#knowing someone was planning on turning the babies into warriors is definitely going to hit something in him

[turrondeluxe]

Ok so, I haven't read the ronin comics (I am planning to at some point) but right now, I'm learning (read: spoiling myself) on what characters do with ur au (instead of going to the fandom wiki, like a normal person [ur au is *my* cannon])

What is Miguel's reaction to how the tots were and why they were created? Can't imagine he'd be happy. Obviously, he'd be angry.

So angry that if this was the DC universe, I'm sure he'd get a Red Ring he's that angry.

honestly I think he'd be angry too.

[bokettochild]

About Legend having insane leg strenght: what if the reason he never brags about that is because he's embarassed about it? He thinks that pulverizing a boulder with a kick is either something everyone can do or too similar to a bunny. One day he and Four get dumped into a monster camp without their items or weapons and Legend takes desperate measures to ensure they don't die: anihilating the entire camp with only his legs. He is unironically and literally capable of killing someone with his /1

This ask references this post btw, so, check it out if you need context!

Honestly, I loved this so much! THANK YOU!!! But I am half asleep, so the cool stuff I saw in my head is being stinky and not comng out. I'm sorry, hope you like my half-asleep drabbl of Legend being weak as shit while simultaneously having the strongest kick out of the whole Chain XD

Legend hates being at Ordon.

It’s not that he hates the people; he’s used to country folk, he was raised around them, heck, his grandparents have the same strong twang in their voices that everyone in Twi’s village does! He loves the fresh air and the sounds of animals and the sight of growing things everywhere he looks.

But he hates looking around and seeing Twilight’s entire village (even the freaking kids!) wander around lifting things that probably equal his entire body weight!

Seriously, Malo (that was the terrifying toddler’s name, right? That’s what Twilight said when he introduced them all, right?) could lift up a small goat with ease, and he was an actual toddler!

What was Uli feeding her children that they turned out this strong? Were all the village women using it? How on earth was every person in all of Ordon fully capable of throwing Legend over their shoulder?

It hadn’t happened yet, but Legend was on guard because it was only so much time before someone figured out it was possible, and it wasn’t as if he could fight them off.

He wasn’t jealous, definitely not. Not even when he saw Twilight carrying a mother goat across the village with an easy stride as he brought the nanny back to her pen. When he buried his face in his arms and sighed it wasn’t because he was remembering how much he had to tug and pull to move a basket of apples, no, it was just because the mere thought of carrying goats for the foreseeable future made him tired. Definitely.

But this strength was just an Ordon thing, right? It was totally just something that was common in Ordon, and Legend took comfort in that as he sat on the front porch of Uli and Rusl’s house and helped with the mending.

Even their blankets were heavy, what the heck?

But then Sky walked past.

And Sky was carrying a barrel, an entire barrel. One that swished and clunked with the sounds of grain filling it, and if the small trail of spilled seed that followed after the hero meant anything, then that thing was full.

Okay, so Skyloftians were strong too, no big deal.

Big deal.

Their entire visit to Ordon, helping to hide away animals and supplies before a local monster band stole them, was spent with Legend trying desperately to not be jealous as he watched everyone from Wind to Time lift and carry things that he couldn’t even knock over if he pushed against them.

It wasn’t even that most of thing things were heavy, it was just... he was weak.

Uli’s gaze when she’d figured out the truth had been surprised, eyes blown wide with shock as she watched as Legend, who’d opted to help indoors since he knew working outside would lead to him being more a burden than an aid, struggled to lift buckets of water to fill the wash basin. Dark brown eyes had followed him as he’s left the bucket outdoors and stomped inside, hissing and wheezing under his breath as he moved his attention to his bag and grabbed one of his power bracelets.

“Hun,” Uli’s soft country twang caught his attention as the woman drew close, concern filling her warm gaze. “Are ya’ feelin’ alright?”

And reputation or no, Legend’s Gran would have his hide on a hitching-post if he even so much as dropped his manners. There was something about country folk that was so inherently polite and welcoming, that even the salty vet couldn’t help but return with the same manners that his Gran had pounded into his head since childhood.

“Yes, ma’am.” Crimson trailed up his neck to blossom across his cheeks and shoot up his ears. He tried to ignore that Uli had a baby on one hip and a bushel of food on the other, breath contained and relaxes as she stood there, no hint of strain in her face or body language. His fingers trailed along the clasp of his power bracelet, shame building inside as he shuffled his feet.

You just can’t walk away when lady’s talking to you, especially if she’s being all polite like and just makin’ sure you’re okay.

“Are you injured?” The farm-wife pressed. “You were huffy something huge with that there bucket.”

And Legend would like nothing more than to sink into the earth as he glances over the full bucket of water that no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t lift. “I’m just not much of a farm-hand is all, ma’am. I’ll be right as rain in a tick, just needed to grab something I forgot.”

And while the look Uli gives him is a bright smile, he knows worry when he sees it peeking out of someone’s gaze. He tries to ignore that, instead turning back to the chores he’d been assigned and trying his hardest to ignore ethe fact that no one else was wearing power bracelets when they all came back for dinner that evening.

He’s not strong. So what? He can lift his sword well enough, and he can do most other things too when he wears the power bracelets.

Yes, he knows that Ravio warned him about not developing muscles if he relied on objects so much, but he’s never had time to work out or build any muscle mass, so when he needs it it’s a bit more important to just get his work done rather than hope he’ll develop it. He’s paying for that, and he knows it, but he can’t really help that he doesn’t have the time or space to really do anything about it.

Oh well, at least the others haven’t caught on.

Warriors hefts a huge rock over his shoulder and throws it, chuckling deep and loud as he smirks at the rancher. “Beat that!”

They’re clearing a road where an avalanche swept through and blocked off the main entrance to a local town. They’ve been at it for hours, and while Legend tries his hardest to be discreet by sticking to things he can actually lift, even if it does require his bracelets, the others have devolved into a contest to see who can throw stuff the furthest.

There’s nothing on the other side of the road except for the edge of a swamp, and even Legend has to admit that it’s ridiculously satisfying to hear each of the heavy stones go ‘plop’ as they land in the marsh.

Twilight smirks at the captain, all his sharp teeth on display as he hefts a rock that’s the size of Wild and easily bigger than half of the rest of the heroes. “Watch and learn, city boy.” Twilight grunts (well at least it took some effort) before throwing the boulder and watching with the rest of them as it soars through the air and lands with a dramatic ‘splosh’ in the middle of the swamp. Cheers erupt from the younger heroes, and a few even drop their own burdens to give a brief round of applause.

Warriors humphs shrewdly, gaze thin as he looks over at Twi, who only cocks a brow in challenge. “Anyone think they can beat that?”

Legend finds his gaze meeting Four’s swirling hazel, and they both quickly look away from the captain, both well aware that the biggest rocks they’ve lifted are maybe the sizes of their heads, and no where near the horrific loads that the taller heroes are tossing left and right.

“I’ll try!” Wild’s eyes are flashing as the kid clambers over the rock slide, eyes darting to and fro until they land on what has to be the biggest, most horrifically sized piece of rubble Legend has ever seen. The Champion beams, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles briefly before taking the stone in both hands and lifting it over his head and throwing it.

The swam erupts in goop and several of their group yelp and have to dark back as smelly water sprinkles the edge of the path. Wild beams down from his perch on top of the pile, hands on his hips as he looks down at them. “Who dares challenge my strength?”

“How about you, Vet?” Warriors nudges him lightly, chuckling with a cocked brow. The man is just teasing, and he doesn’t mean any harm, but Legend finds himself irritated anyways. He doesn’t know what it is about Warriors, but the man gets under his skin entirely too easily.

“No thanks.” He grunts, hefting his own stone (so small in comparison) a bit higher and adjusting his grip as he walks over to the swamp.

Wild scrabbles around above, knocking stones aside and sending them rolling down towards the vet. Legend rolls his eyes, dodging quickly around a few and kicking some of the larger ones in the direction of the swamp.

He smiles to himself at the satisfying ‘plonk’ as each one hits the surface.

Four’s head aches and the next time they see Warriors they’re going to kick him in the shins.

The captain is good at planning, usually, but if his planning means that Four is waking up to stare around a vast room where people in red and black PJ suits are eating bananas because said plan went wrong, then they think they’re a bit justified in wanting to kick the captain.

They’d reach to rub their head, to adjust the headband that’s riding too low and letting their hair all hang in their eyes, but their hands are bound behind them, and they’re left huffing their breath and scrunching their nose in an effort to relive their irritation. Their mind is too wild to shake their head, but they let their eyes wander.

Legend’s violet gaze meets theirs, sharp fury bubbling below the surface as Legend sits across from them, hands bound behind him, a rope leading from his wrists to a hook in the wall that is definitely higher than either of the two of them can reach.

As unkind as it is, they breathe a sigh of relief to know they aren’t alone (even if being four people in one body technically means that they’re never alone as is). It’s...nice, having Legend around. They don’t know what it is, but the taller boy feels safe and that’s something that they, especially Red, fond comfort in.

But the fact that two of them are here means that Wars is getting both his shins kicked, fair is fair.

Legend squeaks in that harsh way he does when he’s angry, a poor and rather adorable attempt at a growl, but apparently, he’s unable to make any sort of guttural noise, so the squeak is the best he can do. “I am going to strangle Wars when we get back. Yiga? Seriously?”

They raise a brow. “Weren’t we fighting moblins?”

“And a Talus. Unless these guys have transformative rings, then someone messed up.” The vet grates out, but before he can try and unravel their situation any more, a masked face is shoved into the vets own, one of the pajama clad banana eater’s apparently trying to leer over the vet, breath strong and rank even behind his mask.

“So! The friends of the hero awake! You will call me Astorah! Leader of the Yiga and supreme priestess to Lord Ganon!”

“I’ll call you annoying and maybe alive if you let us go.” legend drawls, unimpressed. “Seriously lady, get your face of mine or I’ll knock it in.”

They smirk. Legend is as polite and well-mannered as can be around the country villages, but the minute he’s away from thick mountain drawls and country twang, the Vet becomes a sour and salty speaker who’s as likely to threaten you as o smile at you. It would almost be funny if they weren’t being held captive.

Astorah makes an indignant sound, hand shooting out to smack Legend across the face. The vet can’t do anything to stop it, and the blow sends his head swinging to the side, a faint grunt escaping as the self-declared priestess stands to her full height (she’s taller than either of them at any rate) and promptly orders her subordinates to see to it that the prisoners be brought to ‘the mountain’.

“The hero will be looking for his friends,” The pajama clad leader declares excitedly, hands rubbing together like a villain in a bad stage play. “So, let's help him out, shall we?”

The vet and smithy exchange a glance, each somewhat surprised at how... pathetic their opponent seems to be.

“Their screams should do the trick; all heroes listen to cries of help after all.” There’s a mad waver in her voice and the pitching is all wrong.

She’s delusional. Vio whispers, and the rest of them are inclined to agree.

Across from them, legend scowls as another red and black clad weirdo comes to grasp his binds, unhooking them from above as yet another does the same to Four.

Ideally, they would try and escape now, but legend only follows along slowly as Astorah leads them through the endless halls and up step after step, murmuring, laughing and shrieking loudly as she goes, hands fluttering and gestures erratic as Legend’s scowl grows more and more each minute.

It all seems rather pathetic, all thing considered, until another, larger, more intimidating individual stops them, voice harsh as it grates out something in a language neither hero can understand. Astorah protests and shrieks at the figure, but they disregard her and instead turn to the heroes.

“Put them back, screams echo within a cave far better than on a mountain top.”

Four’s stomach sinks. Being outside means being closer to escape, means finding the others easier and kicking Wars for landing the in a battle where two of their own had been captured by the enemy.

Legend seems to be of the same idea, his eyes flashing as he pulls at his bonds, tugging away from the guard holding onto him.

The oddly garbed enemy slaps him again, but Legend doesn’t seem to be affected, only pushing harder and biting towards the next hand that swings his way. Astorah pulls away with a light sob, shrieking when Legend’s teeth keep hold of her hand while the enemies around them erupt into action.

Fours unsure of what happens next, their head is still spinning, and quite honestly, they’re sure Hyrule will declare him concussed when they get back, but he does see blows being thrown Legend's way, blades being drawn as shouts echo around them.

There’s a dark of movement, and one of the enemies falls. Four stares in shock for half of a moment before turning their gaze to Legend, who, for all intents and purposes, looks half feral.

Blood stains the Vet’s bucked teeth and his hair swirls as he spins and ducks beneath blows. His hands are still bound tightly behind him, a rope trailing on the ground as Legend evades contact, yet somehow still manages to down another enemy.

Four would try and help, but their mind is spinning, their brain not yet up to date with what their eyes are seeing, that and they’re still bound themself, their arms are fastened behind them and they’re not even sure how Legend is managing to get blows in.

And the he sees.

The vet’s boot swings up to make contact with one of the jaws of the enemy.

Yiga. Wild had told them about them, the Yiga clan, people out for the hero’s blood. The word only comes to mind now, but they’d had to tune out of the battle for a brief moment to remember it. They’re brought back to it as the sound of an agonized scream breaks through the air, accompanied by the harsh snapping sound that Four knows too well from having broken their own bones.

Legend fights with his hands behind his back, kicking out like an angered horse and injuring any who step near. It’s impressive honestly, watching how blood spurts and bones crumple from the force of the vet’s blows, and all that without having use of his hands.

The Yiga back away, eventually leaving the room entirely as Legend squeaks out an angry Legend sound after them, before turning his attention to Four. Four says nothing, and it appear Legend thinks that that’s okay, because he darts towards the door they had been headed too, leading Four with nervous glances being thrown back over his shoulder every few minutes.

The mountain top they emerge onto is higher than Four expected, and they want nothing more than to snuggle down in the cozy parka Legend once leant him, but they have none of their items, and they’re lucky to even be out in one piece.

It takes a lot of work to climb down a mountain with their hands tied, but their fingers are too cold to make any good of the knots, and they manage in the end to climb down. They’re in the last legs when Four notices what looks like a small group of travelers below, and they can almost hear the singing of the Four Sword from them.

They’d dropped their blade in their battle, the very reason they were caught in the first blade. They’re not happy someone else touched it, but they are glad they didn’t leave it behind.

“Four,” Legend’s voice breaks them from their thoughts, and as they turn to face him, they find that Legend’s face is flushed, ears twitching nervously as he avoids their gaze. “Could you...not tell the others about all that?”

“About what?” They clamber down another stone, Legend still within sight as he trails down beside them.

“The...kicking.” Legend flushes. “I know you guys- most of them anyway- could have it handled better. I just, Wars is bad enough as is, I don’t need him bring up my lack of strength next time he decides he needs ammo to mess with me.” There’s a scowl on the vets features as he hops down and across and small hold in the mountain side. “I get it, I’m weak in comparison, they could probably have beheaded those guys with their bare hands, but mine fingers are shit o a good day and-”

Four doesn’t know if they actually figure something out or randomly spew words, but Legend’s eyes turn to them in surprise when the smithy stares down at him. “You do know most Hylia’s can’t do anything by kicking each other, right? I’m planning on kicking Wars when we get back, and the most it’ll do is bruise him.” Their voice is flat, but they let Viol take over, he always had the best endurance out of them when it came to rocky places anyways. “You kicked a man’s ribs in, Legend.”

And it’s not funny, it really isn’t, but they giggle, watching as Legend flushes before their eyes, and when the others trail up towards them, gazes curious and concerned, Four is laughing hysterically.

It could be the head wound, it could be Legend’s face, but the thought that Legend was able to kick a man's ribs in and hadn’t done so to any of them yet was both surprising and highly relieving for whatever reason, and it’s hilarious listening to Legend try and explain himself as the vet protests and struggles against the fact that apparently Hylian’s don’t usually have enough leg strength to kill people with.

Yes, people died back there. Yes, Four just watched them die. Maybe it’s Shadow’s influence, but Four can’t find that they're overly bothered. They are tired and injured and cold, and if they can laugh about something as ridiculous as Legend’s strange strength imbalance, then Hylia danggit they’re going to!

They never do kick Wars’ shins in, they giggle to hard at the thought that Legend doing so could actually break them, so they topple over before they can lift their feet.

[chocolate-parfait]

I adore your writing so I was wondering if I could get headcanons for some Ikesen boys (Mitsuhide, Kenshin, and Nobunaga)?

When MC first comes through the wormhole she doesn’t have her son with her and her entire stay is her stressing about it since he is only 5 years old so as soon as the wormhole opens she’s gone before they even blink. They don’t expect her to come back but she does! and with her son this time!

Thank you so much bub! I missed writing for ikesen and honestly, I’m a sucker for anything involving parenting :) Thanks for requesting!

Also I,,, I really went all out for Nobunaga huh

Mc coming back with her son - ikesen headcanons (Mitsuhide, Kenshin & Nobunaga)

words: 2.9k / tw: mentions of injuries and violent behavior / female mc

Mitsuhide

How could possibly someone as clumsy as his little mouse be a mother? Jokingly, he asks you whether it was you taking care of your son or the other way round. He teases you a bit, only enough to gain some strands of information here and there; he may find the excuse that, as the man in charge of security and secrets, that was only part of his job, when in truth he’s actually worried about you. He gathers that your child isn’t with you, and this only serves to fuel his curiosity and worry even more. Nonetheless, he doesn’t pry. You must have your own reasons and secrets, and for once, he's willing to leave you to them.

Once he notices your feelings for him, he becomes sure of the fact that, whether you had a husband or not, he definitely owned your heart no longer. He’s acting more confidently and boldly than before, adding more intensity to his innuendos and subtle flirting. Then, you tell him you’re from the future and you get closer, spending the days basking in each other’s company and usual teasing banters.

...but, oh boy, before he even knows it you’re disappearing in the thickness of the fog and coldness of the rain. If the wormhole had opened when Sasuke had predicted, then you probably would have told him about your plans. You needed more time to mentally prepare yourself, but when Mother Nature decides to open her time-traveling black holes, it's not your choice to make. Mitsuhide will be okay, probably... or at least, you hope so. ok but boy teased you too much, this is his payback

After you're gone Mitsuhide needs a couple of seconds to register what had just happened. In truth, he expected it, kinda (or at least, that’s what he wants to believe), and although it hurts, he’s not one to complain. First off, it could have never worked between you two. He’s... he’s quite the despicable guy, with tons of enemies and secrets. No one in their right mind would want to stay with him for more than 2 minutes, but he had never really cared. Until you came along. And how could he even wish to hold the first place in a mother’s heart? It went without saying that your son was your top priority, and it was fine, it was bound to be that way.

He puts on his habitual facade and moves on with his day, but don’t be fooled; he has no intention of ever forgetting you nor he's completely at peace on the inside. He feels a stinging pain buried deep underneath the arid soil of his heart. The heart wishes what the heart desires, and even when one has resigned to keep a distance from everything it longs for, the pain persists, and it's probably ten times even harsher in the melancholy of it all.

(Hideyoshi obviously catches up on his act, and almost headbutts him out of exasperation when he sees he’s not letting out even the tiniest of sighs)

The days pass by, and Mitsuhide is sure you won’t be coming back. But you do. Once more you catch him by surprise, you destroy his expectations and act outside of the box. And when you finally face him for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, your son by the hand and a wide smile on your face, he stares at you bewildered, wide eyes and an unusual expression of genuine surprise on his features.

“You... you’re really something, little mouse” It’s all he says before striding over to you and hugging you to his chest. His words may conceal them, but you can feel his true feelings in the tightness of his embrace, the thunderous pace of his heartbeat, and the barely noticeable shaking of his sigh.

Maybe he can let himself feel some happiness, after all? Surely, he will have to work extremely hard to protect it, to destroy anyone who might try to bring harm over you, but Mitsuhide is a man of many ways, and he knows how to reach his goal.

Weirdly enough, your child quickly grows fond of Mitsuhide, and it's not long before he starts calling him “Papa”. He's always staring in awe at whatever he does, even the tiniest of tricks will make him giggle excitedly with surprise. On the other hand, your lover is unsurprisingly good with kids. Probably because they're so easy to please and to fool with lies (like a certain someone). He could tell the little boy that you're the Moon princess and the courageous Mitsuhide saved you by a sea of horned monsters, and he would totally believe him without even questioning it first. Maybe it's a family trait?

He does not expect to find himself with a family out of the blue, but by the fond look of his golden orbs, you can tell he's grateful for it. Whenever he kisses you goodbye before going to work in the morning or ruffles your son's hair with playful tenderness, you know it's a silent vow, renewed each time. He's going to do everything in his power to assure your happiness. You've given him a warm place to return to, a spot in the light, love, and gratefulness; protecting it all is the least he could do to return such blessing.

Kenshin

You tell him about the wormhole, about the rain and the lightning, about why you have to go back. Kenshin may have been on his way to healing, but when he hears of your son he recesses 10 steps back. The dark part of himself he was trying so hard to chase away pushes towards him feelings of jealousy and anger (you had, after all, loved another man and bore his child; moreover this man was not by your and your son’s side for whichever reason, leaving you both alone), but the other half of his heart, which loved you so dearly, could not tolerate depriving you of your son.

He’s afraid of you leaving him forever, no matter how much you tell him you’ll definitely come back. He wants to trust you just as much as you trust him, but once more his darkness haunts him and clashes with his sober side. He could lock you up forever or he could let you go, you’d be safer and happier without him. Maybe you will actually come back, or maybe you will forget about him as soon as you step back to your time.

This whole issue causes him to isolate himself from everything and everyone. He needs time to think and come to terms with his feelings, but he’s oh so aware of the quick passing of time. Soon, he’ll have to make a decision that will impact his whole life forever, and yet he can’t really seem to find a proper solution. Not alone, at least.

Stay by his side, patiently put up with his negative thoughts, and comfort his fears away. Promise him over and over again that you will come back, that you wouldn’t forget him for anything in the world. Eventually, he’ll be able to convince himself and fully abandon himself to his trust for you.

When the fateful day comes, he does not expect you to slip away from his arms in the blink of an eye. Your warmth disappears and the cold air hits him with the full realization of what had happened. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his pounding heart down. All he can do is wait. It might take you days, months, or even years, but he’s willing to wait.

During your absence he drowns his loneliness in sake, he fills the vacant spot in his arms with the white bunnies you used to found so adorable and occupies his time with sparring matches. Then, one day, coming back to his room from a council, he slides the door open and he’s met with two identical pairs of eyes staring at him.

One can only imagine the plethora of emotions hitting him all at once. Before you know it he’s throwing himself to you with the speed of an expert warrior. He hugs you so tightly you can barely breathe, reluctantly letting you go only to get a look at the face he had so longed to see, pressing a deep kiss on your forehead. What stops him from ravaging your lips with even stronger passion is the child’s presence. Maybe it’s better to keep some things for later, you tell him, and he accepts with the cutest of pouts gracing his delicate features.

For some time he’ll be the clingiest he has ever been, though he doesn’t forget your son, whom he now considers as his own. You two look very much alike, and knowing how much you cherish him, he quickly becomes fond of him, too. They spend a lot of time together, forming a bond pretty quickly. Kenshin teaches him all there is to know about the samurai world and the way of the sword (not that he has any intention of throwing him in a battlefield, yet. He’ll let your son accompany him to war only when, as an adult, he’ll be wholly aware of the dangers he’s going to face). Oftentimes you can see them sparring together in the practice room, a rare and soft gaze blessing your lover’s eyes.

Now that both of you are with him, he knows better than to let his fears win him once more, for thus he knows you won’t leave him again. He confesses to you his deepest feelings and thoughts on this matter during quiet, tender moments of intimacy. Maybe one night you're sharing a drink with him while gazing at the night sky from his room; there, he’ll turn his mismatched irises on yours, cup your cheek with his strong hand and tell you, with the most love-dripping tone you had ever heard come out from his mouth: “Thank you for coming back to me, my love. I swear I won’t let you face any danger as long as you two are by my side.”

Nobunaga

So his favorite fireball has a baby fireball? What a surprise, indeed. It's only a single piece of information, and yet it brings to his mind so many possibilities that he can't help but fall deep in thought. Do you have a husband, then? Did he perhaps leave you? If so, how did you manage to take care of your son? He knew life wasn’t easy for a repudiated woman, and one could see it with their own two eyes just by taking a stroll in the poorer neighborhoods of the city. (well, that was something he was trying to change)

Then, he asks himself whether the night of the fire you had been so reluctant to go with him because of your motherly duties. You could have just said so earlier, he would have taken your son to the castle, too. Quickly, you add more interesting details to your story, telling him of the wormhole, your time-travel adventure, and the future.

He half-forces you to make THE bet, the one you cannot ignore, with the added risk that if you lose, you won't be able to see your son ever again. Pretty cruel, right? In your eyes, it might seem so, but truthfully, he's going to let you go at the end of the month, independently from whether you win or lose; he just thinks it'd be spicier to not let you know this very important detail. 

What our grand lord does not expect, is to be hit by Cupid's arrow and cursed with the love of a lifetime. His feelings are so strong he has to stop himself multiple times from directly confessing to you. He blames all the flirting, the sensual touches, the longing kisses, and his affectionate gaze on the bet. You are nothing more than a physical distraction, he can’t let himself love you, and you don’t love him. This way, you'll be able to go back without regrets and doubts. He won't let you, his soulmate, suffer over such a heart-wrenching decision.

Such a prideful and haughty man lowering himself to such tricks only to keep the smile on a woman's face. Pretty ironic, isn't it? Unfortunately for him, anyone can guess the contents of the Demon King's heart, and you are no exception. If you had solemnly promised your return, he would have believed you, that is the type of man he is, but Fate acts before you can take action, and anticipates your departure to the most unexpected of times.

So in the end, you truly did leave him. His beloved fireball, vanished in the same way she had appeared, like a bolt from the blue. He's going to miss you so dearly, and his loneliness will surely take away his sleep at night, but there are still so many things for him to do. You will probably have your fair share, too, though he's sure you'll manage. If it wasn't for his obstination and pride then maybe he would have the humility to deny the same for himself. Maybe one day your path will cross his once again, but who knows, maybe by that time he will have already conquered the whole land, maybe a lethal blow will have taken his life, maybe he'll see you on his last, dying breath. Anyhow, he's going to wait. Patiently and calmly, and he promises himself that were you to return by his side, he won't be denying his love any longer.

It's almost been a year from your departure, and now the snow is slowly falling once more to cover the roofs under its soft embrace. Nobunaga is sitting on the balcony of his tenshu, looking at the city yet bustling with life even in the frigid cold. Just like Azuchi, he hasn't changed much. A couple more scars have appeared somewhere on his body, and the skin just under his eyes has gotten a little darker, but his heart is forever the same. With his thicker haori shielding his lower body from most of the cold air, he brings the red cup of warm sake to his lips, mind wandering to the same, old thoughts of you. Suddenly, his vision turns dark. A pair of warm hands are covering his vision, but before he can reach for his sword, your voice tickles his ear in a low whisper. “Guess who?”

Turning to face you, as a hand rapidly flies to cover his ear from the sudden attack, he quietly basks in the view of your smiling face before slowly erupting in a loud laugh. What an unpredictable one he has fallen for! He must be equally as foolish if he let someone sneak over to him as he was thinking about you.

He takes you in hir arms and keeps you there, where you naturally belong while pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Your smell, your softness, your body that fit with his like a sword and its sheath. “Welcome back, fireball” With you by his side, everything will be completely different than before. No more sleepless nights or lonely sighs; now he'd have a companion by his side at all times. Sometimes even two.

Nobunaga does not exactly care about the fact that your son is, genetically, not his. Blood is only important to the fools that only view you as an heir-making machine, but he values bonds and the singular individual way more. If he had prioritized family over what was important to him, he would've been killed by his brothers years ago, but it did not happen. What I'm trying to say is that he becomes the fatherly figure your son needs, and he treats him no differently than he would with his biological son. Although yes, he would like to, one day, have another little demon (or a baby angel, depending on whose genes are stronger) running around the castle, to him, yours is already the perfect family.

Nobunaga passes down his views (he doesn't force them, it's more like when a parent explains something to his baby and the baby absorbs everything) onto your child, and makes sure he receives an education fitting for a noble of those times (an open-minded one, possibly). Since he views him as his biological son, once he grows up it will be up to him whether to help his father unifying the country and then, eventually inheriting and ruling everything one day. Growing up in those times though will probably make him accustomed to the idea of fighting even at a young age, so unless you're strictly against it, there will be high chances of him becoming a samurai and following in your lover’s footsteps.

Leaving the gruesome matters aside, Nobu and his son are one hell of a pair of troublemakers! Buy some throat syrup because Hideyoshi will be screaming his lungs out. The man lectures your husband and your own son twice the times you do, either because of their sugar consumptions, their life-threatening activities such as running in the halls, or just general shenanigans. They're quite the headaches, frankly. One of their favorite and safe (because Nobu is there) activities to do together, is going horseriding. The demon commander will sit the boy between his arms and let his horse run at full speed. By the time they come back, the wind will have made a mess of their clothes and hair, but both will have the biggest and purest of smiles on their faces.

(Additionally, for all of them: if they ever catch anyone talking shit about either you or your son, they won't hesitate to slice them up with their swords on the spot.)

[cdelphiki]

She couldn’t do this.

Damian. Her precious little Damian. The baby with a beautiful smile. Infectious laugh. Adorable babble. Who so sweetly, so gently, pet any stray cat that sat still long enough for him to ‘catch.’ Who hugged anyone that cared for him, and even the random servants who lingered long enough.

That baby. Her baby.

Watching him, at 18-months-old, be taught how to wield a sword. Watching as the trainer smacked his hands, his side, his face, every time he wobbled, or lost interest, or got confused.

Hearing his cry, and seeing his pleading eyes, whenever it happened.

Seeing him look at her, and call for her, then get distraught because she did nothing.

She just stood there.

Next to her father.

And watched.

There was nothing more she could do. Going against her father would only bring more harm on her son. It would only risk Father taking Damian from her entirely.

But she couldn’t do this.

It felt like her heart was being ripped out of her body.

Someone was inside her, with red hot claws, scratching away. Destroying everything. Killing her.

Her stomach was filling with vile acid, and just one move, one word, and it might come up.

Weakness, her father would say.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Perhaps that is why he ordered her presence, for this training session.

She’d hardly been allowed time with her son. Not in nearly a year had she been granted daily visits with him.

Her father had been disappointed in how attached she’d been becoming.

‘He is to be a warrior,’ Father had said, ‘worthy of his station. He cannot become the Demon’s head if he is soft.’

Perhaps it was then she should have done something.

Said something.

But instead, she just bowed her head and followed orders.

Like a good daughter would do.

What use was that now?

Damian whimpered again, as his trainer smacked him on the back with the flat of his blade. He’d started slouching. They were working on form.

Talia resisted closing her eyes. She knew, she knew if she did, she would not be able to stop the tears that followed.

She had to remain strong. Stable. Unaffected….

Unaffected in her father’s eyes, at least.

When she’d lied to Bruce, when she’d told him she’d miscarried…. What was she thinking?

She- she hadn’t wanted to betray her father. Hadn’t wanted to betray the League. This was her life. She’d been raised in this, she owed everything she had. Her training. Her wealth. Her skills. Everything to her father.

But-

But what did that matter?

Was it worth it? Was her son worth it?

“All done,” Damian pleaded, when he fell over and scraped his hands on the hard cement, “all done all done all done.”

The trainer just stood him back up and handed him the sword again, ignoring his cries.

When Damian looked at her and cried, “Mama,” again, Talia could taste the bile.

How could she have just handed her son over to Ra’s like this? What kind of monster was she?

Her son was crying for her, and she was standing by, watching him be hurt.

All because her father told her to.

The fact that he knew to call her ‘Mama’ was all because she snuck in to see him. Ordered his nursemaids to leave the room. Swore them to secrecy.

Had killed, a few of them…

She’s more than sure Ra’s had noticed, now.

As Talia stood there, watching her son struggle to stop crying and listen to his trainer, Talia made a decision.

Because nearly two years ago, when she’d told Bruce about her ‘miscarriage,’ she’d made a huge mistake.

Her father’s influence was toxic.

This training?

It was hell.

Talia loved what it’d turned her into, she loved her skills and abilities.

But if this was the cost?

This?

Her child?

There was only one place on earth where she’d be safe, where he’d be safe. One person able to offer that protection.

And once Talia told him, she knew he’d move heaven and earth to get them away.

- - -

To say Bruce was suspicious would be an understatement.

Talia had broken ties with him two years prior.

On not-so-friendly terms, at that.

She’d betrayed him. Joined her father, and all but stabbed him in the back in doing so.

He’d loved her.

He really had.

She had been- he thought she was-

They were going to spend their lives together. Raise a child. He thought she was-

But that was over. In the past.

And yet, there she was, staring back at him through a webcam, asking for his help.

Asking for help, after hacking into his computer, in the cave, where his son could enter at any moment.

How on earth was he supposed to explain his past fling with Talia al Ghul to Jason?

“Why should I trust you?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

Because how would he be able to deny her request?

Once upon a time, he would have died for this opportunity. Would have cried, from utter relief, to get her away from the League. To bring her home. Keep her safe.

Yes. She could keep herself safe. Defend herself. Hold her own, against even him, but he could offer his protection of the entire Justice League. If it came down to it.

He’d loved her.

But she’d chosen her father. Chosen a life as an assassin. Rejected him. And it was hard for him to forget that.

“I lied to you,” she said, pulling his attention back to the present, “I lied.”

She said it with such finality, Bruce narrowed his eyes. And just stared.

He was sure she’d lied about many things. Why was this the ‘reason?’ And why would lying be a reason to trust her now?

To give her a chance, now?

“About?” he pressed, ignoring the thought in the back of his head asking whether this was all a distraction so the League could move in on Gotham.

Alarms would be going off, if that were the case. Literal alarms, in the cave.

Besides, the League hadn’t been doing anything in the United States for many months.

They were too busy building up their forces in the Alps. Bruce still had no idea why, but they’d been beefing up their presence there for over a year and a half.

“You know about what,” Talia said, gently. Almost apologetically.

His heart fluttered, a little.

There was one thing. One thing, that had she been lying about, he’s not sure he’d be angry about.

Not right now, at least.

“Bruce,” she pled, “I- I’ve made a mistake.” Her voice cracked, and she rested a hand against the side of her face as she looked off to the side, away from her camera. “Father is so cruel to him, Bruce. I need your help.”

No.

Anger was definitely not the emotion he was feeling. It- it was down there. It was deep, deep down there, and later that night. Or, perhaps, in a few days, he knew he would hit a punching bag until his knuckles were bloody.

But on top? Right now?

On top was hope.

Hope, excitement, and… and utter devastation.

“Him?” Bruce whispered, resisting the urge to rip his mask off and rub at his face. He was on camera, he had to remind himself. He had no idea how many people were watching.

And this could all be one magnificent lie. A trick to get him off balance. So they could strike, while he had his guard down.

While he was yearning for something he’d thought he’d lost, two years prior.

“He’s beautiful, Bruce,” she whispered, her voice catching on the next sentence, “He looks just like you, and I can tell he gets his empathy from you. But,” she paused, a ferocious determination taking over her face. A trait of her’s that had caused Bruce to fall in the first place.

“Father will destroy him if we don’t get him away.”

There would be no ‘ifs.’

