.”

But you’re now more awake than you’ve been all day, sated from a too-large dinner and positively sloshing with alcohol, well-rested after your many-hours-long nap during your travels, and you just can’t seem to make yourself shut up, not even once you arrive at your door.

And Frankie seems to welcome it, listening intently as you babble on, filling the gaps with assertions of his own. Now that Ben’s no longer around to monopolize the conversation, you and Frankie develop an easy back and forth, the dialog taking on a soft, steady, even cadence. You talk about everything, the two of you. About Mexico, because you spent nearly four years in different parts of the country, and he still has family in a few of those areas. And you talk about all the places you’ve been, you with your sprawling career and general lust for travel – Road trips are more my thing though… and camping, hiking… Have you ever been through Bryce Cannon? God’s country. – and Frankie with his time in the military and more recent contract work – Yeah, nature’s great and all, but have you walked through the bazars in Marrakesh? Unbelievable. Though I wouldn’t say no to a day of fishing off the Gulf.

You talk about Santiago, each sharing stories of the man who had only just become a trusted colleague and friend for you over these last few years, but had been one of Frankie’s most beloved people for well over a decade. And that leads you into asking about the other guys too, each of whom you find yourself getting to know better and better from even just the few stories he shares as you two recline back into the railing of the bungalow’s small porch. He even manages to get you comfortable enough to share some stories about your own comrades over the years, the good, the bad, and the ugly… and the long-time partner who bled out in your arms following a bust outside of Albuquerque. Though you don’t spend much time on that, eager to move on almost the moment that your partner’s name passes through your lips.

The look on his face, though – as you share those sparse details from that most awful day – tells you immediately that Frankie understands exactly what it’s like to lose a partner, a brother in arms. And while that isn’t a surprise in the least – he had just gotten through telling you that he spent fifteen years in the special forces after all – that knowledge does cause you to feel a whole new pull. It makes you scoot a bit closer, makes you drop your hand easily atop his, your sweaty palm gliding along his warm skin before he reciprocates by slowly turning in your grasp and twining his fingers with yours.

“So,” he breathes out after a moment. “You’ve been out here for… three years?”

You nod, a soft smile blooming as you think about this bizarre and stunning corner of the world. “About that.”

His gaze travels out into the lush jungle located just beyond the row of bungalows, small porchlights illuminating just enough of the canopy to remind you both of where you are. “What’s the city like?” he asks after a beat.

“It’s nice,” you rush out. “Small, relaxed…” Your lips purse together as you think on what to say, how to describe this place that has been your home for three years now. “Lot more tourists than you might think. It’s funny, even the people who live here – in the city at least – a lot of them are transplants from Bogota.” You give a nonchalant shrug – “The streets flood a lot. That’s not always fun.” – and relish the deep chuckle emanating from the man by your side. “There’s a legend about how it got its name,” you say suddenly. “I’ve never really gotten any details about it, but supposedly a Colombian soldier fell in love with an Amerindian woman…”

“Leticia,” he supplies, the name slipping from his tongue in a perfectly accented drawl, falling out into the dark night in a soft, low rumble.

You nod. “And he named the city after her.”

Frankie huffs out a small laugh, a light and airy rumble. His gaze continues to wander, dark eyes shifting along the barely perceivable horizon. “Must’ve been a hell of a lady,” he mutters absently, giving your fingers a squeeze.

You watch him closely, his features soft and relaxed in the low light, the slightest hint of a smile still riding his lips. “Yeah. Must’ve been.”

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44 @mrscrain-x7 @kyjoraven@elephants-are-a-thing @nakhudanyx

[munsonboy]

Marvel G/t Oneshot: A Place to Call Home

Loki x borrower!Peter Parker x female!borrower Y/n

I wrote this in 5 days😅😂...enjoy!

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It was an incredibly stormy night at the Avengers Tower. Everyone was cooped up in their bedrooms, keeping themselves busy to take their minds off of the storm that was brewing outside. Loki sat in his room with his back against the head board of his bed. He had his legs bent so that his knees were sticking up from underneath the blanket. That’s where his little friend Peter was currently sitting. Peter was perched up on the giant Asgardian’s knee, throwing questions at Loki left and right about the storm. “Are you sure that the Tower isn’t going to get knocked over? It’s raining pretty hard out there and I really don’t think the building could withstand-..”, Peter stopped talking when Loki held his hand up as a gesture to not continue anymore with the conversation. “Peter, if you ask me one more question about the rain, I think I might just throw you out in it.” Peter’s eyes went as wide as buttons and his face paled. This caused Loki to feel guilt rush quickly into his chest. “I’m just joking, little one. You must know by now that I would never do that to you. I’m not even sure that someone your size would have a mere chance of survival out there”, said Loki as he turned his head to look out the window. Peter laughed nervously. “Yeah, I hope there aren’t any borrowers out in this.”

The raindrops falling from the sky were hitting the windows as if they were bullets, trees in Central Park looked as if they were going to be torn out of the ground, and a 3-inch tall girl named Y/n was currently having the worst night of her life. Y/n had been out and about in the big city and hadn’t even thought to look up towards the grey clouds that were hovering above the tall buildings. She was on a mission to find a new place to call home since she was caught in the recent one she’s been borrowering from for a while now, but instead she found herself running around huge puddles, dogding the massive raindrops that were almost as big as her head, and most importantly, she was trying to find something that would shelter her from the tsunami of rain coming down.

It was almost like someone heard her prayers, because Y/n soon stumbled upon the biggest building she had ever seen. “There has to be at least one good hiding spot in this building”, said Y/n. Her eyes scanned where the building met the sidewalk, seeing if there was anyway possible for her to get inside. “Please let there be a hole, please-....bingo!” Y/n had spotted a small hole on the outside of the building’s wall that she would be able to shimmy her way through. “I’ll be out of this rain in no time and I’ll finally be able to dry off somehow”, said Y/n as she looked down at her soaked clothes. If only she knew what, or who, was waiting for her on the inside.

Once she was inside and out of the rain, Y/n had found the vent system and started her journey from there. Every now and then she would peak out from the safety of the vents to see if there were any humans around and luckily for her, not one was insight. Y/n couldn’t wrap her mind around it, but who was she to complain? No humans meant all the more she could borrower and not have to worry about being spotted. However, Y/n’s curiosity got the better of her, so she decided to continue walking until she found at least one human being.

The more she walked through the vents, the more floors she went up and before she knew it, the voices of multiple different people were soon echoing throughout the vents where Y/n was. “Great, looks like I’m not alone.” After snooping around and taking a good look at the humans who lived in the tower and who she would have to stay hidden from, Y/n soon discovered that it housed multiple super heroes. She took note of who she had spied on so far. A blonde man with muscles who had a red, white, and blue flag up on the wall, a woman that could move things by using some kind of red orb in her hands, a guy that was playing with a bow and a few arrows, two scientists who were definitely going to be avoided at all costs, a woman with short red hair, and another blonde man who was playing with some funky looking hammer. “Of all the places I’ve lived, this definitely has to be the coolest and most strangest place I’ve come across”, said Y/n to herself.

She continued walking through the vents to find some place quiet when she stumbled upon a room that looked practically empty. The vent led her out onto a desk and without checking to see if any humans were around, she exited the vents and stepped foot out in the open. Y/n’s eyes trailed around the room for not even one second before they landed on the giant that occupied the room. He was sitting on the bed directly across from the desk she was on. She yelped, hoping that the human didn’t hear, and jumped behind the tissue box that was looming beside her.

She slowly peaked around the side of it and studied the human. He had raven black hair that barely passed his shoulders and was very pale looking, even from far away. It looked as if he was just at a costume party because he had this green, gold, and black armor on. He was also talking to someone, but there were no other humans in sight. Y/n looked around the room, confused as ever, to see if there was another human besides the one she was looking at. As Y/n continued staring at the human, her eyes went wide. There was a borrower sitting on the human’s knee, conversing with the giant. “Is that borrower crazy?”, Y/n asked herself. “That’s like asking to be killed.” Y/n decided to not stick around anymore, not wanting to get caught, so she decided to walk towards the edge of the desk to find an escape route.

Loki and Peter had ended their conversation about the rain and began to talk about their plans for tomorrow. “Okay, so I was thinking you could hide me in your pocket and we go down to Central Park for a nice morning walk!”, said Peter excitedly. Loki stared at him for a moment and said, “If you think I’m going to risk your safety just so you can look at a few trees while I have to deal with receiving unpleasant glares from strangers, you are mistaken, young Peter.” Loki tapped Peter on the head and laughed as he tried to push Loki’s finger away. “The rain will most likely continue throughout the morning. So I say we explore the library the Avengers Tower has to offer. I do not recall you telling me that you have been there before”, said Loki.

“I forgot about the library! I never went there though because Mr. Stark was always walking around. I didn’t want to risk being caught by a scientist”, said Peter. Loki smiled at the borrower sitting on top of his knee. “Yes, well, instead of a scientist, you ended up getting caught by the God of Mischief”, said Loki, which got a laugh out of Peter. Making his little friend laugh was probably one of the few things that warmed Loki’s heart. However, nothing beats earning the trust of such a small being. Loki still couldn’t believe that borrowers actually exist. He yearned to have another opportunity to become friends with another borrower. Peter would have someone to hang out with that was actually his size. As Loki looked at Peter laughing, his eyes wandered behind Peter and over to his desk. They fell upon a sight that made his heart want to leap out of his throat. A tiny girl, no bigger than Peter, was standing at the edge of his desk, looking down towards the floor. ‘If she were to fall, she would-...’, Loki couldn’t even finish the thought. He gently picked Peter up and set him down on the bed. “I’ll be one moment, Peter.” He didn’t give Peter a chance to question where he was going and made his way over towards the borrower on the desk.

“Okay..now what?”, asked Y/n to herself as she stared at the floor that seemed miles away from her. She really didn’t think this all the way through. Come to think of it, she didn’t even come to realize what her plan would be if the giant ended up seeing her. Just as Y/n was about to turn back around to get away from the edge, a shadow encased her in darkness. She slowly turned around to be met with the giant, who had been sitting on the bed, looming over her. It was then that she saw the giant’s hand that was coming closer. It was making its way towards her and she couldn’t do anything about it.

If she were to run, the hand would just snatch her right up, so what would be the point? As the giant’s fingers snaked themselves around Y/n’s waist, she closed her eyes. She felt herself being gently squeezed and before she was able to process what was happening, Y/n felt herself being raised higher and higher. Suddenly, she felt a squishy surface beneath her feet. Y/n’s legs were shaking like crazy and they weren’t able to hold her up, so she landed on her bum, and involuntary backpedaled until her back hit the fingers overhead that were more than twice her size. “This is it...I’m done for..”, said Y/n quietly to herself as she ducked her head down.

Loki studied the small girl in his palm. She had blonde hair that was neatly tied up in a ponytail, she wore a patchwork shirt with black pants and a pair of little, slip on shoes. Her clothes actually looked like she had gotten them off of a doll, but they looked as if they had been dumped in a bucket of water. “Were you caught out in the rain, little one?”, asked Loki. He saw the tiny girl flinch at the sound of his voice, but he received no response.

After observing her appearance and not getting an answer to his question, Loki almost forgot to think of how much he was scaring the girl. Her arms were covering her face, hands on her head, which seemed to be giving her some sense of protection, and even though she was smaller than his thumb, Loki could visibly see her quivering. ‘Poor thing. She must be terrified’, thought Loki to himself. His heart ached when his ears picked up on the inaudible, short breathes the tiny was taking in and out.

Y/n didn’t like the predicament she had gotten herself into. Her vision was blurred due to the tears in her eyes and she couldn’t even sit still. She wouldn’t let this giant see her break down. Y/n refused to let that happen again. Suddenly, an immense pressure was on her back, gently rubbing around in small circles. Y/n quickly realized that it was the giant’s finger, but she failed to notice how gentle he was being and instantly took it that she was being pet like an animal. That was the last straw. Y/n’s tears escaped the brims of her eyes and streamed down her rosey cheeks, getting her somewhat dry shirt wet again.

Loki, on the other hand, froze completely and removed his finger from her back. He didn’t expect her to break down this much. Peter was very frightened of Loki when they first encountered each other, but he didn’t react this badly. Without thinking, Loki walked over towards Peter, who was sitting on the bed the entire time. If anyone could calm the tiny girl down, it would definitely be Peter. Loki knelt down in front of Peter, holding the girl close to his chest. “Loki what happened? Why do I hear someone crying-..?”, as Peter finished asking his question, Loki had brought the girl down towards the bed and rested his hand on the mattress. He unfurled his fingers so Peter could see the new addition to the family. He couldn’t believe his eyes. “A-Another borrower?!”, he exclaimed. “Yes, and do make sure to be quiet, young Peter. She is petrified. I was wondering if you could somehow get her to a calmer state so we can all talk”, said Loki.

Peter clambered right on top of Loki’s hand without saying a word and walked over to the girl. Peter had never seen another borrower before, so this was a whole new experience for him. As Peter got closer to her, he noticed that she was much shorter than him. ‘Finally, I wouldn’t be the shortest person in the Tower anymore’, thought Peter to himself. He knelt down beside the girl, looking at her.

