#others' fics

[whumperofworlds]

So remember that Sherlock Holmes fic that first taught me of the word "whump"?

I found it.

I highly recommend checking it out! It's so good!

[bamsara]

"youve already written that trope" yesss. i like it a lots. i will be writing it again. 1000 stories of the same trope over and over again for ten million years

[innerenigma]

•Normalize Fanart for Fanfics Again You Fools•

It's not cringe anymore (it SHOULDN'T be cringe anymore), just do it. You're doing something you enjoy, who cares what anybody else says! So spread the words my fellow internet brethren.

Spread the Word :)

[notrobinsomethingworse]

Dick (Nightwing) and Jason (Robin) stare at Bruce. One sports pleading eyes, the other a shit eating grin. There’s a child between them with black hair and blue eyes.

Bruce, he doesn’t know what’s happening but he doesn’t like it: No.

Dick, grinning: He’s our younger brother now.

Jason, nodding seriously: You’re not gonna take him from us.

Tim, got kidnapped while taking photos of patrol, just happy to be there: Where’s the Batcave?

Bruce: what.

Dick, grinning wider: He’s ours now.

[lonewolflupe]

This has awoken feelings inside me I didn't know I had for Echo 🫠

That Floral Dress***

Echo X F!Reader

word count: 3000

After a sour date, Echo has one thing on his mind: is he a bad kisser? Luckily, you were willing to tell him the truth.

Warnings: no smut but it is rather saucy so gonna rate it at 16+. Slight insecure echo, unknown mutual pining, reader is female and is wearing a floral dress. Intense make out.

Masterlist

“Do I look like I would be a bad kisser?”

The question catches you off guard completely, making you spin around in your seat in the cockpit of the Marauder to face Echo who had been pacing back and forth for the better half of ten minutes. You’re surprised he hasn’t worn the floor down.

You're not sure how to respond to such an unexpected question, so you ask him to repeat it. "Do I look like I would be a bad kisser?" he asks again, biting his lip anxiously.

Even hearing it the second time round confused you just as much and then it occurred to you that a few nights ago he had come back from a date that Wrecker had sprung upon him. He didn’t look too pleased to go in the first place and his mood only worsened upon his return.

“I… don’t know?” You reply nervously.

Echo had been your friend for years now, even since before his accident at the Citadel so for him to ask you this type of question was a little odd as you two were merely friends. You didn’t want to upset him and say no, which wasn’t the case either, but you didn’t want to say yes in case presumptions start.

Echo lets out a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose with his flesh hand before leaning against the wheel of the Marauder. You can tell that he's feeling frustrated, and you feel a twinge of guilt for not being more helpful. So, dropping what you were doing, you decide to ask him what's really going on.

“How come you're asking me this, Echo?" you inquire softly, hoping to get to the root of the problem.

Echo fidgets nervously, his sharp jaw clenching with anxiety. "Remember that date I went on the other day?" he grumbles, clearly still bitter about the experience. To which you nod for him to continue, leaning back on your seat as he begins to explain his predicament.

“Well, not only were they quite dull as a person, and I’m not saying I’m a barrel of laughs either, but they were insanely dull so the date was not off to a great start.” He emphasizes on the word dull, making you giggle softly which always made him smile but before he gets distracted, he continues,

“Anyway, I walked them back to their place and just being the courteous guy I am, I leaned in to give them a kiss goodnight. Only for them to recoil back as if I smelt terrible.”

"They even said 'ew no thanks,'" he recalls bitterly, his face contorting.

Your eyes widen in shock, mouth agape. “How rude of them!” You exclaim with a shake of your head, feeling indignation on his behalf. “You were only being nice?” You stated, hoping to bring some ease to Echo but his furrowed brows and almost sad expression said otherwise.

“I only was going to go in for the cheek.” He grumbles. “Well, I just wanted to ask you if you think I looked like I’d be a bad person to kiss.” He folds his arms over his chest, staring down at the floor as your heart lunges out to him.

“In that case,” you stand and take a step towards him, resting a comforting hand to his forearm, “no, I don’t think you would look like a bad kisser.”

His eyes search yours, a mix of emotions residing in them. “You don’t have to say that because you feel bad for me.”