If Bruce had ever had a mission that had no option for failure, it was this one.

He didn’t care if Talia changed her mind, ten minutes later. This mission was happening, and he was bringing home what he thought he’d lost.

Bruce has no idea how he got through the following ten minutes, planning out with Talia exactly how and when the pickup would go. Nightwing, Robin and himself would all approach the compound in the batwing, in stealth mode. He’d pulled Clark in on the call, and Superman agreed he would be on standby, watching from afar for anything to go wrong.

If they were spotted, or if the League tried anything, the entire Justice League would respond, if necessary.

Clark promised he’d keep the mission itself classified. No one but the core team would know the details of what they were picking up. The core team being himself, the Flash, and the Bats.

His ears were ringing the entire time, and he felt like an outsider, looking in.

‘He looks just like you,’ Talia had said.

That’s all he could think about.

Bruce had a son.

There-

Was there anything more to say?

He had a son.

“Talia,” he rasped, just before she cut the call with him. After a deep breath, he looked deep into the camera, doing his best to convey his seriousness. His promise, should it be necessary. “If this is a trick.”

With sadness in her eyes, Talia smiled and said, “We will see you tomorrow, Beloved,” and with that, ended the call.

It came as no surprise when, not even a quarter of a second later, the papers on his desk flew up into the air. Each one wafting back down, before Bruce even had the chance to close his eyes and take a breath.

Bringing Clark in on this was necessary.

As much as he hated bringing personal missions to those outside the family, there was no way he could risk this one.

If Talia was telling the truth, and he wasn’t successful on his own. Wasn’t able to take on the entire League while protecting a helpless infant.

Well.

He’d never forgive himself.

Ever.

But none of that meant he had to be happy his best friend was there to witness this.

“Bruce, this is,” Clark started, setting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing, but Bruce cut him off.

“Clark, just,” he said, pulling his mask off so he could finally wipe his eyes. He wasn’t even mortified at the crack in his voice, because there was far too many other things swirling through his head. “Give me a minute.”

He had… so much to do. He hadn’t time for this.

And yet…

It was the only thing he could do.

Closing his eyes, Bruce took a second to recenter himself. Find his strength and embrace his duties. Right now, he needed to be Batman.

But before he was able to complete a single deep breath, he heard from the top of the stairs, “B?”

And everything just became much more complicated.

“Bruce?” Jason asked again, a little hesitantly, as he made his way down the stairs, “Superman? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, reeling it all in and trying his best to blink back the wetness in his eyes. So maybe he wouldn’t have to wipe his face in front of his son.

His… middle son.

Because, Bruce actually had three…

“Is Dick okay?” Jason asked a little more frantically, because despite his best efforts, Bruce sniffed.

“He’s fine,” Clark soothed, squeezing Bruce’s shoulder a little tighter as Jason hurried his way down the stairs, “Nothing is wrong, Jase.”

“Then why is…” Jason said, trailing off when he finally made it to where Bruce was sitting.

They had so much to do. Bruce hadn’t the time for this.

It was time for Batman.

“Suit up,” he told his son, shrugging Clark’s hand off and squaring his shoulders. They had just under three hours before take off, and there was so much to do. “We have a mission.”

- - -

By ‘a mission,’ Bruce meant they were infiltrating the freaking League of Assassins.

Like.

In the middle of the day. Completely randomly.

Well, they were set to leave in three hours, with a 5 hour flight time. And considering the time difference, it would actually be about 4am when they arrived at Nanda Parbat.

So.

Middle of the night, kind of.

Jason was both super excited, and kind of freaked out.

Especially when Bruce called in Dick.

Those two worked together, sure. Sometimes. But it was always so fucking tense, and Jason kind of hated it.

Bruce also always refused to call in Dick for anything. Dick always just kind of, forced himself in on the mission.

But for this?

Whatever the fuck this was?

It had Bruce calling in not only Dick Grayson, but Superman, too.

Because that’s why Superman had been there. He’d already called the guy in.

Whatever was going on, it was huge.

And whatever it was, Jason actually started feeling very nervous. Because Bruce said he had news to share. And he called Alfred down first, before he shared it.

Bruce paced. Back and forth, back and forth. In front of the conference table for two full minutes while the four of them sat there, waiting for him to fucking say something.

“Do you want me?” Clark asked, and was immediately shot down by a glare from Bruce.

Was Bruce dying?

Were they going to the League to steal some pit water??

Because he said he was okay.

Clark said he was okay, and Clark wouldn’t lie about something like that. Right? Jason wouldn’t put it past Bruce at all to be a freaking hypocrite and lie to him so not to make him worry, but not Clark.

He was way too much a boy scout.

Yet, there Bruce was. Pacing back and forth. Freaking out about something.

“B, you’re freaking the kid out,” Dick said, leaning back in his chair, like he was fucking relaxed during this.

Their freaking dad could be dying and he was chill about it.

No wonder his name was Dick.

“I am not,” he protested, but Bruce quit his pacing and sighed, anyway.

“Honestly, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, from where he sat next to Jason, “Whatever it is, I am confident we can handle it.”

“A couple years ago,” Bruce started, pausing to sigh again before he turned his back to them, but continued, “I got… involved… with Talia al Ghul.”

“Gross. I knew it,” Dick said, pulling a face for Jason to see.

“From the League of Assassins,” Jason said, just to clarify.

So… were they staging this mission so Bruce could go…

Ew.

Gross.

Disgusting.

Jason hated his mind for putting that picture in his head.

“Yes,” Bruce confirmed, apparently uncaring that he’d just put horrible awful pictures in Jason’s head.

He was thirteen. This was probably child abuse.

“It was serious,” he continued, “We had been… discussing marriage.”

“Oh my,” Alfred said, in as close to a gasp as Jason had ever heard from Alfred.

Jason didn’t blame him. Bruce had never really struck Jason as a ‘serious’ kinda guy.

Not with the ladies, at least.

Mostly because he had a different chick hanging off of him at every party.

“She had been with child,” Bruce finally said, nearly stumbling over his words as he spit the sentence out.

The air in the room seemed to still, and they all stared at Bruce.

Well, all of them, except Clark. Since apparently Clark already knew.

“Why… why,” Dick stammered, then stopped.

Jason didn’t really know what to ask first, either.

But apparently Bruce knew what to answer first.

“She told me she miscarried. She, she told me. I thought-“ with another sigh, Bruce turned back around, finally allowing them to see the exhaustion on his face, as he rubbed at it and sat down at the head of the table.

“I thought she’d miscarried. She dumped me, after that. Refused to leave her father and the League, and sent me home. I- I should have checked up on it. Verified her story, but… I was just so-”

Bruce put his face in his hands, and just sat there, for a very long minute.

Dick, to Jason’s surprise, was the one to break the silence, because neither he nor Alfred seemed to be able to find any words. Jason had never heard Bruce so close to tears, before.

He was kind of scared of getting Bruce to talk more.

And if Bruce was saying what he was saying, well…

Jason really had no words for it.

Batman apparently had a baby.

And they were going to rescue it from the League of Assassins.

That was just…

Wow.

Holy.

Shit.

“So,” Dick said, a small smile tugging on his lips as he did, “is it a boy or a girl?”

- - -

Everything was going smoothly.

They had agreed on a meet-up time eight hours from the end of their call, which meant Talia had most the night to figure out her plan for getting Damian out of his nursery.

In the end, she’d decided on using simple tranquilizer darts.

It was dirty, a completely dishonorable way to fight, but Talia couldn’t find it in herself to care.

The very last thing she needed was for one of the nursemaids to notice her break-in and alert the guards.

She’d packed her bag before heading to Damian’s room, so all she had left to do was grab him before Bruce arrived.

Sneaking into his room was painfully easy, and she only had to sedate one nursemaid, who had already been asleep, anyway.

Honestly. It couldn’t have been easier, and it was putting Talia on edge.

Damian stirred, when she lifted him from the crib, so Talia shoved the pacifier into his mouth she knew he’d been deprived of for eight months at that point.

He’d taken to sucking his thumb, in its stead, and Talia had always hated that about her father’s rules.

Why was it so difficult to indulge her son in one simple comfort.

The pacifier worked like a charm, and Damian latched onto it with one hand as he sucked away, curling into Talia’s hold as she wrapped the cloth around them both, creating a make-shift carrier.

Out of everything, the hardest part was getting him tied to her securely. Because with the pacifier, he was as quiet as a lamb, not making a single peep of protest. She wasn’t even sure if he’d woken enough to see who had been holding him.

After the day he’d had, Talia was grateful he could still find peace in his sleep.

Climbing up to the roofs was a little more difficult. Damian did whine, a little, when she had to press herself up against the wall of the third floor, to hide from a patrolling guard below.

She closed her eyes and held her breath, begging every deity she could think of to keep Damian silent as the guard paused and looked around. After adjusting her grip, so she could hold them both with one hand, she placed her newly free hand on his head and tried to soothe him.

Damian shifted against her, even though he was pinned rather tightly between her and the wall, then stilled. His little pacifier bobbing in and out as he grasped tightly to her blouse.

The guard looked around, up and down the narrow courtyard below where she was climbing, but after a long minute, turned around and continued on with his patrol.

Talia didn’t allow herself a sigh of relief.

With three more moves, Talia reached the edge of the roof and pulled herself up, without scraping Damian against the edge. He didn’t notice in his sleep.

Soon, he’d be able to pass all his nights in such peace.

His days, too.

She had no doubt in her mind that Bruce would offer them the sanctuary they needed, to allow Damian to grow up without fears.

But, if he didn’t, she’d find it anyway.

This child. Her child, would never know the pain he’d experienced that day again.

As silently as she’d been trained, Talia raced across the rooftops to the pickup location. Bruce was promised to be there in two minutes, and she needed to be three buildings over.

“Shh,” she whispered, hugging Damian tightly as she ran. The movement was, apparently, disrupting his sleep, and he’d started to stir, “sleep, my prince.”

“Mama,” he mumbled, snuggling against her.

“Yes,” she choked, preparing to make the last jump to the roof where Bruce was to meet them, “Mama is here, baby.”

She’d given Bruce the coordinates of the highest roof in the complex, in hopes that he could simply swoop in and grab them, not needing to stop or interact with anyone.

He was bringing his team, though. He was bringing Superman.

Talia had never had any sort of admiration for the alien. His technique was abysmal, tending to toss around his unearthly strength, rather than exhibit any skill during his fights.

But knowing that, if it came down to it, she could likely just shout ‘Superman,’ and in an instant he’d be there, ready and able to take Damian to safety… It helped keep her calm.

Father would not be expecting the help of a Kryptonian. Bruce had never been one to ask for help, so it was unlikely Father would have his kryptonite within reach.

The final jump was a little longer than comfortable, and Talia had to land in a roll to avoid injuring herself or falling off completely. She rolled on her back, using her arms to keep Damian from making contact with the roof at all.

Her heart was hammering when she finished the roll on her feet. She had thirty more yards to go, and she’d been at the exact coordinates she’d given Bruce.

Thirty more yards, and one more minute.

Talia shook, as she stood in the exact spot. Damian was fully awake now, and wriggling against the cloth wrapped around him.

“Be still, my dear,” she whispered, hugging him a little tighter as she searched the night sky for any sign of their rescue, “Just a few more moments.”

“Out,” Damian cried, not quite at a normal level, but much louder than Talia felt comfortable with, as he started struggling against her arms, “Down.”

“In a moment,” she whispered desperately. Her arms felt like rubber, as the adrenaline that had kept her running started to ebb.

It was a minute past pickup, and Batman was no where in sight.

If he didn’t show…

Damian whined out again, this time loudly.

“Be patient, my love,” she whispered, now fighting back tears, “Your father is coming for us.”

He had to be.

“Mama,” Damian cried, pulling his pacifier out of his mouth completely to whine at her more efficiently.

She looked around frantically, making sure no guards were near enough to have heard him.

When she didn’t see anyone coming at them, she bounced Damian some and tried to force the pacifier back into his mouth. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she repeated, over and over, really unsure, at this point, if it was for Damian or herself.

Because if Bruce weren’t coming, was any of his team?

Was she just standing on a roof, risking the life of her son for nothing?

Father would not take lightly an attempted defection.

What would he do to Damian?

Probably take him away from her forever. She’d never see him again. Never know the pain he was in. Never be able to hold him, after a hard day, and comfort him. Remind him of her love.

She’d lose him forever, and-

Talia’s knees nearly buckled when, without warning, a jet materialized out of nowhere not ten feet above her.

His technology was amazing. She hadn’t even felt it coming, much less heard it.

And before she even realized it, tears were streaming down her face.

A hatch opened, right on the underside of the jet, and Batman himself leaned out, reaching a hand down to her.

“Talia,” he breathed, shaking his hand, as if desperately begging her to grab it.

She’d never accepted an offered hand so fast in her life.

As he pulled her up into the jet, swiftly and effortlessly, as if it were nothing, Talia felt herself relax. All the adrenaline leave her body entirely as she collapsed right onto the ground of Bruce’s jet.

She didn’t even care who all was there to see.

Because for the first time in her life, Talia felt like she could breathe.

- - -

She hadn’t been lying.

That was the only thing circling through Bruce’s head as he pulled Talia up into the jet, them stopping barely long enough for him to do that before Dick was turning around and racing away.

As far as they could tell, they hadn’t been spotted until they turned off the craft’s cloaking system.

If all went to plan, the League would not be able to respond quickly enough to catch them. Nightwing was supposed to take them on an indirect route back to Gotham, completely in stealth mode.

Ra’s al Ghul could search the skies all night and never find them.

He hoped.

But all that was for Nightwing to worry about. That had been the plan. If Talia was telling the truth, he’d agreed, Bruce could focus on that, while Dick handled keeping them hidden and taking them to safety. Jason could give him backup, if necessary.

Bruce trusted Dick with his life.

And he was so thankful for that, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do much beyond what he was currently doing.

Which was watching as Talia collapsed onto the floor, clumsily freeing a baby from a carrier as she cried into his hair.

“Tal-“ he started, reaching an hand out to her, really unsure about what he was going to do. But he froze, when the baby squirmed and twisted out of the cloth holding him.

Because Talia was right.

He was beautiful.

His bright green eyes were mesmerizing, and Bruce felt his heart seize as the baby looked at him, ever so briefly.

It wasn’t until that very instant did Bruce realize his life had been incomplete.

There had been a piece of him missing, and he hadn’t even realized it.

The baby turned back to his mother and said, “Mama,” reaching up for her face.

“Yes,” Talia sobbed, grabbing his hand and holding it to her cheek, before she wrapped him up into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry,” she said, squeezing him tight, “I’m so sorry.”

Bruce watched helplessly as Talia devolved further and further into incoherence, as she whispered her apologies and proclaimed her love for the very confused looking baby in her arms.

The baby didn’t protest, though. He leaned into her hug and stayed there, like he understood his mother needed a hug back.

How old was he?

If he’d been born on time, by Bruce’s estimations, he’d be about…

Seventeen months old?

Eighteen?

He didn’t know much about baby development, but he did know that it was during the first year they turned from basically babies to tiny, outspoken little people.

How developed was his son? How much had Bruce missed?

Bruce knelt down in front of Talia and sat there, waiting for her to recover.

What she had been through, he had no idea.

It had to have been a lot, for her to reach out and actually ask for help.

She was stubborn, like that. Never asking for help. Never even expecting it.

And her reaction to being pulled into safety, well.

He was afraid to learn what she’d been through.

Jason caught his eye, lingering just on the outskirts of his vision. He looked up and tried to offer a reassuring face, but probably fell flat, because Jason frowned at him. But Jason held a thumbs up at him, both letting him know they’d flown into the clear and Superman had been informed of the successful mission, and asking if Bruce was good.

With a single nod, Bruce thanked him, and turned his attention back to Talia.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking at him, now, but still hugging the baby tightly to her.

“What happened?” he asked, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the baby.

Touch his son.

Bruce had never been one to want to hold babies, usually perfectly content to just observe them, but his arms yearned for the weight of this baby in his arms.

He didn’t even know his name.

“Father,” she said, her voice almost squeaking with the effort.

Bruce hadn’t seen her in two years, and he still wanted to pull her to his side.

Never had he seen her like this.

But he kept his distance. Let her recover on her own. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her, in that moment.

At all.

“Father,” she said again, this time much more confidently, one hand absently combing through the baby’s hair.

The beautiful baby who had twisted in her hold, just enough, to stare at him.

“Started his training.” There was so much pain in her voice, Bruce could only imagine what kind of horrors that meant.

Who trained a baby?

“Bruce,” she choked out, squeezing the baby again, “it was so bad. I- I just stood there and watched. I couldn’t- I couldn’t do anything else. He would have harmed him more. Or taken him from me.”

“What happened,” he repeated, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible.

Any anger he had about whatever ‘training’ implied was being pushed down. Buried deep into the recesses of his brain.

No one needed his anger right now.

When the baby continued to stare at him, Bruce realized he still had his cowl on.

What kind of introduction was this? Being presented to his son as Batman, first.

Hopefully he hadn’t scared the kid too much to want to be held.

Talia started crying again, and shifted so she was sitting criss-cross, the baby still cradled in her arms as she blubbered out, “They hit him so many times, Bruce. I’m so sorry,” and before Bruce could even respond. Could even think of how to respond, she turned her face down to the baby and repeated, “I’m so sorry, Damian. I’m so sorry, my love. I’ll never let- I’ll never-”

But she didn’t complete the sentence, because she’d lost it again, and the baby… Damian?

Damian.

That was the most beautiful name he’d ever heard.

Damian looked very confused and concerned for his mother’s mood.

“He’s safe now,” Bruce tried, scooting over to her side to set a hand on her back, “He’s safe.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, curling further onto Damian.

“Mama,” Damian said again, this time pointing at Bruce when Talia opened her eyes and gave him her attention.

“Yes,” she said, smiling for the first time as she wiped her tears away, “Yes, dear. This is-“ she paused, looking up at Bruce, then said again, “This is Daddy.”

Bruce could cry.

He was not going to cry.

“Do you want to hold him?” Talia asked, apparently seeing the intense desire plastered all over his face.

All Bruce wanted to do was hold him. There was nothing on earth he wanted more.

“May I?” he asked, almost afraid to even try.

What if Damian didn’t like him?

What if he started crying, when Bruce took him?

“He’s your son, Bruce,” Talia said, lifting Damian from her lap and offering him over.

After hesitating for only a second, Bruce reached out and held his hands out to Damian, who looked at him appraisingly, like he were judging Bruce and determining if he was worth his attention.

But then, before Bruce could even hold his breath, Damian leaned toward him, and Bruce could definitely cry.

Because then Damian was in his arms, looking straight into his eyes as he let Bruce hold him close.

And-

And.

Bruce had no thoughts.

“Hi, Damian,” he choked out, trying his hardest not to cry, “I’m- I’m your-“ but he couldn’t get the word out.

Couldn’t get anything else out.

Damian didn’t seem to care, because he smiled at Bruce and said, “Hi,” back.

And Bruce was definitely crying, now.

Just a little.

But he didn’t care.

He didn’t care, because he had the son he thought he’d lost two years ago cradled in his arms, and nothing could ruin the moment.

- - -

Jason was thankful that the jet was large enough he didn’t have to hear Bruce talking to his new baby son.

He honestly had no idea how to feel about all of this.

Bruce had apparently done it with the daughter of one of their most dangerous villains, and he was now probably definitely crying tears of joy while he held the son of said villainous daughter.

But Jason wasn’t jealous.

How could he be?

The baby was just a baby. It’s not like the posed any sort of threat to Jason.

Except.

By… stealing away Bruce’s attention.

Jason was not being jealous of a baby. The baby deserved his dad’s attention. Especially since he had a dad as great as Bruce. Jason would know. He’d been playing the role of dad for him for a year.

Now, though… now he had a real son.

He was not jealous.

“Stop worrying,” Dick said, from where he was flying the jet, sitting in the seat next to Jason.

Jason had taken the spot of co-pilot just because it was the farthest away from Bruce he could be. He wasn’t really helping Nightwing fly.

Mostly because Nightwing didn’t need help flying. He actually had the auto-pilot engaged.

“I’m not worrying.”

“You’re right,” Dick said, laughing a little as he leaned back in his chair, “You’re freaking out.”

Crossing his arms, Jason tried his best to look completely and totally unaffected by everything ever as he said, “Am not.”

Apparently he was unconvincing, because Dick gave him a shit eating grin and ruffled his hair.

Like the asshole he was.

“You’re right. You’re the epitome of calm and collected.”

“Fuck you,” Jason snapped. Dick should mind his own fucking business.

They still weren’t, like, friends or anything, either. Dick had been clear about how happy he was Jason existed. Sure, they’d kind of made up some in recent months. And Dick even offered his blessing for Jason to be Robin, but that didn’t mean they were friends.

Apparently Dick didn’t agree, because he kept being an asshole and talking to him by saying, “Look, this isn’t going to change anything between you and Bruce, okay?”

Through a pout, Jason mumbled, “How would you know?” Bruce getting a son was going to change everything.

“Because this happened to me, remember?”

Jason rolled his eyes. Just because Bruce adopted him didn’t mean Dick knew what it was like to have his adopted dad get a biological child and not need him anymore. If anything, Dick should be freaking out, too, because they were both the adopted kids and the baby was the real son.

Except Dick didn’t live with them, so he wasn’t at risk of being homeless again if Bruce kicked him out. Since, well, Bruce couldn’t kick him out.

Maybe Dick should fuck off and leave him alone.

“Did Bruce adopting you change how he felt about me?” Dick asked, nudging Jason’s arm as he did.

Asshole.

“Fuck you, it’s different,” he snapped. In fact, they all knew Dick was the favorite child between the two of them, so it was completely and totally different.

Maybe Dick should be worrying more. He wasn’t going to be the favorite anymore.

Bruce was so happy about having a biological son he was crying about it.

Bruce had never been that happy about Jason.

“Not really,” Dick said, sighing some, “I thought he was writing me off completely when he adopted you.”

“Bruce never shuts up about you, it’s always ‘Dick this’ and ‘Dick that’ whenever I do anything, so shut up. But we’re both adopted, and that baby over there ain’t.”

Dick cocked a head at him and then let out a huff of a laugh. “Bruce never even told you. Wow.”

“Told me what?” Jason demanded, crossing his arms harder, because he didn’t want to storm off. Mostly because that would mean facing Bruce with his stupid new baby.

“I knew he was terrible with communication, but geez.”

“What, Dickface, just tell me.”

“Jase,” Dick said, offering a softer smile than before, “I’m not adopted. Bruce never adopted me. He was simply my ‘guardian’ until I aged out of the system. He has no legal obligation to me at all, now.”

“He-“ Jason started, because there was no way that was true.

No. Fucking. Way.

Bruce cared about Dick way too much for that to be true.

And why would Bruce adopt him, but not Dick? That also made no sense.

Dick was the favorite.

“You’re lying. He calls you his son all the time.”

“I know,” Dick said softly, still smiling like an asshole, “Because even if he’s never said it, and probably never will say it, he loves me. Just like he loves you.”

“Shut up,” he said, because he couldn’t figure out anything else to say. Obviously he knew Bruce, like, loved him and shit. But they didn’t have to talk about it.

But… Dick was kind of right about one point. He was adopted.

It’s not like Bruce could go back on that.

So kicked out probably wasn’t on the table.

“I promise, Jason, this isn’t going to change anything between you two. So don’t worry too much.”

Jason was stuck trying to come up with something to respond with that was more witty than 'fuck you' when he was startled by Bruce’s footsteps approaching the cockpit.

If Bruce saw him pouting, there was no doubt he’d be able to read Jason as easily as Dick Fucking Grayson had read him, and that would not be good.

He wasn’t ready for that.

“Jason,” Bruce said, sounding like he was smiling wider than Jason had ever seen him smile.

Except.

Maybe.

On his adoption day. When Bruce hugged him and said ,“Welcome to the family, Jaylad,” with his stupid dopey smile…

And… and…

“Dick,” Bruce continued, now inside the cockpit, with the little baby in his arms, “I want you boys to meet your little brother, Damian.”

And maybe…

Maybe Dick was right.

Jason had nothing to worry about.

He’d always wanted a little brother, too.

[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger Part 7 -Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

*****

Azriel fought the urge to fidget, waiting, hidden in the shadows at the back of the room, not all the camp lords were even here yet, but they were still complaining. A clock in the corner struck nine and, almost as one, heads turned to the doorway, to Rhys' form appearing there, right on time. Azriel dispelled the shadows, and almost grinned at the clear surprise of some camp lords, and the outright fear of others, those who'd been toeing the line of outright treason. The moment Rhys stepped into the room, the camp lords stood, some smiled at him, others remained neutral, but there were a few who were glaring at him as if he were the greatest evil they'd ever seen. Rhys waved it all off, taking his seat at the head of the table,

"Sit down, and let's get on with it." Silence still reigned over the table as Azriel stalked across the room to stand behind Rhys, a hand casually resting on Truthteller's hilt at his side. "I believe there are some issues that you wish to discuss," Rhys started, but silenced an overeager lord with a look, "And I will listen, but my decision on matters will be final, is that understood?" He was met by begrudging nods and allowed the first lord to speak, 

"Thank you, High Lord." Good, at least this one hadn't forgotten his manners. Azriel fought the instinct to glare at Ironcrest's camp lord, the arrogant shit that he was, "I do have some concerns about some of your new rules,"

"Laws." Azriel corrected him, "You don't get to belittle laws you don't like."

"My apologies, about your new laws. My daughter, she now has to train with the boys, and wear leathers, I can see them looking at her, and it disgusts me. I have to protect her, but I cannot if you insist that she is trained with the boys." Rhys nodded slowly,

"I understand your concern, but, that is exactly why she should be trained, so that you don't need to protect her all the time. Can she hold her own in a fight?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then you don't need to worry, but I will consider allowing all-female training sessions for those who prefer, and," he added seeing the uproar that was about to kick off, "I will ensure a plan is made to avoid limiting training time for males and the females who are happy to train with them." The camp lord narrowed his eyes for a moment, considering, but sat down, Azriel knew better than to believe he was actually happy, but there was no other way for him to push back. It seemed that, for now at least, he would be content. The moment he sat down another stood to take his place,

"You might be content to see your girls fighting, but I am not. I do not care that your mate fights, High Lord, it is not in females' nature to fight, they will get hurt, and will be unable to do the jobs that they are supposed to do."

"What? Get married and breed?" Rhys raised an eyebrow as he spoke, "I'd consider your answer very carefully,"

"No, but someone has to maintain the camps, do the cooking, make clothes, look after children. Males train and fight full-time, there is no time for that, females fighting is ridiculous, when that isn't what they are designed to do."

"Again, I do understand that you worry about the integrity of your camp, but, I assure you, with both males and females helping with household chores, there is ample time to train and maintain a home."

"I don't think you understand the time it takes, High Lord, it can't be done."

"It can be done, with both males and females helping. Cassian probably works and trains more than all of you, and his mate matches him minute for minute, but they still find time to cook, clean the House, and spend time with their family." The camp lord struggled for words for a moment, "I will have plans written up to help with this if needed, but give yourselves some time to adjust, and teach your sons how to help their sisters and mothers." The camp lord nodded, not quite satisfied, but contented again. Azriel almost winced, if only he knew exactly what they wanted, what exactly Rhys could do to prevent them from rebelling, neither of the two lords who had spoken were really happy, they were just going to wait until Rhys made a wrong move, and strike.

Azriel watched silently, glaring at anyone who liked like he might start violence, and stepped closer to Rhys, ready to step in front of him if needed, but the room stilled when Ironcrest's camp lord stepped up,

"High Lord," he slightly inclined his head to Rhys, in a mockery of a bow, "Hello, Shadowsinger," he chuckled, "Our ability to protect our people comes from our ability to maintain order," each word was carefully chosen but Azriel knew what he really meant, he wanted to be able to control his people, "For protecting our females, that means keeping them in the camp, where they are safe, now they will be tempted to fly somewhere they cannot be protected, where no male knows where they are. We must keep them in the camp for their own safety, and not tempt them with flight elsewhere, into danger." Azriel almost snarled,

"Safety? Is that what you call it?" Rhys chuckled, "I call it control, and it makes you no better than those fae who kept humans as slaves, but you at least convince your enslaved people into thinking that you want to protect them. You don't fool me, but, since the threat of a female not being to defend herself outside of the camps is genuine, you have brought up the exact reason for my insistence that they also train." The lord's face fell for a moment,

"If they fight, they might start to think that they can lead,"

"They can lead, unless you're worried that you might become dispensable." The lord chuckled, 

"Of course not, but I will not have my females thinking that they are more than what they are."

"And what is that?" Rhys' voice was a low warning,

"Wives and mothers, homekeepers, not warriors, that is and has always been, a male role, I will not allow you to destroy our culture." With that he stood and left, leaving silence in his wake,

"Anyone who tries to ignore any laws will be punished as such, if help is needed to adjust it can be provided, or if there are genuine concerns outside of 'females' place' do send me a letter, and I will address them as best I can." Rhys then stood, and rested a hand on Azriel's shoulder, winnowing them both back to Velaris.

Azriel almost stumbled on hitting the ground outside the River House,

"I'm sorry," he muttered, and Rhys blinked,

"What?"

"That was awful, you should have known exactly what they wanted and how to truly avoid a war, that just delayed it."

"I know enough to know that truly avoiding a war is near impossible,"

"But not impossible, not with the right intel."

"Az, you did everything right, anything more drastic would have been noticed," he placed a hand on Azriel's shoulder, "You didn't think you'd find much, don't worry," Azriel turned away,

"I didn't expect much, but I expected something, you shouldn't have had to go in there blind." 

"Az, really, it's fine, your spies not being able to find anything tells us something else, we know at least that they're all being very careful with what they say, that they don't trust their own, and can't be unified." That was true, and Azriel nodded, "C'mon, we've got to make a plan, Feyre's waiting, and Cass will be here soon."

"No Nesta?"

"No, she'd already planned to go with Gwyn to visit Emerie." What? Rhys didn't miss the flash of worry in his eyes, "It's okay, Emerie says there's no hint of rebellion there, Mor dropped them off right at her house, and saw them go inside, no-one will attack them inside." Ariel nodded again and pushed the door open,

"Hold him," Feyre immediately brushed past him, dumping Nyx into his arms as she ran for the nearest bathroom. Azriel wrinkled his nose at the unmistakable scent of vomit, he held Nyx at arms length as the baby gurgled and hiccuped, still smelling, and Rhys chuckled behind him,

"He's not going to explode you know,"

"I know, he smells,"

"He's a baby, they smell." Azriel still held Nyx slightly away from his chest, but smiled when he narrowed his eyes, going still and then trying to leap for a shadow on Azriel's shoulder. With Nyx's tiny wings flapping, Azriel only just managed to catch him before he fell. 

"Well he definitely takes after you, Mr Reckless." Rhys grinned again, and Azriel followed him through to the nursery, putting Nyx down and sending shadows racing around him, Nyx's shouts of joy as he chased them almost taking his mind off Illyria, almost, but not quite,

"Thanks, Az." Feyre grinned when she reappeared, armed with Velaris' best cleaning supplies as she made a beeline for her son, tickling him as she tried to clean him up, making faces at him to make him laugh and let her finish cleaning him. "Good boy," she muttered before releasing him to crawl after the shadows again. She flopped onto a couch next to Rhys, and he automatically threw an arm around her shoulders, "Meeting go well?"

"As well as we could have expected, they're all content for now, still grumbling, but they haven't got a decent excuse yet," Rhys explained, "We just need to brainstorm a few ideas about next steps now, so we can be prepared."

*****

Gwyn stifled a laugh as Nesta almost snorted out her mouthful of hot cocoa at Emerie's comment about one of their most recent books,

"He's not evil," she protested, "He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, that's all."

"Wrong place at the wrong time?" Emerie snorted, "He's literally a war criminal!"

"Well, I think he's got potential, he just needs to see an alternative." Nesta insisted, and looked over to Gwyn, "C'mon, back me up,"

"I think," Gwyn narrowed her eyes, "That we don't really know him well enough to make a proper judgement, he could literally be evil, or he could be hiding his motives, perhaps it'll be clearer in the next book." Nesta cheered, and finished her mug of cocoa, staring triumphantly at Emerie,

"She didn't agree with you, either, Nes!" She shouted after her as she ran off to the kitchen to refill her mug, and grinned when she returned,

"Anyway," Gwyn started, "Enough about fictional males, how's mated life treating you? We haven't had a proper discussion yet." Nesta snorted,

"I've only been back for a few days,"

"Still," Gwyn raised an eyebrow, and Nesta laughed,

"It's like, well you know what we were like before, it's like that, but somehow more, with the bond there, really there, everything is so much more intense, y'know."

"Not really," Emerie smiled, "Care to enlighten us?"

"You know when you love someone so much that when they're not there, you constantly want to check that they're okay?" Both Emerie and Gwyn nodded, Catrin, Gwyn had loved her that much, differently to how Nesta loved Cassian, but she had loved her so much. "It's more than that, it's like looking in a mirror, like seeing my soul reflected in his eyes."

"And the sex is good, yes?" Emerie chuckled, and Nesta blushed, trying to dodge the question,

"You have no idea," she finally muttered, earning a howl of laughter from Emerie, "Right after you mate, there's like a pull, and well,"

"Don't tell me you spent your whole honeymoon having sex?" Emerie giggled gleefully, enjoying this conversation far too much,

"Not all of it!" Nesta insisted, "We went to a little house in the mountains, Cass built it himself a while ago, right after Rhysand became high lord, it was the first time he'd ever been able to buy anything himself, so he bought the materials for that house." Gwyn smiled, "It's right by a lake, and when the sky's clear, and there's no wind, it looks like a mirror, like the stars and moon are shining up rather than down."

"It sounds beautiful," Gwyn mused, 

"It is, and, I don't think he noticed, but when we went down to the lake one evening, some of the stars, they crested just over his wings, and almost looked like a set of armor, but then it disappeared, right as he pointed out some of the constellations, Enalius, he's the one I remember best, but there was a lion one, and a pegasus, and," Nesta paused, and pursed her lips, trying to remember, "And, oh a wolf. And then, he picked me up, and flew above the trees, and the stars were shining over the mountains in the distance. We picked a star. It's our star, whenever I look at it, I have to think of him, and when he looks at it he has to think of me. I know it's a bit lovey-dovey, but I like having that, even when he's not right here."

"I think it's cute," Gwyn squeezed Nesta's hand, "I'm gonna get some more marshmallows," she gestured to the dismally boring mugs of cocoa, and slipped off to the kitchen, and swore when she saw that they'd run out, "Em!" She shouted up the stairs, "You got any more marshmallows?"

"Yeah, there's some in the parlor at the side of the house, I think," Emerie shouted back, before howling with laughter, presumably at Nesta's expense, and Gwyn chuckled to herself as she stepped outside, the cold air nipping at her face as she quickly skirted round the house, keeping an eye out before rummaging through to find the marshmallows.