“H-Hey there, are you o-okay?” Peter mentally slapped himself for stuttering, but brushed that aside when he got a response out of her. She had looked up from her crouched position and was staring into Peter’s eyes. The only thing he saw was fear. Peter instinctively wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. He felt the girl tense up, but she welcomed his embrace in a matter of seconds. “You really don’t have to be scared. Loki isn’t going to hurt you. He’s actually super nice!”, said Peter happily. His happiness grew by the dozens when the girl started talking to him. “H-He is?”, she asked. “Yeah! He acts tough on the outside, but he’s a real softie once you get to know him!”, exclaimed Peter, who was poked by Loki’s finger. He looked up to see Loki smirking at him. “I’m Peter by the way! What’s your name?” Peter broke the hug, but kept an arm around her to reassure that she was fine.

Y/n contemplated whether or not she should tell him what her name was, but she felt so relaxed after Peter had hugged her, that she now found it rude not to tell him. “U-Um I-..I-I’m Y-Y/n.”

“That’s a nice name! Do you want to tell Loki what your name is?”, asked Peter. He felt Y/n tense up again, so he said, “You really have nothing to be scared of. He’s not gonna hurt you. Trust me.” And with that, Y/n looked up at the giant who was holding her and Peter. The huge, green eyes staring at Y/n made her nervousness slightly go up again, but she tried to hold onto the confidence that she was feeling when he softly smiled at her. “My n-name is Y/n, s-sir.” Loki couldn’t believe his ears. She had told him her name. “Y/n..”, repeated Loki under his breath. He wanted to see how her name sounded when he said it. “You have the most elegant name I have ever heard of, little one. I am Loki, Prince of Asgard. It is lovely to meet your acquaintance my dear and please do not call me sir. It makes me feel old.” Loki chuckled softly.

“Wow, he’s really polite”, whispered Y/n to Peter. He laughed as he looked at Y/n. Peter suddenly got an idea. “Loki! Can we watch a movie to celebrate Y/n’s first night here at the Tower?” “Now, young one, we are still unsure if Y/n even wants to stay here with us. We did not even ask her yet”, said Loki. He didn’t want to force it upon Y/n to stay here with him and Peter. It was bad enough that he had scooped her up off of his desk without her consent. He didn’t want to mess things up and scare her all over again.

“You..you both wouldn’t m-mind if I stayed here?”, asked Y/n. “Oh by Odin! Of course we do not mind, little one!”, responded Loki. Y/n thought for a moment. Was she really going to do this? Stay in a tower full of super heroes? She didn’t really have anywhere else to go, so how could she pass up a chance to finally have a home? “I-I would love to stay here with you and Peter!”, exclaimed Y/n.

Peter hugged Y/n again and started listing off the different movies that they could watch. She looked up at Loki to see him laughing away at Peter’s actions. That’s when Y/n suddenly got an idea. When Peter released her from his bone crushing hug, Y/n stood up, catching her balance, and walked over to Loki’s thumb. She wrapped her arms around the long digit and just hugged it. “Th-Thank you. Thank you so much for giving me a new home, Loki”, she said as she continued to hug his finger.

Loki’s heart practically melted because of the sweet gesture. He used his pointer finger on his other hand to rub her back gently. “No need to thank me, my little dove. Everyone deserves a place to call home.” Loki ruffled Y/n’s hair a little, getting a sweet laugh out of her.

The days that followed Y/n’s first meeting with Loki and Peter were the best days she had ever lived through. Loki had made her a makeshift bed that was placed on his bedside table, but she hardly ever used it. She slept on his chest every night, with Peter next to her. A hand was always cupped over the two borrowers, sheltering them from the outside world. Loki would always read to them to help them sleep, and it always worked like a charm.

Y/n had finally done it. She had made new friends who she was proud to call her family.

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Let me know if you liked it! Also, let me know if I should do more oneshots like this! It was super fun writing this story :D

[hiscyarika]

Kir’manir: Chapter Four

Cuyanir

vb. to survive

Word Count: 4.5k

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian must find a way to rescue the child and escape Moff Gideon.

Warning(s): Violence, Injury

A/N: Hey it’s been a while. Sorry about that. All of my inspiration for this series died for a while, but I was glad to be able to pick it up again at the news of the trailer that’s coming. This is a much shorter chapter than normal, partly because of my lack of motivation, but also because I felt that trying to put an entire episode into one chapter was a bit too much. So this chapter and the next will both cover the events of the last episode of season one. I really hope that you guys enjoy this, and here's to season two!

Masterlist

Tag Lists

Chapter One: Beroya, Chapter Two: Narudar, Chapter Three: Ruusaanyc

Gif by @bestintheparsec​

As the Mandalorian looks into your eyes, he sees that they hold the same dread that tightens his chest. A silence falls over the cantina, and even the scores of troopers outside are deathly quiet. It’s an eerie feeling, and he knows that he needs to find a way out, a way back to the child before the worst can come to pass. He watches as you peek out the window, and he turns to do the same, finding countless blasters poised to fire. Shooting your way out isn’t an option, he knows. Not when the numbers are so blatantly in their favor.

“We have to find another way out,” you say, looking back to him. He can tell that, despite your worry, you’re doing your best to keep calm, schooling your breathing and focusing on the task at hand, even if it means stating the obvious next step. He nods in understanding, looking around the cantina for another exit route.

“There isn’t another way. We have to fight,” Greef says from where he stands behind another wall. But the Mandalorian cannot accept that certain death is the only option.

“What about the sewers?,” he suggests. His covert could be the key to getting out.

“The sewers?,” you ask incredulously.

“The Mandalorians have a covert down in the sewers. If we can get down there, they can help us escape,” he explains, and while he doesn’t expect any argument, he still finds himself relieved that you’re immediately on board with the idea.

You nod. “Great. Now we just have to figure out how to get down there,” you say.

“Checking for access points,” he replies, pressing a button on his vambrace to activate the scanner on his visor. It beeps softly in his ears as he looks around the cantina, and he just hopes that there is a direct route. If the three of you have to leave the building, the chances of survival plummet.

“What the hell are they waiting for?,” he hears you muse softly. He’s vaguely aware of the quickened footsteps of troopers, but he pays it no mind for the moment, knowing that they’re not approaching the cantina. “Mando we gotta go,” you call, your volume rising with the urgency in your tone, “They’re setting up an E-Web.”

“It’s over,” Greef relents solemnly.

Still Mando doesn’t look outside, and finally the visor trills as it locates the access point to the sewers. “I found the sewer vent,” he says.

You don’t hesitate, following quickly after him as he makes a swift break for the vent. He pulls one of the heavy chairs away from the wall, grunting with the effort as he throws it to the side and out of the way. You do the same with the other, and he moves to help you as you haul it away from the vent. Barely taking a second to catch your breath, you both begin to pull at the grate. You even plant a foot against the wall for leverage, but it’s no use even with your combined strength.

“It’s assembled!,” Greef warns, “How long until that thing’s cleared?”

The Mandalorian stands again, letting out a huff of air. His mind is running at hyperspeed trying to figure out how to clear the way.

“Blow it,” you tell him, but he shakes his head.

“I’m out of charges,” he replies. He then moves to try and pull at the grate again, but he hears you pick up the heavy repeating blaster that you’d brought with you. Standing once more, he moves out of the way as you position yourself in front of the vent, firing at the metal grate in hopes of blasting straight through it. Once you’ve done some damage, you bring your foot down hard on the grate, but the effort is still fruitless.

Again, the man from the TIE fighter begins to speak. “Your astute panic suggests that you understand your situation. I would prefer to avoid any further violence, and encourage a moment of consideration.” Interest piqued, the Mandalorian begins to move slowly back towards the window, but makes sure that he’s shielded by the wall in the event that the troopers open fire.

“Members of my escort have completed the assembly of an E-Web heavy repeating blaster,” the man continues. But the Mandalorian feels his heart skip a beat as the strange man speaks your name. What shocks him is not that he knows your name. It’s hearing the name of the planet you were born on.

The same planet he was.

He’s not sure how to process this information. That your parents were lost to the same attack as his. But how could you both have suffered this way and ended up on such different paths? Surely the Mandalorians wouldn’t have taken him but left you behind. And then a thought crosses his mind.

Maybe you’re dar’manda.

But he has no time to think about it.

“Or perhaps, the decommissioned Mandalorian hunter, Din Djarin, has heard the songs of the Siege of Mandalore, when gunships, outfitted with similar ordnance, laid waste to fields of Mandalorian recruits in The Night of a Thousand Tears,” the man outside says. At this, he steps forward, knowing that the threat has grown much more if this man knows his name. He ignores the way that your head whips around to face him, now that you know the information he had once refused to you. Very few people in the galaxy have ever had access to it, and he wracks his brain trying to figure out how this man could possibly have learned his name. The hairs on the back of his neck bristle and his body tenses. He lets out a heavy breath, suddenly far less confident than he had been about your escape and survival.

“I advise disgraced magistrate Greef Karga to search the wisdom of his years, and urge you to lay down your arms and come outside. The structure you are trapped in will be razed in short order and your storied lives will come to an unceremonious end.” It’s now that Din allows himself to look at you, and he can see that you’re just as confused and on edge as he is. But there’s something between anger and determination swimming in your eyes. He knows that he can’t give up yet. There’s still the sewer vent, if only he could find a way to clear the grate.

“What do you propose?,” Greef calls to the man outside.

“Reasonable negotiation,” comes the simple answer, though Din surmises that it won’t be so straightforward.

Greef scoffs. “What assurance do you offer?”

“If you’re asking if you can trust me, you cannot. Just as you betrayed our business arrangement, I would gladly break any promise and watch you die at my hand,” the man grins maliciously at this, “The assurance I give is this: I will act in my own self interest, which at this time involves your cooperation and benefit. I will give you until nightfall, and then I will have the E-Web cannon open fire.”

“I say we hear him out,” Greef offers.

“You can’t be serious. We’ll be dead the minute we open the door,” you retort, an incredulous look on your face. You don’t even consider the suggestion.

But Greef is quick to counter. “We’re dead if we don’t. At least out there we’ve got a shot.”

Din watches you pick up your heavy blaster again, poised to try once more to blast the grate open. “We can’t trust him. We’re outgunned and outnumbered. It’s suicide.”

“What about you, Mando?,” Greef asks, clearly looking for someone to be the deciding vote.

“I know who he is. It’s Moff Gideon,” Din answers. It took him some time to put all of the pieces together, but he’s sure.

You go still and tense at the words. “No. Moff Gideon was executed for war crimes,” you say in disbelief, but he can see in your eyes that you know it to be true.

“It’s him. He knew my name,” Din tells you.

Greef is unconvinced. “So? What does that prove?”

Din turns to him then. “I haven’t heard that name spoken outside of the covert since I was a child,” he confesses, and he can see that the admission piques your interest.

“On Mandalore?,” Greef pries further.

“I was not born on Mandalore,” he explains, and he can’t help but turn to look at you instead, searching for any sign that you might know who he is now. That you remember him from your shared past. But he finds no hint of recognition in your eyes.

Greef carries on, still confused. “But you’re a Mandalorian,” he says, clearly having a fundamental misunderstand of what it means to be a Mandalorian.

“Mandalorian isn’t a race,” you reply, sure and confident in the statement.

“It’s a Creed,” he finishes.

And then he’s taken back. Back to the day that the battle droids and gunships destroyed his home. The screams mixed in with blaster fire and toppling buildings. He remembers his parents, running through the streets in hopes of finding shelter. He remembers calling for his father as he was placed in that cellar, the lonely darkness that followed his mother’s last goodbye, her last “I love you.” The explosion that took them both so soon after his own safety was ensured.

And then the doors opened, and his childish hope made him believe that somehow it might be his mother and father coming back from him. But instead he was met with the sight of a battle droid, blaster aimed and ready to end his innocent life without hesitation. It was one of the few times that Din can remember being truly terrified, but still he’d braced himself. So young and yet staring death in the face with more courage than anyone his age should have to muster.

But even after a blaster went off, there was no pain, and he’d watched as one of the Mandalorians took out the droid, silently offering his hand. Din had taken it, not knowing that doing so would change his life in a way that he never could have imagined. And even as he’d clutched onto that Mandalorian as he flew away, watching his home become smaller and smaller in view, nothing could have prepared him for the path his life would take him on with the tribe.

Din breaks himself from the onslaught of memories then. He has to focus on the task at hand. There’s no time to dwell on the past. “I was a Foundling. They raised me in the Fighting Corps. I was treated as one of their own. When I came of age I was sworn to the Creed. The only record of my family name was in the registers of Mandalore. Moff Gideon was an ISB officer during the purge. That’s how I know it’s him,” he finishes explaining. He tries to shake away the anxiety swells in his chest, a frequent gift of these memories. There are still nights that he lies awake thinking about his parents, about the destruction that he’d witnessed at such a tender age. And the old screams mix with newer ones, creating nightmares that tear him from his sleep and leave him in a cold sweat.