You scoff and shake your head at him. “Echo, you know me well enough to know that I’ll always be honest with you. So no, I don’t think you look like a bad person to kiss.”

The words gave him brief comfort and a smile is fighting its way on his lips. “Thanks. Though, I don’t think I’d be that great at it anyway.” He shrugs and this only piques your curiosity more.

“Howcome?”

Again, he fidgets a little before letting out a small sigh at his confession. “I’ve never kissed anyone. A proper kiss that is.”

Echo's confession about his lack of experience in kissing catches you off guard. You had assumed that he had dated or been in some kind of romantic relationship before, given his charming personality and good looks. But as he stands before you, vulnerable and honest, you can't help but feel a sense of compassion towards him.

Echo shifts his weight from one foot to another, as if unsure of how you would react to his confession. You can see the slight furrow in his brow and the way his lips purse as he contemplates the words to say next. His vulnerability tugs at your heartstrings, and you take a deep breath before speaking.

"Wow, I didn't know that. But it's okay, Echo. You don't have to be a great kisser right off the bat. It takes practice, and I'm sure with the right person, you'll be amazing."

As Echo's gaze meets yours, you sense a palpable tension between the two of you. It's as if you share an unspoken understanding that transcends the bounds of your platonic friendship, one that leaves you questioning whether there might be something more between you. But before you can dwell on these thoughts for too long, you hear yourself utter the words, "I'd be happy to teach you."

Your words take Echo aback, and he seems surprised by your willingness to help him with something so intimate. “You would?”

Your own eyes begin to widen, the reality of your words hitting home. But you're not about to back down now. "S-sure," you squeak, quickly clearing your throat to hide the nerves that were now bubbling, "I mean, we're friends, right? I'm sure you'd do the same for me."

As Echo ponders your offer, he realises that you're right. You've always been there for him, and the thought of not returning the favor is unthinkable. Supposedly it makes things better too that he finds you were impossibly beautiful and wearing that pretty floral dress he really liked. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a shaky exhale, Echo stands up straight and takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what's to come. He's grateful that he managed to brush his teeth earlier that morning, before any of the others hogged up the refresher. "How do you want to do this?" he asks, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

Your mind races, considering your options. You hadn't expected Echo to be so agreeable to the idea, and now you find yourself at a loss for words. "Um, well," you stammer, "do you want to just go ahead and reenact how your date went? And kiss me on the cheek?"

Echo's expression darkens at the suggestion. He doesn't want to relive that somewhat painful memory, but if it means learning from his mistakes, he's willing to give it a shot. "Sure," he concedes with a slight frown, "why not?"

You approach Echo with a hesitant step, feeling a flutter in your chest as you meet his gaze. His eyes hold a certain shyness, and you can sense the weight of his request hanging in the air between you. You take a deep breath and muster up the courage to speak with a slight mischievous grin dancing at the corners of your lips. Your voice tinged with a playful sweetness. "Well, Echo, I do appreciate you walking me back to my place," you tease, relishing the opportunity to poke fun at your friend's chivalry.

Echo looks momentarily confused, but he quickly catches on and chuckles at your literal interpretation of the situation. "I don't think they ever said it like that," he remarks, his amusement evident.

You roll your eyes, but your smile remains, and you lower your voice, adopting a more serious tone. "Say, Echo," you say, your eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter, "I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you for walking me back to my place."

Echo shakes his head, an adoring look in his eyes. You always knew how to effortlessly charm him with your humor. But, he knows there's something he needs to address. "Of course," he says softly but resolutely.

As Echo gathers his courage, you patiently wait, your hands tucked behind your back. You can tell he's nervous about kissing you, even on the cheek.

You watch as he tentatively reaches out to touch you, trying to remember how he kissed his date. But this time, he finds himself oddly wanting to impress you.

When he reaches out, his fingers trace over the fabric of your dress on your waist. A surge of warmth shoots through you, and you take a small step closer to him as if he was inviting you closer. His breath is heavy, and your heart races as you spot him staring at your lips… instead of your cheek.

"Echo," you say softly, hoping to bring him back to reality.

"Sorry, I, uh—" Echo stammers, his mind racing with uncertainty. For a moment, you worry that he might back away, but you take a deep breath and speak up.