A hand clamped over her mouth, and muffled Gwyn's scream as she was dragged backwards, no, no, no, she couldn't, not again, tears pricked her eyes as she fought desperately to regain her balance, her panic clouding her mind. She forced herself to stop, to take a deep breath in. It was dark, no-one else was around, Nesta and Emerie were too far away to help her. She glanced around as much as she could, there, Emerie had a wood-chopping block set up, and the axe was still there. She relaxed, and stopped struggling, waiting for her attacker to grow complacent. He didn't, just tugged her tighter against him,

"You're one of the bitches who thought that females can fight," a voice hissed in her ear, "We'll see what our 'oh so powerful' High Lord thinks when he finds out we have you." Gwyn shivered in fear, slowly trying to loosen his grip on her, but the moment he slightly let go, he spun her around and threw her to the floor, she was several hundred meters from the house now, even if she screamed nobody would hear her. Right as she tried to get up, he kicked her hands out from underneath her, pinning her wrists to the floor. She couldn't breathe. This was it. She was going to die, right here, right now, she was going to die. "Pathetic," the male hissed, "Girls like you should know better than to go outside in the dark on your own, even if the camp is loyal, some of us don't agree with the new laws." Gwyn ignored him, focusing on keeping her breathing slow, but each time he adjusted his grip on her, it sped back up. She had to distract herself, something happy. Nesta smiling, Emerie laughing, male in the dark. It wasn't working, miniature pegasus, male in the dark. Baby Nyx, male in the dark. Azriel. Azriel smiling, Azriel laughing, Azriel singing, Azriel holding her, flying over Velaris, Azriel teaching her silent fighting, Azriel, Azriel, Azriel.

Gwyn surged upwards, flipping the male off, and sprinted for the axe, wrenching it out of the wood, and hurled it at her assailant, only turning back in her mad sprint for the safety of the house at his grunt of pain. He stumbled, blood seeping out through his leathers as he inspected the gash in his thigh,

"Bitch," he hissed, and Gwyn flew for the door, latching it behind her,

"Nesta! Emerie!" Gwyn screamed, backing away from the door, Nesta was the first down the stairs, "We have a problem, call Cassian now, get someone here to fetch us early, he'll break down the door soon." True to her words, a banging started on the doors, and stopped, but then intensified, oh shit, he had the axe, she'd practically given it to him, and he was going to kill them. "You have any weapons, Em?" Emerie silently shook her head, 

"Only kitchen knives,"

"That'll do," Nesta muttered, "C'mon, we should be ready for when he gets in." Gwyn followed Nesta into the kitchen, quite happy to let her plan, and position them all. The banging stopped, he was in, but then there was a thump, and the door squeaked open, so it was still on its hinges,

"Nesta? Gwyn? Emerie?" Mor. Gwyn stood out of her hiding place, and Emerie ran for Mor, her wings almost knocking them both off their feet as she crashed into Mor's arms,

"Thank the gods," she muttered, "We thought we were going to have to fight him off with cutlery." Mor snorted,

"Not on my watch, let's get out of here." Emerie wrapped her arms around Mor's waist, and Nesta and Gwyn each held an arm, only letting go once they reached the House of Wind, "There's not a spare room here, there's already one in the townhouse though, I'll stay with you if you prefer, Em." Emerie smiled and nodded,

"Yeah, okay, thanks." And held on to Mor as she winnowed them away again. Gwyn had barely registered arriving before Cassian hurtled through the door, and cupped Nesta's face in his hands,

"Are you hurt? Who tried to hurt you? I'll kill him, I'll kill him." Nesta reached up to cup his face,

"I'm fine, I'm fine Cass, no-one touched me, Mor was there quickly enough." Cassian gathered her into his chest,

"I'm never leaving your side again," he muttered, kissing the top of her head, and Gwyn almost wanted to leave, but that felt more awkward,

"That's a bit dramatic," Nesta giggled,

"I mean it, sweetheart, I'm going nowhere, from now on, I get to tag along on girls night." Nesta snorted again,

"Only if you let us braid your hair."

"Deal." Gwyn's attention was drawn away by a little noise behind her, and she turned to find Azriel waiting,

"How long have you been there?" She asked, and he shrugged,

"I didn't want to startle you," Gwyn just wrapped her arms around his neck, raising herself on her tiptoes just to reach, "Are you okay?" He muttered, noting the mud all over her clothes,

"Yeah, just a bit shaken, he didn't get a chance to actually hurt me, just scared me a bit." Azriel nodded, and squeezed around her waist a little, "I panicked,” she admitted, "All the training we've been doing, and the first time I got ambushed, I panicked."

"That's okay, it's normal, you still got away, that's still great." Gwyn sighed,

"I suppose, but what if it happens again, I mean it was a male in the dark, and I just froze," tears formed in her eyes when Azriel gently tipped her chin up to look at him, 

"That is normal, Gwyn. You did so, so well by realizing that you were panicking and working through it to escape, you did, I am so proud of you for that." Gwyn smiled, just a little, but it made Azriel grin at her, "Do that again."

"What?"

"Smile." She did,

"Thank you, Az." She mumbled, letting him lead her back to her rooms and draw up a bath. He stayed sat on the bed while she washed, talking gently, almost nonsense, but his voice, just his voice chased away the remaining fear, and Gwyn found that she was exhausted, and was almost asleep when she flopped into bed, barely registering when Azriel brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her brow gently before leaving her to sleep. Gwyn tried to call out his name, to ask him to stay, but he was gone, and sleep claimed her quickly.

Tired as she was, dreams plagued her sleep, dreams of faceless males, in the dark, dreams that she hadn't had in years, dreams of Catrin's face, smiling and laughing, then crying silently in fear, dreams of the younglings she had to protect before they shared her sister's fate. Her eyes flew open right as that Hybern commander's face appeared in her dreams. She stumbled to the bathroom, staring straight into the mirror.

I'm safe.

It's over.

I'm in Velaris.

I'm safe.

It's over.

I'm in Velaris.

It wasn't working, her usual calming ritual wasn't working, she couldn't calm herself down, she splashed her face with water, deep breaths, deep breaths. The bed was drenched in sweat when she returned, sweat that felt like blood, Catrin's blood, just like the nightgown clinging to her skin now. Gwyn stepped back into the bathroom, and cleaned herself up before changing into a new nightgown. When she returned to the bed, it was clean, new sheets in place,

"Thank you," she whispered, just about managing to fall asleep until a voice filled her dreams

That one's mine.

Gwyn hurled herself out of bed, she had to get out, she had to just get away, she threw the door open, a sob rising in her chest as he eyes fell on the door across from hers, as the scent from that room reached her. Male, but safe, male, but safe, male, but she didn't fear it, no, she didn't fear it, she loved it. She threw the door open, the sobs finally forcing their way out of her as she ran fro Azriel. She sobbed as she crawled onto the bed, into his arms, and buried her face in his chest,

"Az," she sobbed, and he mumbled gently to her, she couldn't quite make out the words, but his voice was calm, soothing, and she snuggled into him, "I had a nightmare," she muttered by way of an explanation, and Azriel gently stroked her hair, "About Sangravah, I was scared."

"You're safe here," he mumbled, "I'm right here, no-one can touch you, not while I'm here." She nodded and sniffed again, fear dissipating with every word he spoke, and giggling when a shadow wrapped around her, 

"They're protecting me," she giggled, and gradually drifted back to sleep, nightmares held at bay as she slept this time. She was safe here, with him. Gwyn slept the whole night snuggled against Azriel's chest, safe in his arms.

[fonulyn]

fonulyn’s 2020 in fics

this is kind of exciting since in 2020 I did get a lot writing done, and it marks the second year in a row that I’m able to actually make one of these posts after that horrible not good at all terrible disastrous three and a half years when I wrote absolutely nothing. so it’s a triumph to get another one of these up! personal victory haha.

in total, in 2020 I wrote 148 fics, ranging from like 200 words to 34k (idk if those short things can be called fics but i just did). by pairing, there’s

13 of Joe/Nicky

58 of Piers/Leon

56 of Chris/Leon

(1 with Piers/Leon and Chris/Leon)

5 of the ot3 (Chris/Leon/Piers)

11 of Krauser/Leon

3 of Wesker/Chris (lmao still can’t believe this)

1 of Chris/Leon/Krauser

so. in retrospect, i did okay. 

it’s over 300 thousand words and I am kind of. surprised. and that is not counting the approximately 50k of wips i’m ignoring :’D

I’d also like to take a second to thank everyone who has ever sent me nice messages, commented on the fics, left reblogs or kudos, and the like. you’re what kept me going, I wouldn’t have gotten even half as much done otherwise.

without further ado, links to all of the fics under the cut! they’re organized by pairing, and the links take you to tumblr posts (bc I’m lazy) and a lot of them have a link in the post that takes you to ao3. (also can you see I put ~~so much~~ effort into naming the tumblr ficlets :’D feel free to laugh at me)

Joe/Nicky

a dog by any other name | 1,5k | The one wherein they end up owning a dog.

within the heart a flame of desires | 5,0k | Nicolo watches Yusuf have sex with others, desperately wishing he was with him instead. Until things change. He much prefers having Yusuf all for himself.

the world will wait | 2,4k | The one wherein Joe takes a lot of naps and the whole team gets to relax.

catch this | 650w | Every time Joe gets distracted (by Nicky), Andy tries to take him by surprise.

nobody’s perfect | 1,9k | Even immortal warriors have their weaknesses, Nile learns. Those just aren’t what she expected.

only in these arms | 780w | Nicky has trouble sleeping alone. Andy is a decent substitute, but only when Joe returns so does Nicky’s ability to get a decent night’s rest.

(please don’t explain) that time in Malta | 580w | Nile doesn’t think at first it would even be possible for Joe to be embarrassed. By anything. Until one evening, they talk about Malta.

cool it down boys | 400w | Andy gets no sleep. She gets revenge, though.

cowboy, baby | 340w | Nicky has the fashion sense of a sack of flour, and he is fine with that.

that day is not today | 4,9k | They struggle through the whole lab-experience. It isn’t the time yet to forgive Booker.

tea, soup and tlc | 2k | The one wherein Joe is not sick. At all. Nope. He isn't.

two drinks too many | 770w | Nicky is a little drunk. Joe loves him anyway.

safe haven | 3,9k | The one wherein everyone gets quality cuddles from Joe.

Piers/Leon

it was you that I found | 23,4k | Leon doesn’t really do relationships. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he always seems to be so bad at them. Of course entirely by accident he manages to build one without even realizing it. 

unexpected visitor | 690w | Piers is forced on bed-rest. At least Leon stops by.

got me all tied up (never let me go) | 4,0k | Piers doesn’t like suits. Leon loves Piers in a suit.

not so subtle | 210w | “Soo, were you checking me out all night, or was that just my imagination?” Leon asks suddenly, Piers chokes on his drink in surprise.

nighttime fools | 4,8k | Piers and Leon get arrested for public indecency. It’s not their fault, honest.

piers isn’t sick, really, he isn’t (he is) | 670w | “Oh, hi,” Piers said immediately, a goofy smile slipping onto his face. Man, he was happy to see Leon. So happy to see him.  

so you’ve met Xena | 620w | “Xena?” Leon turned to look at Piers, decidedly unimpressed. “You named your dog after the Warrior Princess?“

you’re cute, you know | 680w | Piers took the opportunity the second their gazes met. He grinned, as charmingly as he possibly managed, and said “You’re cute, you know that?“

kiss the nightmares away | 470w | Sleepily Piers blinked, trying to make his eyes work properly. He squinted at the digital clock on the bedside, and its harsh red numbers that told him it was 3:30, and confusedly he turned to frown at Leon. “Why aren’t you sleeping?“

smooth talking, Nivans, very smooth | 1,4k | Piers can not control what comes out of his mouth.

dream a little (dirty) dream of me | 1,3k | Piers wakes Leon up. That's it.

your shirt is my shirt | 950w | With a sigh Piers grabbed the only shirt available that wasn’t battery operated and obnoxious. It was Leon’s, so old that the print had faded completely, leaving only faint outlines behind. And when Piers pulled it on he grumbled again, realizing how tight it was.

here for you | 620w | Leon can’t sleep, but somehow Piers makes his anxieties bleed away. 

grand plans | 260w | “Are you seriously going to wear that?”

new puppy | 430w | “Hey there little guy.” Leon bent down to pick up the little puppy, straightening again to hold it against his chest. His hands looked almost comically large as the dog was so tiny, and carefully he cradled it close.

a little bit funny | 850w | So maybe Piers hadn’t slept properly in days, and the sleep deprivation was making him a little hysterical, but he didn’t even remember when a stupid comedy would’ve made him laugh so much.

for now our time is here | 4,4k | When Chris had told them to wait up and left them alone for a while, this probably wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but the second he’d closed the door behind himself the tension that had been brewing between Leon and Piers had snapped like a cord.

wanting too much | 1,1k | “Fucking hell, never do that to me again,“ Leon huffed out, clearly relieved beyond anything.

the prettiest agent with the prettiest hair | 1,2k | Piers stress-braids. Leon doesn't mind. And besides, Piers always undoes the braids whenever he's done with them. Until one night he forgets.

you can be the air that i breathe | 1,0k |  It wasn’t the first time Piers got punched in the face by a gigantic BOW so hard that the hit sent him flying. It was, however, the first time he was sent careening off a bridge and into the river below. And it was, definitely, the first time Leon saved his life.  

before I found you | 890w | The second Piers realized that the spikes covering the monster actually came off, and it was able to shoot them towards its attackers, it was already too late for him to react.

you don’t need to stay | 950w | Piers did his best to take care of Leon.  And as much as Leon appreciated it, he didn’t want to be a goddamn nuisance.

need me, baby, just a little stronger tonight | 2,1k | Leon really has to practice perfecting his poker face. At least he gets what he wants in the end.

be my valentine | 920w | “Are you sure?“ Piers asked for the tenth time, frowning down at the bar of Fazer blue chocolate. “I still think it’s… not a lot?”

you're the world that I wanna discover | 7,5k | The one wherein they buy a house, fall even more in love, and Leon reaches a breaking point.

call me (tell me what you feel) | 1,7k | Leon is stuck at the airport. At least he gets a nice phone call with Piers.

incentive to stay alive | 1,0k |  "Hey, Nivans, wake up,” he tried, but there was no answer, and he couldn’t help but let the worry in his voice. “Piers. Don’t you dare die on me. Chris would kill me if I let anything happen to his best sniper.”

blanket hog Leon | 880w | Grumbling, Piers turned around, and as he’d expected Leon was cozily wrapped in at least four blankets, leaving nothing for Piers, who was currently freezing his ass off.

I give you all I am | 2,0k | “Leon?” Piers approached in quick steps, watching recognition flicker in Leon’s eyes as he lowered his own weapon too. Leon was slumped against the wall, hunched over and holding his side, and there was something feverish about his eyes. Yet as soon as he realized it was Piers he gave a shaky grin, even if that was all he managed.

why are the gorgeous ones always taken | 810w | Piers blinked his eyes open slowly, expression scrunched up, and it took a long moment before he managed to actually focus his gaze on Leon’s face. When he did, a smile immediately bloomed on his face, and he even tilted his head a little. “Have I died and gone to heaven?” he croaked out, his voice rough from lack of use.

still intact | 1,1k | It took a week before the level of painkillers was correct and Piers woke up with a gasp instead of a scream. And the first thing he asked was for someone to kill him.

of guns and ...guns | 270w | Leon likes the way Piers handles his rifle. There’s drool involved.

always fashionable | 540w | Apparently having a crush on the well-dressed, professional Leon translated into being absolutely fucking in love with the sleep-mussed and squinty Leon.

misplaced phones and revelations | 660w | Chris finds Piers’ phone. Which turns out to be Leon’s phone. The two turn out to be dating. Chris feels kind of blind.

yee-haw! | 1,0k | Leon rides Piers. Wearing a cowboy hat.

you’re cute when you’re angry | 620w | When he’s stressed, Piers washes the dishes. Angrily.  

want to drink (with) you | 1,1k | Piers is an embarrassing drunk. Leon loves him anyway. 

and each one of us is a path somewhere | 22,2k | Piers gets thrown twenty years back in time. Into Raccoon City, 1998. He’d heard about what Leon went through that night, but he never thought he’d have to actually experience it himself. Together with bright eyed rookie Leon.

hold me close | 560w | Leon falls asleep against Piers’ shoulder. 

goatee man | 890w | Piers thinks growing a beard might make him look more manly. 

promises kept | 2,9k | Leon finds out Piers isn't dead after all. He's just locked up in a BSAA research facility with no one allowed in to visit.

stay with me tonight (stay until the end of life) | 2,2k | Leon doesn’t know I’m contacting you, but a fair warning, because I’m worried. He was found unconscious on the bathroom floor at 10AM. They took him to the hospital, but he checked himself out. Look after him, okay?  

4am | 760w | “What can I say,” Piers grinned against Leon’s neck, “I was dreaming of you.” He had no reservations about moving his hips, letting Leon feel just how nice the dream had been.

caffeinated | 550w | Someone gives Piers coffee. Leon knows what to do with that excess energy.

and i'm you and you're me | 7,0k | The one wherein Leon and Piers accidentally swap bodies.

girls’ day in bed | 780w | Piers and Leon wake up one morning with boobs and other assorted lady parts. It’s a fun day. (Spoiler alert: they have a lot of sex.)

worlds apart | 3,2k | Krauser kidnaps Piers to lure Leon to him. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

not again | 530w | Watching Piers’ mutation brings Leon some very unfortunate flashbacks. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

gorgeous | 300w | Piers calls Leon gorgeous.

the most comfortable pillow | 350w | Leon falls asleep with his head on Piers’ lap.

beautiful | 840w | Even after losing an arm and ruining half of his face, Piers is the most beautiful thing to Leon.

as seen in adult films | 580w | Piers doesn’t know one damn thing about dishwashers. He volunteers to fix one anyway.

never letting go | 260w | Leon is goddamn comfortable right here. He isn’t going to move a single inch.

nose kisses | 390w | Piers is cute when he’s cranky. Just ask Leon.

no other half could ever make me whole | 6,3k | The one wherein they get a scare and there's a proposal.

the luxury of being held | 690w | The fabric of Piers’ hoodie is the perfect place to hide. (feat. Theo’s amazing art)

just one step from heaven, one step from paradise | 2,7k | The one wherein Piers makes sure Leon doesn’t freeze, and they enjoy their vacation.

all is fair in war, love and Mario Kart | 600w | Piers sucks at Mario Kart.

Chris/Leon

if i never see all my dreams come true, the one that mattered the most was you | 5,9k |  Chris enlists Leon’s help on a mission as a clever ruse to make the man take a break he so obviously needs. 

and I don't want to know how slow the time must flow | 11,1k | Chris and Leon try to fight their way out of a castle and feelings take over.

you are my heart, you are my home | 3,2k | Chris is sick, and he’s being extra dramatic about it.

from the gates of longing | 5,5k | Chris volunteers to take Leon home, but ends up getting a lot more than he bargained for.

how to accidentally get adopted - a guide by Piers Nivans | 2,3k | Piers accidentally keeps calling Chris dad, and Chris and Leon sort of unofficially adopt him.

right here by your side | 1,9k | When Chris shows up to check up on Leon, four days into his self-imposed flu-exile, at first Leon wants to just throw him out. But then it turns into a relationship-building moment and suddenly he can’t mind all that much.

about time | 1,8k | Leon is freezing. Chris warms him up.

yet you'll lose yourself in me | 3,3k | The one wherein Chris is generously proportioned and Leon kind of loves it. (whispers: size kink)

beyond tomorrow | 1,7k | Leon ends up in the hospital after a mission, Chris hurries to see if he’s okay. Claire is already there.

look at those heart-eyes | 180w | Quickly Chris shook his head, reluctantly pulling his attention away from Leon.

there’s a cat in the sink | 220w | “There’s a cat in the sink, and we don’t own a cat.”

from the future | 300w | It’s 1998 and Leon comes face to face with himself, from 2017.

surprise redfield | 250w | “Don’t worry,“ Chris says, nonchalantly as if it’s an everyday occurrence that he’s standing in Leon’s kitchen.

need this feeling to last (there's no denying) | 2,4k | “Why don’t you fuck me yourself, you coward!“

something solid, something good | 520w | Chris was so warm, and that together with all the glorious skin-on-skin contact made Leon happily sink back into the embrace.

come closer | 520w | Leon is done with Chris being so careful around him.  

your arms around me | 690w | Chris woke up cold and alone.  

a needed break | 440w | Sometimes Chris got so single-mindedly stuck on a task that he forgot everything around himself.

the iron maiden | 820w | Suddenly it was hard to breathe, like he couldn’t fill his lungs with oxygen no matter how much he tried, to the point that his vision started to get blurry. 

robin hood: chris in tights | 480w | Chris’ face was twisted into a theatrical grimace as he tugged a little on the green tights we was wearing. They were like painted on and although he didn’t really have body issues in general, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about it.

luckless romance | 4,0k | Leon and Chris turn a drunken argument into something better. (Please note: The link takes you to the last part of six.) 

take my hand | 920w | The worst part, by far, is not seeing anything. There are sounds, people talking like he isn’t even in the room, machines beeping and doors opening, quick busy steps against the floor.

let me take you to the edge of the stars and back again | 3,0k | Chris takes his sweet, sweet time before he gives Leon what he wants.

I’m going to seduce you | 1,1k | Jesus Christ, they’d had sex. Leon groaned again, this time less because of the headache and more because he felt so unbearably dumb. He’d probably had the best sex of his life, and he couldn’t remember it.

a little help | 430w | Those fucking idiots, Claire thought for the millionth time, as she watched her brother give the biggest dumbest heart eyes at Leon, who was blissfully oblivious about everything going on around him.

the way to anyone’s heart (the answer is food, good food)  | 2,4k | Chris asks Leon to teach him how to cook. (Spoiler: Leon doesn't know how.)

oh the horror | 270w | “I seriously don’t understand why you want to watch this shit,” Leon groaned, pressing his face into Chris’ chest.

jealousy | 670w | Chris swallowed hard, downed the last of his beer, and took the leap. “I’m jealous okay.”

twist me up | 510w | Sure Chris had always known that Leon was flexible. Sure he had seen him even do these weird-ass yoga poses more than once. There was nothing new to it.

meet the parents | 600w | Leon brings Chris home for Christmas.

precious cargo | 930w | Chris lugs Leon around like luggage.

it's always been you | 870w  | The hardest thing for Leon was when someone he cared about was in danger but there was nothing he could do about it. And then Chris fell into a ravine.

come away with me (to another world) | 2,0k | Leon finally gets a vacation.

first time sucker | 930w | “I don’t know, because it’s fun?” Leon said. “I promise you, you’re missing out.”

read my scars | 1,9k | Chris learns about Leon's scars.

battered and bruised | 650w | Ignoring the bruises and scrapes he had, Chris turned around and sprinted towards Leon, gritting his teeth against the strain moving put on his side.

a different kind of proposal | 500w | “If you keep fucking me this good,“ he breathed out, unsure if Chris even heard the words, “I’ll have to marry you.“

welcome home | 370w | The door had barely fallen shut behind Chris when Leon was in his personal space, grabbing him by the lapels of the trench coat he was wearing so he could pull him in close for a kiss.

I’d always choose you | 280w | Ada was something they didn’t talk about. When someone, anyone, brought her up Leon clammed up and changed the subject. And Chris had tried to be understanding, had tried to be patient, had tried his very best to respect Leon’s boundaries with this. But Chris was only human.

fuck or die | 1,7k | Chris gets hit by a weird plant, and his hard-on just will not go down. Until Leon takes matters into his hands.

i need a hug | 470w | “I think,“ Leon sighed, but then it was like all fight bled from him and he slumped a little forward. “I need a hug.“

oh no there’s only one bed | 990w | “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just one night. I’m sure you’ve slept with worse persons than me.”

the butt that became a pillow | 420w | Chris falls asleep on Leon.

like father like son | 2,8k | Leon finds out he has a son.

monster magnet | 1,1k | Leon didn’t know when it had become something he recognized so easily. When had it become so normal for mutated creatures to look at him with such unadulterated lust.

please be okay | 620w | Leon faints from sheer exhaustion. 

like father like... grandson? | 4,1k | Liam proposes to a girl but ends up with Piers anyway. Chris and Leon are the friendly neighborhood grandpas. Their grandson is adorable, and Leon thinks he takes after him. Obviously. (feat. Piers/OMC)

black lace | 790w | Chris gets to come home to Leon in thigh high black lacy stockings and matching lingerie, instantly sending Chris’ brains into an overdrive.

at least let me help | 790w | Leon opens the door an inch, Chris uses the given opportunity to slam it wide open. Metaphorically speaking.

bridal style | 200w | Leon refuses the medical check up. So Chris carries him.

dance with me | 1,0k | Wedding planning with two schmoopy idiots in love.

drunken cravings | 480w | Chris and Leon are drunk, hungry, and incapable of cooking.

blow me | 650w | Chris gets his brains sucked out through his dick.

Claire knows best | 610w | Chris tries to set Leon up with Claire. Then Claire does set Leon up with Chris.

chase the demons away | 940w | Chris struggles with nightmares, Leon is there to hold him through them.

dance me to the end of love | 550w | Leon struggles to learn to dance.

Piers/Leon, Chris/Leon

fate changed (we keep loving as if the story isn't over yet) | 34,3k | In hindsight, Leon knew the second he opened the door and saw Chris standing there, dressed in his service uniform, mouth pinched to a grim line and unable to meet Leon’s gaze straight. There was only one logical reason for it, only one way to explain why he was standing there like he would rather be anywhere else, and Leon almost slammed the door right in his face. --  Or the one wherein no one really knows how to handle their grief, but somehow life goes on anyway. (I’m still so proud of this one negl)

Chris/Leon/Krauser

hearts beating fast (let's make this moment last) | 5,7k | Chris gets invited in for a threesome. The clever thing would’ve been to refuse, knowing his unrequited, helpless feelings. But then again, he’s just a man.

OT3

double the fun | 3,1k | Truthfully, Leon hadn’t thought his day could get this much better. Everything had gone wrong from the second he’d woken up and he’d already written the day off entirely, until the moment Chris had looked him dead in the eye and asked “How do you feel about two at once?”

of cuddles and blanket forts | 620w | Piers and Leon build a blanket fort. Chris would think they’re idiots, but they might actually be kind of brilliant.

hair straightener or waffle iron? | 310w | Chris and Piers break Leon’s hair straightener.

the last piece of the puzzle | 2,7k | The one wherein two becomes three.

not alone | 2,3k | Completely on accident, Piers and Chris happen to be there to save Leon from a tight spot. Cuddles ensue.

Krauser/Leon

drive me crazy (your eyes made me crave for this) | 2,3k | It was the best sex Krauser had ever had in his life. That’s why he kept coming back to Leon, kept saying ‘yes’ every single time the man as much as hinted that he might be up for meeting. He was getting off, and he was enjoying every second of it, and that was the extent of it. There certainly weren’t any feelings involved. None. None at all. 

enjoying the view | 200w | Krauser likes ass-watching.

carry me to bed | 440w | Slowly Leon was coming back to his senses. Sweat was cooling on his skin, the hard surface of the table underneath him starting to feel uncomfortable.  

and I lied that we would be fine | 1,1k | Leon knows he isn’t supposed to be doing this. There’s a vague recollection of something more important, something he should be focusing on, but the vast majority of his world has narrowed down onto the slick slide of their bodies, on the cheap scratchy sheets on his skin, on the sound of Krauser’s voice in his ear, and he can’t bring himself to care.

yet never enough | 1,9k | Krauser likes mirrors.

of wanting | 400w | Leon’s laughter echoed in the room as Krauser pinned him against the wall, before shutting him up with a ravenous kiss.

better with you | 590w | Despite knowing Krauser had his back, Leon was genuinely surprised when the man sat down right next to him instead of telling him to suck it up and get moving.

breakfast | 530w | Lately things had slowly begun to shift. And Leon wasn’t sure yet what was going on. Or how he felt about it.

kill me now | 900w | It was more than clear how much Krauser enjoyed their frantic attempts to kill one another, and Leon’s traitorous body shivered in response, the memory of times long gone returning like no time had passed at all.

lust that I've already spilled | 1,4k | “C’mon, Leon,” Krauser taunted, grinning as widened his stance. “This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.”

will you just look at me | 650w | Krauser refuses to do feelings.

Wesker/Chris

I am the light that shall lead you to darkness | 1,8k | In all honesty, Chris wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up here: a panting mess, bent over a massive wooden table with Wesker holding him down laughably easily. 

the light to drown in darkness | 2,0k | Wesker craves Chris. So Wesker takes Chris.

love-hate-(obsession?) | 470w | Wesker is a lovesick fool. If he wasn’t also a homicidal maniac, Jill would almost feel sorry for him.

[blue-bird-on-a-wire]

Beroya (Bounty Hunter)

Part 4 of the Gar Cuyir Yaim series

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,664

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x (Y/n) with she/her pronouns

Warnings: Jabba’s slave culture, mentioned kidnapping/child kidnapping, insecure (Y/n), hinted/implied abuse of (Y/n), hinted/implied child abuse

Summary: Paz takes (Y/n) to Verith.

Updates: Every Tuesday at 5:30 pm MT

A/N: Hello! You can also find this fic on Ao3 under B1ue_Bird_0n_A_Wire. Please feel free to give me feedback, as I don’t have a beta reader and often miss spelling mistakes. If you feel there need to be more warnings/other warnings, feel free to DM me! 😊 Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Master-list

“-op! Stop it! Get it off! It hurts!” screamed a child’s voice.

“Keep quiet!”

There was the sound of skin on skin - someone had just been slapped.

“If I hear another word outta that mouth, that lip won’t be the only thing bleedin’! You’ll wear that collar and you’ll like it!”

A whimper. The sound of heavy breathing - shuddering, if you will.

Heavy footsteps could be heard walking away before something slammed shut. Perhaps a door of some sort.

“I-I wanna go home,” cried the child’s voice. “I want my aliit.”

“Paz?”

The audio recording immediately stopped.

The big blue Mandalorian sat hunched over something in the cockpit. I could see his shoulders tense at the sound of my voice. He reached for a rag at his feet and covered whatever was in front of him.

“Paz, what was that?” I asked, trying to peek around his body.

“It’s nothing,” Paz said, standing to full height as he turned to face me. “I didn’t hear you coming up the ladder.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I wanted to ask where we’re going.”

Paz’s helmet tilted down and his shoulders visibly relaxed. “First we’re going to stop at Verith, so we can refuel and get you some clothes.”

I felt my chest tighten but in that sort of warm good way. Here I was worried about asking for undergarments, and Paz had already been planning to get me my own clothes.

I never had my own clothes before. Outfits were always passed around between Jabba’s slaves. We never owned anything for ourselves. It was all meant to be shared or borrowed.

I smiled. “Can I stay here with you?” I asked, taking look at the wide window that showed off the passing stars. “You have a pretty view up here, and in all honestly I’m not too used to the quiet. It was always noisy at Jabba’s. Even when he was asleep he would snore.”

Paz quietly laughed. Actually laughed. His head leaned back a bit and his shoulders shook.

“Of course, (Y/n),” Paz said, gesturing to the co-pilot chair. “How did you sleep? You were in there for a while.”

“I was?” I asked as I sat down. “Your bed is really nice. I’ve never slept on something so comfortable before.”

Paz shoved whatever was under the rag to the side with his boot, beneath the ship’s controls. “You flatter me. That bed is stiff, no need to sugar coat it.”

“I… I wasn’t,” I said, turning my gaze to the stars.

Paz sat down in the pilot’s chair. He stayed silent, but his helmet’s visor didn’t look away from me.

I watched the galaxy fly past us. I wondered how many people were out there. What kind of lives were they living?

What kind of life had this Mandalorian lived?

“Paz, can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm.”

I assumed that meant yes. “You said you know me- or you knew me when we were children. But I can’t remember much of anything before Jabba.”

Paz nodded his head.

“... What was our childhood like?”

Paz’s helmet tilted upward as though he was thinking. His chair let out a creaking sound as he leaned back into it.

“Our childhood,” Paz said. He looked back at me, just as I was now looking at him. “... It was carefree. I was about seven when I first met you. Tinny little thing you were. Only about a year or two old, I think.”

I couldn’t help but picture a small boy wearing oversized Mandalorian armor, peering over a basket at an even smaller baby.

“I swore the creed not long after, so you wouldn’t remember what I looked like without the armor. I didn’t pay much attention to you at first. But we got older, and you learned to walk. Started following me everywhere,” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I had to watch out for you when I trained. Elbowed you a few times on accident. I didn’t know you were behind me. Made me become more aware of my surroundings…”

Paz lifted an elbow to his armrest, resting the chin of his helmet on his hand. “You liked playing games, but your favorite was this hiding game. I would count to something like ten while you hid somewhere in the covert. Then I would find you, and you would count to a number before you found me.”

I smiled, “That sounds like a pretty fun game.”

Paz nodded his head, “You would start laughing whenever I came close to your hiding spot. I never pretended I couldn’t hear you. Thought it would make you a better warrior that way.” A pause. “Well… Sometimes I let you get away with it,” he admitted.

I wondered if he was this kind with other children as well. Did he still play with them when they asked?

“... It was happy,” Paz said.

Happy. At least for a while, I suppose.

We sat in silence for a little longer, and my gaze fell to the blur of stars through the cockpit’s window.

Paz never turned away from me. He watched intently, but I didn’t feel as threatened by it. I couldn’t even see his eyes but I just had this feeling that his stare was one of curiosity or reminiscing. Instinct could be crazy that way.

“It’s good to see there is still some of that child left in you,” Paz whispered, as though he didn’t want to disturb the air in the room.

“Hmm?” I asked, still looking outside.

“You always did love the stars.”

I smiled but made no move to look at him.

“... I remember looking at the stars,” I said. “I remember a dark sky with tall trees. I had to squint my eyes to look past the branches… Or, at least I think I did.”

Paz seemed to hold his breath.

“...Just little white dots spread throughout the sky… I haven’t seen the sky since I was brought to Jabba. I never thought I would see it again, but then you showed up,” I turned to look at Paz. “You set me free so I could see the stars.”

How many of these stars had changed since I last saw them? How many had died or were new?

I looked down at my hands, playing with the excessively long sleeves. “I can’t remember much because I don’t allow myself to… Or rather, I wasn’t allowed to. I could keep my name but nothing else.”

A pause.

Of course, he didn’t want to hear about it. Why would he-

“What was your childhood like? With Jabba,” Paz asked.

Or maybe he did.

“Boring. Kept me on my toes I guess,” I said. “I didn’t have friends because the only ones I could freely talk to were other slaves. But, none of them stayed around or lived long enough to have a relationship with me… In all honesty, I don’t even know how I survived for so long… Maybe I’m just really good at keeping my head down, or maybe I’m just lucky.”

“I daydreamed a lot. Made the day go by faster. When I was bussing tables I got to overhear smugglers and bounty hunters talking about the things from their travels. I learned about-“

Well, I suppose I re-learned or rediscovered, or-

“- I mean. I guess I heard about Mandalorians… I became obsessed with them. I used to have dreams about Mandalorians storming Jabba’s palace and taking me away to be a foundling.”

I smiled, glancing up at Paz.

“I suppose that in a way, those dreams came true.”

“But you weren’t bussing tables when I showed up,” Paz pointed out.