“That’s how he knows who we all are,” you continue, and he studies you closely for a moment. But even as he searches his memories of the attack and growing up in the Fighting Corps, he can’t remember you. It’s odd. You’re not the kind of woman he’d forget. But there’s no time to discuss the past when danger lurks so closely in the future.

“He says he needs us, which means the child got away safely. I was worried when the ugnaught didn’t respond, but if they’d captured the kid, we’d already be dead,” Din deduces, suddenly feeling a bit more relief. As long as the child is safe, then he can handle the rest. To Din, that’s the only thing that matters, even if protecting the little one costs him his own life. He knows that he has to keep the kid safe.

“Try them again,” you tell him, standing again and moving to the side of the window, your eyes carefully watching the troopers that now stand without Moff Gideon. Din rolls his eyes though, as Greef takes a shot of whatever glowing alcoholic drink sits in front of him, though he can’t say that the behavior surprises him.

He brings the comlink on his wrist closer to the helmet. “Come in, Kuiil. Kuiil?,” he tries, but still he’s met with the same silence from before. “Nothing,” he tells you.

You don’t turn away from the window. “They might have jammed the link,” you reply, a rising sense of urgency in your tone. The time to act is quickly approaching, and still there’s no clear path of escape.

But then there’s the sound of the child’s excited chittering on the other end of the link, and for a moment Din has hope that the ugnaught managed to get away safely with the ship.

“Kuiil has been terminated,” IG-11 informs him.

---

You feel your heart sink when you hear the droid’s words, and you find yourself mourning the sweet ugnaught that you’d barely known. For all his hard work and the strife he’d endured at the hands of the Empire, this was not the way that he deserved to die. But you’re grateful for him, because you know that the child would have already been lost without him.

“What did you do?,” you hear Mando snarl into the comlink, and while you understand his aversion to the bounty droid, now is not the time for such hostility. IG-11 is just as worthy of your gratitude as Kuiil now. He’s the only reason that Moff Gideon hasn’t taken the little one and killed the three of you yet. You’re able to look past your own wariness. The Mandalorian should too.

The droid comes onto the comlink again. “I am fulfilling my base function,” he says.

“Which is?,” Mando demands.

“To nurse and protect.”

You’re not sure what the droid plans to do now, but somehow you have faith that the baby will be protected. If that’s the only good thing that comes out of this failed mission, then you’re okay with that. Even if it means your own death. Anything to keep Moff Gideon from getting what he wants.

But then you hear blasts in the distance. You press yourself against the wall, giving yourself a better look at the perimeter without making yourself more vulnerable to the troops outside. As you look down the street, you’re able to see large plumes of smoke in the air. Whoever is causing the damage is coming closer. “Look!,” you call to the Mandalorian, watching as the troopers turn towards the new attacker.

You move away from the wall, able to get a better look at what’s going on. The attacker comes closer, and you’re finally able to see that it’s IG-11, riding a stolen speeder with the child. The droid jumps off of the speeder, letting it glide forward and crash into the unsuspecting troopers. You duck at the resulting explosion, but quickly stand again.

“Cover me!,” Mando calls to you, and you silently nod, grinning to yourself as you hop onto the bar. You sit on your knees, aiming out the window and opening fire on the troopers. The droid has given you a chance. You won’t waste it.

Your eyes never stop moving, your mind working in overdrive to determine where the worst of the threat is. But you’re always honed in on the two men and the droid, making sure that none of them are taking more fire than they can handle, and that the child isn’t harmed. Metallic clanging meets your ears, and your eyes move between the Mandalorian and IG-11. Cursing under your breath, you take aim at the troopers that have turned on the droid, and you feel your heart leap into your throat as he falls to his knees. You start to move off of the bartop, ready to rush out there and grab the child yourself if it becomes necessary.

But the stormtroopers start taking heavier fire, and you have to laugh triumphantly when you see that Mando has picked the E-Web cannon off of its mount, cutting their ranks down in just a short amount of time. It’s impressive, really, and you’re just glad that he’s so quick on his feet. You suppose it’s part of the reason why he’s gained such a reputation in the Guild; there’s hardly a situation that he can’t handle.

IG-11 slowly rises again, and a breath of relief is released from your lips, knowing that the kid is still safe. Not another second passes though, and you’re thrown to the ground by the force of a blast. Without looking you know that there are stormtroopers in the cantina. You peek up over the side of the bar, finding a death trooper among them. It’s nothing you can’t handle, but you’re cornered.

After the shock of the explosion has worn off, you stand, opening fire on the five troopers. You hit two of them before you duck down again to avoid their own blaster fire. It doesn’t take you long to dispatch the other three.

You turn to look out the window when you hear the sharp sound of the beskar taking a hit. Your heart drops to your stomach as you watch Mando face off with Moff Gideon. There’s nothing you can do as the Moff changes his aim, shooting at the crate of ammunition that sits just a few feet away from Mando. You drop your heavy blaster, opening your mouth to warn him, but the damage is done before you can scream.

The explosion blinds you for a few moments, but once the smoke has cleared enough for you to see outside again, you feel like you’re going to be sick. The Mandalorian lies on the ground, unmoving. You mutter frantically to yourself as you take the smaller blaster from your thigh holster, spewing cursing and prayers alike as you run to him. There’s no hesitation to your movements as you grab him by his front and haul him up.

Hooking your arms under his, you drag him with his back to your chest into the cantina. To your relief, IG-11 and Greef Karga follow soon after. “Stay with me, Mando. Come on,” you plead, taking him over to where the sewer grate is. You grunt with the effort, but eventually lay him down against one of the chairs you’d displaced earlier.

“This is our only path out. Can you clear it?,” you hear Greef ask the droid, and you’ve never been happier to see an IG unit than you are now. Now that you no longer need to worry about an escape route, you turn back to the Mandalorian, knowing that he’s the one that needs your full attention.

“Stay with me,” you tell him, looking him over to find any injuries that you might be able to treat. You just need to get him back on his feet long enough to get out. If he has such faith in his covert, then that’s good enough for you. You just have to get to them.

Mando’s chest heaves with labored breaths as he turns to look at you. “I’m not gonna make it. Go,” he orders.

You shake your head. “No. I’ll carry you out if I have to. We’re all getting out of here.” You keep your voice calm but firm, your hand coming to cradle the back of his neck, feeling for any head injuries that you might be able to find with the helmet still on. Your stomach twists into a knot as you bring your hand back. The wet warmth you’d felt was blood. But you can’t reach the wound without taking the helmet off.

“Leave me,” he pleads, gasping for breath. You feel panic rising in your chest.

You know he can’t, but you ask it of him anyway. “You have to let me take the helmet off,” you tell him, though you make no move to remove it yourself. You could never compromise him that way, not against his will.

At your words, he startles, grabbing onto your wrist despite the fact that you haven’t moved. But you understand the immediate need to stop you from doing anything. “No. You leave me,” he insists. Behind you, you can hear IG-11 working on removing the grate. You wish there was a way to speed up the process. “You make sure the child is safe. Here,” he gasps, using his free hand to pull something from around his neck. He then drops a necklace into the hand he’s holding onto. You don’t recognize the strange creature that the pendant is molded into. “When you get to the Mandalorian covert you show them that. You tell them it’s from Din...D-Djarin,” he instructs shakily. He has to take a moment to catch his breath. “You tell them the Foundling was in my protection...and they’ll help you.”

You close your fist around the necklace, shaking your head. You consider for just a second what it would mean to leave him behind. You’d be responsible for the child, and you have no idea what the Mandalorians will do if you bring them this necklace and speak his name. The idea of speaking his name for the first time after leaving him to die alone makes you feel sick.

“Not like this. I won’t let you die,” you tell him, and to your surprise, emotion wells up in your chest. Your voice breaks and you feel the beginnings of tears burning at your eyes. You can’t let him go that easily, not after everything that the two of you have been through trying to keep the child safe. And the idea of being left alone with a kid with powers you can’t even begin to understand: it’s terrifying.

You can’t do it.

“Let’s go. You’re coming with me,” you say, trying to lift his nearly dead-weight on your own.

“I’m not gonna make it and you know it.” It’s harsh, final. You don’t want to admit it, but he’s right.

Before you have a chance to react, flames come rushing through the door of the cantina. You instinctually throw yourself on top of Mando, shielding his body with yours. Sweat immediately beads across your skin as the intense heat of the flames hits your back. You lift your head when the attack ceases, and you’re only vaguely aware of the fact that the Mandalorian holds on tight to you as you look up towards the door.

When you see nothing, your gaze quickly shifts over to the IG unit, who still works on opening the path to the sewers. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try and figure out what the next move should be. You hate this, the way that you’ve allowed the situation to affect you so severely. In the midst of any other job, you would have found a solution by now.

Mando grunts in pain, trying to draw in a decent breath. “You protect the child. I can hold them back long enough for you to escape. Let me have a warrior’s death,” he says. The tears welling up in your eyes blur your vision then, though you can’t tell if they’re caused by panic or emotion at this point.

“I won’t leave you here,” you tell him, conviction dripping from every word.

“This is the Way,” he breathes. You know you can’t argue with him anymore.

Another wave of fire comes through the door, and you press yourself close to the Mandalorian, your forehead touching the spot on his helmet where his own forehead would be. A single tear manages to escape your eye.

When you look up again, you gasp at the sight of an incinerator stormtrooper. Your gaze flits between Mando, Greef, IG, and the child, and in just the couple of seconds that it takes, you realize that there is a very real chance that none of you will survive the next few moments. There’s not enough time to react. The trooper raises his flamethrower again.

As he releases the flames, you once again shield Mando, thinking that your death is imminent but at least in doing this he won’t be in the direct line of fire. You wait for the searing pain that you’re sure will result from being burned alive, but it never comes.

You lift your eyes, able to see the child pull himself to his feet, his arms raised as he looks to the wall of fire coming right for all of you. To your amazement, the fire never reaches the baby, and is instead held off by some invisible shield, one you know to be the strange powers he possesses. You sit up, trying to find your blaster. Maybe you’ll be able to dispatch the trooper yourself while the kid holds the flames at bay. But the little one, with just a motion of his hand, sends the fire right back at the stormtrooper, blasting him backwards and out of the cantina.

You don’t have words. You’re frozen in place, only broken from your state of shock when you hear the grate being kicked in. “Come on! It’s open, let’s go!,” Greef calls to you. You look at the child, finding him unconscious much in the same way that he was after he healed Karga’s wound.

“Go,” Mando implores you, struggling to breathe. “Go.”

You hesitate, looking to Greef and IG-11 for any kind of assistance. You still hate the idea of leaving the Mandalorian to die alone.

“We have to move. Now!,” Greef tells you.

“Go,” Mando tells you, one last time. He squeezes your forearm, which he is still holding onto from when you’d protected him, and though every fiber of your being screams against it, you rise from the floor, taking the child from the droid. He’s in the satchel again, sound asleep.

You hold the child close to you, placing the necklace that the Mandalorian had given you inside the satchel with the little one for safe keeping. “Escape and protect this child. I will stay with the Mandalorian,” IG says.

Reluctantly, you nod, holding the child in one arm and picking up your heavy blaster with your free hand. “Promise me you follow...with him,” you reply firmly.

“You have my word,” the droid replies.

You let out a soft breath, making your way over to the opening in the wall. There’s a moment of pause, and you take one last look at the Mandalorian, knowing full well that what the droids brings could be a body. You have no idea what means IG-11 has to treat Mando. “Goodbye,” you breathe, hardly audible.

And with that, you descend into the sewers, leaving the Mandalorian behind.

---

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[blushing-starker]

Having a boyfriend that's a natural rule breaker becomes even more tedious because now it's two people conspiring together, itching to shatter social norms. Sure, they won't pull the fire alarm stunt to get out of a quiz (that's more Rocket and Groot's style), place mirrors on front steps to confuse Fury and nearly give the principal a heart attack (Loki with an exasperated Thor and cackling Hela) or hire a mariachi band to follow hall monitor Alexander Pierce (Steve had joined Bucky and Sam in that one); they'd never sneak into the air vents, fill them with glitter so the haughty board of directors would be covered in pink sparkles when they cranked the ac (Clint and Nat).

Ok, they did help with that last one, buying the shimmering stuff from T'Challa's sister and slipping five jars into Clint's backpack, but they didn't actually go into the vents.

But that's not the point. The point is there are limits to their rule breaking; Tony's spot on the football team and Peter's participation in the art club too important to risk on something as silly as skipping a quiz. No, they thanked their best friends, unhooked the window lock and slithered out only after finishing and handing in the quiz. They weren't amateurs.

Still, Peter knows Tony literally couldn't have chosen a worse time for their impromptu lunch date. (Luckily, he'd expected this exact situation.)

"Tony, they don't even have bad food today. We could just wait until the bell rang to meet up and eat at the bleachers. Like we always do a day before a big game."

His boyfriend swivels around, hooks nimble fingers into his belt loops to pull Peter closer, never once stumbling even while walking backwards. The grin he shows is manic, just this side of wild to let Peter know this isn't about haunting nightmares and bouts of anxiety. This is normal, too high on a feeling Tony Stark. Which means he won't head back to school unless Peter pulls out all the stops...