"Just kiss me," you say, voice barely above a whisper as you lean in until your nose brushes against his.

Echo swallows nervously, stealing a quick glance at your lips once more before meeting your gaze. "Where?" his voice was almost silent. It was as if the obvious place you suggested to him had vanished and you find yourself not minding it at all.

You hold your nerve and ever so slightly, not quite sure what possessed or was possessing you, lean closer until your lips ghost over him and watch him with a steady gaze. “Wherever feels right for you.”

He couldn't resist any longer, the temptation too great as he leaned in to capture your lips in a quick embrace. The kiss was sweet, yet intense, sending shivers down your spine and causing your mind to go hazy with an unknown desire. The feel of his lips on yours was electric, igniting a spark deep within you that you never knew existed for him. His eyes were tightly knitted shut, afraid that you may turn around and sock him one but he was pretty certain you were kissing him back.

As he pulled back, breathless and eager for your response, you found yourself lost in the moment, unable to speak. Your face felt hot as you looked down at your shoes, struggling to find the right words to say. Everything about this moment felt different, as if something had shifted irrevocably between you both.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Echo finally spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "How was that?" he asked, his eyes still closed, as if he was afraid to see your reaction. He may have thought about kissing you once or twice, naturally. He just never knew it would happen quite like this.

Your face felt like it was on fire and you found yourself looking down at your shoes. “It was nice… your date was missing out.” You reply, almost stiff.

There was a certain type of emotion that hung on your words that you didn’t quite know yourself.

Echo licked his lips inconspicuously, savoring the taste of your fruity lip balm that lingered on his tongue. "At least I know I'm not a bad kisser," he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

You laughed softly, the sound ringing like music in the quiet cockpit. "Definitely not," you replied, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks.

As you looked up at him, you could feel his gaze burning into you, as if he was seeing you for the first time. You were everything perfect in the galaxy, and his grip on your waist tightened just a little bit more, as if he never wanted to let you go.

In a moment of boldness, Echo's scomp came up to cradle your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Your eyes locked, and you were lost in each other, the galaxy around you fading away until it was just the two of you. There were no words, no movement, just the intensity of your gazes. “How do I show that I want to do more then?”

As the heat between you and Echo intensifies, he challenges you with another kiss, pushing the boundaries to see how far he can take you. Your smile gives away your desire, and you whisper a command, "Maybe, bring them closer."

Echo doesn't hesitate, his arm wraps around your lower back, drawing you close in a swift motion. Chest to chest, his breath washes over your face, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. "And then?" he prods, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes close as you succumb to the moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of Echo's low tone. "I-I suppose you just kiss them again, but a little longer."

So he does. Feverish and intense with a passion that ignites your senses. Your heart beats wildly, consumed by the sensation of his lips moving in perfect harmony with yours. Echo gently trails his hand up your body to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss, and you gasp, lost in the intoxicating sensation. When he pulls away to gauge your reaction, he almost chuckles when he spots you leaning into him, chasing his lips. To your glee, he kisses you swiftly and you let out the faintest of moans in his mouth.

Echo's lips against yours are soft, and you can feel the warmth of his breath as he murmurs a phrase that sends a shiver down your spine. "Oh cyare," he purrs, and you're suddenly jolted back to reality. Your heart races, and you feel a wave of anxiety wash over you.

You pull away, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head. "We shouldn't be doing this," you tell him.

Echo looks shaken, his expression concerned as he fears he may have overstepped the mark. "Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?" he asks.

You shake your head, feeling a twinge of guilt as you pull away from Echo's embrace. "I'm sorry, Echo. We shouldn't be doing this. I'm supposed to be teaching you how to kiss for other dates," you explain.

Echo tilts his head, sensing your unease. But the thought of you possibly being jealous makes his heart skip a beat, and he realises this may be the right moment to lay everything on the line. "What if there are no other dates?" he asks softly.

You blink in surprise, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he approaches you again, his flesh hand cupping your cheek, thumb tracing over your delicate skin, "what if I just want to kiss you?” He lowers his voice, afraid to break the tension. “What if I want to date you?"

Shock is written all over your face, and you can't help melting into his touch once more. "But I thought we were just friends," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Echo chews on the inside of his cheek before admitting, "I don't think 'just friends' want to kiss each other, do they?" He uttered, voice almost vibrating against you.