I felt the heat rise to my face and I let out a nervous laugh. “Um, I may have had a bad encounter with a bounty hunter. This guy was trying to hit on me-“

Paz straightened up in his chair.

“-and I wasn’t having it, so he convinced Jabba that I would make a good dancer. And everyone knows that dancers are dead within a week or so. Which is why he-“

“Where is he?” Paz interrupted.

“Oh! He’s dead. Jabba fed him to the rancor.”

Paz almost seemed disappointed. “That’s unfortunate. I would have liked to kill him myself.”

“Oh?” I asked. “How come?”

“No one can look at you or treat you like a piece of meat. Not as long as I’m around,” Paz explained. “He’s lucky it was a rancor that killed him and not me.”

I felt my heart flutter. No one had ever expressed this kind of protectiveness over me. Not in a million years did I think anyone could.

“You humor me,” I said, my voice quiet as I looked away from Paz.

“No, Sarad. Just being honest.”

A red light started flashing on the ship’s control panel, and Paz turned around in his chair to press a few buttons and flip a switch. “We’re exiting hyperspace now. You might want to strap in.”

Strap in? What did he mean by-

The ship jerked as it came to a slow. I flew out of my seat and onto the floor with a yelp.

Oh. That’s what he meant by strap in.

Embarrassed, I scurried back to the co-pilot’s seat hoping that Paz hadn’t noticed.

He definitely had. His shoulders were shaking as though he was trying to suppress a laugh.

Oh boy.

Looking out the window, I let out an audible gasp. A planet, covered in patches of green and brown with huge white clouds swirling about. It was absolutely breathtaking.

“Welcome to Verith,” Paz said as he took the ship into the planet’s atmosphere.

Drawing closer, I could see the outline of tall mountains covered in little green fuzzy things. The closer the got, I soon realized those were actually really tall trees. Little towns and cities were scattered about between the foliage. I could see colorful banners and flags waving in the wind.

I had never seen such breathtaking scenery.

~ ~ ~

As Paz lowered the ramp of the ship, I felt excitement bubble up within me. Tatooine had been so dry and dusty. From the looks of it this planet was the complete opposite.

I followed behind Paz, taking a quick look around.

This hanger was huge. There were so many people running about with tools and dirty faces from working on ships all day.

A teal twi’lik woman walked up to us, sparing a glance at my oversized clothing before meeting my eyes.

She was beautiful in her gray jumpsuit, even with black marks smudged across her cheek.

“How can I help you?” she asked, looking between Paz and I.

“Fuel,” Paz stated, handing over a small pouch. “We won’t be long.”

The woman nodded and accepted the money with ease before walking toward the ship.

“Let’s get going. The sooner we can get back the better,” Paz said.

“Why is that?” I asked as we walked out of the hanger.

I had never seen so much vegetation. There were trees everywhere I turned, and bushes scattered all about. Green, string-like things were hanging onto buildings. I could feel the compact dirt beneath my toes. It was cool and fairly moist. Nothing like the rough sand on Tatooine.

“This planet is crowded. Far too many people for my taste,” Paz stated.

I smiled. “Are you not around people very much?”

Paz let out an amused huff. “Not large crowds like this.”

I could see what he meant. I felt like I needed to hold onto Paz so I wouldn’t lose him. There were so many people running around all packed together. I could hardly hear over all the commotion.

Soon enough, Paz led me to a marketplace littered with different vendors.

They shouted as people walked by, yelling about deals or asking questions about what people had or didn’t have.

It was funny watching people either get sucked into a conversation and subsequently buying something, or get irritated at the vendor’s efforts.

I could sit somewhere and watch the comings and goings of this little marketplace all day.

“Hey! Miss!”

One of the vendors reached out from his stand to touch my shoulder.

I yelped in surprise and jumped back, accidentally bumping into Paz.

“Ya know what would look good on you?” He asked, holding up a dangly-looking collar in his other hand.

That was an awfully sparkly collar. It didn’t look practical at all. I could probably rip that thing from my neck if I wanted to.

A gloved hand aggressively swatted this man’s arm away from my body.

“Not interested,” Paz stated, placing one hand on my back to guide me forward.

“I wasn’ talkin’ ta you!” The vendor called. “That pretty lady ya got there-”

I felt Paz’s hand drop as he turned his head toward the man.

His helmet tilted downward almost like he was glaring.

“Alright! Alright! Sheesh,” the vendor waved his hands and looked out into the crowd for someone else to bother.

Wait a minute. Why did he suddenly stop?

“How did you do that?” I asked Paz as we continued walking down the street.

“No one likes to be threatened by a blaster,” the big blue Mandalorian simply stated.

“Oh…” Yeah, I suppose that made sense.

As we turned a corner onto another busy street, I heard laugher coming from not too far away. It was young laughter, like that of a-

“Look out!”

A young boy came running through the crowd, pushing past people and giggling.

Paz sidestepped out of the way just as the boy went flying past.

“I’m gonna get you! You can’t hide from me!” yelled another boy, quickly catching up to the first one.

Children. It had been a while since I had seen a child, let alone ones that were happy.

I couldn’t help but stop and watch as they zig-sagged through the street.

I hoped they would be ok. I hoped they would stay happy and carefree for the rest of their lives. I hoped they wouldn’t be snatched from their homes and be forced to-

“Almost there, Sarad,” Paz said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I turned back to find him looking at me. Whoops.

“Sorry, I’m coming.”

Near the middle of the street was another vendor, but she was much less pushy. Hunched over and walking with a cane, her dark eyes light up when she saw Paz.

“Beroya!” she exclaimed. “It has been so long. How have you been?”

Bair-oy-ah? I thought his name was Paz.

The Mandalorian chuckled. “I’ve been fine. I have someone I would like you to meet.”

I nervously waved my hand at the woman. “Hi.”

The old woman gave me a once-over before her eyes landed on my neck. “My goodness, what happened to you?” She placed a wrinkled hand on my collarbone.

Oh. I had forgotten about the lines on my neck. This place had already made me feel too comfortable.

“Oh, um-”

Paz placed a hand on my shoulder and started speaking in another language to this woman.

She looked up at him and her eyes widened before softening and glancing back to me. “Oh child, how strong you are.”

What? What did she mean? Paz had said that too.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

The woman smiled, before swatting Paz in the leg with her walking stick.

He didn’t budge.

“How come you haven’t introduced us yet, Beroya? Where are your manners?” asked the woman, before turning back to me. “I am Jalimia, an old friend of Paz.”

Oh good. His name was Paz and I wasn’t going crazy.

“Nice to meet you Jalimia. I’m (Y/n),” I said.

“Ah, I see. Well, let’s get you into clothes that aren’t three times your size. Come, look here,” Jalimia said, walking behind her vendor’s stand.

I looked to Paz to see if it was ok.

Paz gestured toward Jalimia. “You don’t need my permission.”

I smiled before following after the old woman.

“Let’s see. What sorts of colors do you usually wear?” she asked.

“Uhh, great question,” I said.

On Tattoine, wearing white or generally light colors was a trademark of slavery. Before Oola’s outfit, I wore faded beige tunics. However, black didn’t feel right just yet. Black was symbolic of freedom, but I still didn’t fully feel free. Whatever that feeling may be. I didn’t know what to do with myself or where I was going. Almost… in a limbo of sorts.

“Hmm,” Jalimia looked me up and down before glancing at Paz.

She gasped, “I know what would look nice on you!” She reached under her stand.

Jalimia pulled out an old wooden trunk, filled to the brim with clothing. Opening it, she shuffled through several colorful pieces before pulling out some duller outfits underneath.

That made me feel better. At least she wouldn’t put me in anything flashy. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself.

“Ah, here we are,” Jalimia said as she pulled out a sky blue tunic top and a pair of dark gray pants. “Go behind that curtain and try these on.”

She shoved the outfit into my hands.

“And you can’t forget these, my dear,” Jalimia whispered, tucking something between the folds of the outfit.

She then waved me off before turning to a box full of shoes under her stand.

I made my way behind the curtian, safely out of view from the people walking by. Unfolding everything, I found a plain pair of undergarments between the folds of the tunic. I felt my eyes dampen at the gesture.  

I took off the clothes Paz had lent me and put on Jalimia’s. They fit much nicer around my from. There was not much excess fabric on the sleeves, and the pants didn’t hang below my feet.

Stepping back out into the light with Paz’s clothes hugged tightly to my chest, my eyes fell onto the big blue Mandalorian. He was standing on the opposite side of the vendor’s stand, leaning against it with his arm crossed.

He straightened up once he spotted me.

“Oh how beautiful!” exclaimed Jalimia. “If I didn’t know they were nearly extinct, I would say you look like a Jedi in training.”

“A what in where?” I asked.

“No, Sarad, you look fine,” Paz turned to Jalimia. “Thank you. How much do I-”

“No, no, no. You have done me one too many favors. You just promise me to take good care of this one,” Jalimia pointed at me.

She then pulled up a pair of boots from the box. “And take these as well,” she said.

“Oh, I can’t possibly-”

“Hush child,” Jalimia said to me. “Think of these as gifts that come with your newfound freedom.”

Oh… That’s what Paz must have told her about.

“Go ahead and try them on. We don’t want you getting any blisters walking around in those boots.”

I slipped the boots on. They were snug against my feet, and padded enough on the inside that I didn’t feel any pebbles beneath the soles. I liked them.

I smiled. “You are so kind, Jalimia. Thank you for these.”

“We should get going,” Paz said to Jalimia. “Our ship is waiting for us not too far from here.”

Jalimia feigned disappointment. “What, you don’t want to spend a night here with old Jalimia?” she laughed. “I better see you around soon, Paz. Your company is anyways welcome.”

Paz nodded his head. “I’m sure it won’t be long.”

With that, I gave Jalimia a wave goodbye before following Paz back down the busy street.

I felt happier. Lighter. I had my own clothes now.

“How do you know Jalimia?” I asked as we turned a corner.

Paz’s helmet tilted to glance down at me. “She was a Mandalorian a long time ago. Her riduur died during the Siege of Mandalore. After her death, Jalimia took off her helmet never to dawn it again.”

“Oh…” I said. That made my heart ache. Jalimia seemed like such a happy person. I couldn’t imagine seeing her so distraught from losing someone she was close to.

“... What is a ridurr?” I asked.

“A life partner. Spouse. In Jalimia’s case, her ridurr was her wife,” Paz explained.

That made my heart hurt even more. She lost the most important person in her life. I couldn’t imagine having to endure such pain.

“... Where are we going next, Paz?”

“That’s up to you,” he said. “If you want to stay with me.”

The thought of not staying with him terrified me. I had nowhere else to go. Besides, Paz had already been kinder to me than most. Aside from Jalimia.

“If… If you don’t mind I would like to stay. At least for now,” I explained. “I hate to be a burden or anything, but I also don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Paz hummed, though I couldn’t tell what for.

“You could never be a burden.”

I smiled. That meant more to me than he could even know.

“... Once we get back to the ship, I was going to set course for Ket’yci. There is a Mandalorian covert stationed there.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “No way! You’re actually taking me to a Mandalorian covert?”

Paz chuckled, “Keep your voice down.”

“Paz, you don’t understand. I’ve wanted this since I was little,” I loudly whispered.

“Then you’ll be happy to know that you will be embraced with open arms,” Paz said, though I still caught the hurt in his voice he tried to mask.

It wasn’t my fault I couldn’t remember. He knew that. If the roles were reversed, I’m sure I would be just as pained that my childhood friend had no memory of me either.

I grinned up at him. “Let’s get going then,” I excitedly said, gently gripping Paz’s arm and pulling him down the street.

(Part 5 coming soon!)

Mandoa Translations:

“Aliit” - “Family”

“Sarad” - “Flower”

“Beroya” - “Bounty Hunter”

“Riduur” - “Patner/Spouse/Husband/Wife”

(If you are interested in being added to the tag list, please tap/click this link Tag List & More 💕 Same goes for being taken off the tag list 😊 ALSO! If I forgot you on the tag list, I am so so sorry. Do not hesitate to remind me that you belong on the tag list. Thank you!)

@abysshaven | @maddie-madz  | @lovely-lil-creme | @courageinthemidst | @remmysbounty | @sacredmirrxrs | @honimello | @maiihemmmadness | @lawlerek 

[starlocked01]

Nothing but the Truth

AO3

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Summary: The twins throw a sleepover and everyone gets more revelations than they bargained for.

Content Warning: Anxiety, mentions of eating non-food items

Day 15 pre-Dukexiety/ pre-Rosleep/background Loceit- It is impossible to lie to your Soulmate

Virgil couldn’t stop tapping his foot as he watched mailboxes and telephone poles flash by the car door window. There were about one million things that could go wrong tonight and he was trapped thinking through every single one of them. Roman was his bestest friend in all of the second grade, and he didn't mind hanging out with Roman’s twin brother Remus or their friend Patton, but a sleepover? Away from his safe bed where dad checked the closet for monsters every night and left the hall light on to prevent vampires from sneaking in to bite him? Virgil almost wanted to ask dad to turn around now, but then he worried that Remus would find out and call him a baby.

Virgil was no baby. And he certainly couldn't let Remus know he was scared.

They pulled into the driveway and Virgil very bravely grabbed his purple spider backpack and favorite pillow and climbed out of the car. He took dad's hand and they walked up to the front door together.

"Go ahead and ring the bell, Virge," dad smiled at him and pointed to the doorbell. Virgil had to stand on tiptoes but he managed to hit the button. He jumped at the loud bell tone from inside the house and the subsequent scrabbling of running feet and a dog barking.

He'd forgotten all about their dog.

The inner door swung open to reveal Roman standing there with a huge grin on his face. Virgil could see the missing tooth that had "fallen out" earlier that week.

"DAD! VIRGIL’S HERE!" Roman shouted back into the house. Suddenly a dog nearly as big as Virgil came running up to the door, pulling Remus along with him. Virgil was very happy there was still a screen between them.

"Damn it, Nagini!" Remus swore, trying to hold the dog back, "Roro, help me!" Roman jumped to grab her collar as well and they both tried to pull her from the door.

"Virgil, if you pick up any swearing from Remus we're going to have to have a serious talk about your choice in friends," dad reprimanded as Roman and Remus' dad came into view.

"Logan! I'm so glad Virgil could come over tonight. Roman would not stop begging for a sleepover," their dad said with a smile, taking Nagini's collar from the twins and easily holding her back from the door, "please come in."

"Thank you, Janus. He needed more convincing than I did," Logan smiled at the other dad, ushering Virgil inside.

"The twins have been such devils lately," Janus sighed, "you're so lucky that Virgil is so calm."

Logan chuckled, "we have our fair share of quirks, I assure you. Kids, go ahead and go play. Your father and I are just going to talk for a bit."

Virgil looked up curiously, "Dad, why is your face so red?"

Logan flushed all the harder at the question and glanced at Janus, "because we're going to talk for a little bit. Don't worry about me. Go have fun, my little warrior."

Virgil smiled and ran off to the playroom with Roman and Remus.

"Nice save," Janus smirked.

"I wouldn't lie to my son even if you weren't in earshot," Logan quipped back.

"Virgil!! We're gonna have so much fun tonight!" Roman bounced excitedly, holding onto Virgil’s sleeve.

"Yeah! We're gonna make zombie slime that's gonna taste like braaaaains!" Remus grinned and rubbed his hands together like a movie villain. The twins were nearly identical except for the bright streak of silver hair Remus had and remarkably different personalities.

Virgil was decidedly less excited than the twins, convinced that touching zombie slime would turn him into the walking dead. He didn't want to know what brains taste like.

"When's Pat gonna get here?" Virgil asked with a half-smile.

"Oooh does Virgie have a crush?" Remus cackled.

"No! I do not have a crush on Patton!" Virgil pouted.

"Yeah, Remus, Virgil doesn't have a crush like you do," Roman stuck out his tongue and ran away as Remus tried to tackle him.

"Shut Up, Dirtbag!" Remus' tackle missed and he crashed into the toy box sending toys crashing all over the room.

"Are you boys okay in there?" Janus called from the other room.

"Yes," Virgil and Roman both called back in unison

"No," came Remus' muffled voice. The other two walked over to pull him out of the box as Logan and Janus both walked into the room.

"Christ! Look at this mess. Remus, what's broken?" Janus bent down to his son.

Remus sniffed, "my heart."

Roman took a not-very-discreet step backward and Virgil went to hug his dad's legs. He didn't mean to hurt Remus and he was sure it was his fault and he'd be sent away to never see his friends again.

Janus sighed and offered Remus a hug which the boy gladly accepted, "what happened?"

"Ro is teasing me," Remus mumbled, "but I'm okay! Don't send Virgil and Patton home just because I'm a baby!"

"Okay, no. You are not a baby for feeling hurt when someone is mean to you. Roman? Why were you teasing your brother?" Janus pinned Roman in the middle of his escape with a piercing stare.

"Ahm…. No reason," Roman lied.

"Roman…"

"He was teasing Virgil. I'm sorry please don't make Virgil leave," Roman blinked back tears.

Janus pinched the bridge of his nose, "none of this explains how Remus ended up in the toy box."

Virgil tugged on his dad's sleeve, "dad, are we gonna have to leave if we can't play nice?"

Logan shared a look with Janus then turned back to Virgil, "no, we are not leaving. You all have been planning this party for months and have worked hard to be well behaved. I don't think one little fight is going to negate that." Virgil nodded slowly.

"Daddy, my shoulder hurts," Remus whimpered.

"Alright, Roman, five minutes in the time out chair. Please consider why it is not fair to Remus or Virgil to tease each other. I'll be back when your five minutes are up. Remus, let's go get some ice and talk about why it's not nice to make fun of your friends. Logan, I am so sorry. You see what I have to deal with?" Janus chuckled helplessly, picking Remus up with a grunt as Roman sulked over to a chair in the corner. The doorbell rang and Roman swiveled around to jump up and get the door. "No! You're in time out! That must be Emile with Patton. Can you get the door, dear?"

Logan blushed and nodded, grabbing Virgil’s hand to walk back out to the front door. They opened the door to find Patton and his older brother standing there with a very frazzled looking father.

"Oh, Logan! I thought that was your car! How are you doing?" Emile gave him a weary smile.

"The usual. Virgil’s a little handful but nothing we can't work out together. How are you and the boys?"

Emile groaned as Logan ushered them in. Virgil waved at Patton who waved back excitedly. He was already wearing a dinosaur onesie even though bedtime was hours away. The adults talked in hushed whispers in the foyer that Virgil couldn’t understand.

"Hi, Virge! Where's Remus and Roman?" Patton asked Virgil quietly.

"Uh.. in trouble.." Virgil muttered.

"What?? How?" Patton looked crestfallen, "is their dad gonna send us home?"

"No, definitely not," Virgil smiled at Patton, "it was just a little argument."

"God, you babies are boring!" Patton's older brother Remy scoffed. He was in 3rd grade so Virgil figured he must know what he's talking about.

Janus and Remus emerged from the kitchen with the young boy holding an ice pack to his shoulder. Janus pushed Remus towards the kids standing in the hall and joined the other adults in conversation.

"Don't worry, V. I'm okay and Dad promised you guys can stay! Hi Pattycake! Hi Name Theif!" Remus grinned, the pain and embarrassment were already forgotten.

Remy rolled his eyes, "I'm older than you, twerp."

"Remy, be nice to my friends!" Patton whined.

"Why should I be?"

"Thank you again, Janus. We really owe you one this time. I'll go get his stuff from the car. You'd think with three adults in the house we wouldn't have scheduling issues like this," Emile quickly jogged back out to his car, bringing back two sets of sleepover equipment.

"Fudge! Dad's leaving me here too!" Remy groaned. Virgil was a bit intimidated but refused to show it.

"Alright let's go get Roman so your fathers can get on with their lives," Janus corralled the kids back to the playroom, winking at Logan as he and Emile left.

Roman immediately bounced up from the chair as soon as the others returned. He rushed over to Remus and wrapped him in a hug, "I'm sorry!"

Remus grinned, "'s okay!" he hugged Roman back tightly and Janus sighed a small sigh of relief.

"Okay, children, ground rules. One, if anything breaks or anyone gets injured you get me immediately. Two, and this is mostly for you, Remus, no eating anything that isn't food-" Remus grumbled at this but nodded, handing his dad the half-melted ice pack "-lovely. And finally three, bedtime is non-negotiable. You have to be quiet after bedtime. Other than that, just don't maim or mock each other and tonight will go just fine," Janus gave the children a sly grin and left the room.

"Ugh! Why am I stuck with you babies?" Remy moaned.

"We're not babies, Rem!" Patton huffed, "you're not that much older than us."

"Besides, babies don't get to play with slime!" Remus grinned, running over to a supply cabinet filled with crafts.

"Wow. I'm so not impressed," Remy made a confused face but shook it off, "why play with slime when we can play a grown-up game?"

"Grown-up game?" Virgil asked quietly.

"I don't trust it. It's bound to be something boring like taxes!" Roman pouted, kicking a stuffed animal.

"Let's play Truth or Dare," Remy smirked as the others looked at him with confused stares.

"How do ya play that?" Remus asked, intrigued.

"Can't we do something else like color?" Patton asked hopefully.

Remy rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder, cracking his neck audibly, "listen up, we're playing and I'm only going over the rules once. We all sit in a circle and take turns choosing someone to ask 'truth or dare?' and that person has to choose whether to answer a question truthfully or accept a challenge that they can't back outta. Once they pick, the person who asked them picks a question or challenge. Got it, babes?" the others all nodded solemnly, "perfect. Maybe this won't be a wasted night yet."

They all gathered in a circle in the middle of the room. Remus was clutching a stuffed squid and Virgil was chewing on his nails.

"Oh! Oh! I wanna go first!" Roman bounced in his seat and made a show of studying everyone before landing on his choice, "Patton, truth or dare?"

"Ummm truth!" The boy squeaked.

"Alright, uhhhh do you like cats?" Roman asked accusingly.

"Yes!" Patton beamed, "but dad and papa say I'm allergic to them."

"Noooo you have to ask juicy questions!" Remy whined.

"Oh uh, Patton do you like juice?" Roman corrected.

Remy smacked his forehead as Patton cheerfully replied, "yeah I like juice too!"

"Let me show you how it's done. Virgil, truth or dare?" Remy stared him down with piercing eyes and everyone else turned to watch for Virgil’s response. He could feel his pulse rise with the fear of being put on the spot.

"Uh dare?" Virgil asked, pulling his hood up over his head.

"I dare you to go eat some glue!" Remy smirked.

"Ooh, yummy!" Remus grinned

"But wait-" Roman started.

"Mr. Prince said not to eat anything that isn't food. That's an illegal dare, Remy!" Patton interrupted in protest.

"Truth or Dare doesn't play by house rules. You gotta do it, Virgil, or you're a loser baby," Remy continued to smirk, nodding over to the supply cabinet.

Virgil stood with a gulp. He would not let any of them call him a loser or a baby. He walked over to the supply closet and grabbed a bottle of white glue. The label said non-toxic, but what if it glued his mouth shut and he could never talk or laugh again? What if it just sat in his stomach forever and captured all the brussel sprouts he hated eating so they never left? What if he-

"Just do it we don't have all night!" Remy bossed him from the circle. Virgil took a deep breath and squeezed some glue on his finger before quickly shoving the finger in his mouth. He wanted to gag because the texture was so awful but he swallowed as best he could and showed the others his clean finger.

"Wow Virgil, you're so brave!" Patton smiled at him.

"Humph! I do that at least three times a week!" Remus smacked his hand over his mouth.

"You told dad you stopped! Liar!" Roman accused him. Remy just laughed at the small pool of chaos he'd created.

"Okay my turn, Remus, truth or dare?" Patton asked, rocking back and forth on his seat on the floor.

"Truth!"

"Okay, do you like dogs?"

Remus gasped, "Nagini! I wanna go get her!"

"No, Remus! Dad probably put her outside so she doesn't eat Virgil," Roman rolled his eyes and Virgil added a new thing to his list to look out for in his nightmares.

"No! You have to ask questions that people won't want to answer. Like about crushes or secrets or stuff like that! What fun is it if the person wants to tell the truth?" Remy groaned.

"Sorry, Rem," Patton whimpered.

"Well, it's my turn. Remy, truth or dare?" Remus grinned at the older boy.

"Truth. Do your worst." Remy stared back cooly.

"Have ya ever pooped in the bath?" Remus' smile turned wicked and the others gasped while Remy sputtered.

"N- n- how- yes," he looked mortified and buried his face in his knees as the others laughed. Remy had tried so hard to lie and save face but couldn't, and not because of the social contract of the rules of the game. He physically could not force himself to lie. Which meant his own crush was a lot bigger deal than he wanted to admit and he'd just told his soulmate one of the most embarrassing things in his life. "Oh my gawd, just kill me now."

"It's okay Remy, I'm sure it's happened to almost everyone at some point," Virgil was still snickering and realized it was his turn, "Roman, truth or dare?"

"Dare!" Roman puffed his chest out in confidence.

"Okay.. I dare you to climb that bookshelf," Virgil pointed to the shelves in question.

Roman popped up from his seat on the floor, "easy!" he scurried up until he could touch the ceiling but paused, clinging to the shelves, "I think I'm stuck."

Remus jumped up, "don't worry, brother, I'll catch you! Jump!" Roman let go and fell back. Remus caught and promptly dropped Roman.

"Oops… Ro are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Remy, truth or dare?"

Remy weighed his options. He wouldn't be able to lie if the question was too embarrassing so he scowled, "dare."

"I dare you to go sneak ice cream bars from the freezer for everyone," Roman grinned, dusting himself off.

"Whatever, that's so lame and easy," Remy stood and started out the playroom door.

"You won't be saying that if dad catches you," Remus giggled.

"Okay if Remy's gone I think that means it's my turn," Patton chipped in, "Virgil, truth or dare?"

On one hand, Patton couldn't possibly ask him to do anything as dangerous as Remy had. On the other hand, Virgil was starting to feel sick and didn't want to get up, "truth…"

"Okay," Patton furrowed his eyebrows with concentration. He didn't want to ruin the game anymore with baby questions, "um, have you ever kissed someone?"

Virgil felt frozen in time. His mind flashed back to a spring day on the playground when he'd just wanted to know if he'd like kissing and what it was like and Roman had volunteered to let him try with him. They'd agreed to never speak of it again. He could see Roman blushing and Remus and Patton staring at him with anticipation. He had to lie to protect his best friend.

"Yes," Virgil smacked his hand to his mouth. That was absolutely not what he had intended to say. He could see Roman panicking now too. Oh no, did Roman hate him? Remus looked upset and Patton looked shocked. Neither had noticed Roman's face yet but Virgil could see the next logical question forming on Remus' lips.

"Who?"

Virgil turned away from the group and started to cry. He didn't want to answer because he didn't think his mouth would let him lie even if he tried. He felt a weird tug in his gut compelling him to tell the truth.

Wait. Did that mean that one of these boys was his soulmate?

"I think it was Elliott," Roman lied shakily. Virgil nodded, relieved of having to tell them himself and willing to go along with the lie. That meant his soulmate wasn’t Remy or Roman.

Remus crawled around to sit in front of Virgil, holding Sir Squiggles the stuffed Squid out to him, "Virgil, it'll be okay. I'm sure your soulmate will understand," Virgil took Sir Squiggles and nodded, not wanting to make eye contact with Remus. Sir Squiggles felt sticky and Virgil’s stomach was aching already. This was supposed to be a lot more fun.

"Ugh this is getting boring," Roman whined, "Remus, truth or dare?"

"Dare," Remus answered without thinking.

Roman got a wicked gleam in his eye, "I dare you to kiss your crush."

Remus glared at his brother and tried to say that he couldn’t because he wasn't in the house, but found that he couldn’t say that. He knew full well Virgil was sitting right in front of him but he couldn’t bring himself to lie and save himself.

Uh oh. That meant Patton or oh please be Virgil was his soulmate.

Remus knew there was no way out of it so he decided to come clean. As he knelt there in front of Virgil, who was looking at him expectantly, he grabbed the other boy’s hand and kissed his knuckles. Both of them blushed.

"That's cheating!" Roman protested.

Patton laughed, "you never said where to kiss. I say it counts," his laughter died down into giggles and he started singing, "Remus has a crush on Virgilll!"

"That's not fair!" Roman whined.

"What's not fair?" The adult voice from the door startled all of them.

Janus stood there with a guilty-looking Remy. The other boys froze in place, Remus subconsciously shifting to put himself between his dad and Virgil.

"Okay, better question, who tried to trick Remy into stealing ice cream?" Janus looked around at each of their faces with a hard glare. None of them could look him in the eye.

"It was a dare," Roman sniffed, knowing he was going to get in trouble for the second time that day, but unable to lie and make up a cover story.

"Am I that scary that my own children can't ask me for ice cream?" Janus pretended to be offended before pulling out ice cream bars from behind his back. Everyone jumped up to grab one and Remy broke into a grin, giving Janus a high five. "You are one talented little actor. You all keep playing nice, okay?" Everyone nodded as Janus turned and left the room again.

"Oh my goodness, did you get caught?" Patton asked in a hushed whisper.

Remy struggled for a second before answering, "no I just went and asked for ice cream," he sighed and shook his head, "that's it I'm done with truth or dare. It's no fun if you can't lie and fake people out."

Roman gave an offended gasp, "how dare you?! You're the one who suggested it!"

"Wait, you can't lie? That would mean…" Virgil trailed off. What a weird coincidence it would be if both he and Remy were in the presence of their soulmates. Unless… no…

"Not that I wanted to lie to you guys, but I felt it too," Roman interrupted Virgil’s thoughts.

"Samesies," Remus chuckled.

Patton looked down at his slippers, "aww that's nice for you guys."

"So… who is who's soulmate?" Remy looked between the brothers. He definitely had a preference but that's not how soulmates worked.

Remus stood and grabbed Virgil’s wrist, heart beating wildly in his chest. He pulled him out into the hallway towards the front doors away from the others.

"What are you doing?" Virgil asked.

"Testing. Ask me something I wouldn't want to answer." Remus stated with determination in his eyes.

"Uh, do you still sleep with Sir Squiggles in your bed?"

Remus' eyes flashed with fear, "yes because I'm a baby who's still scared of the dark."

Virgil smiled, "me too. And I would never tell anyone else that."

Remus giggled, "wow, somehow I don't even want to lie to you… and I can't… did you really kiss Elliott?"

"No…" Virgil looked down at the floor. Of course, his soulmate would ask the one thing he really didn't want to admit, "it was actually Roman. I'm sorry, I didn't know…"

Remus looked sad but nodded, "I did say that your soulmate would understand. And I meant it. I understand. I'll just have to prove I'm better than him!" Virgil snorted, trying to hold back giggles. He felt much better.

"Um guys, we're gonna make slime now," Patton interrupted from the hallway, "and Remy and Roman are pretty sure they're soulmates."

Remus' eyes gleamed, "slime!" He ran back to the room leaving the other two behind.

Virgil smiled, "hey Patton?"

"Yeah?" Patton looked up and quickly smiled.

"We're gonna be friends forever, right?" Virgil asked.

Patton's smile broadened into a genuinely happy expression, "of course!"

Virgil opened his arms as an invitation for a hug which Patton gladly accepted.

"Now let's go make slime!" Virgil grabbed Patton's hand to drag him back to the playroom.

That night, Virgil lay awake in his sleeping bag, staring at the ceiling. No one had checked the closet or left a light on, and even with all the fun they had, he was still feeling pretty scared in the dark.

Something soft, squishy, a little sticky, and covered in tentacles landed on his face. Virgil tried to muffle his startled yell and quickly discovered Sir Squiggles was the offending toy.

"Psssst Virgil," Remus' whisper came from the bottom bunk bed right next to Virgil’s sleeping bag.

"What?" Virgil whispered back.

"Are you too scared to sleep too?"

"Yeah," Virgil sat up and could look Remus in his eyes.

"Get up here, we'll protect each other."

"What will everyone else say?" Virgil hissed.

"Who cares? Please?" Remus smiled and Virgil nodded in the dark. He slid out of his sleeping bag and grabbed his pillow and Sir Squiggles before climbing in the bunk.

"What are you scared of?" Virgil whispered as Remus shifted to give him more room.

"Ninjas. They can hide in the dark and attack when you least expect," Remus' eyes went wide but Virgil smiled.

"I'll fight 'em. I know karate," Remus smiled and gave him a hug.

"What about you, Virge? What are you scared of?"

"The monsters in the closet," Virgil couldn't make eye contact but Remus smirked.

"I'm scarier than anything in there!" Remus boasted, voice trailing above a whisper.

"Shhhh"

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Thank you, Remus," Virgil smiled and snuggled under the covers. It had been a pretty great first sleepover after all.

Tag List: @tsshipmonth2020 @stoicpanther @ifrickenhatedeverythingaboutthis @idontgiveafuckaboutshit

[ezpezlemonsquez]

Okay, so basically I was in a mood for adult gaang reunion, so I wrote this. Here you are, hope you’ll enjoy ✨

“Just like old times”

“Suki, come on, we’re gonna be late!” called out Sokka, entering their hut. Again. “Everything’s ready but you two.”

His wife laughed.

“Relax, Sokka, they won’t start without us. And you know that Yue needs to have her hair done.” She raised her eyebrows, while she was running fingers through her daughter’s hair.

“Yeah, dad, you know that” she took up, making a face to him. Sokka shook his head both with disbelief and a smile. He sat down, watching his beautiful ladies.

“I’m not worried they’d start without us, though” he explained. “There’s no fun without Sokka, duh.”

Suki rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m just concerned Katara’s going to get there earlier than I am.”

His wife even turned her head from Yue’s hair to him, only to see his priceless face expression.

“You didn’t bet with Katara again, did you?” she asked, lowkey already knowing the answer.

“Well, I couldn’t let her win just like that.” Sokka shrugged his shoulders. Suki sighed.

“You’re gonna lose, sweetie” she proclaimed.

“Not if we sticked to my schedule, I wouldn’t.”

“You didn’t make the time for mom to braid my hair, dad” slipped Yue. “You knew what you were getting yourself into.”

“Why excuse me, I assumed mom can braid your hair on ship” explained Sokka, extremely offended. His daughter shook her head as much as Suki’s hands in her hair allowed her to.

“Absolutely not possible.”

Sokka looked at his wife, seeking help. Suki shrugged with a smile.

“There’s nothing I can do. You knew what you were getting yourself into.”

Chief sighed and shook his head, defeated. This whole trip already started to go totally not as planned.

***

Sokka got off the ship and wasn’t even surprised that the first person who greeted him wasn’t neither Zuko, nor Aang, nor Toph and not even Mai.

“Hello, looser.” Grinned Katara. Sokka rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up” he mumbled, hugging her in greeting. “It’s all Suki’s fault, by the way.”

Katara laughed.

“It kind of is” admitted Suki, also going for a hug. “It’s so great to see you, Katara, how are you doing?”

“I’m great, I’m really great. Tenzin is growing up so fast, you wouldn’t believe it.” She laughed. “I can’t believe it’s been almost a year.”

“I know, right? You’ve been out of the South for so long, we really missed you back there.”

“I didn’t” slipped Sokka teasingly, unpacking things from the ship. His sister hit him in the arm.

“Go back to carrying stuff, Sokka” she spat.

“Wait, honey, I’ll give you a hand” suggested Suki.