He's too exhausted from last night's art project to use up energy on the puppy eyes. So he sighs, tugs on the blue varsity jacket Tony loves to show off, kisses a dimple before turning this untamed creature around.

"Come on, I found a new route to that shawarma place with MJ and Ned last week." It sounds exasperated, but Tony knows Peter will do anything to keep him happy. Well. Not anything. There's only so many times they can discuss Star Wars before simply agreeing to disagree on whether Han and Luke are pan or bi.

"What, and you tell me this now?", Tony squawks indignantly from Peter's left side, freezing nose nuzzling into Peter's neck as revenge.

Like a robber caught sneaking into a vault, he raises his hands instantly before shoving Tony away.

"Hey, you were focusing on practice! If I told you, you'd bring Rhodey, he'd bring T'Challa and then Shuri would pop up and who goes where she goes? Bucky, which means Steve and Sam, who'd already be there thanks to Rhodey and of course Clint would somehow appear with Nat. We'd be together so Ned and MJ are gonna be teasing with Betty and half the guys in our grade have a crush on Nat, or MJ or Shuri or Betty or you. So what's the end result? The entire football, soccer, basketball and swim team eating shawarma a week before the games. I am not hearing Coach Coulson scold me for you guys breaking diet again. I'm already on his list, another situation like that and I'll have to run fifteen laps around the field."

"Oh come on, you can do those in your sleep." He could, but again, not the point.

"With a weighted backpack, Tony."

"Yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want that."

"Before cycling fifteen laps and then swimming fifteen laps."

"Jesus, why would he even do that?" Tony looks at him then, disgruntled at the thought of his boyfriend doing all that.

He shrugs, doesn't want to explain Peter had done it once when it all got too much and he'd needed to release the pent up energy. He hadn't noticed Coach watching him, ready to come help if he hurt himself. They'd talk afterwards, Coulson making him promise to never do that alone. Now it became a reward and a punishment. Peter won the art contest? Fifteen everything to focus his mind and not go jumping off walls in his excitement.

His students wolfing down a thousand calories before a game? Fifteen everything so Peter would at least "time it so it's not during the season, Jesus". To be fair to Peter, Tony participated in almost all the sports teams so scheduling was hard.

"Listen, just don't eat a whole animal, ok? We can split it, eat enough," he glares at Tony, pushing through even as the puppy eyes come out, "and then head to the movies. They're showing Aliens for a few days cuz of Halloween and I already texted the guys to come during lunch."

His boyfriend, smart and sharp and witty, just blinks at him. "But we have class after lunch."

"Technically, but I convinced Mr Pym to let the class out of lab so we could all hang out. It's the one class we share so now the whole group can see it together."

Tony stops, eyes wide and mouth open.

"You, what, planned this?"

"Yeah, something fun before tomorrow to take it off your mind for a while. Or, you know, not make it stand out as much. I know how focused you get, and it's really great, having that as a goal, strategizing and taking it seriously. But I also know it can be a lot, so I thought we should all hang out since each of us has something coming up and we aren't spending much time together. Which I get, responsibilities and family and school; I just missed it and I can't be the only one, right? So yeah, this was planned. Like, two weeks ago. When MJ found the new route, it was like a sign. And I really want you to relax and enjoy the whole, I have friends that care for me and a boyfriend that loves-"

He slaps a hand on his mouth, eyes impossibly wide and cheeks flaming. Tony and Peter stand immobile, the world reduced to beat up sneakers breaking the simplicity of yellow lines on black, a flickering neon sign telling them the shawarma place is open and two hearts slowly starting to beat again after that confession.

Ned would say it's romantic. MJ would bluntly remind them it's a bad idea to stand in the middle of the road even if they're saying I love you. And with good reason, since there's the telltale roar of a car bursting with teenagers, voices howling out the lyrics to an AC/DC song. And of course Peter notices the noise of rubber swerving against gravel, the screeching of old brakes and a few terrified shrieks harmonizing with a sharp wind blasting into him out of nowhere. Before he can react, Tony is there, wrapping his arms around Peter and shoving them both into the little patch of grass that grows from a crack in dirty pavement.

There's a moment where his whole world flips, tumbles until he screws his eyes shut and prepare himself for whatever the fuck caused that noise. But nothing comes. Only a sigh blowing a stray curl away from his forehead. But a sigh? Why would?

Tony.

He gasps, jolts upright and apologizes when that just serves to jostle his boyfriend further into the ground. His boyfriend who'd flip them so Peter wouldn't be hurt. Tony is peering at him through half shut eyes, discomfort clear on the grimace he tried to transform into a sheepish grin.

"So, you love me, huh?"

It's the stupidest thing Tony Stark has ever said.

"What the fuck were you thinking? You could have gotten hurt, you could have shattered a wrist, dislocated a shoulder, torn an ACL, bent a leg-"

"This is not what I expected. Also it was a three foot leap forward on grass, I'm fine, Peter."

"Or bashed your head, or busted an arm and then what would you do for the game tomorrow? Who the hell does that?"

"The guy you love, apparently."

"That's not the point, Tony, that's unimportant because you nearly got hurt. Christ, Coulson will slaughter me if there's a scratch on you, and then your mom would be sad and I'd be sad because, what would I do without you? And don't you ever do that again, I can't take it. I am not losing you, Tony. God, why would you do that, risk so much on-"

"On you? Babe, I'd do it again. Ok, not the right thing to say based on the whole face thing you got going on right now. But just hear me out. Don't, stop hitting me, ow, why are you hitting, how are you this strong, Jesus. Ow, stop it. Peter, for fuck's sakes, I love you, you animal. Now please let go of the jacket, it'll get wrinkles."

His hands unclasp the soft cotton, Tony falling back with a groan and Peter's unhinged jaw snapping shut after fifteen seconds of letting the flies in.

It's a wonderful thing, hearing the guy he's loved for so long say it back, say he loves Peter.

It's also fucking stupid since there's even more reason to not do stunts like that.

"You're an idiot. I'm in love with a guy that has one shared brain cell with Steve. You could have been hurt, Tony. And what would that have done, huh?"

His boyfriend sighs yet again, wraps an arm around Peter to push them from the ground and heads to the car where their friends are gawking. He waves them off, offers a "Yeah, I know I'm amazing, no, I didn't break anything, T'challa, yes, I can play, Jesus, Rogers, I can read you like a book. I appreciate the worry, Bruce; Nat, thanks for calming him down. Rhodes, excellent driving. No need to hog the seats, Sam, we need to settle in. Peter, you can keep cursing me out if you, yeah, see how it's nice being fun size when you fit in my lap in a car full of people. What, I'm not walking after that, I don't care if it's til we reach the parking. Let's go, Rhodes. Pepper, I'm fine. "

Clint offers a high five. Tony responds and that's that. Out of sight, Ned gives him a fist bump and MJ keeps on reading her book. It could just be his imagination, but Tony's sure she's smiling, approval clear on her face. He preens, glad to have her blessing, and settles his head on Peter's fluffy hair.

-----

When they're all laughing in a booth, smashed together and picking food off of everyone's plate, Peter nuzzles the crook of his neck, holds his hand and squeezes it. Tony smiles, lights up and shoves at Sam's face when the trio of best friends tease him for puffing his chest out when his boyfriend ever so softly says, "I love you."

"I love you, too." The table whoops and calls for another round of food and Coca-Cola, their family grinning at them and fondly teasing the new couple. Tony grins back, high on this feeling of warmth and happiness and safety and love.

And then Peter presses ice cold lips onto his neck and he lets out a shout, pain coursing through him when a knee slams into the table. His eyes water and through the haze of agony he sees their friends exchanging cash, some grumbling and others smirking. Rhodey and MJ, he notes, are the ones that win the most. They high five before pocketing the cash and ordering dessert.

Peter kisses his cheek, smile innocent and eyes wicked. It's his own fault Tony snatches an ice cube and slips it below his Nirvana shirt. He only has five seconds to lord his victory over Peter before there's ice cream being smeared on his cheek. They battle then, accidentally sending food into Wanda's lap, Clint's hair and Bucky's face.

In less than a minute they are all covered in shawarma and participating in the fight. Peter shrieks when Tony pulls him into his lap, gets chicken on the varsity jacket and tries to wriggle away. But Tony kisses him, tastes ice cream and joy, thanks whoever decided to give him a break and find this incredible person dozing on the roof of the school with Ned and MJ one spring afternoon. Peter kisses back and, at the same time, they say, confidently, honestly,

"I love you."

This is dedicated to @drarryismyshit07

[anon-e-miss]

Yes! Dryad!prowl story continues! I can't wait to see Prowl and Bluestreak family reunion!

“I don’t understand,” Jazz said.

“My seed crystal does not root in the ground but in the bark of trees or outcrops,” the dryad explained. He placed his servo against the ground and dimmed his optics. Jazz stared at his face, the tense line of his jaw. When the dryad released a harsh vent, Jazz drop his optics. A slender flower stock with broad black leaves had grown up from the ground at the tips of the dryad’s long digits. As Jazz watched, the bloom opened. It was a perfect pearl white with striking red tips. Flowers like these had covered the grotto, they had been the dryad’s doing. They were absolutely beautiful. “We shelter from harsh weather and twist our roots to the sun and sky.”

“How do that make ya a parasite?”

“We live our lives on the trunks of our brethren. Our roots do not give strength to the Grove. Worse, we can steal strength from the grove by leeching it from our hosts and what grows in the soil within our range.”

“Ya can kill. Like ya did the garden”

“Yes.”

“It’s different, sure,” Jazz said. “But anyone can kill wit the right motivation. Wit a knife, wit a plaster, wit their fist.

“You are not perturbed.”

“Nah. I can’t imagine ya make a habit o’ draining yer kin. It don’t serve ya to hurt yer hosts.”

“No. The Grove is our protection too. It does not serve my kin to harm our brethren.”

“What’s yer designation?” Jazz asked.

“Why?”

“Ya deserve to be called somethin’ other than it.”

“Prowl.”

“I give ya my glyph, Prowl, what little it’s worth to ya, I’ll get ya ‘n yer bitty home safe.”

“I will not tell you where the Grove is hidden,” Prowl said.

“I figured as much,” Jazz replied. “But ya can tell me where to take ya. Anywhere in the world. I won’t bring yer bitty back here. I promise ya, Prowl ya can’t trust Vortex to mind his manners. He don’t got any.”

Prowl looked to Jazz with tears glimmering at the sides of his optics. If not for the tears he would have looked stoic. Jazz was being unkind, he was not too stupid to realize this but he did not know what else to say, or how else to convince the dryad to just come along. He did not believe Prowl wanted to be here, and he imagined that if Jazz brought the bitty back here, provided Swindle did not drop in on him, the dryad would bolt with his creation. Maybe he could make it on his own, but Prowl was injured. Welts and scrapes covered his frame where he had fought against those ugly chains. Them and his immobilized arm would attract unwanted attention. Any vulnerability was potentially lethal threat. The Empties, as their betters called them took care of their own however they could, but there were limits.  When their betters came looking for prey, it was every bot for his or herself. Even if one of Swindle’s minions did not spot Prowl, he was too easy a target. Jazz could not in good conscience send him and the bitty out on their own. It would have been so much easier if he just did not fragging care, but he did.

“You are forcing my servo,” Prowl said. The tears, angry tears Jazz thought, did not fall, but neither did they disappear. Somehow the emotion feeding those tears did not reach Prowl’s voice. It was like he had gone flat.

“Yeah,” Jazz agreed. There as no point in denying it. Prowl cocked his helm ever so slightly, measuring him. The tears dried up.

“I want Bluestreak.”

“Bluestreak,” Jazz smiled from audial to audial as he repeated the designation. It was fitting for the bitlet. “Take my servo, Prowl. Lemme take ya to’m.”

Trusting Jazz was obviously unpalatable to Prowl, but the dryad took his servo and let Jazz guide him gently to his peds. The gentleness had Prowl tense and start to shy. He must have felt like a sheepacron knowingly being led to the slaughter. It could not have been a comfortable feeling. But love for his creation overrode everything else, and he held fast to Jazz’s wrist, and let himself be led through the dark and silent garden. Those singing crystals Jazz had stolen from the Helix Gardens at Swindle’s request were silent. Jazz thought it was fitting that the dryad Swindle had captured and chained to beautify his garden had sap the beauty from it. The rare and beautiful crystals should have been enough for him, but he had been greedy and obscene. Jazz led Prowl to a shadowed part of the wall. He wondered how Prowl was going to get over the wall. With his injured shoulder he could not even piggyback on Jazz as he climbed. There was a gate not far, but it was in view of municipal surveillance cameras. If Jazz used an EMP grenade on it the enforcers would be scrambled to the scene in breams. None of the surveillance cameras on his own street worked anymore, and when gunfire broke out you would be lucky if the enforcers turned up the next mega-cycle let alone within breams. Enforcers did not risk bullets for Empties.

“What are you wondering?” Prowl asked.