Your heart flutters in your chest, and a heat pools in your lower stomach. "No," you shudder, feeling the intensity of his gaze. "I suppose they don't."

He smiles coyly, and his lips gently trace along your jawline, edging towards your ear. "Then let me kiss you. Let me give you anything you want."

As his lips touch your ear, you feel a surge of electricity coursing through your body, and your mind is filled with conflicting emotions. But most of them were primarily focused on how he pushes you against the control panel.

You whimper under his touch, both of your hands coming up to clasp his cheeks as you guide his lips back onto yours. Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, and your teeth clash, but neither of you seems to care.

In a moment of need, his lips assault yours as he presses you down so your back hits at the buttons and switches, sandwiched between your legs.

"Echo," you groan his name into his mouth before he playfully bites at your lower lip. Your legs press against his outer thighs and around his waist and you crumble into a mewling mess once you feel his hand slide up under your dress, caressing at your thigh.

He stands up straight for a moment, admiring how you’re displayed beautifully on the control panel just for him. His eyes roamed your body, growing warm at how your dress hugged your body wonderfully and how your chest heaved beneath it, highlighting your breasts.

“Did I ever tell you that I love this dress on you?”

You blush deeply as he massages your skin, feeling the heat building between your legs. "No," you rasp, eyelids heavy with lust.

“Shame,” he chuckles, moving his lips down to your neck now, starting to suck and bite that sweet spot that your body perfectly reacts to - arching up into him. “Although, I wouldn’t mind seeing it on the floor one day.”

You chew on your lower lip, whimpering and moaning in pleasure as he leaves marks all over your neck and collarbones. Surprisingly, you find yourself not even caring if the others saw it. The pleasure you are getting is far too great to tell Echo to stop.

When he pulls back, panting and trying so hard to ignore the tent in his pants, he gazes down at you, his eyes dance with adoration. “You’re so beautiful, cyare.”

You're panting a little, causing his eyes to flicker between your chest and your eyes with a smile. “As are you. And a very, very good kisser.”

You don’t know what was going to happen from then on but for now, you just savored the feeling of Echo leaning down to kiss you, tongue begging for entrance at your lips.

Masterlist

More Echo Works

[shaftking]

Ao3 is actually massively culturally important and very very good at being what it is. I’m so serious when I say that ao3 needs to be protected as the anti censorship, by fans for fans, nonprofit, volunteer run, expertly designed archival site that it is. You don’t have to read or like fanfiction to understand that on principle, ao3 is a site that should be defended.

[everwalldigan]

I love the idea of all the robins kinda being clones of each other with just a few differences and a concussed Bruce not being able to tell who he’s squinting at so he just says generic statements and avoids saying any names

Bruce (sitting at the breakfast table): so… how’s the weather… dick?

Jason (grinning): you do know I’m gonna hold this against you for like, the next 2 months right

Bruce: (groans into his hands)

Bruce (walking into the living room): hey have you read through the files I gave you yesterday?

Dick: (confused cause he took a day off to surprise Bruce) ?

Bruce: so?

Dick: er… no?

Bruce: Dick?? What are you doing here?

Bruce (walks into the kitchen with a fresh concussion): Jason? I thought you were on a mission with the outlaws?

Tim: (frozen through mid fridge raid, having assumed they were past Bruce calling him Jason since yk. He’s a shit brickhouse now and Tim is, well, obviously not): uh?

Bruce: *turns around and leaves*

Bruce: Oh hey Cass, when did you arrive from Babs’?

Damian: (slowly turns around in the black hoodie he’s wearing) we’re not even the same gender

Bruce: (under his breath) yeah but the same height

[valtsv]

are we still doing this because i have a late submission

[haveihitanerve]

I love how people are like Jason Todd was a demon child and all the other robins were angels compared to him like lmao robin!Jason was a fucking delight what do you mean

Dick showed up at the manor with a blue stuffed animal elephant and the rage of 100 men and the only thing thats changed is that the elephant is grey now

Tim showed up with blackmail on the fucking Batman and bullied him into accepting him as robin

Damian popped up on the doorstep holding a fucking katanna

Meanwhile robin!jason was jumping from building to building squealing robin magic! and would spontaneously hug Batman. he loved reading shakepeare knowledge and literally screamed golly jee willickers as the highest curse word in his vocabulary.

