#wandering ark

[roleplay-abiogenesis2]

@mmriesoftvat || Plotted Starter for Kami and Cyno in Ark Survival verse~

Kaminari and Cyno wake up naked and stranded on the shores of an unknown island infested with all kinds of creatures. How did they get here? Maybe the implant embedded into their arms holds the answers.

A dreamless sleep was disturbed by subtle, yet growingly intense sensations he thought he'd never experienced to this degree. First, the tingling, faint cold over the skin; climbing to the back of his neck and the scalp. His head felt incredibly light and yet so difficult to move, as was every muscle and limb in his body.

Then came the pain, a heat in contrast, swelling from the center of his chest, followed by a sharp scratch-like pang to the arm. Not like a strike or an arrow, but a terribly strong injection with no numbing to make it tolerable. It was that which brought his eyes to squeeze together before attempting to open.

Breathing was hard at first, and then, entirely impossible. The cold returned, and like a scream deafened everything else he could feel.

Everything left him; the sensation of the ground underneath his weight; the warmth of his own blood pulsing through him; liquid stung his eyes closed and filled his mouth and lungs. All sound was swallowed by the deafening whisper of deep waters. The cold so intense, he registered the suffering of his organs against increasing pressure only marginally, like a disinterested observer, while around him, a ghastly rumbling sound seemed to make every cell in his body vibrate.

Then nothing but black. It could very well be the end.

[...]

A gasp for breath felt like the very first time his lungs had ever drawn air. The pain of birth; so overwhelming and powerful. It made one want to cry just like a newborn.

And yet, he felt too exhausted to wail and scream. All energy had been sucked out; only leaving him there, pathetic on the shore, wet and naked, to tremble and breathe. His body was capable of nothing more than curling up in a fetal position and stay that way. Slowly sinking back into an unconscious state.

Sleep… Yes, he needed to sleep. Restore some energy. All else could wait.

Sunset-red eyes which had just started to peak under heavy lids rolled back to hide; a tired sigh of an incoherent whisper between his lips.

He was still alive.

[...]

As he slowly blinked back into consciousness, it did not register right away that the clicking sound that had pulled him out of sleep came from the clatter of teeth in his mouth.

The cold did not set into his awareness right away, either. So close to freezing, he'd lost sensibility to nearly everything he had. Instead, all he was immediately acutely aware of was the sheer weight of gravity. He was paralyzed, unable to move even the strongest of his muscles. Keeping his eyes open was a challenge in itself.

Something was wrong with his body. Cyno didn't know what it was, but something was simply not right.

But he was now awake, if only in mind. Was this sleep paralysis he was going through? Right here and now, he couldn't even remember where he'd heard about something like that.

A blink. His eyes were open, but it was still so dark.

His teeth clattered again, and what made him realize just how cold he truly was, was the sudden, slowly pouring warmth in his mouth. He'd bitten himself without realizing.

The only slightly warmer temperature of his own blood came to his perception before the taste of iron even did. He swallowed, and it was hard. A cough erupted to fight the impending sensation of choking, and he felt the fluids crawling down the lips.

The blood. When was the last time he had bled? The shame...

As he lay there, pathetic and weak, he started to remember… not necessarily everything, but something. The desert; the chase of the Fatui through ruins he'd never seen before...

He'd fallen. Thrown over the edge by the enemy. He remembered Kaminari rushing after him in the air, his arm outstretched to catch him. He remembered their fingers touching.

Where was Kaminari?

Cold to the bone and with nothing but his own body to his name, a storm of emotions surged to his aid. Confusion, rage, dread, pain and anxiety. They took him and overwhelmed all thoughts. And for a while, he let them. With nothing to lash out on, with no energy to even stand, he was oh so aware of his own increasing heartbeat. Let that torturous agony rush through him, to carry that blood everywhere within, regain flow, and wake him.

Soon, he thought he could begin to move his toes. And then, his fingers. The sound of rustling water was the first to register when the drum of his heartbeat subsided enough for him to hear anything else. He tried to call someone, anyone, but his throat was dry. The sand under him felt different than what he was used to. Humid just like his own skin.

Finally crawling out of the shoreline where the ground was at least dry, he could finally raise his head enough to see. The sea behind him, the trees ahead. The stillness of early morning. In the distance, the sun broke through the flat line of the waters.

Once able to turn around and sit, he wasn't sure how long he remained there. Blinking owlishly at nothing, just waiting for his mind to start working again. He'd noticed his almost entire lack of clothes, left only with the merciful presence of his undergarments. He did not feel the presence of wounds, but knew he should take the time to inspect himself thoroughly when the sun would be high enough.

Any sort of plan was thrown away the moment he squeezed his eyes hard and thought he could see something moving near the water, a short distance away.

And when he was close enough to recognize a short clump of indigo hair, Cyno's heart jumped to his throat. Gone was the torpor, gone was the cold. His mind was summoning every bit of energy to rush towards his limp form on the ground.

His running felt so irritatingly slow!

"Kami...!" His first coherent word broke out hoarsely at first, and then, when he all but fell to his knees almost on top of the other, turning him around to face him, more clearly. "Kami... Can you hear me?"

[nommedtail]

very evil for the lad roguelike to have at least one stage where you can't auto it and have to do boring stuff like the easiest memorization thing ever or a pacman maze thing on a small phone screen

[contrastparadoxx]

Oh come on, you've got to know SOMETHING

"Hey. If you're going to harass my secretary I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

>You're prompty led out of the office and the door is closed in your face.

[arkfeather]

sorry but literally no character does Insane Angry Yet Sympathetic like AM does

[believerindaydreams]

today in Harry Sullivan thoughts:

@seekingthespheres you can make a tolerable guess at how far in advance I write these, that I'm only now noting "Harry wearing '70s plaid and flares is both funny and halfway canonical"

[mistletien]

I love Fallout76 but there's nothing to do when you don't like the current season rewards

[allbuthuman]

Ever think about how it makes so much sense for Vash to have even more dissociative symptoms than those we see?