“How to get ya o’er the wall,” Jazz replied. “Don’t fancy usin’ the door. I ain’t keen on gettin’ caught on camera.”

“This wall is not monitored by surveillance cameras?”

“Nah. That’s why I chose it. This is a blind spot.”

“You are good at this.”

“Reason I ain’t dead or in lock up, Prowler.”

“Prowler...” Prowl huffed. “You are impertinent. Step back.”

Prowl dug in his peds, and stretched his good arm out to the side, his seed crystal clasped in his servo. Roots, not vines, shot out of the ground and twisted around each other as the climbed up the wall. Jazz was a little in awe, no he was a lot in awe, as he watch Prowl created a staircase out of the roots. He snapped out of his stupor as Prowl sagged and than swayed. Before the dryad could fall, Jazz was at his side, and lifting Prowl’s good arm over his shoulders, and then taking him around the waist. After moment’s resistance or hesitation, Prowl let himself lean on Jazz for support. They climbed the makeshift steps together. Though Jazz hoped this collapse was not a sign of worse to come, he was already wracking his processor over what they could do if Prowl could not recover on his own. There was only one medic Jazz trusted could not be bought but Ratchet was not doing rounds in the Dead End right now. The best thing he could do for Prowl right now was reunite him with his bitlet. To do that, they had to keep moving. They reached the top of the wall, and Jazz peered over the side. As he had hoped the street was dark and empty.

“Sit. ‘M gonna rig a cable. It gonna hurt ya if I hook into these things?”

“No,” Prowl replied as he sat, strutless on the edge of the wall. “They will collapse soon. It is difficult to maintain them.”

“Hold on just another klik,” Jazz said. He quickly hooked his grapple into the mass of vines and turned around, without pause he swung off the wall. With a servo magnetized to the wall, he shifted over so he was positioned between Prowl’s dangling legs. Jazz dug his peds into the wall. “A’ight. Slide off, I’ll catch ya.”

“You are sure?”

“I won’t drop ya.”

He did not drop Prowl when the dryad slid off the wall and more or less into his lap. Prowl was heavy, but between Jazz’s grapple and his magnets, he was not too great a load for Jazz to bare. Once Prowl looked his good arm around Jazz’s neck and his legs around his waist, holding on as best he could be expected to, Jazz slowly climbed down the wall. Jazz was relieved when his peds hit the ground. Jazz held Prowl around the waist as he straightened his legs. To his relief, Prowl’s legs did not collapse under him, and he stood under his own strength, though Jazz felt he looked unsteady. From the other side of the wall, Jazz heard the vine stairs collapsed. It was time to move. Though Prowl was on his peds now, Jazz did not trust he would keep them unaided so he immediately returned Prowl’s good arm to his shoulders and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“Come on, before everyone onlines.”

Prowl kept pace. Though he straightened best as he could time and again, he was inevitably forced to lean on Jazz. He needed rest, Jazz hoped that was all he needed, and Jazz worried that Prowl would make a break for it as soon as his bitlet was back in his possession. Convincing him that his frame needed rest, else he would just end up collapsing in the streets, easy prey if Swindle came looking for him, might be the only card Jazz had to play, and he hoped he was not forced to play it. He thought the odds of Prowl acquiescing were more than just terrible. With that problem hanging over his helm, Jazz led Prowl though the dark and empty streets of the Dead End. His neighbourhood was not worthy of even the most marginal of street lighting. It was a dead end. Life here was a dead end. That was why Ricochet had gone to Kaon, he had hoped to make his an honest living, unlike the life of crime their origin and Jazz lived. His talent was more than enough that he should have been able to make it. But Ricochet had always had too hot of a temper. Like their geni, but unlike their geni there had been no desert for Ricochet to bold into when he slagged off the wrong mech.

“Just up these stairs,” Jazz declared, he started up the steps but Prowl pulled away from him. He stopped and held his servo out to Prowl. They needed to get inside.

“The windows are all boarded,” Prowl said as he looked over the building.

“Keeps bullets from bouncin’ all o’er the habsuite,” Jazz explained.

“You live like this? Your creations live like this?”

“Yeah. Not what I planned. I thought I’d make it big as a performer but no one wants to pay a scraplet to sing.”

“How will you ransom your brother without the price Lockdown promised?”

“I don’t fraggin’ know,” Jazz replied. He looked down at Prowl, frowning as he staggered back a step. “I’ll figure somethin’ out. Come on, time to see yer bitty.”

“Your originator will sell us to save him,” Prowl said.

“No!” Jazz snapped. “My Ori ain’t like that! He’s a good mech. If I hadn’t come back for ya, he woulda, ‘n he never would have let me forget how disappointed he was in me.”

Prowl hesitated but in the end he gave Jazz his servo, and let himself be supported again. About halfway up Jazz heard a shrill cry, and behind him Prowl’s engine made a low whine. The dryad pulled away from him again and staggared up the stairs. He passed Jazz, and paused at the next landing as he tried to follow the cries. With the windows blocked, it was not the easiest thing to do. Jazz smiled a little. There had never been a question that Prowl loved his creation. He had known this with utter certainty when he had heard the mech keen. Over Jazz’s life he had done some terrible things. It would have been naive to think this single deed would atone for any of it but Jazz did not believe in the Well, and if the Pit existed, the Dead End was it.

“Right through here,” Jazz said, softly as he steered Prowl to his door, and opened it.

“Jazz?” Ori called. Prowl burst through the doorway and froze. Punch locked optics with him as he held the squalling newling against his shoulder. The whine from Prowl’s systems took on a higher pitch. His legs started to buckle, and Jazz grunted as he suddenly took the whole of the mech’s weight. Prowl was spent.

“This is my Ori, Punch, Prowl. He ain’t gonna mess wit ya.”

“That’s my mechlin’,” Punch said, warmly. “Come here, love. Sit.”

Prowl over to Jazz, frowning, and Jazz smiled and said: “He means ya, Prowl. Y’re wiped off yer peds.”

Jazz half guided and half carried Prowl over to the couch, and Prowl collapsed into it. He reached to Punch, to his creation with naked need in his optics. Punch was not a cruel mech and he gently set the wailing seedling into Prowl’s arm. Bluestreak’s cries cut off mid shriek as Prowl shuffled him against his chassis as he bared his well. The seedling knew his origin’s scent and his spark and rooted about for a line. With only one servo free, Prowl could not hold Bluestreak and guide him to a line. Bluestreak, having been without his origin and without nourishment for a mega-cycle did not have the patience to find the line for himself, and he wailed as he smelled his origin’s energon. Prowl quivered, it was almost to small a movement to notice but neither Jazz nor his origin missed it. Punch crouched at Prowl’s peds.

“Would ya mind if I helped ‘m?” He asked. Prowl looked down at him, his optics wide and bright. Then he looked down at his creation, kicking and flailing as he cried.

“Please.”

“Y’re a’ight,” Punch crooned and Jazz got the idea he was speaking to both origin and creations. He brought one of Prowl’s fuel lines to the bitlet’s mouth and expressed a drop of energon onto his glossa. Bluestreak latched with such force Prowl winced. “There ya go. Jazz, get some pillows ‘n a blanket. The couch ain’t designed for doorwings but we can make it work.”

Prowl seemed to Jazz to be a little bit in awe himself now. Punch was a force of nature, and he was to his core good, at least in his own way. Counterpunch was not, but Counterpunch was a tool as Meister was to Jazz though Jazz’s alter ego was only a change of plating, and not of personality. He did not have his originator’s glitch, which was something to be grateful for. As a whole, Punch was in control but Counterpunch occasionally flared up to give him a little more of a ride. Trusting his origin with Prowl, Jazz did as he was told and stripped the blanket and pillows from his own berth and gathered them into a pile. He did it in the dark as his creations were recharging on the other side of the folding screen. Before he returned to the living room, Jazz peeked around the divider and found his creations recharging with pillows clasped over their helms. They would be happy to see bitlet and origin had been reunited when they woke in the light-cycle. It promised them a quieter mega-cycle.

“This should work,” Punch said and he arranged the pillows behind Prowl’s back, and tucked the blanket around him. “Ya took a beatin’, love. Would medgrade help ya?”

“It would help,” Prowl replied. “More so if there is quartz in the blend.”

“I’ll add some in,” Punch declared and he walked into the kitchen.

Jazz remained. He stood another half-klik before he sat on the other side of the couch and released along vent. Though he was tired, more than anything Jazz was wired. In moments like this he would normally have a shot of engex to wind down from a high stress job, but right at this moment he did not feel like drinking. Jazz knew he had not been followed, and he knew Swindle had not idea Meister was but an alter ego, and he knew Swindle’s only address for Meister was the oil bar where he met with all his clients. They were safe, but he could not convince himself to let his guard down just yet. Prowl pulled his legs up and curled around his creation, no more ready to let down his guard that Jazz. His plating first shimmered and then shone like a crystal. Jazz could not help but stare as he wondered if this might have been the dryad’s preferred form. He understood why Swindle, being Swindle, had wanted to fill his garden with dryads. Prowl was singularly stunning.

“I am beginning to believe you do, ultimately, wish to help us,” Prowl said. His voice had a harmonic to it that reminded Jazz of those singing crystals. It was as pretty to hear as the mech was to look at. Jazz forced himself to look away for fear of Prowl spooking if he caught Jazz staring.

“No one deserves to be treated like ya’ve been,” he replied. “When y’ve healed up enough to travel, I’ll take ya where ya wherever ya wanna go. Swindle ‘n Lockdown won’t get their servos on ya.”

“I do not know where I can go,” Prowl said, and he stared down at his creation.

“Home?” Jazz questioned. “Like I said, I can drop ya off within range. I don’t expect ya to take me right to yer doorstep.”

“I do not know that I can go back.”

“Why not?”

“Because I do not believe they will allow me to take Bluestreak into the grove with me.”

[gendercraft]

Outlast: Revisited [Chapter Four: Waylon]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: I’m rewriting Outlast where the first game and Whistleblower are combined, Miles and Waylon are more connected, and also they kiss

Trigger warnings: Sexual assault plus everything already in the game; eye gore

Waylon hopped out of the vent into a tiny, mostly bare room. A Variant sat in the corner, hugging his legs with his face buried in his knees. A metal storage crate barricaded the door. 

“You mind if I move this?” Waylon asked quietly. 

The man shook his head. 

Waylon swallowed and braced himself against the crate. His weak muscles trembled and strained as he pushed. Holding back a groan, he squeezed his eyes shut. When it was finally out of the way he shook his hands out and sighed. 

Poking his head into the hall, he bit his lip. It was empty, the walls covered in plastic, emergency lights still blasting. The rest of the lights had gone out. There were several dead bodies littering the hall, blood smeared on the plastic. One body was completely ripped in half, torso from legs, guts spilling into the floor. 

He snuck into a security room and shut the door behind him. Through the window to a decontamination chamber, a man in scrubs pressed his hands to the glass. 

“Help me, please!” He cried. “I’m a doctor! I need to get home to my…” His eyes widened. He spluttered for a second, then said, “You’re not security. I was… I’m a patient,” he said carefully. 

Waylon stepped closer, brows furrowed. 

“I stole these clothes from a… dead body I found. You gotta let me out of here. Please. Just push the button, open the door. We can get out of here together!” 

Waylon hesitated. He wished he’d recognized the man—if it were really a doctor, he’d leave him to rot, but he couldn’t risk hurting a patient, could he? Fuck. He slammed his hand on the button. 

The doors slid open, and a Variant with a grimace and a red face stepped inside. The doctor/patient gasped and stepped back. 

“No, no!” 

“All of you,” the Variant snarled, grabbing the back of the doctor/patient’s head and slamming it into the glass. Waylon stepped backwards with wide eyes, “doctors and liars.” 

He slammed the man’s head into the glass, over and over and over and over again, thunk, thunk, crack, thunk, blood spurted everywhere. Slipping out of its socket, the eye was crushed against the glass. Blood dripped from his mouth and nose and eyes. Crack! Thin lines stained the glass like a halo. 

Waylon felt sick. Gagging, he backed up until he was pressed against the door. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

The Variant thanked him, then left. 

He’d never seen a man die before today. Never seen a dead body outside of a coffin. Dozens in the last few hours, murdered and worse. The look in the Variant’s eyes, the raw anger, as he crushed the man’s skull… There was no real difference between the doctors and patients now. They were all crazy, all sick. 

And what was Waylon? He watched a man die and only thought, it’s not me, thank God. 

He knew he’d die someday. He didn’t want to be murdered. 

Waylon stumbled out of the room and made his way to the airlock. It sprayed him with that awful-smelling green gas, then let him through. The corpse watched him as he left. He crept through to the closest exit he knew of, but it was jammed and blocked. Dead Variants littered the ground. 

A file caught his eye. He picked it up with shaking hands. 

 From: j.blaire@murkoffcorp.us.com

To: h.grant@murkoff.us.com

Subject: Resignation for Mental Health, CC 8208 

Ms. Grant, 

 You may receive requests for information from a Mrs. Lisa Park, of Leadville, CO, in the coming weeks concerning the resignation and hospitalization of her husband, Waylon. If so, please forward them to my personal attention. 