Robin!Jason was a goddamned fucking delight and all the other ones were the little demon children lmaooo

[mossy-box]

I wish gay people were real

[swordsandholly]

Thinking about a mechanic!AU where the 141 boys run a garage and need a new receptionist. They hire you because you’re just so cute (great tits) and have a decent resume but it becomes a slight problem when they realize you’re a bit… dense.

Total ditz to be precise.

But they can’t really get mad when you get the keys for clients mixed up and look at them with those big eyes all teary and a little pout pushing out your lower lip.

Price is the most patient, perfectly content to walk you through how to file paperwork and fill out forms. Instructing you in a low voice while his breath brushes the shell of your ear. It’s really their fault for having such a terrible system, you know? Don’t worry about it too much, dove. He’ll settle his big hands on your shoulders and gently trace up and down your arms. See? You’re getting it. Just needed some more practice, hm?

Johnny is more than happy to show you around the garage, rattling off everything he knows about all those nitty gritty details that go right over your pretty little head. He’ll pop open the hood of some sports car and point to the engine to show it off. No, bonnie, you’ve got tae get in close. Closer.

Until you’re bent entirely over in one of those too-short skirts you wear everyday. It takes all his willpower not to yank you into the supply closet.

Gaz is just so sweet to you. Always bringing you little treats and candies to suck on. To help you concentrate, of course. Always greeting you with a soft ‘baby girl’ at the beginning of your shift. Whenever you’re standing around be it at the printer or counter - wherever really - he’ll slip a hand on your waist. It always trails a little lower, his pinky just edging on the hem of your too tight jeans.

Ghost gets frustrated with you to the point of causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes. He’s feels guilty, sure, but bloody hell just print the damn receipt. He avoids you for the most part. Until one evening when it’s pouring down. You forgot your rain coat of course, silly girl. He offers you a ride which you take happily.

After that he can’t get rid of you. You bring him coffees (how you remember his order word for word but not where you last left your own cup is beyond him) and giggle at his jokes. When a client gets too snappy or too loud he’s the first to step in - standing behind you glaring at them with his huge arms crossed over his chest until they back down.

[reginalusus]

Ok. *Puts them in a corny, 90s anime romance scene in which Bruce helps Harvey come down from a rough dissociation/derealization episode by using sensory grounding.*

[sttoru]

clan leader!satoru, whose smile isn’t actually a. . . smile. it serves as a gentle (yet not-so-gentle) threat to whomever it is dedicated to. a lot of the gojo clan members, as well as members from other noble clans, have heard of that infamous smile and know of its true meaning.

ever since marrying you, that smile often finds its way onto his lips. it’s not because of you, but rather because of the ones interacting with you. satoru didn’t ever expect to feel so possessive about someone he initially didn’t care for.

a marriage of convenience is all that your relationship was for. it purely existed for the sake of a connection between two famous families. your first weeks together have been awkward. any form of affection - any touches or loving words - were for the sake of his image.

however that all was fated to change: satoru eventually found himself falling for his wife.

your kind personality, your subtle smiles, the embarrassed expression on your face whenever he teased you in front of others even if it was all a faux display- an act of being all lovey-dovey. your inner and outer beauty was slowly becoming more apparent to the white-haired man.

you don’t know when it started. you can’t recall why satoru is suddenly acting affectionate even behind closed doors. usually, he’d drop the act the second you’re in your chambers. now he continues to compliment you, pepper you with chaste kisses as long as you allowed him to… even refer to you as his ‘dear’, ‘pretty girl’ or ‘sweetheart’ to your face like it’s nothing.

you shrug off your own guards and maids when they curiously inform you about their lord’s sudden change of personality, which was supposedly all because of you.

“ah, my wife,” satoru’s voice echoes above the loud chatter in the main hall. you turn your head and find your heart racing for some reason as he addresses you in that gentle tone.

he makes his way through the crowd, eyes never leaving your face, even as other important figures try to catch his attention to talk business. “i was greatly worried about you,” your husband sighs.

a gloved hand cups your face and satoru leans in, his glossy lips inches from yours. you’d think this was part of the fake arrangement, but there’s this genuine hint of adoration behind his cerulean eyes that you cannot ignore.