Like. His body was handled extremely violently against his will in a situation heavily mimicking assault twice. After one incident he had severe memory loss and constant nightmares and flashbacks, and after the other he was so gone from himself that he could do nothing but wander around in what could easily be described as a fugue state (and for all we know wasn't even responsive when Lina found him). He was kept in a tiny space for fucking months on the ark, that can't not fuck somebody up.

And Vash is full of heart. He bears to have space to witness and remember and be affected by the people that he meets even after 150 years, even after this much hurt. And he does so decidedly. For someone like him, having to constantly put his emotions aside in order to handle whatever dire situation at hand, having to put his grief on hold 'cause he just has to jump into the next fight, must take a whole lot of compartmentalisation.

The thing is, he seems okay with closeness most of the time, even initiating it, and in that context it's so easy to imagine all this trauma hitting him when he least expects it. Someone happens to touch him in a way that mimics an Incident a little too much and he just goes Blank. Or his body refuses to listen to him, refuses to move at all or moves on autopilot against his will, or he feels numb when he should be feeling so much, when he's used to feeling so much, and he's unable to tell anyone what's wrong when asked, or so scared 'cause Fuck, what if his body or mind that he already has no regard for betrays him when people need him the most?

And I bet he'd hate it even more than the average guy, 'cause he loves being around people, both by nature at this point and deliberately, and he wouldn't care about himself nearly enough to try to figure out his own triggers, not when he'd have to decidedly relive everything in the process just to learn how to be kinder to himself, but being unable to predict when your mind's gonna do you in is Terrifying. man.

[tinydefector]

Mirage Rut cycle

Gen 1 Mirage x human reader

Rut cycle masterlist

Fanfic masterlist

Word count:1.6k

Warnings: smut, Nsfw, Valveplug, oral, thigh fucking.

Woooo finally finished!!!

_________________

Mirage couldn't help but smirk to himself as he ghosted after the oblivious human. Their sweet scent had beckoned him like a siren's song since he had re-entered the base, and his stealth systems ensured they remained none the wiser. A little fun couldn't hurt during such a tense ceasefire, could it? He synched softly as they wandered the halls, taking inventory of damages while he admired.

When a turn brought them to a dead end of the ark, he shimmered back into view, blocking their path with a predatory gleam in his optics. "Well little mouse got you" Mirage purred.

"All alone at last. Whatever shall we do?" His field pulsed with not so subtle heat, but the smile gracing his face has them smiling back at the mech. They laugh loudly as Mirage scoops them up Into his arms. "Omg you menace you could have given me a heart attack!" They shake their head before resting it against his plating.

Mirage snorted softly in amusement at their reaction. " It's not my fault if you organics are so jumpy," he replied loftily, a soft buzz leaving his frame. He gazed down at them comfortably cradled in his arms.

Their hands pressed to his plating left oily smudges, and he ‘tsk’ in mock disapproval. "Such a messy little thing. Perhaps you require...a thorough cleaning," he purred, plating heating as his optics flicker down the halls wondering how quickly he could have them back at his room.

Not waiting for a reply he sauntered off to his suite, plans already forming to enjoy his time with his little lover during his cycle, and Mirage always did so enjoy "deep cleaning".

They chuckle and lean into his touch. "Getting all worked up, are you handsome?" they tease softly, pressing a kiss to faceplate. The sweet scent of their hormones have his plating clamming up. He desperately wanted them.

Mirage chuckled, nuzzling the human with care. "This ceasefire has put us all on edge, but… I seem to have the best little distraction," he murmured. Gently lifting them onto the berth once the door shuts.

"Mmm, need a little release?" They hum while smooching him again, he can feel their scent rubbing onto his plating as they tease him. Mirage's engine revved eagerly at the playful teasing. "Minx," he chuckled, nuzzling them gently in return. "You know exactly how to get me going.”

Sliding a finger under their chin, Mirage gazed upon their smiling face with care, the playful banter between them bringing a sense of lightness to the moment. "You're trouble, you know that?"

"You like that I'm trouble, you flaunt me around in front of Smokescreen all the time, playing with fire. now that your in rut and cons are at base, be a shame if one of these seekers got their claws on your little human " they teased, knowing they had him hook line and sinker. He wouldn't let anyone else touch or have them and even less now that he was rutting.

"Ah, always stirring the pot, aren't you?" Mirage quipped, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. The human's words hit a nerve, a mix of amusement and a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone. "Maybe I might just let Smokie have you, or Sunstreaker " he retorted, his optics glinting mischievously as he played along with the banter.

The sweet intoxicating scent of his little lover has Mirage nearly growling in want. "Ohhh possessive?" They tease him while pulling his faceplate towards them so they can kiss him, they drag their fingers down the side of his faceplate playing with the different plates.

"Better hurry if you don't want others to come crawling looking for me because they can smell me," they playfully urged, knowing the effect their scent had on him. "I think I can handle a little competition," he quipped, Despite the teasing, Mirage couldn't deny the possessive streak that ran through him.

The idea of others vying for his lover's attention only fueled his determination to keep them close, "Christ Raj I can literally smell the Ozone seeping off your plating, I didn't realise you were that horny" they state. Mirage's optics darkened with desire as he gazed at his lover, their scent intoxicating him beyond reason. "You have no idea how much I'm holding back" he growled, his voice laced with need and longing.

Mirage leaned in, capturing their lips in a fierce, possessive kiss. They let out a surprised squeal as his lips and glossa trace over their throat and shoulder, their hands shooting out to cup his face as he crawls onto his berth above them. "Think I have a pretty good idea, can feel your spike pressed against me, horny bot" they coo as Mirage grinds against them.