 Waylon’s stomach lurched. Lisa? Oh, God… 

 Waylon Park (former consulting contract 8208) resigned due to previously undiagnosed mental illness. I personally visited Mrs. Lisa Park and her sons and broke the news to them, with the “silver lining” that Murkoff Psychiatric would be graciously providing treatment. 

 Mrs. Park had some less than charitable things to say about myself and the Murkoff corporation. I assured her that with her power of attorney she could try to fight the doctors’ diagnoses of her husband’s illness. 

 However, if it were discovered that he resigned under false pretenses, his insurance would be cancelled and the family would be saddled with not insignificant healthcare debts. 

 The paper crunched in Waylon’s fist. 

 Hopefully she understood. 

But if she insists on making a nuisance of herself, or tries to get around me, please let me know. This is one I want to take care of personally. 

 Yours, 

Jeremy Blaire

 Waylon shoved the paper in his pocket. Please say she let it go. Please let her be okay. 

 Blaire’s voice echoed in his head. 

“Somehow not smart enough to realize that the last thing a fly ought to do in a spider’s web is wiggle.” The laptop cracked on the ground as Blaire dropped it. “Somehow dumb enough to think that a borrowed laptop, onion router, and firewall patch would be enough to fool the world’s leading supplier of biometric security.” He tapped his forehead. “Stupid, Mr. Park. More than stupid. In fact, that was crazy!” A sick grin spread across his face. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to have you committed. Mr. Park, will you willfully submit to forced confinement?” He glanced over his shoulder at the three armed security guards that followed him. “Did you hear that, agent?” 

Waylon’s heart slammed against his chest, his fingertips. The fear burned hot in his abdomen, sweat gathering on his brow. 

“He said ‘yes,’ Mr. Blaire.” 

“Great!” Blaire waved his finger. “Oh, and… did I just hear Mr. Waylon Park volunteer for the Morphogenic Engine program?” 

“That’s what I heard, Mr. Blaire.” 

“That was brave, indeed, Waylon. The Murkoff Corporation and the onward march of science both appreciate your bravery… and sacrifice. Maybe you should administer Mr. Park here a light anesthetic?” 

“Gladly.” The front guard stepped forward and wound his arm back. 

Waylon raised his hands. Blinding pain rippled across his face, and his eyes rolled back into his head. 

Waylon ground his teeth together so hard something cracked. He would get back to Lisa and the boys if he had to tear through the entire asylum. 

The next airlock was broken, so he climbed atop a stack of crates covered in a blue tarp and dragged himself on top. Army crawling across, he jumped to the ground. It was pitch black in the hall. He raised his camcorder and flicked on the nightvision. 

He found himself in the cafeteria. Body parts were strewn across like decorations. Someone hummed and mumbled nearby. Bodies hung from the freezer’s ceiling like cured pigs. Flesh teared in the cafeteria, munching. Hands shaking, he crept into the kitchen. 

Waylon gagged. Blood boiled on the stove like someone was making fucking spaghetti, an arm and a hand poking out of the bubbling warmth. He entered the dining area, and behind the glass of the bar, blood splattered across the copious amount already caked on. Around the corner, then he zoomed in to look through the glass at the naked, bearded man sawing into a corpse. 

Keeping his camera up, Waylon’s eyes watered. He stepped forward. 

POP!

The microwave beeped and the head inside exploded. 

“Oh, God,” Waylon choked out. 

“Don’t you look at us,” the man snapped. “I love him.” He pulled out an organ and dropped it into his mouth. 

He chewed with his lips open, blood spurting, tissue tearing. Waylon stumbled back and hurried out of the room. He doubled over and gagged, choked, trying to vomit but nothing coming up. 

Sitting on the ground, he set the camera down facing him. “Don’t ask to see my body, Lisa,” he choked out. “When I die, when you finish the lawsuits that let you pry this footage from Murkoff’s army of lawyers and corporate hitmen, don’t make them show you my body. Just bury it. Or burn it. Let my sons remember me whole.” He looked away and squeezed his eyes shut. “That man is eating human flesh,” he whispered. “He looks at me and I see anger. A little desire. But more than anything, hunger. Please don’t make them show you my body.” 

He grabbed the camera. He didn’t plan on dying, but he would not risk not warning Lisa. 

He passed through a locker room and into a hallway, towards a grated door. A corpse hung by the wrist to set of handcuffs, looped through the grate, holding it closed. He had to get through there to get to the prison, get to the radio. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, yanking at the handcuffs. He’d have to find the key. There had to be a security guard around here somewhere. 

Across from the grate was a boarded up door. The glass above it was broken. He climbed atop the desk resting there and pulled himself through the broken window, hissing as glass cut across his thighs. 

Keeping an eye out for the key, he crept down the hall. Bzzzz! 

Waylon dropped to the floor as the cook came into the hall. His eyes glowed in the infrared, slowly surveying every inch of the blackness. There was that desire in his eyes, that hunger. Waylon kept the camcorder up and swallowed, his skin crawling. Out of all the people in Mount Massive, he did not want to be in the hands of the cook. 

He thought about turning around and finding an alternate way to the prison, but it would take too much time. He’d just have to be careful, quiet. He crept forward. The hall went forward and then to the left, with a room to the right. As the cook disappeared into the room to the right, Waylon hurried forward, still low to the ground. His eyes were on the corner. If he could just get around the corner, maybe he wouldn’t be seen. 

His foot crinkled on a sheet of plastic hanging off the wall. He froze. 

“I can smell you!” 

Shuddering, Waylon crept further into the darkness. 

“Feed me! Feed me! FEED ME!” 

The saw buzzed, bzzz! 

Just keep moving, Waylon. 

He crawled forward in the hall and turned the corner. The man was still busy in the room to the right. In the turn of the hall, the walls were lined with wooden doors. He crept into the first one just long enough to catch his breath. It was bare with just a stack of mattresses on a metal bedframe, no key in sight. He stood up halfway and peeked open the door. 

The hall was empty. He swung the door open and snuck out. 

“MINE! You are mine!” 

The voice was right behind him. He broke into a sprint, just in time for the buzzsaw to catch the hairs on the back of his neck. 

“Fuck!” He gasped, skidding to a stop at the blocked end of the hall and slamming his fist into the door as he barged inside. 

He ran straight across the hall to the next door, barging through that one as well, leading him into a room full of storage shelves and crosses on the wall. A dead end. He looked around wildly, a place to hide, a place to escape. 

“Feed me! Feed me! FEED ME!” 

Waylon whipped around. The cook grinned, blood glinting on his teeth, white in the night vision. He swung the buzzsaw and Waylon leapt backwards. Tripping over his own feet, his back smacked against the ground. The saw came over the cook’s head, and Waylon rolled out of the way, only for burning pain to rip through his leg. 

“FUCK!” He staggered to his feet and felt frantically at the blood dripping down his calf. 

Another swing, Waylon brought his hand up, a slash down his palm. He whimpered and stumbled backwards. 

Then he saw it—an open vent sat above a desk. He ducked another blow and dashed for the vent. His collar caught and he choked, his eyes watering. The cook dragged him backwards and threw him into a shelf. His chest and knee and elbow slammed into the corners. Wheezing, he made another break for the vent. He shoved past the cook and leapt onto the desk as all the lights flicked on. 

The buzzsaw caught the bottom of his foot as he dragged himself into the vent. He curled into a ball and hissed through his teeth. His blood smelled of iron, it was all he could smell, all he could think. He sat up as best as he could, cramped in the little square space, and looked for a seam to rip with his teeth. The cook grunted and cursed as he tried to get into the vent, only to turn and leave the room. 

“I’ll find another way…”

Waylon found a seam in his pants and ripped off what fabric he could. It wasn’t even or clean, but it was long enough for him to wrap around his calf and tie tight enough to hurt. He ripped off another piece for his foot, and another for his hand. 

He was shaking when he dropped to the ground. His foot burning, he bit back a whimper. 

A Variant stood in the corner. He was dressed, thank God, but bandages wrapped around his eyes. 

Waylon held his hands up as the Variant stalked towards him. “Hey, hey… What’s going on, man?” 

“I have an itch.” 

He cringed. “I can’t help with that. Want me to get those bandages off?” 

The Variant shook his head. What could be behind the fabric? 

Waylon swallowed. “Your clothes… you come from upstairs?” He wasn’t wearing the standard jumpsuit the Morphogenic volunteers wore. His clothes came from the Male Ward. 

“Yes.” 

“So you can get around safely, you know how to not get caught?” 

The Variant hesitated, then continued forward. Waylon stepped back. “I can move around.” 

“I need you to find someone for me. Can you do that? I can switch out your bandage for something cleaner.” 

“...okay.”

“There should be an investigative journalist running around here somewhere—”

“Miles Upshur.” 

Waylon blinked. “Y… yeah. How’d you- how’d you know?” 

“He’s been… talking to everyone. Trying to. In the abandoned sections. Headed to the basement, last I saw. Why do you need him?” 

“Find him,” Waylon begged, “tell him Waylon Park, the whistleblower, is headed to the prison. I’m going to get help.”

He stopped walking. “You’re the whistleblower?” 

“Yes,” Waylon said uncertainly. 

“I’ll find him for you.” 

Waylon found a seam in his shirt sleeve and ripped it free. He carefully pulled the bandages away from the Variant’s face. In the sockets, the eyes were completely eviscerated, nothing but bloody pulp. Waylon felt like gouging his own eyes out with a spoon. He bit back a gag and pulled the new bandage around his eyes. 

“Get those clean,” he mumbled, then patted his shoulder. “I need to go.” 

Waylon was back towards the labs, plastic lining the glass walls and laptop carts clogging up the halls. He wasn’t sure if the handcuff key would be around here, but he was just grateful to be away from the cook. 

He looked around for a tense couple of minutes, stepping quietly and keeping an ear out for any buzzing, before he finally found a bathroom with a dead security guard. He snatched the key from the man’s belt and sighed in relief. 

All he had to do now was get back. 

He found his way back to the main hall and stuck his head out the door. The cook grumbled to himself, peeking inside a room, saw buzzing beside him. Waylon swallowed and crouched. He crept into the hall and around the corner. 

If he comes this way, I’m fucked. But the barred door he originally jumped over was in sight. The cook was not agile, couldn’t follow him. It was Waylon’s only strength here. 

He cursed himself, then broke into a sprint. 

“MINE!” 

His feet slapped the floor as the cook raced behind him. Vaulting over a turned over bed and leaping onto a desk, he scrambled up through the window again, the broken glass making more cuts across his thighs. 

Waylon stumbled to the ground. His vision blurred, his head hot. Panic? Blood loss? Both? Whatever. He got the key. 

Unlocking the handcuffs, the corpse’s arm slipped out and thunked to the ground. With shaking hands, Waylon pulled the handcuffs out of the lock and swung the grate open. 

It led into the crematorium. He headed down a short staircase and crept into the room. His heart was still racing, his legs still equipped to run. Something banged on the nearby door as he passed the ovens. He nearly jumped out of his skin. 

Backing up, he watched the door shake again, then stop. He hesitated. 

I have to go this way. 

He watched his steps, stepping over broken glass and litter. The second he passed the door slammed open. The cook grabbed him by the neck and threw him onto his back. Waylon wheezed and kicked, the wind knocked out of him. The cook hauled him onto a wooden slab and raised the buzzsaw. 

“This meat is mine,” he cackled. 

He brought the buzzsaw to his chest, slowly inching forward until red splattered. Waylon threw his head back and screamed. Then the cook pulled the saw away. 

Grabbing Waylon by the legs, he shoved him backwards. The heat of the oven burned the back of Waylon’s head. 

“You stay there,” he grinned, “and cook!” 

Then he threw Waylon into the oven, and slammed the door. 

@wasnt-hiding-in-cuba-for-7-years asked for waylon torture porn so here’s me delivering the best i can this early in the story. more whump later, hope you enjoyed lol 

[thepromisedbride]

HELLO JESS. BBC GHOSTS ARTHURIAN AU GO (by which I mean the arthurian characters in the premise of BBC ghosts, not the other way around)

REY oh my god i love you for this here we go

So in Ghosts the alive characters are a married couple, right?? Wrong!! Well, not wrong, because yes that’s exactly what Mike and Alison are. But wrong for this version because though I seriously considered having one of the couples as the main characters I then thought “hey what’s more fun than a family!!” and luckily for us (me) we have a ready made family in the form of (drumroll please) The Orkneys!!

The rest is under a read more because I got what some might call “carried away” and others might call “obsessed”

What happens is this: as the Orkney brothers grow up, they rather naturally become separated, until at last Gareth is the last one, at seventeen, living with their mother. Their father (or at least, their supposed father: they all know that Mordred looked too dissimilar to Lot to really be his son, though they never said it) died a while ago, and Morgause could not find it in her to really focus on her children over her job.

The five of them seem to unspokenly care about each other, but in a way where it was clear that they were all waiting to be contacted first.