“i— my apologies,” you murmur softly, eyes darting around the room while you try to ignore the loud thumping of your heart. “i was simply talking to one of the guards,” you explain and nod your head to the bulky man standing next to you.

the guard respectfully bows to satoru the second you introduce him. your husband doesn’t respond for a single second, his fingers twitching lightly at his side. he can’t stand the thought of you talking to another man while he isn’t around.

is it for your own safety? or is it because he’s jealous and immediately wants to get rid of any man who dares speak to his precious wife? perhaps it’s a mixture of both.

“i see,” satoru replies. his eyes darken for a second before he catches himself. the corners of his lips curl upwards, though the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

that familiar sight makes you nervous. you’ve seen it before, when your husband would subtly threaten others for whatever reason, while hiding his true feelings behind that smile.

“well,” satoru continues, his arm wrapping around your waist. he pulls you against his side and places a kiss on top of your head while glaring at the guard through his white eyelashes.

“thank you for keeping my wife safe,” the clan leader says through that tight smile, trying to keep it as ‘genuine’ looking as possible. he has a reputation and image to uphold after all.

you’re about to say something, but are cut off as satoru adds another comment. “i’m here now, so you can return to your post.”

it isn’t a suggestion. it is an order— a command. a disguised threat.

the guard immediately picks up on the subtle hint and nods without saying a word before walking back to his spot at the doors. you can hear the faint whispers from others as they also seem to recognise that change in satoru’s demeanour.

it’s not like you’re totally oblivious to what’s happening either. you look up at satoru and place a hand on his chest, trying to catch his attention. “satoru,” you whisper his name.

the white-haired man immediately snaps out of it and excitedly shoots you that boyish smile of his instead of the fake, cold one he wore on his face just a second ago.

“you called, my dear?” satoru tilts his head, bringing a hand to rest over yours on his chest. your eyes widen a bit at the way he seems to relax and look at you with that same devoted gaze.

you don’t think it’s an act anymore. the words die on your tongue and you can’t recall what you wanted to say anymore. those sparkling blue eyes and charming smile have you rendered speechless.

“…it’s nothing,” you mutter under your breath. you have no clue how you’ve managed to turn that once, cocky, overly confident and cold-hearted ruler into a total softie for you. it’s something you still need to process yourself.

satoru doesn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, glaring at the men who pass by, shooting them that fake, threatening smile if they looked like they desired to converse with you.

you’re his wife, and that’s that. he silently wonders when you’ll realise that he actually fell for you. perhaps you are already aware of it, but hide it from him on purpose.

whatever the case is, satoru will make sure that you know his true feelings for you. one day he will tell you those three words explicitly— if it wasn’t obvious enough through his sudden change of behavior.

[frownyalfred]

actually now that I’m thinking about it, Bruce showing up to the Watchtower last minute in one of Nightwing’s domino masks because he can’t wear the cowl for some reason and everyone (bizarrely) assumes that the new, handsome (if slightly older) vigilante must be a New Bat and maybe even a partner of Nightwing’s and Bruce isn’t correcting them because he’s trying to avoid drawing attention to his face/voice/mannerisms outside of the cowl (or maybe he’s injured enough he can’t talk too) and they start talking to him about Batman until Clark shows up and is like wait a minute…why do I know that heartbeat who IS this Nightwing lookalike…is so funny to me

[lonewolflupe]

My friend, this was so wholesome ❤️ You described Crosshair and Wrecker so well, I loved their interaction. And how you described the events and the anxiety/nightmares, that was so good! I'm really looking forward to reading more of your stories!

A Friend Indeed

Summary: Two years into settling on Pabu, Crosshair reluctantly finds solace in some familiar places.

Rating: T (might be G but set as T because I'm just a baby and I don't know how ratings work. Feel free to yell at me if I should change it) Warnings under the cut.

Tags/TWs: hurt/comfort, cute brotherly fluff, descriptions of PTSD, descriptions of sleep paralysis symptoms, recurring nightmares involving medical trauma (nothing described), heightened anxiety around dates, grief processing, mental health probs, just wrecker and crosshair being adorable brothers with their emotional support animals.