"Oh, you think you have a pretty good idea just from that, do you?" he teased. They whine loudly while trying to hook a leg over his hip. "Raj.. you going to keep rutting against me Or actually fuck me?" They inquire, nails digging into his plating lightly scratching his paint.

"Oh, you're in quite the mood today, aren't you?. Frag you smell like you're in heat" he teased, the hunger in his optics unmatched as he stares down at them. With a low growl of need, Mirage leaned in, capturing their lips in a searing kiss.

"Mm my sweet little thing all wound up for me" he whispered huskily, his voice dripping with desire. A breathless moan leaves them as Mirage's servos move to begin undressing them, their skin prickles under his touch as goose bumps littler their body. They yelp when his cold servos grip their hips. "God your hands are cold!" His lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in closer, his voice laced with amusement and desire. "Just trying to cool you down a bit, can't have you overheating on me" he quipped, his touch sending shivers down their spine

His lips trace down their chest, glossa leaving a trail of lubricant in its wake as he tastes the hormones and pheromones. It has him leaning down closer to them, spike gliding against their stomach and thighs. Each moan and gasp from them only spurred Mirage on. With them guiding his every movement, Mirage couldn't help but let out a series of teasing whispers, his voice dripping with desire.

"Well, aren't you a delicious treat," Mirage purred, "Guiding me along, are we? I must say, you have quite the talent for leading me astray," he continued, his tone light and playful. They laugh only to moan again as he makes his way further down their body, lifting their hips as he cups his mouth around them teasing his glossa between their thighs.

Mirage's voice was a velvet whisper against their skin, mischief flicking in his optics as he smirks against their thigh. "Well, well, what do we have here?" His tone playful, his gaze meeting theirs as he slowly presses his glossa into them. "I do believe you're enjoying this, aren't you?" he teased.

They arch into each thrust of his glossa. With one servo firmly gripping their hips, Mirage's other servo ventured down to stroke his spike, the transfluid leaking from him leaves a light pink trail across their skin and the berth. a wave of pleasure washed over them, their moans mingling with Mirage's hungry growls.

With each stroke and caress, Mirage manorvers their body to press his face closer between their legs. "Fuck Mirage, please stop teasing" they huff out only to moan again as the mech thrust him glossa back into them, making them squirm against his hold as their hips arch and buck into each movement.

Mirage's smirk widened at their plea, " someone's getting impatient, I do love it when you beg," he teased, his glossa expertly gliding against their sensitive skin, tracing over their sex making them buck against him again. another whimper leaves them as he sucks a mark into their skin.

He slowly drags himself away from them, licking his lips as he trails his digits down their body, chuckling to himself before he cages them in. His other servo continues to work his spike, transfluid leaking out onto their nude body as he kisses up their chest. The trail of his digits down their body sent shivers of anticipation through them, their thighs spreading wider for him.

"You taste so good," Mirage's tone was filled with hunger and need. They whine again, arms grabbing his helm as they guide him. The slick sensation of his transfluid leaves a tingling sensation in its wake as he presses his spike between their thighs.

Mirage presses down against them, doing his best not to put too much weight on them as he picks up his pace. The sensation of their skin has him venting heavily, face pressed into their sweaty skin as he inhales their scent. It's enough to make Mirage choke out a cry when he finally overloads.

Mirage's engine hitched as they whined, their arms grabbing his helm in a desperate plea for more. He coating them in a bright pink fluid As he continues to move against them. Pressing kisses to their skin as he comes down from his high of an overcharged build up due to his rut.

they both gasped for breath, the air thick with the scent of their body and frame, sweat and coolant mixing together. They both lay there before they started to giggle. Only to squirm and fight back as Mirage's digits ran across their transfluid covered body. Taking what he could and slowly pressing it between their thighs. "Mirage!" They shout while wiggling trying to get away.

"Such a feisty one, aren't you?" He hums while continuing to press his digits into them. “That's its sweetspark. Primus you look good like this. Might have to lock us in for a bit because your working my systems up again” he rumbles while pulling them to rest against his chassis.

_______________________

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[penny-anna]

one time Spike was wandering around the Ark and walked in on Wheeljack and Ratchet with a bunch of cables all plugged into each other. he was like 'oh what are you guys doing' and they were like '.......exchanging data' and he's like 'oh that's cool can I watch' and they were like 'no. close the door on your way out.' he's like OK. kinda weird but whatever.

5 years later he's sitting around one day and suddenly goes 'they weren't exchanging data ):<'

[petertingle-yipyip]

LAST NIGHT - BELLAMY BLAKE

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Word Count: 2,355

Summary: (requested) A drinking game with Monty and Co goes a bit too far. Intending to get back to your own tent, you stumble upon Bellamy and some shock revelations.

You hadn’t been on the Ground long yet it seemed like you never left the Ark. You had convinced Raven to let you stowaway with her in her rebuilt pod and now, you were among friends.

Mostly.

The only caveat - other than the alleged war with the Grounders - was Bellamy Blake.

Not quite friends, not quite enemies, but frenemies didn’t work either. It seemed like you two just couldn’t go a day without arguing or damn near punching each other in the mouth. There wasn’t really any reason to it either. He liked to instigate you and your temper had you engaging in the bickering everytime. It had been that way since you had first met, but you had to admit, it was fun for you too.

Once the flares went up and hope was in the air, liquor was being poured into cups across camp. You took a spot with Monty, Jasper, and Harper, and Jasper did not hesitate to fill your little tin cup as much as he could.

Your group started some nonsense drinking game, and you lost count of the drinks or rounds after about four. If anyone asked, you didn’t know who was winning or losing or even the premise of the game anymore. All you knew was that you had drunk way too much way too fast. When the entire forest was spinning around you, you used the bit of logical thought you had left and decided to make your way to your tent.