“No need, I’m doing great!” cried out her husband, taking three more boxes. “I mean, I definitely can see right now, so... tell me if I step on somebody, please” he puffed, trying to see the road.

Suki shook her head.

“Excuse me” she whispered to Katara and went to help out her husband. She took from him two boxes so that he could actually see something. He smiled to her gratefully. Katara grinned. And then she saw a little girl getting off the ship, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Are we there yet?” she asked, yawning and when nobody answered her, she looked around. Katara crossed her arms, waiting to be noticed. “Aunt Katara!” cried out Yue immediately after she spotted her. She ran towards her and before Katara knew it, she wrapped her little arms around her.

“Aunt Katara, I missed you so much!”

Katara laughed, hugging her niece back.

“I missed you, too, Yue. Look at you, all grown up! You’re a beautiful young lady.”

“Not as beautiful as you are, though.” Grinned Yue and her aunt shook her head. “Are Bumi and Kya here? And uncle Aang?”

“They are, you’ll meet them at the palace. And Tenzin’s with them as well.”

“Oh...” Yue made a face. “Is he still so squishy-looking?”

“I’m afraid he is” laughed Katara. “And you certainly are Sokka’s daughter” she added silently, shaking her head. Sokka walked up to them and took Yue’s hand.

“We’re ready, you’re coming?” asked his sister. She nodded and all four of them set off to the Fire Nation Royal Palace, where the rest was waiting for them. They saw Toph first, even though she didn’t exactly see them.

“Zuko” she started, before anyone was able to say something “needs to be put in his place. Who does he think he is, huh?”

“Uhh, try the Fire Lord” smiled Suki.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t give a f...”

“Toph” interrupted her Suki, warningly. Toph seemed confused for a moment, but she finally understood when someone started to aggressively shake her hand.

“Right. Hi, kid.”

“Hey, aunt Toph” said Yue, very proud of herself for not giving Beifong a hug. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Yeah, I’d say the same about you but since I don’t actually see you...”

Yue grinned.

“I know. Hey, mom, dad, can I go inside and look for Bumi and Kya?”

Sokka nodded.

“Sure. But don’t forget to greet every... aaaand she’s gone already.”

“I don’t know why you sound so surprised, Chief Boomerang, you’d do exactly the same.”

“I know, right? It’s terrifying.” Smiled Sokka. “Anyways, it’s great to finally meet up. Man, I’ve been waiting for this whole reunion thing. We should do this annually.”

“We do” reminded Suki. “You came up with it.”

“Oh, right, I’m a genius.”

“You know, even with the inability to see, I can give you this look” said Toph, making a face to him, as if she’d been saying ‘really?’.

“And even with the ability to see, I can pretend I don’t get it” announced Sokka. “Come on, Toph, I’m sure Zuko has already repaired whatever you were mad with him about” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and dragging her up the stairs.

“I am mad” spat Toph but let Sokka lead her inside the palace. “Present tense. And you didn’t even give me a chance to say hi to Suki.”

“I was pretty sure you did that.”

“What a detective” scoffed Toph.

“One more word and I’ll push you down these stairs and you know it” threatened Sokka. His friend just shook her head in response. Upstairs waited for them Aang.

“Oh, great, I was supposed to go after Toph, but I see this problem has been already resolved.” Laughed the Avatar.

“Who are you calling the problem, Twinkletoes?” tried to spit Toph, but she got quickly undermined, as no one reacted.

“Sokka, finally” sighed Aang, hugging his friend.

“Long time no see, huh, the fearsome Avatar?” Grinned Sokka. “I heard you’re doing pretty well by organising the world.”

“I am, thank you very much.” Laughed Aang. “Republic City is glowing.”

“I believe you. The South Pole is glowing, too.”

“I know. Just a little bit more and we’ll be there, promise.” Smiled Aang. “Suki, you look beautiful!” he called out, when he saw her. He held out his hands to hug her.

“Thank you, Aang, so do you.” Laughed Suki. “We missed you.”

“He promised they’ll be back soon” slipped Sokka, giving Aang a judgy look.

“Can we please move along?” Toph kicked her heels. “I gotta kick Zuko’s butt.”

“Toph, you cannot do this.” Sighed Aang, walking with her further to the palace. “We’ve been over this.”

Sokka and Suki smiled to each other. He put an arm around her waist and gently kissed her temple. Katara placed her hand at her brother’s shoulder and smiled.

“Come on” she encouraged. “Zuko and Mai are dying to meet up with you two. Besides, dinner’s almost ready.”

Sokka gave her a knowing look.

“Well, you should’ve started with that, sister!”

***

They met with the rest in the dining room. Everyone was there — Yue played with Bumi and Kya (and Kya’s waterbending), Mai was trying to calm down Izumi, who was somehow scared by Ty Lee and her tricks, while Aang tried to prevent bloodshed between Zuko and Toph. Sokka sighed.

“Just like old times, huh?”

“Just like old times” admitted Suki. She slipped out of Sokka’s arm and walked up to Ty Lee. The Kyoshi Warrior lit up immediately as she saw her.

“Hey, boss.” She smiled, bowing to her funnily. Suki shook her head.

“Hello, my dear warrior” she replied, bowing back. “Come on, bring it in.” She laughed as Ty Lee hugged her excitedly.

“It’s so good to see you, Suki. I wish you would visit us more often.”

“Me too.”

“We’re going to” assured Sokka, walking up to them. “This period of time was just super hard for both of us.”

“It was.” Nodded Suki.

“Hi, Ty Lee.” Sokka held out his hand to her and smiled.

“Sokka” greeted him Ty Lee, squeezing his hand. “Everything alright at the South Pole?”

“They’re certainly doing better than we are” replied Mai, before anyone else could answer the question. “I’d give you my hand but they’re both kind of busy.” She looked at her daughter suggestively. “It’s great you made it, though”

“We get it.” Smiled Suki. “You’re not getting much sleep, are you?”

Mai snorted.

“Much is overstatement.” She looked over her shoulder. “Oh, great, my husband’s coming. Well, Izumi, dad will put you to sleep.”

“Sokka, Suki.” Smiled Zuko and hugged both of them. “Yue’s greeted me like fifteen minutes ago, what took you so long?”

“Oh, see, she greeted him” said Suki to Sokka, smiling suggestively. Sokka made a proud face.

“She’s got great manners, she even addressed me Fire Lord Uncle Zuko.” Laughed Zuko.

“Speaking of” slipped Mai, handing his husband the baby. “It’s your turn to put Izumi to sleep.”

Zuko raised his eyebrows.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s your turn now.”

“Nope” denied Mai, shaking her head.

The two of them looked each other in the eye for a moment, until Zuko finally gave up. “Damn it, why is uncle still in Ba Sing Se when I need him?” he mumbled. Mai smiled triumphantly. “Okay, sweetie, say goodnight to your uncle Sokka and aunt Suki and aunt Ty Lee, you’re going to sleep. I mean, I hope you are.” He gave his friends ‘I am so done’ look and was about to leave, when he reminded himself of something else.

“Oh, and of course make yourself comfortable, guys. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

Suki smiled.

“Don’t worry, we won’t start without you.”

“We won’t?” groaned Sokka.

“No, we won’t, Sokka.”

Zuko rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Thanks, Suki” he said and left with little Izumi pulling his hair, which he was totally indifferent to.

“Wait, Zuko, you forgot...” started Mai, going after her husband. Ty Lee smiled to them and went back to the table. Suki hugged Sokka.

“Just like old times.” She sighed, repeating his words. Sokka smiled and hugged her tighter.

“Just like old times.”

[mandoinevarro]

Cara’s Restless Week

Words: 4k

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut, vaginal intercourse, masturbation, voyeurism, choking, cuckolding? Not sure :/ 

a/n: I’m once again ignoring baby yoda. He’s at a sleepover at Omera’s, also he and all children go deaf at night, don’t worry about them. 

Cara Dune can’t sleep.

The night is still and warm, and the steady rhythm of drizzle batting against the roof of her shelter would’ve been enough to lull her to sleep under any other circumstances. Even the crickets outside seem to have fallen into a uniform, soothing symphony.

And yet, Cara can’t sleep.

She’s no stranger to restless nights—Maker, she’s no stranger to restless weeks, but she never thought she’d have bedtime troubles inside a comfortable bungalow in Sorgan, days after they’ve driven away the threats to the peaceful community. She tosses and turns on her cot, presses a straw pillow against her face, tries counting blurgs, but it’s no use. No matter what Cara does, she can’t stop hearing the choked moans coming from the cabin next to hers. She kicks the covers away and stumps around in circles inside her cramped hut.

It’s not like it came as a surprise to her.  

She suspected something was brewing under the surface from the first day she met the Mandalorian. Settling things with him was easy enough after they learnt that no, he didn’t have a fob on her, and no she wasn’t after a green baby growing wings out of his head. She smiled when the pretty woman feeding broth to said kid giggled at her description.

Cara’s first impression of you was pleasant enough; you smiled easily and contributed every now and then with your own sharp observations, not to mention how much the shock trooper liked the feeling between her legs every time your breasts bounced with each hearty laugh. She even thought of making a move, but stopped the lewd come-on from tumbling past her teeth once she noticed the way your gaze followed your Mandalorian’s every move. Inside some buried corner in the back of her mind, Cara recognized the look. If not something deeper (because softer passions are hard to nurture in this harsh galaxy), it was—at the very least—a look of profound longing. And, although those gentle sentiments had abandoned Cara somewhere in the blur of her past, she’d lived enough to know that glimpse in your pupils whenever he’d get too close to you was there to stay.

The drizzle turns into rain. Instead of drowning them, the loud pebbling clatter of fat droplets only gives the mewls a vibration and solidity that they lacked before. She steps out of the lodge, hoping the pouring water will clear her mind and send her back to bed. But—like if you were purposefully working to lengthen her insomnia— as soon as her head pokes out, the whimpers that hit her are noisier and clearer, and she immediately goes back inside. She sits on a stool, impatiently grabs at her trimmed hair, searches her warrior’s brain for a solution.

She kept her distance that afternoon and thought she’d never see either of you again, and hadn’t at all expected the leather hand that dropped a pouch of credits at her feet in the dark Sorgan woods.

A little action and some pocket money were a good bargain, so Cara took the job. She promised herself, though, to keep her cravings for you at bay. It wasn’t very hard at first. Everyone in the community spent weeks doing little but prepare for the impending attack of the raiders. Cara and the Mandalorian trained the villagers, planned the defense strategy, went over the plan over and over again, helped dig ditches, and neither of them had much time to think about you.

It wasn’t until after their victory—after the Imperial AT-ST was destroyed and, with it, the invaders’ oppressive grip on the fishing village—that they both allowed themselves to occupy their heads on something—or rather, someone—a lot more pleasant.

By that point, Cara had gotten pretty good at reading Mando’s body language. Gestures that she’d once thought were signs of indifference or trained stoicism picked up completely different meanings. She remarked how his spine would relax and he’d lose a few inches whenever he’d see his son playing with the village’s children. She took note of the way his helmet would tilt to the side and his modulated voice would drag a little at the end on the rare occasion he made a joke. She was next to him on the afternoon his dark visor fixated on you when, in front of a particularly orange sunset, the last beams of light melted over your glowing figure, painting your skin and hair with changing colors. She definitely didn’t miss the sore sigh that fractured at the sight before it even left the helmet.

Cara cements her legs on the ground for stability and cracks her knuckles once, twice, until the joints go mushy and they stop clicking.

She can tell you’re trying to hush your sounds as best as you can. She can tell because every time a notably loud whine defies your restraint, it is instantly muffled by a hand or some other utensil you’ve learned you need after your long nights of pleasure.

It’s been going on for a couple of days now, and Cara is starting to find it fucking insufferable. She honestly doesn’t know what’s worse: the sleepless nights or the mornings that follow. For the uninitiated, your morning greetings and seemingly innocent small talk would be polite, but unremarkable. Cara, though, knows better. She’s there for every conspiring smile, every brush of his gloves against your hips. She even catches some of the furtive whispers and caresses you exchange sometimes, when you think nobody’s looking. How you blush when he crowds you with his superior stature; how he sneaks out of your tent at dawn.

And, it’s not like Cara is jealous of Mando. Although you’re nice and easy to talk to, she knows that her feelings for you are purely physical, and she’s spent enough time around you both to know that whatever is going on between you two had been ballooning for a pretty long time until it inevitably burst. If anything, she’s relieved that, after such a torturous period of mutual pining, you’ve finally found an outlet for your affection. She’s happy for her friends. But she can’t fucking sleep.

The relentless moaning starts bending the humid air into clearer shapes. You’re talking to each other. Against all her instincts, Cara drops to the floor in all fours and crawls closer to barrier of her lodging. She presses her ear to the scratchy wall. The sounds are swallowed, and she only makes out an attuned voice that says, “…wanted…from…first day…”

What she can hear loud and clear is a wet, squelching noise that goes to the beat of the dropping rain. The warrior feels like an anvil drops on her chest and slumps on the floor.

If she’s being honest, it’s not even the lack of rest that’s really bothering her—although it does contribute to her daily grumpiness. The reason she finds it unbearable to sit through the rich sounds of your consummated lust night after night is that she knows exactly what she’s missing.

Because she’s been to almost every system and fought every fight. She’s witnessed the destruction of planets and their birth. She’s slept on empty deserts, under the watchful eye of their celestial vault. She’s cheated death. But there’s nothing, absolutely nothing she’s found on her long voyages across the galaxy that compares to the electric current that shocks her nerve endings when someone’s flesh presses against hers. Nothing like having someone strip down bare and let her learn them, inside and out.

So, Cara sits and listens, sits and listens, sits and listens…, until—stubborn, willful woman that she is—she decides that enough is enough.

She stands and struts outside with heavy steps like she’s battlebound, lets the rain—now a storm—drench her skin and underclothes, lets her boots sink in mud. She stops at the entrance of your tent, where the cries are loudest and barely concealed by the rainfall. Her plan is to come in quickly, averting her gaze, and sternly tell you two to keep it down or find another place to fuck. She pushes the flap of the entrance open.

Neither of you see her. How could you, when your nude back is facing her, and Mando, on his underarmor and beneath you, has his helmet thrown back against the floor, probably staring directly at the way your breasts bob gently with your leisurely up-and-down movements.

Cara stays at the entrance, partially hidden by the shadows that the oil lamp beside you can’t reach. She really does try to move. She wills her legs to step forward and make her presence known, but a wave of heat hits her hard when she sees the low, orange light embrace your lower back and drop to your ass with your languid movements. She tells her head to turn around, but her limbs have rebelled against her and remain frozen in front of the show.

Defeated, she stands in the gloom. The mythic warrior Carasynthia Dune helplessly stares at the lovers, pathetically wet and overcome with the desire to simply witness.

A part of her doesn’t care about the morality of it. Not when she sees your trembling thighs rock particularly hard over the Mandalorian, which draws a strangled sob from you and a low grumble from him, both of which can probably be heard three huts over. He quickly lifts one of the gloved hands holding your hips and presses it against your gaping mouth, like he wasn’t the one who moaned the loudest. Still, his grip does nothing to hide the obscene sound of your cunt taking his veins and ridges inside, your juices blending with his.

She’s entranced by the way your fists are clamped on his undershirt and whines seem to knot in your throat as he brings a hand to your back drawing soothing circles. You’re both so laughably bad at keeping quiet.

I could stay here, she thinks after a moment, here in the dark, where they won’t see me.

The hair on the nape of the neck stands up.

You look so elated, doing your best to pleasure each other. Neither of you speak, but you seem to be communicating through grunts, erotic movements, and caresses that carry more meaning than Cara could decipher. It looks like you’re confessing something unspeakable to each other.

Cara whimpers. It’s only a tiny syllable, but it apparently draws the Mandalorian’s attention, because the helmet rolls to side and focuses on the spot where shadows camouflage her. She freezes.

He grabs your thighs tightly and groans, “Fuck—C-cara?”

You immediately stop moving and remove your hands from his chest in indignation. “What?”

“N-no, no. I mean…” He points towards the general area where she’s hiding. Your upper body follows his finger.

Cara hasn’t blushed from embarrassment in years, so she’s confused when she feels blood stab at her cheeks. For a fleeting moment, she thinks that if she’s just very quiet and stays very still, you’ll go back to your motions and wave off the feeling that someone’s watching. It’s stupid and Cara knows it. Cursing herself, she steps out of the shadows, slickness sticking to her inner thighs with the shifting of her legs.

Her voice is dusty when she speaks, looking down at the floor like a child caught awake after bedtime. “I…I’m sorry I just—” The rain outside rings in her ears. She cracks her knuckles nervously and shifts her weight from leg to leg, thinking of a way to get out of it. “You were being too fucking loud. Stars, I’m sure they can hear you in Nevarro. You’ll have bounty hunters find you in no time if you keep this shit up.” Her words and tone are aggressive, but her eyes tell a different story, as they remain fixated on your heaving chest.

Neither of you move. Between the partial darkness and the helmet, she can’t really bring herself to try to read what Mando’s thinking. You, on the other hand, just look confused…and then, when you draw a line from the woman’s gaze to your naked chest, something else crosses your features. Not anger, not shame—something soft. Compassion, maybe?

Cara doesn’t stay to find out. She drags her feet across the floor to see herself out, as you turn to Mando and seem to tell him something in that secret, silent language of yours. He squeezes your thighs. Her name on your airy voice makes her stop.

“Cara,” you start, “w-would you—um—would you like to stay?”

The mercenary is sure she’s starting to hallucinate shit in an attempt to keep some of her dignity, until she indulges in one final look back and sees you with your arm extended, inviting her to join you.

She doesn’t notice when her legs come to life and drag her towards the couple, nor when her joints bend and sink to your level, kneeling and petrified. It’s only when your fingers brush her inner wrist and she pulls it back instinctively that she comes back to her senses.

Mando’s thumbs are drawing circles below your breasts. “Give her time.”

“You can touch me,” you tell the statue in front of you, but quickly add, “if you want. Or you can—” the bounty hunter must be cramping under your weight, because he repositions his hips, which makes him grunt and cuts you off, “—or you can only watch if you prefer. It’s okay.”

With a smile, you turn your attention back to the man trapped between your legs and resume your grinding. Whether you do it to put up a show for your guest, she’s not sure, but your rocking is stronger this time around, making sure you sink to the hilt and then pull almost completely out, before falling back down. Cara’s holding her breath. Maker, why is she acting like a fucking virgin? Her hands roll into fists when you throw your head back and pull a lustful wail from your insides.

Mando isn’t doing any better when he locks his fingers firmly on the curve of your ass and pants out, “You—you really enjoy the extra attention, don’t—don’t you?”

You exhale through your mouth with a smile and turn to stare straight into Cara’s eyes. “Maybe I d-do.”

It’s the playful glint your eyes and the way you sigh out the last word that make Cara think that a challenge was masked behind the simple statement. It snaps her back into reality.

Okay, then.

While your hunter caresses your backside, two strong hands grab your ribs and lift you a few inches, before bringing you down hard on the girthy phallus that splits you open. You and Mando both cry out at the suddenness of the satisfaction that burns a hole in your insides.

“Maybe Mando stands for your attitude,” Cara tells you as she pinches your right nipple and her face gets close to the other one, “but I don’t.” She traps your left breast in her hot mouth and nibbles at the peak. The Mandalorian—still trapped under—tries thrusting harder, and you grind down faster, short, high whimpers leaving your reddened lips.  In the back of Cara’s mind, she feels bad for their generous Sorgan hosts, because there’s no way the whole village hasn’t woken up for the noise. The storm rages more violently, but—somehow—the thunder outside serves as a vessel for your frenzied moans and amplifies them.

Mando grabs two handfuls of your lower cheeks and pushes you further towards his chest, which forces Cara to lean back on her elbows.  In the new position, your tits slap around her face and, even though she tries to pull them to her mouth, your whole body is being manhandled too swiftly by the Mandalorian for her to get a hold of you.

Annoyed, Cara places a heavy open palm on your sternum and pushes you back. “Fuck, keep still.” You lean back with no resistance, too limp with pleasure to put up a fight. She climbs back on you and sucks bruises on your collarbone, until her gaze falls on the union where the base of Mando’s sex ends and yours begins. She sees the creamy cum piling down there and—although she can’t tell which one of you is responsible for it—she scoops some with her fingers and uses it to massage it up and down your tense clit.

The muscles of your face cramp and your usual lovely expression contorts into a desperate frown. Her fingers collect more moisture and move faster against your bud, earning her a low purr, but it’s Mando’s head that turns to face her.

“Don’t s-stop,” he forces out, “y-you—th-that…’s m-making her t-tight.” He lets a shaky gasp out through the modulator. “You’re making her s-so fuck-fucking tight.” His member pushes against the snugness of your cunt as he tries to bury himself as deeply as your swollen walls will let him.

Cara complies and pulls the hood of your clit up. The direct pressure makes you jump and lose your balance, but the man below you catches your arms and holds you steady over him. You’re a mess, trembling and sobbing at the ceiling, so the Mandalorian lets go of one of your arms and brings his gloved palm to the back of your neck, working it so that you’re looking down at him. His hips are shaking with anticipation, but he still slows down and his thumb circles the soft skin of your neck. Cara lifts her attention from your soaked folds when she notices you’ve both stopped moving.

If her sleepless nights are any indication, you’ve only been having sex for about a week, but the way he holds you and calms you down tugs at something uncomfortable in Cara. It’s like he has you memorized already. He knows exactly how to touch you and how much you can take. He knows—much to his own detriment—when to stop.

Your breathing falls back to its normal pace and you’re starting to move again when she removes her fingers. You both groan in protest, but Cara just leans back out of the reach of the lamp’s flame and watches your bodies bathe in warm light. Panting, she sees you hold on to each other and comes to terms with the fact that she doesn’t belong wedged between your bodies, where you share something unknown to her. The realization isn’t as devastating as she thought it would be, and she figures it’s better to leave your carnal diversions between you two.

A helmet and a face stare expectantly, much like Rebel troops once focused on her awaiting orders.

Still, she muses with a light grin, that doesn’t mean I can’t teach them anything.

She scoots closer to your cot, and stops where only half of her body is covered in light. Surprisingly, Mando doesn’t pull away when she grabs his hand and guides it towards your upper body.

“You two really have a volume problem,” she quips as she beckons you closer and wraps his hand around your delicate neck. She signals the hunter to squeeze, but he turns to you first in a wordless question. You nod, and Cara’s fingers leave his when he clasps them on the sides of your neck. You sigh.

She then takes your hand and guides it to the base of your lover’s manhood. You mimic the squeeze on your neck. Mando gasps.

The former Rebel leader pulls back to admire her work and—once she’s satisfies with it—leans back on her elbows and slithers a hand inside her pants. The couple is still fixed in position, waiting for an instruction.

“Go ahead,” Cara allows, as she pushes her underwear to the side and mixes the leftover cum on her fingers with her own.

She can tell you’re already exhausted, but you still make an effort to lift your dripping pussy and bear down until your lips hit your palm. She sees your knuckles go white as they clutch harder around Mando’s base. He does the same to your neck, still testing and careful. It’s not until a potentially loud whine threatens to leave you that he intuitively squeezes harder to stop it from touching the damp air. The stronger hold on you makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. It doesn’t take either of you very long to fall into a frantic and vulgar pace, much different from the leisurely one you were working with at the start of the night.

Cara knows you’re teased and tired of waiting and doesn’t expect you to last much longer, so she skips any foreplay with herself and goes straight for her own sensitive button, swiping it with a roughness that she didn’t dare apply on yours. The sensation makes her her legs shake. She goes harder. Within seconds, she’s breathless, just as desperate as you two to reach her release.

“Fuck—fuck her harder,” she orders the Mandalorian when a calloused finger draws quick circles around her clit.

You’re basically bouncing on him now, but the disciplined man still manages to obey. His grip on your neck turns to steel, as he clasps his free fingers on the fat of your backside and slams you down to meet his thrusts. Your mouth gapes open and, if not for the gloved fingers around you, Cara’s sure your screams would make the walls tremble. The lamp—almost out of oil—shines on the plump tears of satisfaction that slide down your cheeks and fall on your partner’s shirt.

Finally, an invisible force seems to shove you forwards into Mando’s chest. You’re still convulsing on top of him when he brings both hands to your lower back to fuck himself into you with all the stamina left in his system. Unfortunately, there’s nobody to grasp his throat when it spits out a long groan. Cara sees his arousal seep out of you.

She gives you a moment to breathe, then stands and rounds the collapsed bodies, kneeling in front of your legs. She taps your thigh, hoping you haven’t passed out yet.

“Open your legs for me, sweetheart. Let me see.” But you don’t respond, so Mando uses his remaining energy to push your legs apart for Cara’s enjoyment. His hands drop with a stump on your back, and she’s startled by the raucous snores that leave the helmet.

She shakes her head and mumbles to herself, “Maker, they can’t even sleep quietly.”

Her digits go back inside her underwear while she absorbs the way your pussy flutters and twitches around nothing, dripping with your cum and your beau’s seed. The sight and her fingers are enough to summon a strong but quiet orgasm from her. Her walls are still clenching and she’s trying to control her breathing when the oil lamp finally dies out.

Once again, Cara Dune is engulfed in darkness. This time around, though, her eyes have learned to adjust to it; she can make out the outline of your conjoined bodies. Tasting her fingers, she stands and walks to the exit.

Her arm is lifting the cloth that acts as a door when she glances back over her shoulder. You’re sleeping noisily, but peacefully, lost in each other. She wonders if she could ever allow herself to be that vulnerable with someone else.

Someday, she reflects, someday.

Outside the tent, Cara’s surprised she’s not met with a monsoon. She didn’t even notice when the rain stopped. She shrugs and continues on her short way to her hut, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep.

The sun is coming up on the horizon.

[mdelpin]

The Red Dragon - Chapter 34

AO3 | Tumblr: Ch1 | Ch33

Chapter 34

Gray’s soul had indeed tethered to his new body, but Igneel had attached his soul to it as well. This would allow him to cast the spell that would transfer his remaining life energy to Gray while he and Atlas raced to Natsu’s aid.

Or that had been the plan, anyway. Despite all of their considerable planning and research, there was one thing that apparently neither dragon had ever considered.

It was going to take some time for Gray to get used to having an actual dragon body.

While his first emotions and thoughts had been those of a dragon whose mate was in mortal peril, his first attempts at movement had been more akin to a baby fawn taking its first steps. As if that wasn’t bad enough, it had also dismayed him to realize that his newly heightened senses proved difficult for him to adjust to.

They wouldn’t be racing anywhere.

With no time for him to get his feet under him, there was no other choice than to have Igneel take control of the body’s movements while Gray focused on figuring out his magic.

As humiliating as it was to be a passenger inside his own body, Gray was actually grateful to have one thing less to worry about. It ensured they would get to Natsu sooner, and that was the most important thing to him.

He focused on the soul bond he shared with Natsu, delighted to discover their connection felt even stronger than before. It didn’t take him long to feel his mate’s location and lead Atlas and Igneel there.

They landed a short distance away from the battle and, though Gray itched to go help Natsu, Igneel kept his feet planted firmly on the ground, determined to use the element of surprise to their advantage.

Gray struggled to remain silent as Igneel and Atlas discussed the locations of the different combatants and drafted a battle plan. One that depended on his magic actually having the counter spelling effect they’d observed in the astral realm when Igneel had attempted to breathe fire on it during their experimentation.

He felt Atlas stiffen next to him as Acnologia began to cast a spell on a defeated looking Natsu and Gray felt his rage mount. His magic screamed to be let out and just as he was about to comply, he heard a dispirited Natsu in his head.

Please hurry, I don’t think I’m going to make it this time…

Not even Igneel could stop him from replying to that. He communicated all of his love, rage and determination through the bond, hoping to boost his mate’s fighting spirit.

Don’t you dare give up, Flame-Brain! Help is on the way…

Gray collected as much magic as he felt he could control, letting it out through his mouth in one large burst and watching as the strange mist crept towards Natsu and Acnologia.

“Those markings are back,” Atlas said. “That mist is definitely connected to them somehow.”

Gray glanced down to see that black inky substance work its way up his right foreleg, leaving a trail of strange markings in its wake.

Sure, why not?!

He was about to take part in a battle unlike any he’d ever experienced before, in a body he couldn’t control, using a magic he didn’t fully understand. To say he was terrified would be an understatement, but he hadn’t changed everything he was to let this asshole take his happy ending away from him now.

Igneel spoke up then. I know you’re scared. This is your first time using this magic and you’re not convinced it will do much, but I have faith in you- in your courage and determination to do what’s needed.

I’ll do my best. Gray felt a twinge in his heart at the thought that Igneel would soon be gone forever.

I know you will. Just follow your instincts, they will be your greatest ally in this fight.

It didn’t take long for him to realize Igneel was right. If he didn’t know what he was doing, then he might as well surrender to his instincts in the hopes they did. He emptied his mind of all doubt and followed his intuition.

His first impulse was to lift his marked foreleg towards the mist, noting with increased amazement that the mist seemed to respond to the gesture.

0-0

Natsu watched the mist advance toward him, covering the ground quickly. As it neared, he became even more convinced of its origin. It wasn’t a perfect match by any means, but it carried just enough of Gray’s scent to identify it.

But what was Gray even doing here?!

He couldn’t understand what could have possessed Atlas and his father to bring his mate along when they knew how deadly Acnologia was. And what was this magic? It was like nothing he’d ever seen Gray cast before.

All these questions made him feel uneasy, but he had to set them aside for now. There would be plenty of time for that once the fight was over. At the very least, he knew he should have nothing to fear from it.

He’d just have to make sure not to act in any way that would alert Acnologia to Gray’s presence, and hope that was enough to keep him safe. With any luck, the dragons' scents would be enough to conceal it.

The unexpected appearance of the mist had prompted Acnologia to cease casting his spell and Natsu couldn’t help the surge of pride he felt at seeing the hesitation and uncertainty on the renegade’s face as he too studied it.

When the mist enveloped Natsu, he felt a cool numbness spread through his acid-etched scales. The smoke ceased to pour out from them, and he felt blessed relief as the acid seemed to be completely denatured upon contact with it.

Natsu struggled to his feet and used the reprieve to cast a quick healing spell. He felt the deeper wounds mend, and some of his strength returned, but his magic was unable to mend his wing or scales. As soon as the energy emerged from his body and touched the mist, it sputtered and dissipated like a candle being blown out. At the same time, the mist seemed to become more agitated where it touched his magic.

What the hell?

Natsu panicked at this revelation, but his concern quickly turned to absolute shock and confusion as the voice of his soul-mate sounded in his head, albeit with an odd deep undertone, as if someone else were speaking in harmony with him, sounding nothing like what he was used to.

Don't worry Love, I'm(We're) here now.

The mist continued rolling past Natsu, heading directly toward Acnologia. As it approached the renegade, the thick blanket roiled and churned, making it seem as though the fog itself was angry. Swells rose within the mist and sped toward the black dragon, stopping at the leading edge of the mass, but pushing it forward in a ragged advance.

As the waves within the mist grew higher and were almost large enough to crest, Acnologia unleashed a torrent of hellfire at the oncoming fog. Rather than evaporating it or even pushing it back, the moment the flames touched it, they guttered and withered away to nothing. At the same time, the blanket of fog exploded into a massive cloud that covered the entire area of the clearing where the two dragons stood.

The sparks that whirled within the cloud flared brightly as they ceased their chaotic spinning and gathered together into pairs. Each set of lights was only a few inches apart and approximately six feet above the ground. They seemed to draw the cloud around themselves as if it were a misty cloak, and within ten seconds after Acnologia's hellfire was spent, the cloud had shifted into a troop of twelve humanoid forms, their eyes blazing with twin pools of pure magic.

The figures stood between the two dragons, facing Acnologia, and as one, they crouched and reached into the thick fog at their feet. As they stood and continued their advance, each form drew various types of martial weapons fashioned out of gleaming ice from the mist. The six forms at the front wielded falchions and short spears paired with large, foggy shields. The four standing directly behind the front line held a pair of long spears and a pair of halberds, while the last two star-eyed warriors in the rear held a pair of heavy crossbows.

It was clear that Acnologia was at a complete loss as to what was going on. With a roar, he unleashed a volley of lightning bolts at the misty warriors. The foggy shields intercepted most of the bolts and the electricity disappeared within them with no effect other than a brief brightening of their starry eyes. One bolt skirted the edge of a shield and it hit one of the crossbow carriers. Its weapon shattered into glittering shards of ice, carving a hole through its torso before the lightning grounded out into the blanket of fog. But the warrior did not fall or even falter. It simply crouched again and drew another crossbow from the fog as the hole in its chest filled in with more mist.

The warriors retaliated with a charge at the black dragon, and he responded by raising a wall of ice between himself and them. But while it seemed thick and impressive, within seconds, there was an ominous crackling sound from its base as the fog quickly ate through the foundation. The six leading warriors concluded their charge with a shield bash against the wall, and the ten foot tall structure toppled over, forcing the dragon to leap backward to avoid being hit.

The mist warriors moved around the crumbling remains of the ice wall and continued their march on Acnologia. Gajeel took advantage of the distraction, transforming his arm into a massive steel sword, and swinging it at the dragon’s back leg. The sword broke off a few scales and left a small gash just above the knee, but Acnologia knocked it away with a swipe of his tail, sending Gajeel tumbling across the clearing.

Rogue provided cover for the downed slayer, forming a large curtain of shadow interposed between the black dragon and where Gajeel lay. The shadow caster gasped as he felt the drain on his magic from where the shadows touched the blanket of fog, and he concentrated on trying to keep the curtain close without touching the strange mist. He looked around, trying to locate its source, and he saw when it reached the shield dome.

The dome’s holy light dimmed sharply upon contact, and the blanket of fog reacted by surging against the dome like breakers. Rogue could make out the form of Sting collapsing to one knee for a moment before stubbornly hauling himself back to his feet. Rogue took a step toward his mate, but breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the mist pull back a bit, leaving the shield dome as a small island untouched by the sea of fog that covered the rest of the clearing.

As impressed as he was by Sting’s efforts, Rogue couldn’t help but worry. His mate was expending a ton of magic to hold that barrier spell. How much longer could he keep it up? He had to be running low by now, but despite that, he showed no sign of slowing down.

His chest swelled with pride and for just a moment he flooded their bond with it so that Sting could know how he felt.

You’re amazing, I love you!

Sting didn’t respond with words, but the love that flowed back from him was unmistakable. Rogue thought he noticed a tightening of his stance and a slight glow to his body that hadn’t been there before.

Shaking his head with a smile, Rogue returned to scanning the clearing for more information. He saw two dragons emerge from the shadows of the trees. One he immediately recognized as Atlas, but the other looked nothing like Igneel. It was a dragon he’d never seen before.

Its body was covered in navy and white colored fur, rather than scales. A silver marking decorated its chest, its shape making Rogue think of a sword, while its horns, talons, wings and even the tip of its tail all looked like they were made of ice.

An ice dragon?

If so, it was certainly unlike any he’d ever seen. And what were those black symbols on its foreleg?

The more he looked at the dragon, the more Rogue couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something familiar about it, but he shrugged the thought away, deeming it too ridiculous.