Nonetheless, when Morgause does die, with Gareth having just turned eighteen and seriously wondering why he had taken a gap year from university, they all show up, and find that they had jointly been bequeathed the old family house in the country.

Gawain has been recently promoted and is now working from home. This meant more time than he usually spent inside his flat, and he had been getting rather claustrophobic. So, after an admittedly short heart to heart with Gareth, who was looking quite nervously towards a future without parents and with no idea what to do, he packs up his brothers in a typically Gawain-like fashion and moves them all out to the manor.

Mordred has been able to see ghosts since an incident in his youth involving a large body of water, an ill-timed trip and a sudden storm. He hasn’t been in water since, but the near-death experience left his with the ability to see those spirits left when their bodies had departed. This is especially unfortunate for him, because half the time he doesn’t particularly want to be able to see living people, let alone ghosts who do not leave when he throws things at them. But he puts up with it enough: there is, beyond all logic, a particular cup he took from Morgause’s house when he left which somehow has three ghosts attached to it, and they happily provide a deterrent for any others.

(It does create a somewhat awkward car journey: he’s being driven by Agravaine, and between the boxes in the back and the only two seats in the front, there’s not much room even for a ghost. Aggs keeps looking at him weirdly when he fidgets, but it’s not his fault that the only free place left is his lap or that Galahad decided that he simply had to see the journey to the house rather than simply confining himself to the cup like Bors and Percival did.)

Anyway, this means that he arrives at the house and immediately sees a crowd of variously costumed figures and tries turning around and leaving. Unfortunately Agravaine anticipates some “young adult hormones” and quickly steers him straight inside.

It takes him a while to finally be alone with the ghosts, who seem to quickly realise he can see them. There are eleven of them in total, though a couple seem to spend most of their time in the little gatekeeper house rather than the main building. He immediately makes a note to avoid Dinadan, who looks at Mordred once and immediately makes fun of his choice in band t-shirts (and like, he’s a ghost, what does he know about bands, it’s like trying to talk to Gaheris—) and Lamorak is instantly relegated to Mordred’s extensive “least liked people” list, which is different to his “disliked people” list. Kay seems kind of mean, which is funny, and Bedivere is responsible enough to try and control the others, but they are clearly “not dating” which honestly Mordred has no time for.

He gets on best with Clarissant, probably, as she’s smart and not too grating but still sweet enough that she likes sitting with him when he wants to be quiet but doesn’t want to be alone. Owain, likewise, has shown him several spaces in the garden for birdwatching or other wildlife (which Mordred doesn’t particularly have used for, but he does appreciate the effort).

Owain is “not dating” a different ghost, Laudine, but in a different way than Kay and Bedivere are “not dating”, in a way that doesn’t get on Mordred’s nerves and lets him acknowledge that Laudine is kind of funny. Elaine doesn’t really talk to him: there’s a river and lake by the house and she seems to prefer it there, or else by the old tower. But she has great stories, and never minds when he really needs a vent, usually about his brothers.

It’s Palamedes and Brangaine who live (in the loosest sense of the word) in the gatekeeper’s cottage. This is very useful, because it means he can set up a little bedroom inside, though it’s mostly for storage now, and sleep there when he wants to pretend he has his own space. He has a strange nervousness that they might see him as a sort of pet, but he’s pretty sure that’s not the case.

Relatively sure.

Not that it matters. They have a clearly delicate history together, one Mordred is not about to ask after for fear that one or both will start crying, but they manage in a sort of sweet domesticity. He’s left the goblet in there for now, because Palamedes seems to enjoy Galahad, Bors and Percival’s company.

And it’s—

Nice.

And then, of course, there is Lancelot. He seems far too well meaning for Mordred to carry on any kind of maliciousness for long, except that for some godforsaken reason he has also decided that Gawain is an ideal muse. He spends way too much time following Gawain around, thinking up sappy poetry about Gawain, or else sighing blissfully out of a window (presumably over Gawain). Mordred thinks that if Lancelot were to ever be able to actually talk to Gawain (physically, he means. Or figuratively? Because even if Lancelot wasn’t a ghost he does not seem to have any cognitive abilities around Gawain anyway) then this image would be shattered. Gawain looks pretty, but so does this waterfall Mordred once read about that falls down into nothingness and despair, or the river stretch that looks like a lovely refreshing swim but actually is an fierce riptide with a 100% mortality rate. Something like that. But the point is that it’s difficult enough with Gawain constantly around without having his admirer hanging round all the time too. Gawain is insufferable already without Gaheris and Gaheris getting to add to their board of “Is Gawain Secretly (Or Not-So-Secretly) a Changeling” with ‘every time he puts something down it always seems to move just within reach when he goes to pick it up’

(If you’re wondering why there isn’t an Arthur, that is a subplot that I just suddenly decided on just now. I was going to have Arthur as a Captain-like ghost but then I was thinking and long story short there’s a tangent here—

It was Arthur’s house. He’s still Mordred’s dad, though here I guess he isn’t their uncle as well, and he left Morgause the house in his will. He heard she was pregnant, and there was a little but if him which knew he could never acknowledge his child but he still wanted to provide in some way. Arthur doesn’t have to be a bad parent.

Incidentally this also solves why the brothers didn’t really know about the house before rather than “Morgause wasn’t a big fan of the country”.)

(OH MY GOD also so Guin isn’t a ghost either bc I wanted her alive. So now she’s an important plot point. She moved into the outskirts of the nearby village because she liked the area but didn’t want to contest for a massive empty house. Anyway she’s smart and despite the problems her and her late husband went through, she does respect him for this. So eventually the Orkneys will have to go for a discovery on the house’s secrets aka there are ghosts and so they will find Guin and discover the Truth. It’s all coming together now lads)

They invite their neighbours over for dinner one night: the house needs some pretty desperate renovating, but it’s now moderately liveable at least and, according to Gawain, this requires a party.

So invite them over he does. The ones to the left, a couple named Tristan and Isolde, though Gaheris swears that when they were introduced in the village Isolde looked completely different, and the ones to the right, Morgan and Vivian. They pass a very pleasant evening, despite the fact that a fox manages to get on the roof.

No one is sure how.

Gaheris and Agravaine are charged with rescuing it, which is by far the stupidest decision Gawain has ever made. However, despite them all living together, the brothers are really not in a brilliant harmony yet, and so Gawain sends those two off whilst he entertains their guests.

The two of them are staring out the window at the fox for a while before Gaheris dares Agravaine to climb up. He doesn’t want to, but Gaheris is his little brother, and if he passes over a dare from him he’ll never hear the end of it. So he climbs out.

It’s a dry night. But it was not a dry day. And the leaves packed on all the footholds are wet and slippery, and Agravaine—

Falls—

And hits the ground, several stories below.

They’re all terrified, of course, regretting every moment they spent apart or arguing. Agravaine is declared legally dead for fourteen minutes, and it is the worst fourteen minutes of any of their lives. But finally— finally— the doctors emerge to tell them that their brother is resting, but is expected to make a full recovery.

Which he does! There are several more doctor’s appointments and physiotherapists scheduled, but eventually he can return to house. (Unsurprisingly, the arguing starts again quickly.)

There is, however, one major difference.

Agravaine can now also see the ghosts.

Mordred, having been able to see them all his life, had not considered this possibility, and thus does not prepare.

Agravaine discovers these new abilities when he walks into a room to find Mordred, pretending to be on a phone call, chatting away with Clarissant whilst Lamorak inexplicably floats nearby. He stares, screams, and blacks out.

When he comes to after a moment he is faced with a lengthy, surprisingly bored conversation with Mordred, and seriously considers blacking out again. Lamorak has not left the room despite his presence being an inevitable disaster, and Agravaine perhaps unsurprisingly decides that He is to be the newest mortal enemy in Agravaine’s list.

(Lamorak is silently gratified that he is on lists for both alive people who can see him, and chooses to ignore the reasoning behind the lists.)

Mordred has been dealing with ghosts for most of his life.

Agravaine has Not.

This means that, pretty quickly, Gawain, Gaheris and Gareth realise something is even more wrong with those two than normal.

And of course they have to come clean.

Gaheris is half convinced that the two have found his conspiracy journal and that this is an elaborate ruse to trick him into confessing love for Nessie or something. Gareth is mostly concerned about the logistics and privacy, though Mordred’s narrated conversations between him and Owain seem to make him much more comfortable with the whole thing. Gawain is genuinely tempted to jump out a window to see if he can join to newly discovered exclusive club of ghost watchers, but eventually decides that it’s too much a risk to his beautiful face.

(Lancelot silently agrees, though it has not escaped his attention that it would be nice if Gawain could actually see him.)

[reversecreek]

clicks onto the dash wearing kitten heels n coyly holding my bang....... hi. me again. it took me so long to select a gif to use on cricket’s intro n i settled on this one bc he looks so unsure abt his smile n it’s rly his essence <3 u can find his pinterest board here n his (work in progress) spotify playlist here. hmu to plot!!! 

* alex wolff, cis male + he/him | you know cricket donahue, right? they’re twenty-two, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, all of their life, on and off? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to should have known better by sufjan stevens like, a million times this year, which slipping on wet leaves to photograph a tree struck alight by lightning, delivering a tedtalk to your own reflection to hype yourself up to buy groceries, hiding your hands inside of your sleeves in case you grew an impromptu megan fox thumb overnight thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 1st, so they’re a libra, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt, she/her )

HISTORY:

cricket ws born to a couple tht lived in lilac ridge. their trailer was tucked closest to the woods n always fell under the shade. it was like the leaves wanted to pretend they were a perpetual hanging cloud on the family n that was kind of fitting. their only reason fr having him in the first place was a kind of shrugged like........... we’re under the income bracket we’d get child benefits so why not! may as well try it to rake in some extra cash! needless to say they didn’t rly think it thru or anticipate all of the responsibilities tht came w children n wound up seeing him as an extremely large burden n boy didn’t he know it!

(child neglect & abuse tw) i’ll try to keep this part vague n brief but things were Not Good for cricket growing up. people in lilac ridge didn’t like his parents n it was for a gd reason. he remembers foggy things. being little n wandering around combing the grass with a stick to search for wrappers to suck on bc he was hungry. feeling uneasy when the front door opened. finding out his name was cricket bc the insects used to crawl into their trailer thru the vents n his parents liked to squish them into the carpet -- his mum told him as much once. i think this says a lot. to excessively trim the fat of the story he wound up entering the system at around 8 after his latest and most serious hospital visit. his parents hd to deal w the authorities n last he heard they bounced to evade charges.

(anxiety & violence & trauma tw) cricket sustained a few lifelong injuries from his time in lilac ridge. his knee didn’t heal right which meant he had (n still has to this day) a limp n he’s partially deaf in one ear. he’s always been an incredibly insecure n anxious person so this mde him rly self conscious going into a strange n new environment tht wld b difficult fr any kid to adjust to, nvm w these added worries. he jst felt like something weird to ogle at honestly. he probably wld have felt like that no matter where he was or what he looked like. he cld be in a huge hall of 200 people all wearing the same uniform n he’d still feel like the odd one out. needless to say this didn’t rly help him make friends

cricket’s coping mechanisms were romanticising the things tht other people found ugly or embarrassing or painfully ordinary. he liked it when the rain hit clunky drops against school windows n forbid everyone from playing outside bc he could feel the vibrations through the rubber soles of his shoes n it was a little bit like hearing all of the world at once fr just a moment. he liked medieval fantasy lore about stout gnomes w crumbs in their beards n cheeks red from ale. he liked fallen nests with the remnants of hatched eggs still dirty from the branches n soil they’d hit on the way down. he liked the way the sunlight leaked thru the leaves of the trees in the woods and how, when he sat very still, he could tune into the ringing that was always in his ear n pretend it was coming from the same place, that light thru the leaves, that the angels were trying to talk to him.

he spent a lot of time in the red room at his high skl (i’m begging u this is not a 50 shades reference) (after googling i jst realised it’s called a darkroom bt i’m leaving this fr the sake of sexy bimbo authenticity) n felt quite at home in there. he borrowed a camera whenever he cld (maybe he did yearbook) n photography became his way of immortalising the world as the romanticised version he wanted it to be. his memories were bad bt his photos were beautiful. maybe if he took enough they’d paste over n bleed into each other. maybe bad cld be replaced w beautiful if he tried his very best.

he got placed into fostering w a family once bt apparently didn’t meet the vibe check of their tastes so he wound up returning to the group home he’d initially been placed in. overall this is where he grew up n he aged out the system rather than getting adopted. there was a sense of floundering/isolation/not feeling gd enough in tht bt cricket made do the best he knew how. 

that said there were some gd points! (shocking i kno bc his life hs been so fking bleak so far bt please it’s ok........) (is it?) (🤔). basically he interned as an assistant at this local photography studio during high skl working under this kind of whimsical yet endearing old man. suspected wizard possibly in cricket’s eyes, as an avid fantasy genre reader. for one of his bdays said old man / his boss bought him his very own film camera n cricket cried bc he’d never been bought a bday gift. this ws rly embarrassing bc this old man didn’t know how to emote n neither did cricket so he ws jst sort of sat wiping his eyes n sniffling saying he wasn’t crying as the old man pretended to suddenly clean his lenses. when cricket graduated he offered him a full time position there. they do like. wedding photographs n family portraits n all kinds of things...... pay isn’t huge bt it’s something n he Loves taking photos so it’s sexy <3