Harper offered to help you, but the slurring of her words told you that she was about as lucid as you were. You waved her off and reasoned that you could make it on your own since there were walls around camp now. If there was the potential of you wandering into the empty woods, then you would’ve taken her up on the offer, but you’d be fine.

As you were wandering back, you saw Octavia sneaking out. Curious, you tried to follow. You had gotten all of four steps before you tripped over your own feet and landed on your side. You laughed at yourself and rolled to your back, hands flat on your stomach. Maybe you’d just sleep there.

“What are you doing?” Bellamy asked, suddenly standing over you.

“Sleeping.” You answered.

“Oh, shit.” He sighed and you grinned. “Are you drunk?”

“Are you?” You tried to point a finger at him but ended up gesturing to nothing, which made you giggle.

His hand closed around your wrist and he hauled you to your feet, bringing on another round of laughter. He kept a grip on your arm and guided you through camp, despite your dragging feet and nonsense blabbering. He brought you to your tent but you refused to go in.

Surely he had you turned around. Or maybe that was the liquor buzzing in your head. Regardless. you stomped your foot and told him he was wrong. You pointed to a tent three over and said that one was yours. You could see he was trying to stay patient with you but he didn’t sign up to babysit you as a drunk.

“That’s not yours.” He complained and you squinted in suspicion. “That’s Atom’s.”

“I have an innate sense of di-rec-tion.” You pointed out, holding up a finger. “I know where I’m supposed to be.”

“Alright, Magellan.” He laughed slightly and offered you his hand. “Come with me.”

“Oh no you don’t.” You wagged your finger and hiccuped. “I know how that goes. You bring me to your tent, you play the hero, and you think I’ll sleep with you.”

“No, Y/N, I’m not trying to sleep with you.” He sighed.

“Well why not?” You stomped, now offended. “I’ll have you know I’m spectacular.”

“I’m sure you are.” He rolled his eyes slightly and grabbed your wrist. “But I’m not gonna sleep with you when you’re wasted like this, so come with me… Please.”

You gasped dramatically. “Bellamy Blake knows the word ‘please’? I have to-“ Hiccup. “-tell everyone.”

He sighed slightly before he leaned down and looped his other arm around the back of your leg. You made a face to yourself but before you could say anything, he threw you over his shoulders. You squealed and kicked your feet, banging your fists weakly against him.

“Put me down!” You laughed. “Damn you, Bellamy!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He muttered, but there was amusement in his voice. He carried you to a tent and dropped you on your feet.

You stumbled when your feet hit the floor and you let yourself drop to the floor. You giggled when you landed and looked up at him. His arms were crossed and his eyebrows were raised, as if he expected you to say something. You huffed and crossed your arms the same way.

“You have, like, the biggest tent.” You looked around his space.

“What’s your point?” He sighed.

You threw your hands to the side which made you wobble slightly. Your eyes went big as you regained your balance before you laughed again. You looked back to Bellamy and he was already looking at you.

“You wanna know something?” You said loudly and crawled over to sit across from him.

“You’re gonna tell me anyway.” He crossed his arms again.

“I like your curly hair.” You said simply and he couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. “You always had it like slicked back on the Ark.”

“Thanks?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “You thank people for compliments.”

“You’re not usually the compliment type.” He rolled his eyes. “Usually you’re the ‘kicking me in the shin’ type.”

“I could do that too.” You nodded. “But! I will not.”

“Lucky me.”

“Don’t you be mean to me again!” You thrust a finger forward and the sudden movement made you dizzy for a moment. “You’re always mean.”

“Coming from the girl who has a comment everytime I say anything to her?” He commented with a small laugh.

“Because you’re mean.” You glared. “But you’re pretty, so it’s a give and take I guess.” You shrugged.

“Jesus, Y/N.” He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “How much did you drink tonight?”

“I don’t like your tone, Blake!”

“And I don’t really care.”

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” You changed the subject. You couldn’t quite remember how much you had.

“What do you mean?” He cocked his head.

“You’re mean to me.” You frowned and counted off your statements. “You don’t laugh at my jokes. You never let me do things. You used to make fun of me on the Ark and that’s why I kick your stupid shins. You always give me that look.”

“What look?”

“That look! Like you’re trying to make me spontaneously combust.”

He shook his head with a disbelieving laugh. “Y/N, I never said I didn’t like you.”

“But you’re mean.” You pouted.

He knelt down in front of you and you pursed your bottom lip.

“I’m gonna tell you this now, because you probably won’t remember it in the morning.” He said quietly, like it was a secret.

You leaned in, reaching for him to keep your steady. He caught your hands and you felt a sobering heat on your cheeks.

“I do like you, Y/N.” He said, wide eyes and a small smile. “It started as a crush when we were kids and now… Now I can’t stop thinking about you, looking for you in the crowds and trying to find an excuse to talk to you.”

“No way.” You whispered.

“I know.” His smile drew a little wider. “I never meant to be mean.”

“You’re not that mean.” You shrugged. “Let’s just say it was banter.”

“Banter.” He repeated with a laugh. “Yeah, alright.”

“Like in those books!” You announced. “Where they act like they hate each other but they’re actually madly in love.”

“Let’s go with that then.” He nodded, that small smile still playing on his lips. “Do you want me to walk you to your tent?”

“I don’t think I could make it back to my tent.” You confessed before a fit of giggles. “I feel like I’m gonna fall over as soon as I get up.”

“What happened to that innate sense of direction?” He asked as he helped you to your feet.

You shrugged. “It seems to have left me.”

“Or you never had it.”

“I still have a foot and you still have shins.” You warned, though the slurring of your words left them without any threat. “Just cause I like you doesn’t mean I won’t kick the hell outta you. It’s called duality.”

He shook his head and helped you shuffle across the tent. Carefully, you two laid down and you felt the world shift as you did so. You made a noise, something like the joking sound of a ghost, and slammed a hand to the blankets. Bellamy’s hand closed over yours and you looked over at him. You broke into a grin and he returned the smile, not as wide as yours but an honest smile.