The two dragons approached Natsu while the star-eyed warriors held Acnologia at bay, and Rogue continued casting curtains of shadow and forming vague decoys shaped like the warriors to assist them in their battle against the raging black dragon.

0-0

With Acnologia somewhat occupied for the moment, Atlas and Gray rushed over to Natsu to check up on him. Gray kept the bulk of his attention on the figures he called Dragongard in his head, making sure they continued to put pressure on the black dragon.

Truth be told, he was incredibly pleased with how well he’d been able to adapt his maker magic to his as yet unnamed new one, but it took a lot out of him to control the individual mist constructs.

Gray watched Natsu intently, trying to gage his reaction as he knew there was no way his mate wouldn’t figure out who he was right away. Over the last few weeks, he’d explored many fantasies of how he’d present himself to Natsu when the moment came, but not a single one of them had played out like this.

“Gray?!” Natsu gawked at Gray’s new form.

“Surprise?”

Gray felt suddenly bashful. He didn’t know what to say or where to look, too worried about what Natsu might think of his sudden transformation.

“You’re so beautiful!” Natsu breathed, his eyes shining with unconcealed affection.

“You really think so?”

“Can you two hold off on flirting until we’re not fighting for our lives?” Atlas grumbled.

Natsu tore his eyes away from Gray long enough to ask, “But how did you do this, and what is that magic?! It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“I hardly think this is the time to be asking those sorts of questions.” Atlas held Natsu’s gaze with an equanimity that Gray envied, especially given what he knew of Atlas’ feelings on the matter.

He, on the other hand, could only stand tongue tied and paralyzed by the onslaught of all of Natsu’s conflicting emotions bombarding him through their bond, not to mention his own guilt at having Igneel within him.

Gray felt Natsu prodding at their bond and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what to tell him, too terrified of letting what he was feeling filter through.

Igneel’s voice resonated in his mind. I know you want to tell him everything, but now isn’t the right time. He still needs to fight.

Gray couldn’t deny the truth in Igneel’s words, but they did nothing to ease his guilt at withholding the fire dragon’s presence from his mate. He could feel Igneel’s magic working away inside of him and had the presence of mind to realize his father-in-law would likely disappear once the spell had finished. Wasn’t he depriving Natsu of his last chance to say goodbye to his father?

A sudden thought occurred to him, something he hadn’t considered before. If they defeated Acnologia before Igneel’s spell had run its course, then they might be able to restore the fire dragon’s soul to its former state. And wouldn’t that mean that Igneel could reunite with Porlyusica after all?

He wanted to ask Atlas, but he couldn’t do that in front of Natsu and he didn’t want to get Igneel’s hopes up if he was wrong.

One thing was for sure, if that outcome was in any way possible, then he would do his damndest to make it happen. At least then, Natsu and Atlas could both know peace.

He reached for his magic with renewed vigor, determined to put an end to the renegade’s reign of terror as quickly as possible.

0-0

Atlas left Natsu to Gray as he quickly flew over to the shield dome. He stood before it, impatiently waiting for Sting to let him through. That was, until he realized the dragon slayer’s eyes were closed, and he was oblivious to anything other than maintaining his magic. The dragon raised one massive claw and gently, but firmly, knocked on the shield.

Sting opened his eyes with a start, but soon realized that he was facing the hellfire dragon rather than another attack. He shook his head and looked around blearily until he located Acnologia at the other end of the clearing. He quickly opened a hole in the shield large enough to admit the dragon.

Atlas wasted no time in entering and looking over Wendy’s patients. Nodding firmly, he stepped forward and gently pulled her back with a claw while he cast his own healing magic on Wendy and the three injured combatants. Wendy fell back on her rear, propping herself up with her arms. Sweat streamed down her face and she panted in relief.

“Nice of you to make an appearance.” Irene said once he’d finished, sitting up and offering the hellfire dragon a tight smile. “What’s going on out there?”

“Gray, Rogue and Gajeel have Acnologia contained for the moment, but who knows how long that will last. I need to get you all out of here quickly.” Atlas replied, noticing the patches of dragon scales Natsu had mentioned.

“Gray’s here? Natsu’s gonna flip out.”

“He already knows. I was just with them.” Atlas answered Sting absently, looking over the wounded to assess the results of his healing spell.

Happy’s wings appeared to have healed nicely, but his hind legs were still in terrible shape. Oliver’s wounds had all but closed up, but he was unconscious. He’d have to ask Irene to keep an eye on him, which would also serve to keep her out of trouble, as she wasn’t completely out of the woods, either. Wendy and Sting were almost out of magic, so he cast one last spell to replenish some of their magic stores.

It was the best he could do for them. The day’s earlier spells had used up a lot of his magic, and then he’d cast a speed spell on himself and Gray to make up some of the time they’d lost. He was wiped.

“Happy, do you think you can get back in there?”

Atlas hated to ask the young dragon to get back in the fight when he must still be in pain, but he couldn’t afford not to.

“Aye, Sir!”

He felt especially cruel because he knew Happy looked up to him and would never say no, but there was still a chance that if they killed Acnologia before Igneel’s spell ran its course his soul would heal and he wouldn’t have to experience soul death. They had to try to make that happen.

“Alright, that’s as much as I can do for you right now. I don’t have a lot of magic to spare, but I healed and boosted what I could. There are a few things you should know before we go. Gray is a dragon now, so Sting and Wendy, I’m going to fly you over to him. You’re going to have to help him fight however you can as he has less combat experience and is still learning his magic.”

“Gray’s a dragon?!”

Atlas ignored Wendy’s question in favor of giving instructions. “Irene, I’ll fly you and Oliver somewhere safer. You’ll have to remain there until the fight is over. I’ll try to heal the rest of your injuries then.”

“What do you mean Gray’s a dragon now? You can’t just say something like that and not explain. How? And what about Rogue and Gajeel? And where’s Igneel?”

“There’s no time to waste.” Atlas said, too tired to inject his usual bluster into his reply. “Our friends need us. I’ll explain everything once we’ve killed that bastard. Now, everyone climb on. Sting, don’t release your barrier until we take off.”

Atlas picked up Oliver in his talons, being careful not to jostle him too much. He could tell that Sting and Wendy were unhappy at being kept in the dark, but they climbed on and didn’t put up any more of a fuss. A minute later, he and Happy took off.

They split up, Happy rejoining the fight, while Atlas flew towards Gray and Natsu, wanting to drop Sting and Wendy off so he could find a safe place for Irene and Oliver.

0-0

Acnologia might have been on the back foot, but he was far from defeated. A reinvigorated Natsu traded blows of claw, fang, and tail with the black dragon while the star-eyed warriors continually harassed his flanks. The swords and halberds tore scales off of the dragon whenever an opening presented itself, while the spears and crossbow bolts sought out those vulnerable openings.

Any time one of the icy weapons struck deep, the raging dragon roared in pain and fury, spinning to face the warriors and drive them back again. Whenever he saw an opening, he flung some form of magic at the dark blue dragon lurking behind Atlas. Invariably, each attack was intercepted by a large shield of holy light cast by Sting. Gray and Atlas repositioned themselves continuously, keeping the Dragongard between themselves and Acnologia.

Wendy had immediately attempted to cast a reinforcement spell on her teammates. That spell failed, however, as it tried to envelop the entire body of the person, and the magic quickly drained wherever it remained in contact with the fog.

Her next attempt was a smaller and more targeted spell. This one focused on the person’s head, imbuing them with enhanced senses and quicker thought and reaction speed. It seemed to help, so she concentrated on keeping as many of her teammates in sight as she could and maintained the spell on them while she sat astride Gray’s massive back behind Sting. One hand clutched Sting’s shirt tightly, while the other was raised with a ball of wispy magic that extended long ephemeral tendrils that kept her connected to each of the combatants receiving her enhancement.

Sting held on to one of the fin spikes on Gray’s neck with one hand while his other was constantly raised palm outward toward Acnologia, prepared to cast a shield at a moment’s notice. It burned him that he couldn’t take a more aggressive role in the battle, but he knew there was nothing he could physically do to injure the dragon, and while the mist was a tremendous equalizer, it still did nothing to prevent the black dragon’s immunity to magic.

He did his best to focus on the dragon’s attacks, struggling to avoid being distracted by the sight of Rogue risking his life as he darted around the battleground, casting various spells to distract and hamper their foe. He was tiring, though, and as another bolt of lightning flew toward them, he failed to summon another ward in time. They all braced for a blow that never came. The development was made even more peculiar by the sound of Acnologia’s frustrated roar.

“What happened?” Sting asked, glancing around to see if Natsu or Atlas had intervened.

“I don’t know, right as that attack was about to hit there was ... I don’t know, something.” Gray said, not knowing how to explain what he’d seen. It was like a shield had manifested out of his chest to stop the blast, but it had felt like Natsu’s magic, not his own. And his mate had been nowhere near him when it happened.

He moved them once again, puzzling about what it could all mean, and wondering if maybe he’d discovered some other magic. He decided to ask Igneel about it.

Do you know what that was?

I’m not sure, but it did feel like Natsu’s magic. Maybe something to do with your pendant? He imbued it with a lot of protection magic and it saved you once before....

Happy circled above the fight once more, looking for any opportunity to swoop in and attack. He’d learned from the last encounter to account for the black dragon’s tail and ensure his opponent was thoroughly distracted this time.

Seeing an opening as an icy crossbow bolt struck deep into the dragon’s side while Natsu’s jaws were clamped on Acnologia’s tail, he dove, landing with all four legs right on the black dragon’s head, driving it under the blanket of fog and into the ground. Happy tried to regain his footing and move clear, but the pain in his legs slowed him down.

The black dragon shook off the stunning blow too quickly and managed to grab one of the young dragon’s legs in his jaws. His powerful neck whipped around and threw Happy at Natsu. They collided with a sickening crunch, and they were both bowled back toward where Atlas and Gray stood.

“Natsu!” Gray cried as he darted forward, almost unseating Sting and Wendy in his haste, the mist flickered and the Dragongard seemed to hesitate in his distress. He noted with some trepidation that Igneel’s control over his limbs was weakening. His mental acuity, however, seemed to be intact.

I know it’s difficult, but you must keep a level head, Gray. If you don’t, all is lost.

I know, I know! I just-, I can’t lose him now.

Trust in him… the key to defeating Acnologia lies within you both. I can feel it.

“I’ve got them! You just focus, damn it!” Atlas scolded, hurrying to check both dragons over. Natsu was fine, but Happy’s legs would need to be tended to. He lifted the small dragon out of the blanket of fog and cast a healing spell, using up what little magic he had left.

Gray glared at Acnologia, who still looked slightly wobbly from the blow to the head. How could the damn bastard be so hard to kill?

“Die already.” He spat out, his frustration mounting as Igneel’s time counted down and his hopes of a quick defeat were dashed over and over again.

He directed his star-eyed warriors to close ranks and form a shield wall to guard their downed teammates, then he leaned down and nuzzled the fire dragon’s head gently.

“Get up, Natsu. Battle’s not done yet,” Gray said while looking his mate over for any severe injuries. Other than minor cuts and missing scales here and there, the only major problem was Natsu’s torn wing sails. There had been no opportunity to remove him from the fight long enough to heal them.

“Y-Yeah yeah, I know. I’m going. It’s just so frustrating. No matter how hard we hit him, it’s never enough to keep him down,”

As he got to his feet, Natsu noticed something strange. Well, stranger than every other strange thing that had happened since Gray had arrived. As Gray’s new dragon body crouched over Natsu, close enough that the red dragon could feel his mate’s icy cool breath on the back of his head, his eyes were drawn to the silver marking on Gray’s chest. He had noticed it earlier, and thought it was beautiful. It reminded him of the token he had given Gray, but what he noticed now was that it was glowing — pulsing as if it were a beating heart — and it seemed to glow even brighter as he drew closer to examine it.

“Princess… what is that?” Natsu whispered as he lifted a claw and touched the silver marking. Upon contact, there was an actinic flash of light, and he reared back in surprise. That surprise was multiplied as he found his claw was drawing a silver colored icy sword out of Gray’s chest, hollowing out the marking until it appeared as only an outline.

The hilt fit perfectly in his draconic grip, as though it were intentionally forged for it, and small motes of starlight swam through the ice of the blade, causing the silver edge to twinkle as wisps of mist curled around it. Natsu regained his footing and rose up onto his back legs as he lifted the sword and gazed at it in dumbfounded wonder.

“Gray… what is this?”

“I’m not sure, but I think it saved us earlier too.”

Natsu examined the sword’s magical signature closely. “It feels like it has both of our magics running through it.”

“Do you think it might be enough?” Gray dared to hope. He could feel Igneel getting weaker, and he knew they were running out of time.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell going to find out,” Natsu readied himself for another charge, hoping against hope that it would be the last one. He was exhausted and knew the others weren’t doing much better. “You think you can give me some cover?”

Gray answered by thickening the existing fog between them and Acnologia, and making it taller.

Atlas took to the air. Given how tired he was, he had no illusions of inflicting any actual damage, but he knew he was one of the few dragons left that Acnologia considered a threat, and he was certainly going to use that to their advantage. All he had to do was distract him long enough for Natsu to get at him.

Natsu advanced on Acnologia, carefully hiding the sword clutched in his claw under the cloak of the fog covering the ground. He watched as the black dragon batted at the star-eyed warriors with a massive tree trunk. It drove them back and held them at bay even as the dragon used the wooden cudgel to parry a series of strikes from Gajeel, then riposte with a swing that sent the iron dragon slayer diving back out of the way.

Atlas roared in challenge and dove towards Acnologia, commanding his attention. Natsu wasted no time in making use of the opening his uncle had provided and made his move.

“Acnologia! Your senseless slaughter ends now.” Natsu challenged the black dragon boldly. “You will not live to see another dragon reaped.”

Acnologia drew back the tree trunk, his gaze darting between Atlas and Natsu. He opted to swing it at Natsu’s head, but the red dragon reared on his hind legs and raised the hidden sword in a parry. The silver edge of the sword bit deep into the wood, and the momentum of the swing split the trunk in two. Acnologia dropped the stump of his cudgel and slashed at Natsu with his claws, and Natsu swung the sword up in a strike that met the black dragon’s arm right at the armpit. There was a crunch and a loud pop, and the dragon’s arm separated from its owner in a gout of blood.

Acnologia’s head reared back with an anguished roar, but moments later, the roar fell off and turned into a gurgling cough. His neck bent curiously, and he stared down at the icy sword embedded hilt deep in his chest.

“What? No… I-I…”

He fell back, causing the sword to slide out of his chest. As it withdrew, it was covered, not in blood, but in a shimmery aura of pale light. Acnologia collapsed to the ground, his head covered by the blanket of fog, but where his chest rose above the mist like an island at sea, the hole in it leaked equal parts blood and pale light. The blood dripped down, but the light coalesced into globes, each of them hovering above the dead dragon for a few moments as they grew.

Gray dispelled his magic, and the fog faded away, revealing the mangled remains of the battlefield.

Natsu turned and walked back to Gray, holding the sword out to his mate reverently, point down. As it neared his chest, the outline of his marking pulsed in time with the light of the sword, and when they touched, the sword disappeared, returning to a silvery marking on the dragon’s chest.

Atlas landed next to them, having collected Rogue and Gajeel from the trench. They all stood together, exhausted but proud, as they watched the globes continuing to pour out of Acnologia’s body. Some of them winked and fizzled out and Natsu took a moment to grieve for them, knowing there would be no Dragon Eyrie for them or even the chance to be reborn. Their existence was over.

He rejoiced to see the number of globes that suddenly raced off in the direction of Drak Aast far outnumbered them. His thoughts immediately went to Weisslogia, hoping that regaining the missing portions of his soul would help the white dragon regain some of the strength he’d lost, and to Belserion, who had selflessly sacrificed his soul so that Natsu might live.

One last globe remained in the sky, glowing softly above them and Natsu felt drawn to it. He instinctively knew this was the missing piece of his father’s soul. The relief he felt at the thought that his parents could now reunite was immeasurable and he watched its trajectory with a smile, expecting to watch it race towards their cave where his father no doubt awaited their return. But rather than do that, it slowly traveled towards them and entered Gray’s body.

Natsu stared at Gray with mounting confusion. Why would his father’s soul enter his mate’s body? Souls were tethered to their earthly vessels. It didn’t make any sense. He turned to Atlas for an explanation, but his uncle wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Atlas?”

Natsu remembered that deep undertone he’d heard in his soul bond earlier and shook his head, dismissing the thought before it could gain any traction.

No, it couldn’t be.

But as much as he wanted to deny it, things were adding up.

He had grown up around Atlas and his father, listening to them talk about the limits and applications of magic for hours on end. More than once he’d heard them speak of the existence of spells so powerful they required sacrifices from the caster, although it was usually things like life force, like the spell his father had used to transform into a human temporarily.

Wait, did that mean that Gray’s transformation was also temporary? His heart sank. He'd allowed himself to believe that the impossible had somehow come to pass and they could be like this forever. Natsu wanted to ask, but he didn’t want Gray to think he was disappointed, and the truth was he loved him no matter what. That would just have been more convenient.

None of these thoughts were helping him to figure out what was happening, and he was done guessing. He looked at Atlas once again, determined to get answers this time.

“Atlas, what’s going on?”

“Natsu, I-”

“No.” Atlas interrupted Gray. “I’ll tell him. He deserves to hear it from me.”

The dragon slayers whispered amongst themselves, none of them understanding what was happening but feeling the tension in the air.

“Igneel’s gone.” Atlas finally looked up at him, and the pain Natsu saw in his eyes was enough to let him know his uncle was speaking the truth.

“Dad’s gone?”

Natsu felt like he couldn’t breathe. Even if he’d suspected as much, hearing it spoken aloud was more than he could bear. Gray’s worry and grief inundated their bond, and it was then Natsu realized it had felt muted earlier, but he’d been too focused on the fight to notice.

“Once he realized Gray possessed a dragon soul, he became determined to find a way to give you the life he’d always promised you.” Atlas’ usual bluster was nowhere to be seen, and Natsu felt for him too. He couldn’t even imagine how hard it must have been for his uncle to go along with this. “He wanted that more than anything. I tried to find another way but—,” his voice broke as he added, “there just wasn’t enough time.”

Gray had a dragon soul? But how could that be? What would have made his father ever think that?

Natsu shook those thoughts aside, recognizing them for the distractions they were. It was just his mind’s way of distancing him from the pain he didn’t want to accept.

He could see it so clearly now. That invitation to go flying together had been so out of character for his father. Not only that, after a lifetime of avoiding his questions, Igneel had shown him his mother at long last. And then there had been that strange comment about getting Natsu what he needed.

Everything clicked into place then, and he could no longer deny the truth of it. His father had given up his life so that he and Gray could have a chance at a normal life together. It was an incredibly selfless act, but all Natsu could think about at that moment was that if things had gone differently, then he would once again be the reason that his parents were separated.

Except this time it would have been for eternity, and that didn’t sit well with him at all.

“You didn’t need to do that!!” Natsu yelled out in a strangled cry.

“Natsu?” Gray reached out to touch him, but Natsu shook his head, not wanting his comfort, at least not yet.

Of course I didn’t need to, I wanted to.

Igneel’s voice rang in his head a moment before Gray’s body pulsed with a blinding light and his legs buckled underneath him. Natsu moved to help, but before he could do so a beam of light shot out of his mate and into the air. It flickered and coalesced into a semblance of his father.

“I’m so glad I got to see you once more.”

Igneel hovered above them, and although there were many cries of surprise at his sudden appearance, the red dragon only had eyes for Natsu.

His form flickered and flared in the air, making it all too clear that it wouldn’t be long before he was gone for good. But all Natsu could do was stare back in frustration.

How was he supposed to just accept all of this when Igneel had been there for him ever since he could remember? Offering his counsel and showering him with affection when it seemed like there was no one else who understood him.

“Why?” Natsu struggled to find the words he wanted to say, even as the tears began to flow. “You should have told me what you were planning! I could have- I would have-”

“Natsu,” Igneel interrupted, his eyes pleading with him in a way Natsu had never seen before, “There was nothing you could have done. I know this is hard for you to understand, but I needed to do this. Not just for the two of you, but for myself as well. I wanted my life to amount to more than just the sum of my mistakes.”

You’ve always tried to do your best for the ones you love. I think sometimes you forget you deserve to be happy too, and that’s what I wanted to give you.” Igneel’s smile was fond and warm and damn it, it hurt, because Natsu knew this was the last time he’d see it. “Seeing the two of you like this, and knowing how far you both had to grow to get to this point, it makes me so proud of both of you.”

Igneel’s form began to fade and Natsu reached out with his hand, even though he already knew there was nothing there for him to grab hold of. “Please,” he sobbed. “I just want a little more time with you.”

“I’ll always be with you, Natsu, In your heart and in your memories.”

Igneel turned his head suddenly, and when he looked back at Natsu, there were tears in his eyes. “I can hear your mother calling for me.” His voice trembled with the yearning he’d tried to hide for so long. “I can’t wait to tell her all about you. Take care of each other, my sons.”

His last words were barely a whisper as his form flickered one last time before reshaping into a globe and racing skyward. Natsu watched for as long as he could make out its progress, making no effort to stop his tears.

“Thank you, Dad.”

And even as his heart ached, he also felt a sense of peace settle over him. His parents, separated for so long, would once again be free to continue their eternal dance. He felt a tail coiling around his, as an icy wing attempted to envelop him in a tight hug, grounding him and reminding him that despite the enormous loss he’d suffered, he’d also gained something of equal value - a lifetime with his Ice Princess.

A/N: I have mixed feelings about this one, it was by far the hardest chapter to write to date. I'm glad that while Igneel died, he was able to get his fondest wish in the end. He's one of my favorite dragons in the series and I really enjoyed giving him more life than he usually gets. Next chapter they'll finally head home. 

 I really love what Dein did with Gray's magic. Acnologia was so incredibly overpowered that the only thing that could help defeat him was to neutralize his magic and put them all on an even playing field. Maker magic is so incredibly versatile, and I really enjoyed how Gray used it to create those warriors, which reminded me a bit of both his decoys and of course the weapons he constantly makes in canon. 

 When I first asked @khaoticvex​ to design Gray's dragon form (God in like April of 2020) I was blown away by what she came up with. She incorporated all of Gray's magic and elements in his design. One of the things I instantly loved and wanted to do something with was the sword pendant. She had made it into a marking on his chest and that is where a lot of the inspiration for that scene came from. She also included his devil slayer markings which I had not considered using at first, but opened up the possibility for this magic Dein created which we are currently calling NegaMagic as it negates magic. ;) 

 I hope you enjoy this chapter. Only one left... I'll get to work on it soon. It should hopefully be up on or before August 30th.

[omegangrins]

Chibnall, Children, Choice and Consequence

Allow me to introduce a companion piece to A Treatise on the Doctor:

It's pretty simple:

Chibnall knows what he's doing and is playing a long game to show how the Doctor needs to take more responsibility.

Let me start off with my favorite examples. That's right, plural.

Every single villain 13 faces is never defeated, merely pushed away from causing them any immediate problems. Tim Shaw being the prime example.

1&10. Seriously, Tim Shaw. Her plan was to use his own bombs on him and then teleport him off the planet. Even without Ranskoor Av Kolos, the Doctor should have thought to check in on him. Especially after The Ghost Monument showed the Stenza were a greater threat than she knew. She still hasn't even checked up on WHAT THE HELL THE STENZA ARE! They sound worse than Daleks but naw, let's go rain-bathing in the upper tropics of Canstano instead.

2. Ghost Monument. We saw the END of an interuniversal race. What the fuck is the beginning that got them there? Who is Illyn and how and why did he orchestrate a super race?

3. Krasko. Sent back in time. Really, Doc? Not gonna take a look at the device and see where Ryan sent the prick so you can double check that he's not gonna cause anymore damage?

4. President Trump analog. Ooooo, you looked at him menacingly, Doc, that'll show him!! Not like he's gonna KEEP DOING ILLEGAL SHIT LIKE THIS.

5. The Pting. She literally shunted it off ship to be dealt with by someone else BUT DOESN'T GO BACK TO BE THAT SOMEONE ELSE ONCE SHE HAS HER TARDIS. That's like leaving a living nuke floating around after sweeping it under the rug while you fly off to Paris.

6. The Pakistani-Indian conflict still happens and millions still die. Not her fault but still....

7. Kerblam. Sure, Charlie's terrorism was solved but not the underlying problem that led to it. Humans still can't work because corporations like profits over people.

8. Similar to the Punjab, how you gonna solve sexism, classism and all the -isms?

9. WHY WAS THE SOLITRACT THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE??!! It's been around since before the universe. Why'd it decide to come back now? It's a whole universe trying to hug our universe to death. Maaaaaaybe we should check out why.

11. She's gets a pass on the Dalek. Fucking impossible to eradicate them.

12. The Master!!! Finally she checks up on something after the adventures... and it's horrible. With everything gone to shit in her absence. Seeing a pattern yet?

And Barton? And the Cassaven? They didn't disappear into smoke.

13. Multiple Earths being multiply fucked. Remember when I said the Doctor couldn't solve racism, classism, sexism, or any of the other -isms? Starting to look like she needs to TRY.

14. The Skithra FLY OFF after getting hit by a laser beam. That kind of thing tends to piss people off. Even if they're idiots using other's technology.

15. Jack. The Judoon. The Ruth Doctor. All things I'd start checking out if I had a time machine BUT

16. WE CAN'T cause the TARDIS emergency alert is going off and we need to hurry up and run and solve this problem before we run out of time in our TIME AND SPACE MACHINE. Leading to another problem the Doctor could help solve but won't. Plastic and over-consumption.

17. Oh yeah, let's trap two Eternals from another universe in the same place. There's NO WAY that could ever turn out bad.

18,19,20. And again. Cyberium. Pushed off Shelley onto herself and onto Ashad and onto The Master.

That's almost 20 "enemies" the Doctor still needs to deal with.

Oh, not to mention that they let UNIT go defunct because they didn't have the forethought to ask if they needed any money in their alien fighting budget. After asking for an office, a desk, and a job. Kinda funny that way, aren't they?

I hope by now you've gotten the idea that this is VERY deliberate. This is Chibnall laying down some very heavy pipe to smack the Doctor like a clothesline. There isn't a one of these situations that can't come around to bite her in the ass.

Barton, Roberts, Skithra. These are all very loose strands for a time traveller like the Doctor to get tripped up on. Chibnall's past episodes prove it. They're all about the Doctor learning how to take responsibility.

42: The Doctor almost gets Martha killed and almost gets himself killed trying to fix it.

The Hungry Earth: The Doctor (a thousand year old "adult") tells Elliot (a 10 year old kid) that "Sure it's totally fine to go get your headphones while we prepare for an approaching unknown alien force." And 11 rightfully gets his ass chewed for it by the child's mother when the kid goes missing because OF COURSE THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS, JACKASS!

Cold Blood: I could write an entire essay about the Doctor's guilt over the Silurian/Human conflicts they've witnessed, but I don't need to. Because every single Silurian centered episode written in the new era is from Chris Chibnall. And you can feel the sad knowledge of Classic Who spill through. He KNOWS how many times the Doctor has fucked up with the Silurians (about 8 times in television format. And it's rough everytime. Rough.) and he writes those episodes like an apology on behalf of the whole human race. And the Doctor. You know why people are put off by Warriors of the Deep? 5 releases a gas that melts the Silurians. And though it's cheesy, the idea and execution is still horrible.

Add to that if the Doctor hadn't stopped to check the crack, then Rory wouldn't have waited and been around to be shot then absorbed by the time crack.

Power of Three: An entire episode about how the Doctor has a problem slowing down and really taking account of the lives of their companions.

Dinosaurs on a Spaceship: The Doctor actually tries to be responsible and pick the right people for a job. For once. But gets angry when they realize it's too late and there's another bunch of Silurians they failed to save. Classic!

Like I said, if you can't see the pattern, you're not paying enough attention to your responsibilites.

Which leads me to the why.

When you fly around time and space for thousands of years, you develop a few duties of care along the way. In every situation, you're the oldest. Technically the only adult in terms of experience. You have a responsibility to act a little less rude and be a bit more aware than needing cue cards to tell you that you should be sad about things around you. And that's the purpose of 13. She's unlucky but learning. Like 12 telling himself something with his face he couldn't say out loud, 13's instincts are leading her to a new place for the Doctor: being a caring, responsible person. Not so much laughing hard or running fast, but being kind. It's the one thing they recognized as a problem in themselves when seeing 1. Being a Doctor is about being kinder than that. Just because you HAVE to saw someone's leg off, that doesn't mean you can't wait a little and comfort them before you do it.

You wanna know what gave me every faith in Chibnall showrunning Doctor Who? 13 staying for Grace's funeral.

Do you understand how unprecedented that is? This is the same person who never said Goodbye to Jo Grant as she got married and fucked off into the night. The same Doctor who said, "I don't do domestic.", did it with Rose a regeneration later, and then closed himself off to everyone but a married couple he felt guilty about who ended up birthing his wife. Have you any idea the number of funerals the Doctor should have the common decency to sit through? This many.

So for 13 to stay around for the death of a woman she has only just met and not only that, BUT call out Ryan's father for not doing the same, it shows tremendous character growth. It's taken millennia but they're still changing.

Something similar happens with Rosa and The Witchfinders. Realizing that there a lot of companions who have been in situations that are sometimes worse than aliens, but they still manage to make it through. So she needs to buck it up and persevere for everyone else.

That's where her anger comes from, and really it's one of my favorite traits on her. It reminds me of 7. Someone impossibly old and impossibly kind saying to hell with it and at least having some fun with the evils who drag us through the universe. And just like Cartmel planned for 7, 13's past will come to haunt her.

That's where children come in. Most of us are crying babies to the Doctor.

There's this thing you notice most in British shows about answering the question directly as asked. Someone says "Are you sure?", you answer "Sure". That's a direct acknowledgement that you heard the question, understood it, and processed it enough to respond in a manner directly correlating to the question asked. Yas and Graham got it and said "Sure" but Ryan missed it and said "Deffo". This is like Elliot with the headphones. The Doctor should have immediately been like, "Okay, Ryan, it's obvious that you're still dealing with the trauma of your grandmother's death and probably not processing things on a logical level. I said "Are you sure?" Not "Are you deffo?" Because we are most definitely not deffo, Ryan. Graham, you wanna help here?"

I'm being sarcastic for points sake but you understand the idea. The Doctor knows better and has a responsibility as such. She should've really sat down with Ryan and Graham and seen if there was a better way to process their grief.

Because I'm fairly certain that "Deffo" is gonna lead to Ryan's death and Graham's cancer resurging as time cancer (I don't know what time cancer is. I just know it's bad.)

And that is gonna piss Yas off. Which will give you all that character you think she's missing (she isn't. Her character is in her subtleties and silences.). That's WHY her character is a police officer (like how does no else see that the man who wrote Broadchurch wrote an inspector character companion?) Imagine you're Yaz and you see the Doctor flying around in a big, magic box that says POLICE. As a fellow officer, you're gonna expect some basic safety protocols.

Like do a background check on everyone flying in the TARDIS to know whether they're stable enough (mentally, physically, emotionally) for time and space travel. It's no picnic. These people are going to go through hell. A little vetting and planning like Time Heist or Dinosaurs on a Spaceship goes a long way.

Secondly, full fucking disclosure.

"Oh. I can't die because I change my body. Oh. I have arch enemies that will try to kill and torture us any chance they get. Oh. My home planet is full of the biggest assholes in the universe and I'm including my arch enemies."

Third, police like to do this thing called "check-ups" where they go back to the scene of the crime in order to see if there is any more information that can be gleaned which you might not notice when you are busy running around trying not to be killed... Like, the Doctor has the perfect machine to do this with, but nope. Adventure done, run to the next place!!

These are all things you'd expect any reasonable person to do and say when taking others flying off into time and space and "helping". Even if they are an idiot passing through and learning. Especially when you consider the Doctor is vastly older and more experienced than everyone they encounter. They SHOULD know better. And they've got the lifespan to slow down. It's not like they need to be in a hurry because they're going to die at any moment like humans. The Doctor could easily stay for tea and it would be less than a drop in their lifespan.

Now, as usually is the case when I make these theories, I have a parts 1,2,3,4 and 6. There's allways this 5th piece I miss but I manage to get at the end.

But the 6th piece is the Timeless Child. The Doctor isn't a Time Lord anymore. They're not beholden to those people and ideas anymore. Even moreso, those people basically raped her childhood for their own gain so it's not like you'd really listen to them and their "policy of non-intervention".

I'm sensing a coming Trial of a Time Lord season (even believing these two seasons are the opening statement and preliminary evidence of the trial itself) wherein the Doctor finally gets the turnaround 6 deserved. A Trial of the Time Lords, if you will.

"In all my travels through time and space I have battled against evil, against power-mad conspirators. I should have stayed here! The oldest civilization: decadent, degenerate and rotten to the core! Power mad conspirators? Daleks, Sontarans, Cybermen — they're still in the nursery compared to us! Ten million years of absolute power: that's what it takes to be really corrupt!"

This is what it's all coming down to. Chibnall's takedown of the Time Lords. And The Master is going to play the most crucial role of all.

They're going to be revealed as an Ux alongside the Doctor and show how the only constants they have in this universe are each other and it's about damn time they work together and tell these high collars to eat Schitt while they explore every star and planet they can find.

Come on, the episode is called The Timeless "Children". If it was just the Doctor it'd be called "The Timeless Child". The Master says as much with the misdirect line, "built on the lie of the Timeless Child." since we see two kids playing in that flashback.

"Since always. Since the Cloister Wars, since the night he stole the moon and the president's wife, since he was a little girl. One of those was a lie, can you guess which one?"

Now we know which one was a lie, we know the Master HAS known the Doctor since they were a little girl. THAT little girl...

But this is all just speculation. It's not like Chris Chibnall could have been thinking about this for the past 40 years and was given a blank slate to do whatever he wanted for five years on his favorite TV show. If y'all want to think he took those reigns and is choosing to make things worse...

Well then you don't know much about responsibility.

I'll let the man himself tell you about it.

"Very early in my career,” says Chibnall, “someone told me that you learn more from a failure than you do from a success. And then I lived out that phrase for a year in Los Angeles. I learned that I would not work that way again or be put in that situation again.” The essential lesson was: “You either have to be in total control of a show or working with people who share your vision and will work with you to achieve it. Also, never work with 13 executive producers.

“Camelot was the classic case of too many cooks. It wasn’t a harmonious set-up and I think that does manifest itself on screen.

“I had a fantastic cast but you have to be free to tell the story you want to tell in the way that you want to tell it. What ended up on screen was not what I wanted and so it is a blemish on my CV.”

Credit to @thirteenthdoc

“You immortals - so entitled, so spoiled. You never clear up after yourselves and you always leave stuff lying around.” - Thirteenth Doctor in Can You Hear Me?

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

This isn’t based off of a ask of any kind, but more of a random drabble that I wanted to do since I haven’t seen a lot of fanfics that involve Longclaw as of late sooooo here’s one to add to the pile!

And honestly i just wanted to write something about owl mama and baby sonic.

Longclaw searched around the small hills that surrounded her tiny home. She hovered up to the trees and looked through the leaves only to find no sign of the little hedgehog.