WC: ~1,800

A/N: this is the first work I've ever posted. It started as a completely self indulgent drabble of Crosshair bonding with a scrungly stray island cat (still in progress), but I loved writing this brotherly exchange between Crosshair and Wrecker so much it kinda turned into something else entirely by the end? This story falls in line with my HCs that Wrecker is the mediator middle child, Tech is still alive and on Pabu with his family, and that he's an awful snorer. Proofread by me.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"And how is this supposed to help?" Crosshair seethed, looking down at the plush tooka doll his brother just shoved into his hand. "I don't need this, Wrecker."

"Oh come on, Crosshair, don't pretend like you didn't borrow Lula when we were younger...like that time you had nightmares after falling off the--"

"Stow it," Crosshair growled, throwing the doll back at his brother, but Wrecker, being used to his brother's temperament, dodged it easily. It tumbled to the floor and Batcher, who had been eyeing the tooka during their entire exchange, didn't hesitate to scoop it up and wiggle her hind quarters, hoping one of them would start a game of chase.

"Listen, I still get them too..." Wrecker said quietly as he took a step towards Crosshair, his hand resting on the sniper's shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "Want to tell me about it?" He was no stranger to navigating Crosshair's anger. Especially now, after two years of them living on Pabu, two years into recovering mentally and physically from their experiences with the Republic and the Empire, two years of healing the bonds between one another. Wrecker knew that it was always a cover for something more nuanced. So, he was quiet and let Crosshair percolate with his thoughts before he spoke about what was bothering him. After a few moments, Crosshair grumbled, resisting the urge to shrug his shoulder free, but the wall he put up cracked just enough.

"It's just..." Crosshair’s hand clenched into a fist at his side. Batcher flopped down on her bed dramatically at being ignored, still holding the tooka gently in her mouth. "It's not just the nightmares..." he mumbled. Wrecker took a half step back, eyes soft and trained on his brother's deep furrowed brow and scowl at opening up like this. But Wrecker was patient.

When Crosshair continued, his voice was barely a whisper, "Sometimes when I wake up I'm still stuck there and...I can't...I can't move..." he trailed off, his mind flitting back to that morning.

He'd woken from the dream, or so he thought. Tantiss' medical droids were still swirling in his periphery, the smell of disinfectant still sharp in his nose. His nervous system immediately reacted, seeking to lash out, to escape, but his body didn't respond- for a horrible moment he thought he might be strapped down again but no, nothing was biting into his skin, he simply couldn't move. He tried to speak, but the words remained on his tongue.

No. He thought bitterly. They're not here. I'm not there.

He kept repeating this in his head, almost like a mantra as the panic coursed through his body. The droid never came close enough to touch him, but still close enough to be a threat. It felt like an eternity until his tunneled vision brightened slightly, the bits and pieces started to fade, and his bedroom in his Pabu home came into the forefront. He could finally feel his limbs thawing, the weight of the blanket on his feet, the rising sun casting speckles on the wall, the sound of seabirds calling in the distance. These things helped ground him enough to remember his training, he slowed his breathing in an attempt to quiet his pounding heart. It worked, but it didn't quiet completely, not until he could feel his toes wiggle.

Wrecker's warm hand gave his shoulder another squeeze, gently bringing Crosshair back to the present moment. Crosshair glanced up at his brother's scarred face, into his concerned, mismatched eyes for a fleeting moment before shaking his head and casting his eyes back downward. Wrecker was always a good listener despite his boisterous demeanor. He never tried to talk Crosshair out of how he was feeling, or suggest solutions unless asked. He was content to be an ear to bend and a shoulder to lean on.

And Crosshair would rather be slowly digested by that massive tentacled sea creature in the bay than have all of his family members concern be directed towards him. Hunter watched and hovered too much and it only frustrated Crosshair more. Tech would listen and be sure to provide the most annoyingly practical solution. Echo was his first choice to go to about this specific issue, but he was away again and difficult to get a hold of these days. Omega, his heart softened a little thinking of her. She would drag him to the cliffs and insist they meditate, look at him with those kind, concerned eyes. His eyes.