You shifted over and put your head against his shoulder. He adjusted his arm so it was draped over your chest and you two just laid there for a while. You continued to talk, about anything and everything. A butterfly you saw earlier that day. A conversation you had with Octavia. What you remembered from your earlier drinking game. Before you knew it, you were drifting off to sleep.

And for the first time since you stepped foot on the ground, you truly felt safe.

When you woke up, you had no idea how late into the day it was. Bellamy was still beside you, so you doubted it was that late. Your head pounded as you pushed yourself to sit up and glanced around.

Your brows furrowed as you realized you weren’t in your own tent.

You slapped a hand over your mouth when you realized. You peeked over your shoulder again and it sunk in that you weren’t in your tent. You were in Bellamy’s.

You muttered to yourself in panic as you got up quickly. Your clothes were which both left you relieved and oddly disappointed. At least he didn’t try to hook up with you when you were drunk, but being drunk might’ve been the only way you’d be confident enough to sleep with him.

You snuck a glance outside the tent and saw there weren’t many people around. With a sigh of relief, you stepped out and immediately winced at the brightness of the sun.

“Hello Sleeping Beauty!” Jasper yelled from basically across camp and you cringed as more heads turned in your direction.

You hurried over and whacked him on the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” He complained.

“For making people stare at me!” You hissed.

“What difference does it make?” He laughed. “Oh, I see. You don’t want people to see you coming out of Bellamy’s tent.”

“Shut up!”

“Why? You didn’t have any problems going into Bellamy’s tent last night.”

“Jasper, I swear I will kill you!”

He laughed and threw his arm over your shoulders. “But seriously, Y/N/N. Yesterday you were ready to tear his head off, now you’re tearing his clothes off.”

You elbowed him in the ribs.

“Lay off, Jasper.” Bellamy said, suddenly at your side.

You stiffened for a moment before you hid your face in your hands. You complained to yourself, ignoring whatever the boys were saying around you, and wished to disappear. You peeked between your fingers and saw Jasper leave. Hoping Bellamy left too, you dropped your hands.

You were wrong.

“You feel okay?” Bellamy asked.

“Mortified, actually.” You answered. “But I didn’t kill my liver last night, just a headache. I’m fine, thanks…”

He gestured for you to follow and hesitantly, you did.

“You were pretty drunk last night.” He began as you fell into stride with him.

“Well aware, thank you.” You rolled your eyes. “I do appreciate you not leaving me on the ground. Can’t say I would’ve done the same for you, but…” You shrugged.

Bellamy laughed slightly.

“What?” You asked quickly.

“You don’t remember what you said last night, do you?” He smiled at you.

You were so taken aback by it, the true delight and shine of his smile, that you tripped over your own feet. You landed on your back and groaned, more in embarrassment than anything. Bellamy knelt beside you with an amused smirk and you threw your arms over your face.

“Kill me now.” You groaned. “What did I say last night?”

You wished you could melt into the floor.

“That you’re madly in love with me.”

You could hear the smile he still wore. You sat up quickly and nearly collided with him.

“I did not say that.” You defended quickly. You may not remember much of the night before but you sure as hell would’ve remembered saying that.

“I know, I was shocked. And then you said you just had to have me. You were pretty persistent.”

You squinted in suspicion but he feigned innocence.

“It’s true.” He shrugged.

You kicked his arm since you couldn’t reach his shins, but he just laughed.

“It’s alright, though. Wanna know why?” He smirked.

“Go on and enlighten me.” You rolled your eyes.

“Cause I might be madly in love with you too.”

“Might?” You raised your eyebrows. “So you just let any girl you might be in love with sleep with you?”

“Hey now. You tell people we slept together, they might get the wrong idea.” He offered you a hand to help you to your feet.

“Oh, please.” You scoffed. “It’s gonna take more than a few drinks and those pretty curls to get me in bed with you.”

His hands were suddenly on your waist and he pulled you flush against him.

“Worked last night.” He shrugged.

“Beginner’s luck.” You rolled your eyes. “Bet it won’t happen again.”

“You’re on.”

“And when I win?”

“When I win, you’ll be in my bed. If you win, I’ll be in yours.”

[rabotimagines]

"HARMLESS" GN BOT! Reader x Optimus, Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide, light Yandere! Scenario

Summary: He'd been walking down one of the ark hallways when he'd heard a noise that drew his attention down one of the more secluded pathways. He'd followed the sound to figure out who was back where they shouldn't be only to find you self servicing.

Warnings: Noncon Voyeurism. Noncon recording in Jazz's section. Smut ahead. Minors DNI 🔞

Genre/Theme: Light Yandere/More Obsessed vibes tbh, catching crush/Obsession masturbating. Smut.

G1! Characters included: Optimus, Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide

Notes: Jazz is the only one here whose accepted the fact that he's a freak. The others are in varying stages of denial. Autobot reader. Valve and Spike are used since BOT reader.

Pronouns: You, your, yours

Optimus isn't trying to sneak anywhere he was simply- curious. Honestly, he was expecting to maybe find the twins up to some pranking or something of that nature. The wall is thick and tall enough that Optimus is just hidden naturally. He smiles to himself at the thought of spooking one of his friends or comrades, so he let's himself- indulge in the little fun. It was harmless, after all. He's up against the wall, ready to interrupt whatever tomfoolery when his optics catch on an opening before the turn. Optimus peers in curious when a sound happens again- and almost stumbles backwards and lands on his aft.