Sonic had snuck out earlier that evening when she was out looking for food and had been gone for a while, a lot longer than she would’ve liked.

The grand owl had come from a long line of noble warriors who fought to protect the balance of all living creatures of this world, but nothing in her years of training could prepare her for having to raise a little 3 year old, who can run at extremely fast speeds.

To fast for her to even catch up with, which has proven to be problematic when he wouldn’t listen to her.

‘Oh Gaia where’d he run off to this time?’ She sighed as she scanned the area in hopes of seeing a hint of blue zip in front of her.

To no avail, she flew back down near the hut and adjusted her armor breastplate, ruffling her feathers in frustration.

“Sonic! Where are you!?” Listening for moment but still heard no response, her heart began to race.

‘Did he go too far? What if someone found him?’

The sun was beginning to set and even though she could see perfectly well in the dark, she worried on how he’ll be able find his way back if he stayed out too long.

Tapping her wing to her beak, she tried to think of where he could have gone.

‘What if he went over to the west coast of the Island? But that’s where....The echidnas! Oh no they must’ve seen him or could be tracking him back here.’ She raised her wings, getting ready to take off.

‘Maybe if I see him halfway there I should be able to-.’

“Wongcaw?”

A high pitched voice cut through her thoughts, startling her right as she flapped up into air causing her to turn around, only to hit her head on a low branch and fall right on her back.

“Oof!” She let her wings out at her sides as she laid in the grass, trying to catch her breath and ease the dull ache on her head.

A small gasp cried out as she heard tiny feet pattering near her head.

“Wongcaw! Wongcaw, you hurted?”

The owl opened her eyes and looked up to see the toddler staring down at her, his little hand touching her face and face full of worry.

The young toddler was still going through pronouncing his L’s correctly, with her name still being a main candidate for it.

Rolling on her side, she shook her head as she wrapped him in her wing, hugging him close to her torso.

“I’m alright Sonic, I just bumped my head a little that’s all.”

Sonic looked up at the owl, his lip in a slight pout and brows furrowed. “No you hurt, i make it better.”

Before she could question him, he zipped up to her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.

She froze in surprise, her feathers ruffled slightly as he slid down into her wings and put his tiny arms around her neck.

Sighing softly, she wrapped her both her wings tightly around the tiny hedgehog, earning a small giggle from him.

Releasing him from the hug, she stood on her feet and gave him a disapproving look. “Sonic, where have you been? You had me worried sick!” She exclaimed as she looked down at him.

He squirmed and shuffled his feet under her intense glare. “I went to the sandy grass where the ocean is.” He said timidly.

‘Sandy grass? He must mean the beach, but which one?’

Longclaw narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Sonic, did that area you went to have a lot of big black, round rocks near the grass?”

He put his hand under his chin, thinking hard before he gasped. “Yeah! They were shiny and gowed bright in the sun!”

She felt her heart ping in her chest and her face tighten with stress. ‘I was afraid of that, that’s very close to where the village is located.’

“Sonic, I have told you before that you need to stay away from the beaches that have the black rocks near the water! Someone could have seen you there!” She said harshly.

She saw his shoulders scrunch up as his eyes lower, wavering as if to hold back oncoming tears.

Not wanting to scare him even more, she spoke more softly as she grabbed his hands into her wings, giving him direct eye contact.

“I know you like going down there and playing in the sand and water, but it’s too dangerous for you to be down there, especially by yourself where people can see you if you use your powers.”

“But I’m super fast, no one sees me!” He interrupted unintentionally with a hopeful smile.

Longclaw sighed patiently. “All the more reason why you shouldn’t be that far from the hut right now, if you’re near the hut, you’ll have less of a chance to be spotted.”

He lets out a sad sigh and wrings his hands as he rocks back and forth slowly. “But you aways sad and tired, I wanted to get you something so you smile again.”

Longclaw cocks her head to the side. “What? Why do you think I’m sad?”

“You don’t waugh anymore and you don’t smile at the stuff you wike. I wanted to bring you something that makes me happy so that it could make you happy too.”

He then pulls out a small white conch shell from his head quills and holds it in his hand. “I found this for you so you can have the same happy too.”

Speechless, she watched as he lifted the shell to his ear and closed his eyes, smiling.

Granted the last couple of weeks were tough on the both of them, mostly for her. The neighboring village was starting to build more huts and expand their usual hunting grounds, which made them all the more closer to where they were, causing her to do more area sweeps during the night as well during the day.

But she didn’t take account for if he ever noticed her mood changing.

“Here, i show you”

Before she could blink, Sonic rushed up her shoulder again, this time putting the shell somewhat near her ear tufts.

“Can you hear it?” His little tail wagged as she takes the conch from him and adjusts it on her ear tuft.

At first she didn’t hear anything from the shell and as about to put it down, until she heard the faint sounds coming from inside.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the noise as it grew louder and louder only to finally hear a slight tinging sound and....squeaking?

Opening her eyes, she drew the shell away from her head to see some sort of hermit crab emerging from the shell, it’s large claws trying snap at her beak.

Letting out a yelp, she quickly put the creature on the ground and watched as it scuttled away into the brush.

Sonic jumped down to the grass and watched as the crustacean disappeared.

Longclaw moves next to him, placing a wing on his head. “I guess that noise you heard wasn’t what you thought it was?”

He slowly nodded, focus still the brush where it disappeared.

He glanced back at her. “He madded?”

“It’s ‘mad’ and yes he was, I would be too if someone moved my home without my permission.”

“I think he mad cause you have no ears.”

Choking back a laugh, she looked at him with disbelief. “Wha-, Sonic I have ears just like you do.”

He let out a giggle as he shook his head. “No, ears wook wike this.” He demonstrates by slightly tugging his tiny ears. “You just have big feathers on your head.”

“Sonic, that’s actually where my ears are.” She lowered her head for him to see, making the large feathers near her ear folds move back and forth. “You see them?”

He nods, watching with interest as she lowered the feathers against her head.

Curious he reached his hand up and smoothed them down against her head. “It’s soft.” This time using both hands, he started to mess with the smaller feathers on her head.

“Yeah I know.” he started to climb on top of her head, painfully pulling ron the long feathers. “Ok ok that’s enough now.”

She gently pulled him off and set him down. Turning towards the horizon, the sun was starting to dip into the ocean, it’s light casting dark shadows on the trees.

“It’s starting to get dark now, it’s time we head back to the hut Soni-.” She stopped to see the toddler had disappeared once again.

‘Oh for Gaia’s sake’

“Sonic no more hiding ok? We have to get back before it gets too dark.”

Hearing the leaves rustling from above, she glanced up to see him crouching on one of the thick branches right above her head.

His eyes lit up when she saw him and started to giggle loudly before moving towards the other branches on up ahead.

‘Well at least he’s heading towards the hut.’

Letting out a low chuckle, she shook her head and continued toward the bridge that connected the lower area to their hut on the top of the hill.

‘This little one certainly is quite the bundle of energy this world has been missing for so long. With everything that’s been going on, it definitely needs it again.’ She started to frown as the hut came closer into view.

‘Did we do enough? Did I do enough? Everything my family, my people went through, fought through so much peril and tried to keep the balance, but it seems to be getting worse as the years pass and now I’m taking care of a child who could be the only key to the-.’

“Wongcaw!”

She jumped as she heard Sonic yell her name and saw him standing on a tree root about a foot in front of her, tapping his foot with a pout on his face.

He pointed a finger at her as his pout deepened. “No more frowning!”

Longclaw blinked rapidly as she let her face loosen. “Oh it’s alright, I’m not sad anymore Sonic.”

Although her face showed that she was fine, her voice was betraying that statement.

And Sonic caught onto that fact quite quickly.

As she walked closer to where he was, still deep in her thoughts, he began to think of something he could do.

‘Ooh I know!’ His tail wagged back and forth as he got an idea and went to put his plan in motion.

Getting into a pouncing position, he grinned mischievously as the owl came closer.

Raising his hands up, he charged straight towards her, making small roaring sounds as he did.

Coming completely out of her thoughts due to the sudden noise, she turned her head to see where it came from, only to feel a light weight hit against her torso.

“What in the-?”

Looking down, she saw him trying to wrap his arms around her and looking up at her with a very playful expression.

Before she could get a word out, Sonic started to wiggle his fingers her sides, continuing to roar at her.

“I not Sonic, I am tiger! Rawr!” He exclaimed as he zipped up to her shoulder and scribbled his fingers into the side of her neck.

Unaffected by the adorable attack, the owl simply smiled at the hedgehog’s attempt to cheer her up as he continued to jump around her body, trying to find a weak spot while letting out tiny roars and growls

“Soni-, hey ok you don’t have to do thAT!” She yelped as he hit a sensitive spot right underneath her wing. The sudden jolt knocking him off her wing and onto the grass.

Despite landing hard on the ground, the toddler started to laugh hysterically at Longclaw’s reaction.

Rubbing her side, she looked down at Sonic, who was still giggling uncontrollably, while holding his hands to his stomach.

“It seems like that made you laugh more than it actually did for me.”

“Cause your voice went all funny when I tickled you there!” He gasped as he dissolved into giggles again.

Letting out a laugh as well, she crouched down near Sonic and gave a playful expression.

“Well do you know what’s more dangerous than wild tigers?”

Sonic shook his head, still giggling and his smile growing wider. “No.”

She raised her wings in a menacing fashion out towards him.

“Giant owls who like to eat cute little hedgehogs!” She growls as she lunges at him.

Sonic shrieked and turned to run, but Longclaw managed to swoop him up and wrap him tightly in her wings before he could.

“NOO! Don’t eat me!” He squealed with laughter, scrunching his shoulders and ducking his head as she nipped at his tiny ears.

“I’m gonna gobble you up! Nom nom nom!” She said playfully as she nuzzled her beak into his neck

Sonic continued laughing as he attempted to push her head away, only for Longclaw reach up with her talon and used one claw to scratch at his belly.

Letting out a high pitched squeal, he kicked his legs as he tried to protect his stomach and neck from the attack, but couldn’t due to his hysterical laughter.

Feeling the claw make it’s way up to his armpit, he squeaked in alarm and curled up and rolled up in his ball form, giggling lightly as he caught his breath.

He heard Longclaw let out a couple of laughs, causing him to peek his eyes out at her, seeing her smile slyly at him as she carried him and continued walking towards their home.

“See? I told owls were more dangerous.”

Unrolling completely, he let out another giggle as held onto her breastplate, calming down.

“But you nice.” He said after a moment, looking up at her.

She stopped, looking down the small child in her arms as she thought about what he said.

“Yes, i am. Lucky for you that I am huh?”

Sonic let out a slight laugh as he snuggled closer to her armor, closing his eyes. “You smiled.”

“Hmm?” She paused right as she opened the door.

“You smiled.” He repeated as he let out a yawn, eyes still closed

As she opened their door, she felt a smile come to her face. ‘Yeah, I haven’t felt this happy in...awhile.’

As she put him down in his makeshift crib, she looked down at him as he napped. Her wing stroked his head as he snored silently.

‘It’s mostly thanks to you for being here that I know life can be bright here once again.’

[hannah-heartstrings]

Splintered (RotTMNT)

A flashback fanfic I wrote a few weeks ago and am posting before Goyles, Goyles, Goyles airs tonight since it seems to cover the same part of the backstory.

1,381 words, no trigger warnings that I know of, some spoilers if you haven’t seen the Evil League of Mutants episode yet.

           Four humanoid baby turtles floated in a tube of liquid. The reflection of a face appeared on the glass, the face of Lou Jitsu.

           He grinned at them. “So they’re basically my sons?”

           “No,” Baron Draxum stood behind him, “I’m using your DNA to mutate them into human/turtle hybrids.” Clenching a fist he grinned to the ceiling. “Between my science and your genetic makeup we’ll have the perfect building blocks to train into the world’s greatest warriors!”

           “…So they’re basically my sons?”

           Fist falling he looked annoyed. “Sure.”

           Smile widening he hugged the tank. “I can’t wait to hold you, and train you, and show you my movies!”

           Draxum rolled his eyes as he walked away.

           “What should I name you?”

           The turtles were moved to a large terrarium. Draxum and his underlings cared for them and monitored their progress, Lou often in their way.

           A snapping turtle carefully rose onto two feet, taking two steps before falling over.

           “Aww, you’ll get it.” Lou’s arm was leaned on the edge of the tank. He lowered a lettuce leaf in front of the turtle who happily took a bite.

           A tiny box turtle crawled over to share the food so Lou gave him a leaf too. After eating his fill he climbed onto the snapping turtle’s back to sleep.

           Laying his chin on his arm Lou Jitsu looked over the tank.

           A softshell lie on a rock till a red eared slider ran up and shoved him in the water. While he looked proud of his reclaimed rock the softshell poked his head up with a look of plotting revenge.

           “Don’t push your brother,” Lou scolded. He dropped another leaf by the softshell.

           He snatched it on his way out of the water.

           “I still don’t know what to name you all,” his mouth twisted to the side before looking surprised, “hey how will I tell you apart?”

           The four clearly different turtles looked up at him.

           The snapping turtle nudged the lettuce stem.

           “What? …More? I’m out.”

           He kept nudging it.

           “OK, I’ll go get more. Hey, since you’re part human reckon I can feed you more than just leaves?” He stepped back. “Hang tight kids I’m going to see if I can get us some,” snapping he pointed both index fingers at the tank, “hot soup.”

           After walking through halls for a while he turned a corner into what he was pretty sure was the same hall. He came to a yokai wolf standing in a doorway. “Hello,” he smirked.

           She stared unimpressed back. “This area’s off limits.”

           His brows scrunched. “I thought I could go anywhere.”

           “This is Baron Draxum’s personal lab.”

           “But I’m allowed in the labs.”

           “Except for the baron’s personal one.”

           “Why?”

           She was growing more and more annoyed. “Because it’s personal.”

           “Right,” he smiled nervously, “I was looking for the kitchen?”

           She pointed down the hall.

           “And I don’t suppose you know what the kids can eat?”

           “…”

           “I’ll ask someone else. Thanks,” he walked away, suspicion on his face.

            It was probably just paranoia, Lou Jitsu told himself, but there was only one way to know for sure.

           The guard stood before the doorway, her arms crossed. Hearing something down the hall she turned that way, a shadow slipping behind her.

           Lou stepped into the small darkened lab.

           Across a table were beakers full of green liquid.

           “That’s not nefarious,” he tried to smile, “in of itself…” Finding a file he looked through it, there were reports about experimenting with mutagen, and research on mutating animals and-his narrowed eyes widened-humans.

           As he flipped through the file a horned shadow cast across his back.

           He gaped in horror at the plans in the last pages.

           “Lost?”

           He whipped around to face Baron Draxum. As the yokai glared down at him he glared back up. “You’re mutating an army to take over the world.”

           “Well is it that surprising? What did you think I wanted warriors for?”

           “I don’t know!” his voice strained in a mix of emotions. “It’d be cool?”

           He sighed in annoyance. “That’s your problem, you have so much potential you waste on small minded fantasies!”

           “And taking over the world isn’t one?” He reached for his pocket.

           “I’m trying to save-”

           He threw a smoke bomb at him.

           Stepping back and coughing Draxum waved his hand.

           As the smoke cleared the man was gone.

           Turning for the doorway he held out a hand, purple vines extending from his palm.

           Lou ran through the halls. A giant vine came up beside him, as it swung for him he ducked.

           Another grew from behind raising above his head and swinging down.

           He leapt onto the first, sliding along it. As its end curled to grab him he leapt off into another hall.

           “Stop Lou Jistu!” Draxum’s voice echoed down the halls.

           Reaching the lab he ran to the terrarium. “We have to go, boys.” He scooped the turtles up into his arms, the smallest clinging to his shirt. Stepping back he realized there was a guard to either side of him, decked in armor, each with a different weapon.

           They charged.

          As the spear reached him first he ducked under it while sidestepping, pushing the turtles into one arm. He ran at the spearman, ducking a swing and rising up with an elbow jab between the helmet and armor.

           As he staggered back the swordsman reached him.

           Hearing his steps Lou jumped to the side as the sword swung down. Turning with a spin kick he sent the guard flying, snatching his sword from the air. As he landed he turned to the spearman, who’d recovered in time to get his spear knocked away.

           It went sailing into a machine, sparks flying out and landing on some wires.

           With a few more swings the guard was knocked down.

           Finally able to catch his breath Lou glanced down to check on the turtles.

           Purple vines rose up behind him.

           Seeing their shadows stretching across the ground he turned, slicing an oncoming vine. Sidestepping and swinging he fought off the vines; once they were gone he pointed the sword at Baron Draxum. “I won’t let you take over the world, and I definitely won’t let you use my sons to do it.”

           He groaned. “For the last time they’re not your kids!”

           Lou stepped one foot back, pulling the turtles further from Draxum.

           “They’re my warriors!”

           Glancing over the lab from the corners of his eyes he planned his escape. “If that’s all you’ll ever see them as,” his glare locked onto Draxum, “I’ll never let you have them.” He threw the sword at him.

           A vine rose up to catch it inches from Draxum’s face. As he tossed it aside he saw Lou step back over wires as flame spread across them, a wall of fire between them. He gaped, realizing his entire lab had caught on fire. He pointed to the silhouette running away. “Someone stop him!”

           His gargoyle pauldrons stood up. “On it, boss!” They flew over the fire.

           Lou ran to a wall, pulling a disk from his pocket and placing it against it. Sliding it along the wall a portal appeared.

           One of the gargoyles shot a blow dart into his back.

           He flinched at it before jumping into the portal.

           “It didn’t work!”

           “Um, Munin,” said the other, “that wasn’t a tranquilizer, that was some of Draxum’s ooze.”

           “Oh…” he glanced back at him. “My bad.”

          Lou Jitsu ran through the dark tunnel, his feet splashing through water. He had no idea where he was or where he was going, just that he had to run. Pain started radiating from his back before sending waves through his body. A sudden pain hit him so hard he fell, dropping the turtles before landing on his side into a swarm of rats.

           They went running away and all over him in a panic.

           He swiped his hand, trying to push them away. Through the rat’s squeaks he could hear his son crying. He reached towards the sound.

           Strips of moonlight shone down from a drain onto his arm, it shaking from the pain. His hand clenched as it began turning pink.

           As the pain overwhelmed him he screamed until everything went black.

[spiltscribbles]

Notes: One Reblog is worth a thousand stars <3.-

The grandiose brownstone on the upper west side is filled to the brim with guests that Ronan barely recognizes, platters of foods he doesn’t remember ordering, and rounds of drinks he thanks God, Jesus and the Holy Ghost above  that never seem to run out. 

“Lynch, old boy,” a faintly familiar, boyishly attractive brunette calls from where he’s standing with three other nondescript fucks  that Ronan eventually realizes are all from his old preparatory days at Aglionby. 

“Wentworth,” Ronan greets with as much welcome as he can muster— a negative four point two on the Gansey scale of charm, but hey, what’s a guy to do.  “I presume you’re enjoying yourself?” 

“Thoroughly,” he assures with a coquettish little wink that Ronan completely ignores. 

“Let me know if that ever changes,” he directs the question to the group as a whole so that Wentworth doesn’t get any bright ideas. 

“How’s Declan?” The shortest one asks, all plastered smiles and heaps of blonde hair.

“He’s enjoying DC, says that Matthew is getting on with all his courses.”

“Smart of him to get out of Henrietta,” another of the foursome interjects with a swig of his iced white. “With Greywaren here and all the trouble he’s stirring up.”

“Come now,” Wentworth chides with a dismissing wave of the hand. “Greywaren is who’s keeping us safe from the trouble and all these awful villains. “Wouldn’t you agree Lynch?” 

Ronan feels the slightest uptick to his pulse, but doesn’t let anything show, just gives a placid smile and  blasé shrug to his shoulder.

“I make it a point not to mingle with politics.”

“Smart chap,” the third one smirks. “Couldn’t tell you how many times the boys on the board told me to keep my trap shut on it.”

Queue round of polite chuckles that Ronan doesn’t partake in.

“You know what isn’t controversial? A donation to the arts.” Ronan tells him.

“A wily one too,” Wentworth laughs. “Well you’ve convinced us Lynch, we’d be happy to help whatever inner city project or museum renovation you’ve got going on.”

“I’ll send Blue over to take the checks,” he tips his glass to them before continuing  on strolling through the throng of blank faces, exchanging pleasantries and volleying nods of recognition as if it’s an olympic sport. 

Ronan hates every fucking minute of it.

“Poor sour patch,” Blue, five foot nothing and unappreciative of any sort of bullshit, mock croons at him once he finally reaches the foursome, clucking her tongue all the while.

Ronan bares his teeth at her, swats away the hand she’s using to pinch his cheek  with a hiss of, “Hop off.”

Blue only laughs ebulliently.

“I fucking hate you.”

“No way to speak to your guests,” Henry toots on Blue’s behalf. “After all, you were just elected Henrietta’s most eligible bachelor, wouldn’t wanna ruin that image with your surly attitude.”

“What would you know Cheng? I sure as fuck don’t remember your name on the list.”

With a role of the eyes, Henry just shoos him away. “Never any bite, I swear.”

“He strolls off to take a call on his pretentious bluetooth, while Noah passes Ronan a fresh flute of the Prosecco.

“You don’t have to keep up the charade you know,” Gansey tells him, popping an appetizer with to many vowels and too little alcohol for Ronan to ever really bother remembering the name of into his mouth. “It’s not as if, ahem. People would ever be made privy to your particular gifts.”

He means the gifts Ronan had inherited from Niall, the ability to dream things and even people and occasionally places into existence. He means the fact that despite the way Ronan dawns a costume with a raven on the chest, he’s in all actuality a dreamer. He dreams his weapons, his vehicles, his everything to use against the bad guys and vigilantes that roam the streets of Henrietta, their city, their home. And some of the things he dreams Declan takes it upon himself to study, to replicate, to cell for the endless fortunes the Lynch name has always been known for. The millions upon millions that Ronan grew up unaware to how his father, a scoundrel and drunk most days, and absent the rest of them, had ever been able to earn. 

No, but Ronan still loves him, adores the memory and the man. Niall gave everything to Ronan and he’s going to respect everything Niall planned out, everything he wrote in his will.

“It’s what my father would’ve wanted, complete secrecy,” says Ronan, doubtless.

“Even with the solitude,” asks Gansey, cutting to the heart of his worries with none of his usual attentiveness. Finally tired of beating around the bush like the Gansey way dictates. 

Ronan’s about to snarl something back that he’s not proud of, something nasty and vicious and unnecessarily cruel. Maybe about Gansey’s pretentious upbringing, probably something about his tireless efforts to find out what’s caused this explosion of superheroes and super villains in the last half century, definitely  also about his piece of shit haircut that makes him look like a douchebag congressman. But Blue must sense it because she interrupts him before Ronan could even part his lips.

“All we’re saying is that we know you’ve got your priorities, but you deserve someone to come home too.”

“It’s so cute that you care,” Ronan snorts, doesn’t mention how this place isn’t home, that it can never stack up to The Barns.

Ronan doesn’t want to build a life here.

“I only care because  every group needs the weirdly brooding, emo friend,” Blue says causticly.

Ronan cuffs her on the back of the head and she kicks him in turn.

“Hey tall, dark, and handsome,” Henry calls, abruptly returning with a slight franticness to his gaze. “No time for the juvenile squabbling, there’s a robbery on Appleton and they’re in dyer need of a certain masked hero.”

.-

Ronan remembers the sun kissed skies and tumbling grasslands that painted the landscape of The Barns, his childhood manner, his oasis away from the bustling folks and raucous traffic of the city that the Lynch’s spent a majority of their year trapped within. He remembers the iridescent rosebuds that scattered the front yard  and the strawberry fields he’d run through, frolicking with a giggling Matthew and occasionally a surly Declan if Ronan had nudged him outdoors by stealing one of his books or hats or whatever proper, grown up thing he was insistent on mastering for that week.

Most of all, he remembers the way Niall would card an indulgent hand through Ronan’s dark mop of locks while they tread around the trails as he divulged to his middle son all the magical wonders and whimsical secrets of this world,  a doting smile on his face while regaling to Ronan stories about brave Irish warriors and lands unexplored, and things unimagined. A dreamer father showing his dreamer child— his favorite child— all the possibilities in his grasp.

“There’s nothing outside your reach Ronan my boy,” Niall, dark haired and sharp jawed and everything Ronan idealized, had boomed in his deep baritone. “You could do anything as long as you can imagine it, dream it. Omnium rum principia parva sunt.”

“The beginnings of all things are small,” Ronan, pint sized and open faced and infallibly kind hearted, had beamed up to his father, pleased that the Latin courses Niall had insisted upon were sticking. 

“Oy, attaboy,” Niall had crowed, swinging on his shoulder a laughing Ronan, a Ronan who believed in the untarnished truth of his father’s words.

But then Ronan hit sixteen, and Niall was murdered  and  the Barns were sanctioned from anyone visiting and everything had fallen apart in a matter of days.

.-

The BMW hums beneath his grasp as Ronan sores through the streets of Henrietta, blanketed in darkness and buzzing with danger.

“It’s at the Sheffield’s lake house,” Gansey patches in through the minuscule communication device Henry had created for them to use. “They’re big supporters of mothers campaign.”

“Oh how darling,” Ronan says in a deadpan. “We should invite them over for high tea, less we look gauche.”

“I’ll ignore the sarcasm due to this being a stressful situation and all,” Gansey harrumphs from the other end. “Noah will be there taking pictures for the paper and Henry’s sending over the address right now. Stay safe.”

“always am.”

“Now we both know that isn’t true.”

.-

Ronan screeches to a stop in front of one of the more posh houses the city has to offer— all high gates and wide partitions and a fountain of a baby angel spitting out water while balancing on one foot— greeted by a middle aged woman in pink chiffon raving to a fearful looking officer about hooligans and dirty thugs and irreplaceable diamonds handed down to her through generations. Though Ronan   doesn’t bother to stop and listen to her sulking once he catches the barest trace of a yellow cape slinking into the shadows out of sight.

He pounces.  

“Fifteen minutes and twenty-three seconds,” the dude in a yellow cape tsks (all the while sporting the world’s most infuriating half grin that Ronan can’t help but appreciate if only for the esthetic) once Ronan finally catches up to him on the edge of the woods skirting against the water. He’s smaller than Ronan, but not by much, and agile as all get out if those amateur parkour stunts weren’t just an illusion. “getting rusty are we? It’s been a while since Henrietta’s seen anything more than a chump vigilante I suppose?”

His voice is low but has got this almost musical cadence to it. Ronan would’ve sworn he was a local if the subtle drawl was anything to go by.

“And who, pray tell, the fuck are you,” Ronan snarls out, stepping closer with his most menacing glower. 

The guy in yellow and red just snorts, unimpressed, while he leaps backwards onto a tree branch… But no, it’s like the tree branch was waiting for him. No not even that, like it reached out for him to hop on, like he was the sun and the tree was responding to his very presence. 

“Unimportant, but I know who you are Greywaren.”

“NO fuck, everyone knows me,” Ronan spits.

“Not the real you,” he counters. “But that’s why I’m here.”

Ronan is over the small talk, even if the guy’s got an admittedly attractive voice, he taps on the heels of the shoes he had dreamt and begins to shoot upwards, but the  messed up thing is that the guy seems to have been expecting it, and with just a flick of the wrist another branch swings out and smacks Ronan down like a pesky fly.

“What. The. Fuck.” Ronan manages out with labored breaths as he stands back up.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a real let down Mr Greywaren, because you sure are,” Yellow Cape says with a faux yawn, stretching out to his full six feet while still standing on the branch. He looks like the fucking Fairy Folk in the storybooks Matthew had once insisted Ronan read to him before bed. “Well I’d love to stay and chat but I better get out of your hair and get some bank for my buck.”

“I’ll show you where to shove your buck.”

“Scandalous,” yellow cape sniffs, bored sounding. “ oh and before I forget, Greenmantle sends their hellos.”

In an instance everything freezes.

That word.

Greenmantle.

Flashes of blood and darkness and Niall’s too pale face accented by a wretched slash to his forehead.

The name carved in blood.

Greenmantle.

Ronan’s veins turn to ice and his chest contracts, and by the time he comes to yellow cape is already gone and Ronan is awash with the sorts of memories he ordinarily  keeps securely locked away.

.-

“Greenmantle, are you sure he said that precise name?” Henry asks for the umpteenth time since Ronan came back empty handed and with a major life revelation  the night of the Sheffield robbery. 

“Yes Cheng,” Ronan seethes, tugs on the tie that feels like it’s choking him.

“You look insane,” Blue toots, goes on her tiptoes to adjust it once more. “Now let’s  just take deep breaths, being in public and all.”

Ronan still isn’t sure just how Gansey had convinced them all to attend the Tribune’s annual fundraiser, only remembering  a lot of “getting on the insides” and “copious amounts of alcohol,s” thrown around, and a couple, “you get to tease uppity know it alls who trash the Greywaren for a living,” sprinkled on top just for good measure.

But still, Ronan hates it.

“So he’s back then, finishing off what he started.” Noah surmises.

“Did we ever truly know what exactly he wanted? Erm, aside from the Lynch family’s demise.”

Ronan glares and Henry just winces, apologetic.

“Noah you think you can get anymore intel on Greenmantle possibly leaving Boston? That was last where we tracked him, right?” Blue asks, head cocked. 

“I’m on it,” Noah says while literally pulling out his phone and wandering off to a discrete corner to do whatever it is that he does that gets invasively detailed reports on literally anyone with a social security number.

“Let’s cut the conversation there, Gansey’s coming with that delicious looking friend of his,” Henry warns, causing Blue and Ronan to turn around at the same time to catch on a beaming Gansey promenading towards them with decidedly less sunny company. Company with sea glass eyes and effortlessly ruffled hair that falls unevenly on the left side of his forehead and cheekbones that can literally cut timber.

“Ronan, you’re gonna catch flies,” blue goads, shit eating grin on her face and something like amusement etched into Gansey’s own all the way across the aisle, as if he knows exactly what she had said. Leave it to those freaks to create the world’s first telepathic connection out of the power of their gross as love. 

“You’re fired from both my friendship and your job,” Is all Ronan tells her, tries to look distracted by anyone that isn’t the literal incarnation of Prince Philip walking ever nearer… Erm shut the fuck up, Ronan only knows that certain prince because of Matthew when he went through his Disney phase… And well, Arora really liked those sorts of cartoons when she was bringing up her boys.

Gansey dives down to kiss Blue just as soon as they came close enough, and Henry bugged off to go flirt up some poor soul on the catering staff, which leaves it so he and Adam have got some semblance of privacy… Which Ronan doesn’t care about at all.

“Lynch,” Adam says, mouth curled ever so slightly,  giving him a thin lipped smile. “How’s it going.”

“My life is a fucking summer day,” Ronan replies with probably too much glaring.

“So that nasty looking bruise on your jaw?”

“For the esthetic.”

“Think you missed bad ass and landed on kid who gets too many nose bleeds during gym class.”

“Know that look from experience Parrish?”

He shrugs, unaffected. 

“I was always captain, so can’t say so.”

“Cocky little fuck,” Ronan hisses, making it so Adam’s face finally brightens ten fold and he lets out a breathy— blink and you’ll miss it— laugh. He’s got these insane dimples that never fail to make Ronan’s stomach tie itself into knots, and makes it so  his heart stutter with pleasure and always, always fuels him to try and make them pop out just one more time…. But erm, that means nothing. Whatever Blue or Gansey, or Noah— Especially Henry— Whatever they say whatever stupid little ticks his body goes through, it means nothing towards what he feels for Adam. Which for the record, at best,  is irritated exasperation veiled with a thin layer of indifferent acquaintanceship, considering Gansey has regarded the bloke as a brother since their first night as roommates back in college.

“You wanna grab a drink or will it hurt too much with the injury and all?” 

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll make it so your shitting teeth for the next month.”

“Kinky.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Ronan’s doomed.

.-

“So far the pattern seems to be wealthy, careless and dumb,” Blue says from where she’s hanging upside-down on the couch in Ronan’s den that’s been commandeered for any Greywaren business.

“You just read that off of Parrish’s article in the Tribune this week,” Henry toots, flipping through the aforementioned news report  about who’s been labeled as The Magician. 

“He’s a smart cookie,” Blue relents, having always been partial to Parrish since first meeting him years ago at one of the ridiculous “family dinners,” Gansey holds every Friday evening,  instead of doing something more par for the course for adults their age, namely getting blackout drunk and dancing at sleazy clubs. (

Gansey had just stepped into Monmouth , blasé as all get out with Adam only a few feet behind him, and had gestured his way with the introduction. “This’s Adam, he’s a genius reporter and a great man. Even’s got a photo of him and Lois Lane pinned to his desk at the Tribune.” 

Adam in turn smiled self deprecatingly, his cheeks flushed prettily. “She spoke at a rally our freshman year, just got lucky I suppose.” 

“Oh my God! I love her!” Blue had squawked, eyes bright.  “She’s right between Wonder Woman and Angela Davis on my wall of inspirational women.” 

“Some wall,” Adam said wryly.

“I thought that was a wall of ladies you wouldn’t mind pegging,” Ronan had interrupted just to be a shit.

 “Lynch, I’m not afraid to kill in cold blood.”

If that interaction hadn’t scared Adam off, Ronan supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that nothing had, that now he’s as internal to this little ragtag crew of Henriettas saving graces as any of them, even if he doesn’t have the slightest clue of their night gigs.

“We could ask him about the Magician,” Gansey offers, lips pursed and hopeful glint to his big, caff like  eyes. Ronan knows that he— that all of them— hate lying to Adam, to evade his questions and avoid his calls whenever things are particularly insane, but it’s better this way. If it was up to Ronan none of them would be stuck in this dangerous business. Gansey is here because he had been brought up with Ronan, quite literally brothers in everything but blood. He knew what Niall was, what Ronan is. He knows the importance of the Barns and the danger of Greenmantle, Ronan couldn’t have lied to him about this if he tried. Noah was already privy to the forces of good and evil warring it out in this seemingly inconsequential city right out of DC, had been the one to approach Ronan as Greywaren first, to cultivate a bond that soon transformed into a partnership and now friendship. Henry’s family worked to provide the pieces for the technology that the  original dreamer wanted replicated, for Niall, and it only made sense that when Niall had ever so unceremoniously past the mantel off to Ronan, that Seondeok did the same for Henry. 

To this day Ronan isn’t quite sure how Blue squirmed her way into everything, only that she’s the daughter of a well renowned psychic that they consulted with once on a case, and she had right then, chin tipped high and a deeply embedded resilience in her gaze, had informed them all that she’d be joining their efforts. A few years later, falling in love with Gansey and officially hired to  lead all  knew projects for Lynch Charity, in between, Ronan can’t imagine doing all this without her scrappy self.

But that’s all besides the point. Ronan never wants to be the cause of them hurting, them in danger. He’s seen what could happen to someone if they take one wrong move, saw it splayed out with Niall’s blood and matted hair and sickly pillar that still haunts Ronan’s nightmares most nights.

Ronan’s gonna prevent that from ever happening again to anyone he loves, even if that means he has to prevent any of the aforementioned teammates  from joining his chases, or if it means he has to lie to Adam’s face. To pretend as if he doesn’t see the way Adam’s begun barricading himself from them bit by bit, well aware that there’s something dividing them all from him.