No. Absolutely not. Wrecker was his best option at not driving Crosshair back into himself. And he was so tired, so the wall came down a bit further. He looked up quickly again to make sure Wrecker was still listening. He always was.

"And they're...often," The sniper's lips pressed into a thin line. "Almost every morning this past week," Crosshair continued. "And sometimes in the middle of the night, which are the worst," he spat out so quickly it took Wrecker a second to process what he said.

"This happened last year around this time too," Wrecker thought out loud. Crosshair cringed at the realization he'd already known, but grunted in affirmation. He had learned that sometimes this is how it goes, especially around dates with any significance, and they returned from Tantiss for the last time on this day two years ago.

Wrecker looked thoughtful for a moment before his face brightened at a sudden idea. He strode around the room and started gathering the cushions and pillows, tossing them into a pile in front of the couch.

"What are you doing?" Crosshair drawled wearily, his eyes following Wreckers movements. He was already regretting his decision to speak more freely about this.

"I'm getting comfy," Wrecker said plainly as he settled down amidst the pile of pillows, leaning back against the couch. Batcher took this as an invitation to dig out her own spot at Wrecker's side, Lula in tow, settling down with it under her chin. "See?" he said, his tone light. "Let's camp out here!" He said spreading his arms wide before returning his hands to the back of his head. "You know like back on Kamino in the training storage room whenever Tech would snore too loud?" He grinned at the memory. "Hunter would always find us and act all annoyed but he just always wanted to know where we were...and get away from Tech's snoring,"

"Still does," Crosshair snorted, one corner of his mouth curling up slightly. Admiration for his brothers pulled him out of his resolute melancholy a little more. He settled down on the other side of Batcher, resting his arm over her back like he'd done a thousand times before. The hound grumbled at him when he lifted her chin gently to retrieve Lula.

"No." Crosshair said firmly. Batcher's eyes still followed the doll but she settled back down. He held Lula before him, taking in the tattered fabric, the stains, the patches added to mend rips and burns. One of her ears was almost completely gone.

"This thing is...disgusting," Crosshair scoffed quietly, it was almost a chuckle.

"Yeah, it is," Wrecker laughed heartily. "But she's been with us the whole time. Look..." he said pointing at the burn across the doll's back. "That's from when those clanker disrupters I made for your fire puncher went off in the barracks, remember?" He smiled widely remembering how angry Tech was at them for setting his bed on fire, while he was still in it. And Wrecker's, but that was nothing new back then. He continued regaling Crosshair with anecdotes about how the blemishes were made over the years.

Wrecker suddenly yawned, stretching and settling further into the nest, "Is it alright if I sleep here tonight," he said drowsily, more a statement than a question, his eyes still bright. Stars, he was a terrible liar, but Crosshair appreciated his attempts to not wound his pride. To give Crosshair the choice for his company without having to ask for it.

He was working on it.

"I suppose," he drawled. It was already late when his brother came by. And it's not like Wrecker would be easily moved at this point anyway. 

Crosshair, resigned but thankful for the company, studied the tooka for a while longer. The knot in his chest loosened slightly at the reminder of the joyful and chaotic moments they've shared. Bright moments poking through the darkness like the stars studding the night sky. Instead of tucking the doll under his arm or clutching it to his chest, he stuffed it behind his head before settling back onto its familiar softness.

Crosshair folded his arms over his chest, closing his eyes and tuning in on the sounds of the insects chirping softly outside, the distant waves were harder to hear now that the tide had retreated, but still added to the calmness that now descended upon the island. Batcher grumbled in contentment, and soon Crosshair's breathing matched Wrecker's, lulling him into a more peaceful sleep than he'd had all week.

The next morning when Crosshair opened his eyes, the frightening things he may have dreamt about didn't follow him. They stayed where they belonged, far out of his periphery. The bright orange morning creeping over the horizon chased away some of the shadows from his mind. Not all of course, but, some. Wrecker and Batcher were still right beside him, both very real and sleeping soundly. He wiggled his toes experimentally. Pleased when the joints flexed on his command. He could move and get up if he wanted, but it was still far too early to rise and start the day. Instead, Crosshair did something he hasn't done in weeks- he went back to sleep.

Maybe he was still right, he thought as he drifted off again, Lula still tucked under his head. Maybe he didn't need this, but he had to admit, it helped.