You- panting, optics bright, servos readily stroking over your plating. Array popped open with spike and valve on full display for anyone to see. You were self servicing right here almost in front of Optimus. Heat hit Optimus's fuel lines so quickly he was half worried he'd risk actual sudden ignition. Optimus knew he shouldn't even feel this way about you- it wasn't even- he was your leader for Primus sake! He was the prime he wasn't supposed to be- a pervert! But something- something about you just made his systems lock up and his mind wander in places it hadn't gone in vorns. Made Optimus think in a way he shouldn't. In a way, he couldn't-

The soft sound of you groaning at your own administrations violently locked Optimus back to what he'd unknownly just walked into. Optimus watched stunned as two of your digits slipped into your valve rather easily. Your other servo lightly trailed along your spike, which was twitching in the air and leaking lubricant all over yourself from want- Optimus had to force his engine not to loudly rev in anticipation The sound urged to reverbate through his own frame at the sight.

Optimus knows he can't but- but with you like this right in front of him for his optics, he can't not think about it. Optimus wants to spike you - he wants to so bad. He'd have to stretch you. Optimus was admittedly rather large- overall. (You could even be in his frame size class, and he'd still have to prep you-) He wonders if your optics would brighten like that one time he'd praised you for a battle decision. He'd fold you in half, using his servos to drag you back down his spike in time with his own thrusts. He'd praise you over and over again if you reacted so sweetly. Regardless of how much of his spike you'd actually be able to successfully take.

Optimus knew the more responsible course of action would be to take your spike in his valve instead. But Optimus startlingly finds he doesn't want to be responsible with you. He wants to spike you so badly- your noises getting louder cut his own quick fantasy short, Optimus's attention zeroed in on you. You started bucking your hips against both your working servos desperate for Overload. Optimus has the very fleeting thought of revealing himself and offering assistance before he watches you spill transfluid all over yourself with a full frame shutter.

You gasped in vents of air as the charge trickled over your plating in fits- and Optimus lately realizes his smoke stacks were puffing smog when the smell of ozone hits his olfactory. Optimus has to force himself to move, but once he does, he leaves so quickly he's worried you might've heard him. This leaves Optimus plagued by what he should not have seen in the first place. His entire day is filled with the imagery of you- panting, optics bright, servos on your array- and he has no clue how he manages to finish the little amount of paperwork that he had. Optimus doesn't let himself self service. He can't- he won't- it was so wrong. You didn't even know Optimus saw the whole thing- that he saw you so- indecent.

He's plagued by one more thought of you taking his spike- your hips bucking against his, and Optimus gets up and forces himself to the washracks. It was rather late anyway there shouldn't be any mech using it. He walks in and promptly stops because there is someone using it, and Primus, it's you! With solvent running down your frame casually washing yourself with no worries. He mets your optics (after his optics had trailed much too long on your frame), and you casually greet him, then go back to your rinse. Completely unaware of what offensive imagery had just barreled through Optimus's proccessor.

Optimus didn't wait to promptly step under the closest washrack and turn the solvent on the coldest possible setting. Not even flinching when his frame is doused in a freezing temperature. Optimus finds he has to exert his will to keep staring at the wall and not steal any other glance at you.

... Primus, he needed to get a better hold of himself.

-

Prowl following the sounds in the off-limits area had come with purpose and indent. He'd been readily prepared to scold any of the usual troublemakers for getting up to something they shouldn't have. Clearly, that's what this was, with whoever trying and failing to keep entirely quiet. There was certainly an attempt, and Prowl would not have noticed if he were any of the usual autobots. But Prowl was always alert, and now he's here slowly trailing along the wall. He'd known there was a small indent hidden from the hallway for someone to hide or lean against. Prowls optics catch on a small opening in the wall that allows him to spy who-

Prowl stops dead in his tracks when he sees you- he almost walks the last two steps and reviles himself to you when he actually processes your expression. Optic ridge tight, mouth open panting, optics bright- Prowls line of sight trails down your shuttering frame before they widen when they land on your pressurized spike. His gaze snaps farther down instinctively when he catches movement and sees your valve.

He also sees the false spike in your valve.

His doorwings hike so high so quickly that Prowl can feel the snap of air on his own neck cables. He can feel his own optics burn brighter and his logic centre suddenly goes rouge and attempts to calculate subduing measures on you- Prowl wasn't going to subdue you- you weren't a threat- just as he dismisses the calculations you groan rather loudly. The action triggers the subduing success calculations to turn back on, and Prowl watches you hilt the false spike back in your valve. Valve stretching to accommodate it and hard spike leaking lubricant at your own heightened arousel.

Prowl- Prowl needed to leave now. It had to be you of all mechs. If it was anyone else, Prowl would be able to rightfully interrupt this debauchery. But the fact that it's you- You softly panting with your array on full display and demonstration- Prowls processor is stuck, and he feels like if he stares too long, he'll risk a minor circuit crash. Prowl still doesn't know what it was about you that made his system stutter like it does. But Prowl knew that whatever it was- it was unhealthy. It wasn't  harmless- it was far from it. Prowl shouldn't think about you like this- He has to force himself to look away from your array again. Prowl had barely managed to push you out of his proccessor the other day, and now he's seeing you like- you groaned, and Prowls door wings vibrated a touch at the sound.

Prowl takes one long last look at your pleasured faceplate before promptly turning on his pede and briskly walking away. Prowl makes his way back to his office and sits, and finishes his entire daily paperwork log so quickly he's stuck sitting in his office staring at a blank datapad. Now, the other problem he had to solve. How is Prowl to... inform you that you're not allowed to self-service outside of your habituate.

Prowl knows you have that false spike in your subspace. He knows he could call you in right now and make you empty your entire subspace on his desk for him. Say some of the autobots were smuggling... contraband. If you didn't drop it, he'd frisk you for it. Regardless, it would be put out on his desk, and Prowl would scold you and properly punish you. Prowl would use it on you. Force that false spike in your valve again and again and watch you fall apart while his own spike ached against his modesy panel. He'd make you overload all over yourself until all you could say was his designation.