Ronan would rather see Adam furious at him, than never getting to see the particular shade of forget me not blue that colors his irises, ever again.

The choice is simple.

“No.” He tells Gansey, not leaving an ounce of  room for rebuttal.

“He’s a Pulitzer Prize nominated Journalist Ronan, in layman’s terms that means he’s great at figuring things out,” Gansey says with the worn patience of someone who’s hashed out this argument a thousand times before. “It’s improbable that he hasn’t already begun suspecting the truth already.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I’m sure he could handle himself.”

“No,” Ronan repeats, voice resounding.

“Okay, no time,” Noah cuts in shortly, fingers tapping an agitated staccato against the keyboard of his desktop. “There’s a robbery on Madison Avenue and people are saying it’s our little, yellow caped friend.”

“Stay safe,” Gansey says— like he always does— and Ronan says that he will, like he always does— and the tension between them breaks, for now at the very least, like it always does.

.-

Ronan’s day job, as Declan had once oh so kindly put it, is to stay pretty and give a good face to the brand. “You’re a shit and I know that, but maybe if no one has to talk to you and just sees that you’ve got the same smile as Dad did, they won’t find out for themselves.” Declan had earned a swift right hook for that one, but was probably expecting it considering the dodge and the lecture on anger management he had suffered Ronan through for the next hour.

All this to say, Ronan doesn’t really have a day job. He occasionally visits The Barns— never crossing the threshold but just looking from afar at all he’s fighting to get back— Other times, if he’s not nursing a hangover or injury from the night before, Ronan would drive out to Dc and pull Matthew from classes to get lunch and maybe catch a movie. Though more often than not, Ronan ends up at one of the numerous Lynch owned real-estates, specifically the one where the entire top floor is rented out by the second largest paper in the fucking tri-state area. The fact that a majority of his friends happen to work there is pure coincidence and it would be slanderous to allude otherwise. 

“You enjoy our company,” Noah taunts, camera dangling from his neck and face split with a bright smile.

“Fuck you.”

“You do though,” he beams, impervious.

“Noah I swear to fucking God.”

.-

“Ah, so the prodigal son has returned,” Adam, looking like a fucking professional in his button down and tie, greets one particular Thursday afternoon when Ronan shows up for the first time that week. It’s been a difficult one for him, with the news that Greenmantle is most certainly not in Boston anymore, but also undetectable anywhere else on the continental United States, coupled with the series of robberies from more and more of the city’s wealthiest, surely by no other than that fucking yellow cape— The Magician— It’s just been really fucking exhausting.

Ronan will go to his grave before admitting that just catching sight of Adam here, now… It kind of makes him breathe a little easier, even if there’s a cut right under Adam’s chin and his stance is woven with a certain fatigue one can only recognize with experience. 

He suddenly remembers talking to one of Adam’s old school friends, a petite blonde who looked at an oblivious Adam with hearts in her eyes. He members her telling him just how Adam had lost the hearing in his left ear, how it was merely a tipping point from a long building cycle of abuse. Ronan thinks of how gutted he feels looking at how haggard Adam looks right now, and can’t imagine knowing him back when fucking Robert Parrish was still apart of his life.

But he shakes that all off, offers Adam a snide half grin like he’’s probably expecting.

“Missed me sugar dumpling,” Ronan jeers in an overdone accent to mock Adam’s subtle one, vowels rounded and snatching away the g.

“It was quieter,” is all Adam says, and if Ronan doesn’t know better he would’ve taken that as a compliment teetering on flirtatious instead of one of Adam’s deadpan observations. 

And oh, that’s interesting. 

“I’ve always been known for my stimulating conversational skills,” Ronan nods sagely, leaning against Adam’s desk with his arms wrapped across his chest, enjoying it probably a little too much how Adam’s peering up at him with his bright eyes through his spider leg lashes. 

Sometimes, just sometimes— just when Adam looks at him like Ronan could be the brightest part of his day— Ronan feels like he’s standing on the precipice of something with him, something that makes his chest stutter and stomach tumble itself into knots. Like Adam’s air and Ronan’s finally breathing. But also that’s a ridiculous notion because in all the years they’ve known each other Adam’s never made a move, not one that Ronan could discern at least, and he just needs to not fall into some ridiculous folly. 

“Oh I’m sure,” he snorts.

 “You wanna grab lunch? Leo’s having a half off if you buy two sale.”

“I don’t eat gluten.”

“I saw you scarf down a bowl of pasta at the mayor’s shitty dinner literally last weekend,” Ronan accuses, incredulous and only slightly affronted.

“Fine,” Adam breathes out. “Then I don’t eat gluten that’s meant to distract me from my work.”

“Fuck off.”

“Can’t do that either.”

Ronan seriously thinks he might hate Adam, if it wasn’t for the fact that he most certainly does not.

“You don’t have to like work yourself ragged just to prove a point you know, just because you’re the newest print journalist doesn’t mean you’re the least talented.” Ronan tells him, gruff sounding and avoiding his gaze at all costs. “That’s obviously Tad.”

Adam stays quiet for too long, so Ronan braces himself and turns around, not expecting Adam to be pinning Ronan with a one eyed squint, like he’s sizing him up. Like Ronan’s some sort of jigsaw puzzle he can never quite figure out. 

“Kay, let’s go,” he says, slow and cautious as he shuts his laptop and slinks on his jacket.  Ronan is only partially surprised that he actually listened, usually it takes a whole lot more cross looks and prodding at and about ten times more profanities for Adam to even consider stop working on some new story or the other that he’s particularly passionate about. 

“Good,” Ronan huffs in as flat of a tone he can muster. “But I fucking hate subs so we’re not going to Leo’s.”

Adam sighs, long suffering. “You were born to be contrary Lynch.”

“’S what Declan says, but he doesn’t know shit.”

“As opposed to you? Oh great arbiter of all knowledge.” Adam retorts, making it so Ronan’s mouth dips into a small, reluctant smile. 

“Precisely.”

Their eyes connect at that moment, ice blues boring into a twilight night sky sparkling with kisses of starlight. Ronan can hear his heart beat in his ears and his throat lodge with emotions he can’t place quite yet.

It’s Adam who breaks it, averting his gaze and clearing his throat, adjusting his papers on the desk just to make it as seemingly natural as possible.

“Mexican, Mexican’s never bad. And hey I get a chance to hear you fail at rolling your Rs.”

Ronan glowers.

“Piss off.”

So they go, Ronan orders a meat stuffed burrito and Adam orders the special and Ronan doesn’t talk about all the gluten Adam’s eating and  they most definitely do not talk about what may or may not have past between them.

It’s fine. It’s normal. He’s good.

Ronan’s got a lot of other shit to be worrying about without this maybe something he’s been harboring for Adam since before they even really knew each other, and it shouldn’t change just because Adam seems to be finally joining him in this strange little dance, stumbling together  around  this tiny flame that may or may not have sparked to life.

It’s fine. it’s normal. He’s good.

“I’m figuring out who Greywaren is,” Adam answers Ronan’s inquiry on what story’s got him so on edge and everything freezes over.

It’s not fine. It’s not normal. And Ronan is sure as fuck not good.

.-

“He’s swung onto Hamilton Boulevard,” Blue tells Ronan, almost frantic, through the headphone set. 

Ronan finally gets the fucking Magician in eye sight, watching as he slips into the maze of downtown apartments.

“Good, no fucking trees,” Ronan hisses while swerving off the road and chasing after him by foot, eventually landing on a rooftop. It’s the sixth encounter they’ve had in as many weeks so Ronan thinks he’s finally starting to ware him down, or at least beginning to figure out his arsenal of techniques. He knows that the moment he lands on that roof The Magician will just leap to the next one and the one after that until he finally loses Ronan in the dust.

But this time the Magician doesn’t know about the little pouch of a Ronan Lynch original that’s clacking  around on his belt. 

“Isn’t there more important shit you should be chasing after?” The Magician growls out, leaping to the next roof in the row and rolling his landing— smooth fuck.

“Isn’t there better ways you can be earning money besides stealing it?” Ronan counters, right on his tale.

“Like those old farts would miss’m,” The Magician scoffs, thin lips pinched into an infuriatingly attractive pout. “There are kids starving in this city, you know that Greywaren?”

“So what? You some fucking reincarnation of Robin Hood?” Ronan spits out.

“He was a fictional character, so that’d be impossible,” The Magician pivots around so quickly that Ronan is caught off guard, especially when he pulls out a bow and arrow and shoots it with deadly precision, tearing Ronan’s cape right off and sticking it to the wall behind them.

“But the bow is a favorite of mine.”

Ronan clenches his teeth in frustration. 

“Look I don’t give a fuck about you getting your jollies from stealing from old, rich fucks. Not really.”

“Then why the hell do you keep pursuing me?” The Magician charges, never flinching from his stance or losing his aim directed right at Ronan’s chest.

“Greenmantle,” he grits out, like broken glass ripping his throat to shreds and piercing his tongue and lips as it escapes in a fury of blood and guts and abandonment. “You said that name when we first met.”

“Yeah, and so what?”

“What do you mean so what!” Ronan bellows, hates how this vigilante fuck is so blasé about the one person that makes it feel like Ronan’s insides are burning up and dying right alongside everything else when Niall had past. With his mother and the Barns and the memories and the ease of just existing to exist instead of searching for some existential meaning behind it all. “How do you even know Greenmantle?”

The Magician just shrugs, for the first time in all the weeks he’s been clashing against Ronan his face betrays his typical impassivity and actually looks cautious, curious— unsure.

“Greenmantle’s the one who asked me to figure out who you are, paid me like a ridiculous sum of money for it.”

“And why do you think Greenmantle wants me so badly!”

“Fuck if I know, some blood feud between the wealthy and powerful. I don’t care, it’s not my business.”

“Fuck off,” Ronan steps closer, but the Magician remains stock-still, weapon poised to be wielded. “I know it was you who stopped that armed robbery last weekend at the bank, and you saved that bus collision with your creepy voodoo one with the trees, powers.”

This time the Magician’s lips curl into acute disapproval, he’s irritated by Ronan calling him out. Ronan thinks that it should be disconcerting that he could get so much from a simple reading of his mouth, but also it’s the only feature he can see on his face, so it isn’t that creepily invested.

“I don’t put people in danger, just steal from the oblivious and wealthy.”

“You’re not a bad guy,” Ronan surmises, has known that for a while now. “Don’t get mixed up in Greenmantle’s shit. They’re bad people, really bad.”

The magician sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, flickers his focus to something right above Ronan’s shoulder, like he was considering his words in a meaningful kind of way.

“How do I know that you’re not just lying to me. That Greenmantle isn’t justified for whatever slight you’ve done to them.”

“There’s a reason why you haven’t really tried figuring me out, you don’t want to help them.” Ronan needles.

“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me.”

“It’s true, you feel it. you know they aren’t safe.”

“Tell me why I should trust you,” is all the Magician says, waspish.

Ronan wants to shout, to pull out his hair and just scream. He wants to tell the Magician that he didn’t commit some sort of  fucking obscene offense to’m, that Greenmantle just knows what he can do and wants to control it, control him. But Ronan’s suddenly too tired and too frustrated and too so many things that he can’t even fathom parsing out the right words to convince him. Instead, Ronan just  picks out one of the seeds in his pouch and throws it into the Magician’s sandy hair, ducking when the first arrow is released.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Why can’t you fucking just listen to me!” Ronan says instead of answering. “Greenmantle is fucking evil.”

“You missed anyways douche,” the Magician snarls out, pulling another arrow from his sheath.

Ronan lets out a little, dark laugh at that, standing up to his full height. “Haven’t you ever heard that the beginnings of all things are small?”

The Magician’s face goes very flat, completely unimpressed.

“Now who’s speaking in shitty voodoo riddles?”

Fuck, Ronan hates how much he enjoys waging words with him.

“It’s not voodoo,” Ronan says in an admittedly cryptic voice.

“What the fuck!” The magician suddenly balks. Ronan reckons it’s because of the ropes knitting themselves around him over frustration about  his comment. 

“You won’t listen, so I’m turning you in.”

“Screw you!” he yells, face bright with feeling. 

“Jail’s better than if you accidentally get on Greenmantle’s bad side,” Ronan informs him magnanimously, dark head tilted in an admittedly Declan way.

“You are such a piece of shit.”

“Could say the same to you sweetheart,” Ronan sniffs, is taken aback at the unexpected prickling to his side.

“What—“

He looks up to find the Magician tearing through the ropes that look like they’ve been completely unwound. He looks a bit closer to find the hundreds of small spikes prickling its circumference.

“Is that—“

“A pine,” Magician scoffs, lets out a new round to pierce into Ronan’s side with a mere snap of his finger.

“How the fuck can you even do that!”

The Magician doesn’t answer, just bolts over to Ronan with a swift kick to the opposite side from the needles, rendering him defenseless, and runs off just as soon as the sirens come within hearing distance. All Ronan could do is watch the night swallow him whole.

.-

Ronan is bothered and disgruntled and pissed off— even more than usual. It’s why he’s sulking in a dark corner, peevish as all get out, while there’s like a hundred guests invading his family home in the city, here to celebrate Declan’s thirtieth and also probably just to make Ronan hate life that bit more.

He can’t believe he let the Magician go that easily, and now that he is actually mad at Ronan who knows what he’ll do now to actually figure him out, bring’m to Greenmantle just so they could finish the job and kill off all the Lynch dreamers. 

“Fuck.”

“Language,” a far too familiar voice reproofs with no heat, making Ronan jolt back to watch as Adam strolls towards him.

“You’re here?” Ronan says, floundered as he stares at the way his shoulders move just right in that blazer. God he’s beautiful.

“You should really consider asking Gansey for a job, your observational skills are truly top notch,” Adam says in a decidedly sardonic tone.

“Asshole,” Ronan huffs, excepting the drink Adam offers him.

“You seemed in a funk all week, thought you’d need the moral support for a party literally  meant to celebrate your brother.”

Ronan looks away, tries not to look so gleeful that Adam came here specifically— solely— to cheer up Ronan.

“You thought I’d want your company over any of these pricks,” Ronan says just to keep up pretenses— Admittedly a bit to afraid of the outcome if he starts to let them slide and just begins to babble out  loud all the stupid thoughts clamoring in his mouth and chest and mind whenever around Adam. The way his chest blooms with something splendid and the blossoms taking shelter in his ribcage. Though Adam seems to be having completely contradictory thoughts, because all he does is shrug— almost defiant.

“I thought you’d like my company yes,” he says blithely, as if he were reading a weather forecast or some shit.

“Whatever,” Ronan says instead of telling him he’s right. But Adam takes it as is with a diffident little smile and stepping that much nearer, good ear tipped towards Ronan.

“You wanna get out of the crowd? Show me around this place?”

Ronan does not swallow down, not for any particular reason at least, like how maybe to the untrained ear that could’ve past as a come on.

That is not a thing that happens! He’s not some Bella Swan type swooning over a cute boy he’s pretty sure is the one. That’s not happening! Ronan is not doing that!

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Adam’s answering smile is radiant. And Ronan fucking hates himself for even knowing that word.

.-

“It’s huge…. Ah erm, your house I mean,” Adam coughs a little and Ronan’s absolutely ecstatic for the turning tables. 

“Dad use to say that if we weren’t at our palace we still should live like kings, and my mom just indulged all his stupid whims,” Ronan explains, wistful.

“The Barns,” Adam says, slow and cautious, probably knowing that it’s a touchy subject but still curious. “That’s your palace, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Ronan nods, stops in front of a mantel underscoring a risibly large portrait of Niall and Arora, the pair of them juxtaposing completely but still  both so etherial that it would be preposterous to ever imagine one without the other.

 Beautiful and rugged. golden and dark. careless and careful. 

Ronan feels a sudden, acute pang to his chest. Jesus Christ does he miss them.

“They’re beautiful,” Adam marvels, pinky touching the side of Ronan’s hand ever so tenderly from besides him. “You look exactly like your father.”

“Yeah… I’ve been told that.”

They stand there, in the silence, for a little longer— Ronan isn’t quite sure how much time past, a minute or hour, but it feels quiet. For the first time Ronan feels quiet and at peace when he looks at this portrait, and he isn’t sure if it’s a good sign that he’s finally starting to mend, or a bad one that says Greenmantle will soon cause him to join them on the other side.

Eventually, Ronan turns over— apologetic— To Adam, is surprised when he finds him staring with intense interest on the words carved into the frame.

“Omnium rum principia parva sunt,” Ronan reads out loud. “It means—“

“The beginnings of all things are small,” Adam says, mechanically, disbelievingly, confusedly. 

“You know the quote then,” Ronan asks, is struck dumb when Adam’s ordinarily bright and methodical eyes flicker to him as if in a trance. 

“No, not really. Just heard of it recently.”

Ronan nods, it being answer enough. “You wanna meet Chainsaw?”

“Chainsaw?” Adam repeats, finally appearing to come to his own again. 

Ronan cocks his head, silently telling Adam to follow suit, and he does.

.-

“It’s a bird…”

“She’s a raven,” Ronan huffs. “Now who’s got wicked observational skills?”

Adam’s face goes a bit pale, looking excruciatingly uncomfortable as he just nods along to Ronan, not even bothering to snipe back. 

“Yeah sure, of course she is.”

He finishes feeding Chainsaw and leads Adam back to his nearby room, pretending his skin isn’t squirming with anticipation. 

“Is this how you court all your dates?” Adam asks, teasing unassuming all at once, a masterpiece of contradictions Ronan could spend an eon trying to parse out and wouldn’t grow tired.

“Is that what this is?” Ronan asks, tentative while sitting down besides him on the bed.

“Dunno,” Adam shrugs. “’S what I wanted it to be, reckoned you weren’t gonna make a move for another five years.” 

Ronan’s face goes blotchy, and Adam’s laugh is something musical.

“You’re enjoying this.” Ronan huffs.

“You’re precious,” Adam preens, cupping Ronan’s cheek in earnest and slanting his lips against Ronan’s own, and suddenly all the muted grays of this poor substitute of The barns transform to vivid, screaming color. It’s slow and cautious at first but melts into something more, something so much more. It feels like nights racing in the BMW, and days running around the Barns as a kid, wild and free. It feels like sun kissed skies and when his cold fingers begin to thaw at the fire place. It feels like remembering and discovering and just knowing. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for like a year,” Adam admits, bashful, once they finally part, hot tendrils of  breath skirting against Ronan’s lips and soft hands caressing his cheeks.

“Try. Like. three of them.” Ronan counters, punctuating his words with a kiss to Adam’s collar bone, the hinge of his jaw, the tops of his cheekbones.

He can do this, Adam wants him to do this. This is a thing that they’re doing.

“Jesus Ronan,” Adam says in an almost wine, snaking his hands beneath Ronan’’s shirt and splaying out his fingers greedily. “That’s like since we met?”

“I know.”

Adam swoops down so that their lips are moving against each other once more, and everything feels golden.

But it all goes to an abrupt halt when he feels Adam’s long fingers skimming his still bruised side and he sucks in a breath.

“Still tender,” he winces.

Adam pulls back, as if he’s been scorched.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ronan assures, only a bit pissy that the kissing has stopped— he liked the kissing. “Just a little sore spot.” His shirt rises up enough to give Adam a clear view of the still healing spot, is confused when his face goes a sickly green and he pulls away even further.

“What’s up Parrish?” Ronan asks, sitting up right alongside him.

“That… That looks like a kick. A hard one.”

Ronan kinks up his brows, teasing. 

“So I swung back to bad ass or still a nerd with nose bleeds?”

“That’s a kick,” is all Adam repeats, like he’s gone mad.

“Yeah Parrish, I got in a fight. Don’t sweat, it comes with the territory of buzz cuts and leather jackets. Wouldn’t expect you to know Mr All America.”

“A fight,” Adam says, slow and confounded. His lips moving around the words and his face still blanched, a decidedly unhealthy hue spreading across his soft features. 

“Parrish you okay?”

“I gotta— I gotta go.” He says, scrambling off the bed and straightening his clothes. Ronan feels distinctly like being left high and dry.

“Now? You have to leave now?”

“Yes, now. Immediately.”

“Okay… Gimme a minute to find my keys, I’ll drive you back to yours.”

“I want to walk,” Adam declines, already racing out the door.

“Woah, did I do something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” Adam says, face being tugged into a whole array of emotions before landing on a dangerously blank expression that Ronan’s never been able to read for shit.

Adam goes and Ronan’s confused and the house is still filled with fucking annoying ass guests.

.-

“You’re upset,” Blue says, blunt as ever.

“You’re annoying,” Ronan counters, snappish.

“It’s gotta due with Adam doesn’t it,” She charges, hands flying to her hips and looking more like Maura than Ronan could’ve ever expected.”’S why he’s called in sick to work for the past week and you’ve been more crass than usual.”

“Fuck off,” Ronan hisses, doesn’t look away from where they’re perched atop one of the higher buildings of Henrietta, perfect view to both its polished corners and seedy underbelly.

“I’m right, aren’t I,” Blue presses, but Ronan doesn’t bother to engage.  “Just admit it!”

“So what if you are?”

“God, you both are such idiots.”

Ronan flips her the bird only just catching a flash of yellow ducking into an alleyway.

“Not the fuck today,” he hisses out morosely. “Call me on the bee,”  he tells Blue before pouncing down and chasing after him.

He doesn’t hear her respond, doesn’t really hear anything. He only comes back to focus when the alleyway ends and he’s looking at The Magician standing rigid in front of St Agnes.

“You’re a dreamer,” He says with no fanfare, not accusing but not happy about it either.

“Wh—“

“”s why Greenmantle wants you.”

“Not exactly Nancy Drew,” Ronan mutters out, circling him cautiously.

“He killed your father, he’s the one who sent the hit on Niall.”

In an instance everything goes red, Ronan’s ears roaring with unadulterated fury. 

Like a bullet, Ronan tackles into The Magician, hand wrapped around his neck and noses brushing against each other.

“how the fuck do you know that name,” he asks with heavy breaths. 

“Greenmantle killed your father and he wants to kill you next because of some sort of vendetta against the Lynches.” Yellow cape manages out, barely breathing with Ronan’s hand still clasped tightly around his neck.

“Tell me how you know the name Niall?” He barks out, squeezing even harder. Though Ronan is confused when the magician doesn’t even try fighting back. 

“I know you Ronan, it’s me.”

Everything stutters to a stop, and Ronan’s grasp begins to subside.

“You know my name? How do you know my name?”

“Because it’s me, It’s Adam.”

The world’s gone inside out, and flipped upside down and Ronan’s let go of the Magician— of Adam— and is across the yard once more, stunned silent as he watches as the Magician sheds off  the yellow mask to reveal a familiar mop of sandy hair and night blue eyes and a tiny little dent over his top lip that Ronan’s never asked about but has always wondered if it had to do with the way he holds himself with caution strung into his stance. And absolutely nothing makes sense at all.

“Ad—Adam,” he balks. 

“It’s a long story,” is all he says, completely glum.

“When did you— How did you—“

“Only the other night when we were in your room,” his cheeks go a fetching red at the memory and Ronan yearns to go back to that moment of tranquility before all of this. “I couldn’t believe it, but when I finally figured it out, it all made sense.”

“How— How did you.”

“Look Ronan— Or, erm … Greywaren, there’s no time to explain any of this right now.”

“Why the hell not,” Ronan snarls, tries to feel an appropriate amount of fear, but hates how he’ll probably always feel safe and secure when around fucking Adam Parrish, no matter who he’s dressed as.

“The Greenmantle you know, Colin, he’s dead.” Ronan balks, but Adam just steamrolls over it, continues on speaking with clipped words and a franticness Ronan doesn’t understand quite yet.”it’s his wife you need to worry about, Piper. She’s the one who hired me and has been looking for you, she wants to avenge him like some sort of Harley Quin esthetic.”

“I have no fucking idea what you’re saying.” Ronan informs him grimly. 

“You don’t need to understand, just dream.” Adam tells him, thrusts out a manilla envelope to him and waits for Ronan to open it up and read its contents. 

“Excuse me?”

“Read it.  memorize it, Dream it.” Adam tells him.

“You want me to frame Greenmantle for some pretty heinous shit.”

“You want her taken out, don’t you,” Adam charges.

“How do you know I can even create this shit in my head?” Ronan asks, brows furrowed.

“I have faith,” Adam says with a seriousness etched into his features Ronan’s never seen. “And you’ve got fuel.”

“fuel?”

“Shit won’t be safe until she’s gone, if you ask me, I reckon that’s all your dad intended, for you and your brothers to be safe. I reckon that’s why he barred you guys from the Barns in the first place. Piper’s been there like a thousand times, the dream energy at The Barns is heavy, like a ley line all it’s own. But when the dangers gone, you can make it your palace again.”

“That’s detailed,” Ronan says slowly, still so totally confused.

“I’ve had a week to figure it all out, and this’s the only full proof plan I’ve got.” Adam tells him. 

Ronan bores his eyes into Adam’s own, finds something he recognizes as quintessentially  Adam Parrish in them, and feels that quiet again he did a week ago at Declan’s birthday party. 

He feels sure.

“Okay, I’ll play along.”

“Good,” the ends of Adam’s lips curve up into a smile and Ronan feels like he’s finally gotten the answer right.

.-

They’re back sitting side by side on Adam’s desk, a newspaper in Ronan’s grasp announcing the arrest of Piper Greenmantle.

“You’re preening,” Adam mildly notes.

“I feel…. Free,” Ronan says, far too vulnerable for such a open place.

“I’m glad,” Adam says, voice shimmering with sincerity as he stands up. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, that you’ll always feel that.”

Ronan eyes him, confused. 

“Sounds like a goodbye to me,” Ronan accuses, and Adam just shrugs. 

“I’ve made a mess of everything, you almost got hurt, seriously hurt.”

“You didn’t know,” Ronan contends.

“I was flippant,” Adam corrects. “But she’s gone now, and you’re going to be safe, so it feels like the right point for me to maybe start fresh too.”

“No,” Ronan says.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a good guy Adam, and that’s more than most people. People either suck or are awful… You’re not, you’re good.”

Adam frowns. 

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not,” Ronan stands up, wraps a hand around one of Adam’s slender wrists. “You’re good and you’re bold and you’re a genius and if it weren’t for you I’d probably still be running around terrified that Greenmantle would come back to finish me off. Thank you for giving me the chance not to be afraid of that anymore… Thank you for that.”

“Of course Lynch,”

Ronan swallows down, trying his hardest not to avert his gaze.

“So stay Parrish. Stay and let’s start shit over together.”

Adam doesn’t answer in so many words, instead just inclines his head forwards and kisses Ronan within an inch of his life. 

Ronan likes that answer a whole hell of a lot more. 

[theheartsmirror]

𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃. ▹ ❝𝑤𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑢𝑝❞

➝ 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 x 𝐰𝐨𝐜!𝐨𝐜/𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

➝ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 4/?

→ 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲

→ 𝓅𝓁ℴ𝓉: ❛𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭❜

→ thank you to @crushingonmando​ for motivating me to write this. i decided to write it into this ongoing fic.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐘 ⇠

It wasn’t the first time you heard him. 

No, you’d heard it before, whether it be in a late night trip to empty your bladder or the typical insomnia that’d marred you since that night. But the first few times that it occurred, you brushed it off as your mind playing tricks on you, ghosts from a past that reeked of tortured screams and cries. 

You didn’t believe it. 

And then one night, you listened, really listened. And you looked. You were standing directly outside of his door. It was him.

Low, spaced, grumbled, and quiet mutters of protest, one word dominant on his tongue: no.

That was a word you’d omitted from your vocabulary. There was no need to keep it around. 

No one ever listened, anyway. 

Naturally, you moved toward the door, palm flattened against the metal, frown deepening as you pressed your ear against it. Mattress creaking informed you that he was twisting in the midst of his nightmare, or maybe it was a night terror, you’d also had your fair share of those. 

Your first instinct was to unlock and enter, see about him, wake him and assure him that whatever it was could not escape the confines of his dreams, but then you realized something. His voice was clear, still deep, but unaided by the modulator. 

He didn’t have his helmet on.

As though heat emanated through the metal, you backed away. Your desire to help him didn’t outweigh your respect for his religion. Besides, what would he do if you were to enter unannounced? A few weeks into your travels, and you’d quickly discovered that he was the type to shoot first and not even ask questions later. 

Selfishly speaking, it was best for you to leave him alone, but morally speaking, it pained you. 

It pained you because while it wasn’t a daily occurrence, it still transpired at least once a week, and as someone who’d been there, you felt for him. 

You wanted to help him.

You just didn’t know how. 

And so, you did the only thing you knew how to. You worked around it. 

Full blown conversations weren’t his thing, that much was very obvious, but you still attempted to make conversation as best you could. 

When he’d enter the common area, you’d momentarily pause while feeding the child, offering a friendly smile as you teasingly asked if he was feeling ‘warm’ or ‘cold.” When he’d return from a mission, you’d request an update. Sometimes, when he returned with a would that needed tending, you’d convince him to let you do it, the child watching curiously as you patched him up. 

He’d thank you for your assistance but also wasted no time in disappearing into his are, and you allowed him that, his privacy. You’d garnered that he’d been on his own for some time, so having a child and a woman in his quarters for a majority of the day required constant adjustment. 

So, you accommodated as best you could, well, you tried. 

So when you finally got the Child to go down for his nap and entered the cockpit, inquiring about where your next stop would be, and he informed you, “Lah’mu,” your eyes widened. 

“Really?” You stood behind him, hands moving to brace the back of his seat. He barely looked at you over his shoulder with a curt nod. 

“Yes.”

Hand over your mouth, the idea hit you harder than when you realized that the Child did in fact have a limit with how much his little body could consume. 

Mando cleared his throat. “Is that a problem?”

Halfway listening, you lifted your brows. “Hmm.”

He sighed. He was already irritated, maybe not with you, but it didn’t necessarily matter. “Why are you looking like that?”

“Like what?” You shrugged and tugged on your bottom lip, thankful when loud cooing provided you with an excuse. “I should go check on him.” Without waiting for a reply, you dashed out of the cockpit.

The next few hours felt like an eternity, especially since you were budding with excitement for the manifestation of your plan, something that probably irked Mando as he planned to go out and seek employment. 

Deciding that it was best to wait to tell him, you spent the evening as you typically did, entertaining the Child, resting, cleaning, and other activities that helped to eat up time. 

When he returned, after getting cleaned up, you practically tackled him, arms reaching the Child toward him. 

“I need you to watch him.”

He stared at you, head tilting down toward the happy baby. “What?”

“I need to go out.” Gently pushing him toward your partner’s chest, you watched him carefully allow the green creature with elongated ears to crawl up his armor, attempting to sit on his shoulders.

“Excuse me?” He turned, angling his body towards you as you pulled your cloak around your body, pulling your hair out and allowing it to flow down your back, over the material. “Go where?”

You paused and offered a small smile. “Out to the bazaar. I need some things.”

He paused. “I’m coming with you.”

You straightened and shook your head. “No. You should rest. I’ll be—”

He stepped toward you. “I’m coming.”

Turning away, you had to decide if it was worth arguing with him. His presence wouldn’t exactly ruin your plan, but it would unintentionally recruit him onto your trail, and you didn’t like that. You liked the element of surprise, even if such a thing wasn’t possible when dealing with a Mandalorian. 

“Fine.”

It was a fruitless argument, that much was obvious. Your only option was to concede. 

Twenty minutes later, the three of you walked through the market, the Child waddling between yourself and Mando who stayed behind the both of you, observing. 

A chuckle escaped your mouth at how easily the crowds parted at your presence, Mando’s presence. No one wanted to find themselves on the opposite side of the battlefield with the galaxy’s fiercest warrior. As someone who’d been abused, humiliated, degraded, and violated, being in a position where others made themselves scarce, the thought of causing you any harm because of your company, it gave you a sense of peace you couldn’t even recall being able to feel at any point in your life since—

“Blue milk?” Out the corner of your eye, you practically saw the scrunched brows and deep scowl. “That’s what you needed?”

Handing over the required credits to the worker, you waited for her to disappear into the back as she gathered the milk and other items you’d requested. 

“Yes.”

Tiny, green hands reached toward a rocky display that would collapse with even the slightest touch, causing you to patter over to the baby, lifting and pulling him against your chest as you snuggled him close. 

You giggled, but your smile dimmed when you caught two sets of alien eyes on you, and you just knew what they were thinking. Seconds later, you retreated back to a time where your objections mattered not because you were considered chattle. You had no say in the matter. 

Frozen with quiet fear, a warmth behind you and a gloved hand placed on the small of your back reminded you that the past was just that, the past. 

That wasn’t your life anymore. 

This was. 

Turning toward him, you looked up and saw that his sights were set on the two men whose frantic footsteps informed you that they’d clearly understood the message. Just Mando’s presence, domineering as it could be, frightened off anyone who held ill-intentions. 

You were grateful. 

“You’re supposed to be watching him.”

“He was fine.”

“We have different definitions of fine,” you teased and returned to the counter to retrieve the bag as Mando escorted you out the busy marketplace and into the safety of the Razor Crest. 

As the bounty hunter catered to some mechanical work needed before you all moved on to the next planet, you worked, wrecking your memory for the appropriate steps, searching for information you hadn’t needed since a young girl. 

It took you longer than you’d had liked, but the end result earned a smile. The Child especially enjoyed your creation, gobbling down more than his little stomach should probably allow before you could start his nighttime routine, something that took longer than usual. 

Something that helped to lull the active baby into sleep was singing, lullabies sung to you by your mother as a young girl, songs that were in your native tongue. 

The little one in your lap could be mischievous and tug on your sympathy strings when he really wanted something, but at night, not even two minutes into your hymns, he was at your mercy and typically sleep in under three minutes. 

“Haruun Kal.” You sat up in your seat, careful not to disturb the baby, looking over your shoulder. He leaned back against the wall behind you, arms crossed over his chest. “That’s where you’re from.”

Head tilted, you slowly nodded. “Yes. How—”

“I recognize the language. I was taught some as a child.”

“So you retained very little,” you surmised.

He chuckled. “I got what I needed.”

“Hmm.” You stood, carefully holding the Child in your arms, glancing down to ensure that he was still sleep as you moved toward the Mandalorian. “You know...there are things that we just, we can’t discuss, and not always because we don’t want to, but because we don’t know how. We’ve spent so long pushing it back, suppressing the memories, that—that we forget the past always finds a way back to us.”

He remained quiet, and you swallowed, pushing back your own fear. “When I was a little girl, and I’d get sick, my mother would make blue milk pancakes even though she hated them. Even the smell would make her nauseous, but she still did it anyway. For me, and something as simple as pancakes could make me forget, even if for a little bit, what I was upset about.”

Lips pressed together, your current task was to keep the tears at bay. This was for him, not you. 

“As an adult, it sounds silly. Food doesn’t make it go away, but it can help.” A beat. “So can listening.” The baby moved around, a sign that you needed to get him in his bed before he awoke again. “Anyway, I left your plate in the cockpit, and, well, I’ll be up tonight in case...” Words seemed unnecessary at that point, so you gave him one last smile and walked past. 

You were almost through doorway when you heard it. 

“Thank you, Aayla....”