PERSONALITY:

SUCH an anxious person it’s actually unreal. overthinks absolutely everything he’s ever said. one morning he might hv put green socks on n for the rest of the day he’s nervously looking around like omggggggg they’re all looking at my socks probably thinking im a little green sock boy thinking i’m a fool n a jester this is all everyone’s probably thinking about i hv to hide my green socks..... even tho literally no-one cares

once saw a girl eating a chicken wing n in his head was like ok she likes chicken good future gift idea..... n turned up at her house with an entire rotisserie chicken

probably thinks WAY too hard abt what to write in bday cards n googles like generic ideas that he can use.... u open a card from cricket n it always says smthn weird like “Warmest wishes and love on your birthday and always!” or “You deserve everything happy. Wishing you that all year long!” tht he got off google

nervously fiddles w things a lot. literally anything. his hair. the cuffs of his sleeves. a thread on his bag. u name it

struggles w eye contact sometimes............ it’s like. he wants to talk to ppl n make friends bt he’s honestly so bad at it. he’s fumbling thru life like a nervous headless chicken

ALWAYS has his camera on him. like always. will tke a photo of u bc he thinks u look nice then be like im so sorry im so sorry...... bowing his head shakily holding his camera bc he doesn’t even kno what possessed him he jst thought it’d be a nice photograph bt boundaries exist. probably breathes very heavily over this later in his room panicking thinking he nw seems like hannibal lecter

probably more confident online bc he has time to think abt what he says more.......... i can see him hving a group of online friends tht he’s more confident w. honestly he’s pretty witty at heart he jst has a hard time verbalising things so ppl overlook him sometimes bt once u get to know him more / he’s more comfy he can b a funny little man.....

loves photographs where he cuts something out of them. loves missing spaces n voids. thinks it’s a rly interesting concept when something that isn’t there becomes the focus of a photograph where everything else is. probably loses his mind fr a collage like a front row 1d stan. likes experimenting w light n perception. pretty artistic honestly hs probably made a stop motion film in the past bc that’s just an extended form of photography in his mind bt i doubt he showed anyone

ummm...... very sweet bt like. he reminds me a lot of this quote. “he had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise.” feel like tht sums him up quite nicely

WANTED CONNECTIONS

someone he met at a wedding: cricket probably ws forced to photograph a wedding fr his boss one time n it cld b interesting as a place to meet from that....... like. i can imagine either it being rly awkward maybe he accidentally spilled a drink on ur muse n was stuttering rly apologetic n it ws just a train wreck. or mayb they took pity on him or even (in a shocking turn of events) a shine to him n invited him to drink n dance. omgggg the thought of cricket trying to dance makes me wna die n probably mkes cricket wna hyperventilate bt idk maybe he went wild n let loose. mayb they wound up damaging the camera somehow. mayb they had to scramble to get another one n ur muse covered the cost n it was a strange late night excursion tht cricket thought about a lot since. cricket probably vowed to pay them bk somehow no matter what. idk. we can work things out. lots of diff options here. doesn’t have to b a wedding either can b any event tht required a photographer

ppl he went to school w: pretty self explanatory i suppose...... maybe they were frm completely different worlds..... mayb ur muse was popular n cricket was definitely not but they got paired fr an assignment n had to work on a project together....... mayb cricket asked ur muse on a date one time n it was completely embarrassing bc he didn’t realise they had a bf n it haunts cricket at night still bc he’s rly dramatic.... mayb ur muse felt sry fr him n ate lunch w him n inducted him into their group like a lost puppy finding a home.... world’s our oyster

neighbours from his brief time at lilac ridge: not to reference taylor swift but i’m gna reference taylor swift n say we cld do a seven inspired plot here. sighs a little..... then sighs a lot. he was here ages 0-8 so idk. we cld work out childhood plots perhaps....

sickening simp: i mean.............. cricket probably gets crushes on ppl so easily like just. anyone who’s the slightest bit nice to him.................. he’s a disgrace. ok i take it back. bt also please get it together freak............... i didn’t say that. he’d probably b extra nice to this person n try n pay close attention to things they liked so he cld get them little gifts. just a bit embarrassing n lovestruck bless his heart. wldn’t expect anything back tho honestly that just isn’t something he tends to do.

let’s go gays: cricket’s bi but he probably was rly in his head abt liking boys n tried to sort of squash it internally during his younger yrs...... i think he’s more comfy w it now MAYBE idk bt back then i picture him having a friend tht ws kind of like. similarly loserish as him perhaps (no offence to ur muse potentially filling this plot or cricket bt let’s face the facts) n they’d hang out n play games a lot n one time it jst kind of happened n he was like............. *struts in looking around sharply* What going on here? except not. bc it’s cricket. more like *shambles in looking around anxiously* What’s, uh... What’s... the happenings? S--... I’m sorry. (immediate apology for saying what’s the happenings bc nobody talks like that n it was an impulsive panic bc he didn’t know what else to say)

those who grew up in the system w him: maybe at the group home or i’d also like the family that fostered him n said sayonara. honestly i imagine the parents just thought he ws a bit too much of a handful / had too much baggage which is rly quite merciless n terrible but. if u think that aligns w ur muses home situation hmu......

um. can’t think of more bt just anything honestly. jst go wild.......

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Life Between the Years

A/N: Finally, the first of the Billy Russo requests in the Play The Hand You’re Dealt event! This should be read immediately after Part 10 of I See You. It isn’t included in the main story because it’s a very small snapshot of a moment that doesn’t change the course of the plot, but it’s still important. 

Word Count: 1,644

Request from: @luminex3​  Billy, General, Memories and Photos & Billy’s POV

Slowly, Billy opened his eyes as the tired old A.C. unit kicked on. The soft gentle hum sent cool air through the vents to chase the thickening summer heat back through the glass of the window panes and the cracks in the foundation of your decades old building. He’d been drifting in and out of consciousness since you curled back around his body, casting his heavy eyes downward to see you still sleeping. The familiar ache of the badly healed scar tissue in his shoulder twinged, but he resisted the urge to move or stretch, fighting for as many minutes with your cheek tucked against his chest and your breath hitting his skin as he could get. Five more minutes… just five more minutes like this. 

You burrowed even closer and he winced, your forehead pressing into the repaired rotator cuff as you made your adjustment. But it wasn’t the sharp pain that clamped his eyelids shut or sent a string of silent swears through his head- it was the idea that even after everything you’d shared with him, after you’d given yourself to him in the most complete way that anyone ever had, that it would somehow still manage to shatter. Just because I was a liar doesn’t mean everyone is… and she’d never, she wouldn’t… Billy opened his eyes again as you settled your arm across his waist. The stiff ache dissipated, weakening until it vanished just like the hot, stagnant air in the room. Five minutes wouldn’t be enough anyway. 

Not to make up for all of the time he’d missed, all the parts of your life that he hadn’t been there for. His fingers twitched where they rested atop your hip, and he bent them to run his knuckles over your skin. Billy focused on the way his bones slid over yours, committing the sensation to memory like he should have done years ago. He watched the movement of his digits over your body as the room brightened around you both, the sunlight finally flooding in, filtered by the thin white curtains covering the windows. It had still been dark in the early hours of the morning when he took your hand and followed you down the hall, your fingers curled around his palm and the shadows curled around the corners of the room. The gray, colorless veil of the in between still hung over the sleeping world as you took him into your bed, the two of you falling together before the sun had fully risen over the horizon. 

But now the golden glow of morning was showing him things he never thought he’d see; Your hair swirled in patterns on the pillowcase and against the crook of his arm, the sheets bunched and wrinkled, draped loosely over your lower limbs and displaced around your tangled bodies. His touch skimmed over your hip, eyes following his fingertips as they traveled up your side. Never thought I’d… he swallowed, finally adjusting his hold on you to alleviate some of the discomfort in his shoulder. Holding his breath, he re-positioned you against his chest and changed the angle of the arm that he had around you, waiting a few seconds to make sure that you were still asleep before he exhaled slowly. Never thought I’d get this chance. His thumb swept gently over your abdomen, trying to feel you in every ridge of his fingerprint. Not after all this time, all this...bullshit.   

Billy clamped his eyes shut tight against the memories of his mistakes, not wanting to let them slash through this perfect moment. The sound of a heavy door slamming somewhere in the building made his eyes snap back open, and a cluster of photos and decorative items that he hadn’t noticed the night before caught his attention before it could fall back to you. He squinted to get a better look without leaving the bed. The first was one of you and Lexi, one that he’d seen from years ago, the two of you at a Red Sox game when you still called Boston home. But it was the only one he recognized, the other frames holding the faces of strangers in places he didn’t know. The other items that hung included souvenirs from trips you’d taken, and he realized that it wasn’t just time and bullshit that filled the chasm that he thought he’d never cross. It’s life, too. And he’d missed years of yours. Years of details, of laughter and struggle, moments and phrases and phone calls. Years of… 

The thought crumbled as he took in the last thing hanging on the wall, a French memo board covered in postcards, letters, and cards for all occasions. He sucked in a breath then, as one folded, yellowed piece of lined paper trapped beneath the criss-crossed black ribbon stole his focus. Tucked halfway behind a postcard from Cancun, Billy found his own handwriting, the letters slanting at a uniform angle, ink pressed firmly into the page like an etching. He had no idea which letter it was, what had made that one worthy of a special place on the wall, or if there were more of them up there, but none of that mattered more than the fact that it was up there. I’ve always been part of her life…even through those years… He sighed, unable to keep it in, unable to control himself from disrupting your sleep anymore, dipping his chin down to press his lips against your forehead. Even after I cut her out. 

He kissed you again, his lips finding the corner of your eyebrow next, not stopping even as he felt your breathing change, or the movement of your arm as it slid from his waist to his chest. You hummed as he dragged his bearded cheek over your smooth, warm skin, the arm he had around you tightening. The chasm seemed to close just a few degrees as your fingers splayed over his racing heart. Still got a long way to go, but… He thought about all he still had to tell you, but only briefly, preferring, just for now, to think about what you could tell him. Fill in those years. Reaching for your face with his free hand, he pulled you close enough to match your lips with his. You responded almost instantly, kissing him back the second that you recovered from the gasp he’d drawn, which in turn caused his lips to curve upwards. Pulling back, he watched a dizzy smile pull at your mouth. 

You settled back against him as he resumed the gentle touch he’d been trailing up and down your side while you slept, your fingers mirroring the motion where they skated over some of the small scars that dotted his bicep. “You’ve been awake a while, Billy.” 

It wasn’t a question. I have. “Yeah.” His fingers froze midway up your rib cage, but resumed as he felt your lips find a home near his collarbone.  

“Is everything… are you... “ Your voice wavered the tiniest amount, your forehead wrinkling, the stippled scar at the corner of your eye pinching and going pale.  

Tilting your chin back up towards his face, he cut you off, his hand circling around to cup your cheek, thumb finding your scar to smooth your worry away. “Hey,” Billy spoke your name, brushing hair away from your eyes with his pinky finger. “I’m right where I wanna be, okay?” He kissed your forehead again, then felt you nod. “I promise.” Billy had the odd sensation of feeling the weight of the word for perhaps the first time in his life without looking for a way to lessen it. “I was just… I was…” He sighed. “I wanted to…” You prompted him, whispering his name, and he cleared his throat and continued, tongue flicking out to lick at his suddenly dry lips. “I wanted to remember everythin’ about this morning… about you. There’s still…” Still so much you don’t know, still so much that could go wrong and I... 

“Billy.” You said his name a little louder this time, raising your hand from his arm up to rest against his cheek. He went silent, eyes searching your face as your pointer finger followed the sickle shaped scar beneath his eye. That’s… The way it felt when you touched him like that made it hard to believe that he had been hesitant to let you. Your hand slipped around to the back of his neck and you gently pulled him down into a kiss, stopping just before your lips met his. “I won’t let you forget. I promise.” You closed the distance, but didn’t linger, instead slipping out from under him as you pulled away. Hey, where are… You smiled as you stood, letting the sheet fall away from your body as he tried to grab for your hand. “I’m gonna go shower, then we should get some coffee and,” your smile twitched, just a flinch of a nerve, but he noticed the way it narrowed your left eye a fraction more than the right. “And we’ll keep talking. I’m sure there’s more you…” You dropped your chin as you cleared your throat, but brought your smile back to him before he could question it. “There’s still a lot to cover. But Billy?” 

He swallowed, half stunned by your form standing naked in the sunlight. “Yeah?” 

“We’ve got time now, so much time… we’ll get there, I promise that too.” 

“Yeah,” he felt a warm flood in his chest, stronger than ever before. “Yeah, we will.” Together. He watched you walk away, the letters and postcards on the board fluttering in your wake. He waited for the sound of water rushing through shuddering pipes before taking a deep breath and sitting up in your bed. 

One step at a time, he’d fill that chasm. 

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