His proccessor supplied the image of you sitting on his desk, with your legs splayed open on either side of you. Transfluid all over the front of your chasiss from your overworked spike. With Prowls own spike sitting heavy against the mesh of your valve...

Prowl has to force himself to turn and go on break. Which leads to him walking like he's on his way to kill a mech and subsequently scaring anyone out of his way as he makes his way to his habituate. Prowl overloads into his fist so hard his battle computer resests itself from the heat. When it turns back, his logic centre started by running through the success he'd have getting himself alone with you and your potential routes of travel around the ark... It takes a shameful amount of effort to dismiss the promt...

The stasiss cuffs Prowl always keeps in his subspace feel absurdly heavy.

-

Ironhide is like Prowl, he'd come expecting to have to drag a troublmaker or two out and lay into them. He's not usually light on his pedes, but he'd had to learn to be after this many vorns at war. So he makes his way over ready to drag an autobot out like a buzzing scraplet if he needed to. But he stops when he hears a sharp invent that could have been pained? The sound sets his plating shifting the wrong way, and he gets even quieter and reaches a tentative servo against his subspace. Ready to pull his blaster out if he had to blast like pit as soon as he turned that lil' corner.

Ironhide's optics catch movement, and his gaze is drawn to the little broken patch of wall that gives him a small but wide enough gape to easily pear in and see what was on the other side. Ironhide stops and actually focuses on it only to recognize just who's plating that was- You failing to stifle a moan sends Ironhides plating ruffling for an entirely different reason. Oh, sweet slaggin- Ironhide has to bite his glossia so he wouldn't curse a storm under his own vents. Really? Here? Now? You were actually doing this?! You little pervert!

Ironhide- Ironhide knew whatever he felt about you was- well, fragged to put it lightly. He'd been online for frankly too damn long, and he'd never felt like this before. (And that only made it freak him out even more.) Yeah, he'd loved and crushed and fantasized, but whatever you were doing to his systems was something else. The blasted amount of feelings you were giving Ironhide was a pain in his aft on a good day. On his bad days, he couldn't focus on anything else, but his proccessor conjured charged fantasies- like he was a fragging youngling who'd just learned what interfacing was.

Ironhide sure wasn't about to let that stop him from doing his job, though. He was gonna drag you out and put you on chore duty for a week for this- You failing to stifle a groan that only turned muffled halfway which made Ironhide focus back on you through the gap and Ironhide swallowed hard. You had your digits shoved into your own mouth, thrusting them in again every time you thrust your spike into your other servo. You moaned against your own digits, your own desperate servo sending a bit of oral lubricant down your chin.

Arousel spiked in Ironhides frame so damn fast he didn't even have a chance to deny the HUD prompt before his array snapped back of its own accord. Ironhide bit his glossia, glaring at his now suddenly very fully ready to go spike. Ironhide cursed hard in his proccessor at his own frames utter betyral. You whined around your digits, and Ironhides will shattered like glass. His servo cupped and immediately started stroking his own spike. Fine- fine! Ironhide would let you have this harmless dirty little secret. Even if he shared it a little bit with you-

Ironhide took the sight of you in- Optics bright, mouth making a mess all over yourself with your own digits, Spike hard and probably aching- Ironhides spike throbbed and he made sure to match the pace on his spike with your own servos speed. Ironhide pressed slightly against the wall, imagining it was you. Instead, he could press into the ground. Pit- Ironhide could take two the last two steps and do it right now- (He wouldn't- he couldn't.) Just two easy steps, and he'd scold you for being a pervert. (With his own spike already dripping-) Ironhide could punish you for it- he should punish you for it.

Ironhide would make you get on your knees and he'd have you swallow his spike. Put something better in there than your own desperate digits- you groaned on your own digits, and it was scarily easy to imagine you on his spike instead. Ironhide overloads to the sound of your own overload- he has to set his jaw tight, so the heavy groan that wanted to roll out of it wouldn't give him away.

Ironhide then realizes he's made a mess on the wall with his own transfluid and quickly grabs the rag he keeps in his subspace for oil. He wipes his mess up as quickly as he can before turning and making his way back to the main hallway. Ironhide might not get you for self servicing- but he can definitely scold you for slacking when you're supposed to be on the job. So Ironhide waits around the corner for you to come out on your own accord. 

... Ironhide realizes he can't deny this much longer before some other part of him breaks.

-

Jazz is naturally light on his pedes after vorns of making sure he stays that way. He doesn't even have to stop before he's leaning up against the wall instinctively when he hears another soft set of sounds trying and failing to stay quiet. So Jazz does what he does and sneaks over to find out what's what. He half wonders what he's gonna interrupt so he leans to peak between a gap to see a peak of whatevers being hidden from him- and Jazz almost immediately gives himself away like some kind of rookie at the sight of you with your interface array popped open.

Jazzs spark stutters and arousel starts pumping through his system like it was his function. As soon as he realizes it's you- You self servicing- a delighted smile curls on his face, and he leans farther against his little gap to get a better view. Oh, Jazz is lucky! he's so lucky-

Jazz had long accepted the admittedly almost obsessive hold you had on his spark and processor. After a few internal debates, he'd elected his feelings for you while wild and were also genuine. So Jazz just needed to squash down the more- intense urges, and he should be fine. Jazz was never the type of mech to shy away from vices. Whether it was a harmless perversion or the unsavory things he needed to be or do as the head of special operations. Jazz had no objections in indulging in his romantic desire for you. (He just needed to make sure it didn't consume him whole while he tried to woo you properly.)

Jazz could interrupt and scold you teasingly and offer a servo, but Jazz knew you wouldn't be likely to want to keep going after being interrupted doing what you thought was private...

So he decides he'll take the harmless- (what you didn't need to know wouldn't hurt you.)  opportunity and activate the record function setting on his visor. He didn't want to miss this- Your servo stroking along your twitching spike, other servo running along your frame touching and grasping at the gasps in your plating. Giving Jazz a proper show of you tentatively touching yourself. Jazz wonders what your spike would feel like in his valve when you buck your hips against your own hold. Jazz then has to bite down on his bottom derma so he wouldn't groan at the sight of you spreading your legs unknownly, giving him an optic full of your obscenely dripping valve.

Jazz reigns in the wild urge to jump you- to offer to help because he knows the act would ruin any process he'd made getting closer to you even just as a friend-Jazz leaned even closer, focusing on your digits teasingly brushing against your own mesh and anterior node. Jazz found himself wanting to burry two digits down to the knuckle in your valve and hear what sound you'd make. Would you manage to stay quiet like you were now, or would you moan for him? You panted out quick vents and noises that were still so restrained due to where you were. Your servo jerked your twitching spike quicker, causing more soft and barely audible sounds.

Jazzs own digits started to dig into the gap of his inner thigh armor. Moving to run along there against the dips of his own array panel. He'd pop his aching spike out, but Jazz didn't want to even chance ruining any little sound you might make with his own noises. Or the sound of his own lubricant- this was all you, baby. All for him-

Jazz has to dig his digit pads into his own thigh- scratching the paint right off when he watches you overload. You looked so good- So perfect. So sultry. So perfect for him-

Jazz has to force himself to hit end on the recording when you start to rise and move to quickly clean up. You'd be coming his way in a moment, after all. So Jazz casually stalks his way back to the common hallway he'd started at and moves to finish that report he'd originally been filing. He's definitely just going through the motions, though. His proccessor replaying his new prized recording over and over for him behind his visor.

He's self servicing to it as soon as he tucks into his habituate for scheduled recharge. Jazz is already making notes about how you touched yourself and how he could keep that little information tucked away for later. Jazz, let's himself imagine spiking you in your little area and giving you a proper valve overload, making your optics bright and your vents shaky. Jazz then imagines riding your spike and filling him up like he'd filled you up. He imagines sucking your spike- tasting your valve. Jazz had already accepted that he wanted you in every way you'd let him, so he has no problem indulging further and further.

Jazz overloads hard watching you overload a second time. And Jazz has to bite down on his own knuckles to not set Red alerts hallway sensors off. Maybe... Jazz could adjust your work schedule and give you just slightly more free time than you have right now. Would be a shame if your little hiding spot went... unutilized

Jazz just hoped he'd be quick enough to catch you next time, too.

[mychlapci]

Okay okay okay wait hear me out, hear me out

I remember we used to do like, Oh the decepticons all fuck all the time and the autobots are prudes and they corrupt them thing, BUT

I think it’d be really funny if the autobots were actually all just, super nasty with it. Like they’re all just going crazy with it, but the cons get put out of commission so often for getting sparked up, and it’s so rare for an Autobot, clearly they must be absolute freaks!

In actuality it’s pretty rare for the cons to fuck, but unlike the autobots, who have researched and pour a ton of time and effort into all kinds of buffers and blockers, the cons focus on. You know. Normal medical stuff an army needs.

This just means that unfortunately they tend to simply forget to keep their baffles updated, which leads to them getting pregnant after breaking their long dry spells when they do. It’s annoying, but they deal with it.

Eventually the cons start to notice that the bots almost never seem to have sparklings. when it’s brought up soundwave looks like he’s aged a couple million years and informs them all that the autobots, due to their IMMENSE need to frag every moment of their free time, have pumped so much research into blockers and such that he’s pretty sure they Can’t get pregnant anymore. And that gives starscream an idea.

Ravage is sent into the arc to get some medical files (easy, if not harrowing given what prime was doing to ratchets spike housing on the med berth) and hook and shockwave get to researching.

Eventually, there’s a breakthrough. They manage to make a small device, that when activated will buy out a code that will automatically short out and click open the gestation chamber of every Autobot in range. The best part is that they don’t have to do anything else, they just leave it in the vents, and by the end of the week almost every Autobot on the ark is pregnant.

The only reason megatron agrees to a temporary cease-fire is because when Optimus calls him, it’s his whole counsel, and Megatron watches as Optimus and prowl get pumps attached to their massive, leaking tits before ratchet sighs and sits himself, popping his windshield and rubbing on some gel before attaching the suction cup. and then he realizes Optimus had been speaking the whole time, and he hastily replies with an agreement that makes the prime smile, thank him, and hang up.

He ignores starscreams shrieking as his mind wanders back to the image of the powerful pump rhythmically pulling the energon out of primes tit, the suction set so high it was practically pouring out, just how much did he have in there to warrant so much pressure…

The next energon raid the cons pull is small scale, taking right from the ark. And by primus if it isn’t the best energon they’ve ever had. 

one night without their contraception working and all the autobots are pregnant and dripping with milk... And one look at those beautiful, swollen tits and the poor, repressed Decepticons are too stupid to comprehend what is being said to them. Anything Optimus says just goes beyond their heads, breast milk is all they can think about....

Look, peace treaty means that they get as much breastmilk as they want, without having to steal it. it's a good deal.

[evan-collins90]

Home designed by Donald L. Maxcy (1990)

"A below-grade handball court turned "Raiders of the Lost Ark" temple—all things are possible with the sorcery of designer Donald Maxcy. A three-story structure in Pebble Beach, California was built on the site to include gymnasium, pool table, video room and nightclub. By day, sunlight warms the "temple" stairwell; by night, this same space is treated to theatrical lighting, conjuring up a sunset or shadows of jungle leaves. In the seating area, high color-rendering fluorescent lighting is artfully combined with planting in pockets of space built into the room. Mirrors back these alcoves, letting the eye wander into a grove of reflected trees. The coffee table conceals movie-theater-quality sound equipment to coordinate with the TV monitor hidden behind the filigree panel. Craftsmen in faux turned this unit to apparent stone. Their decorative archaeology includes sandstone cast rosettes and a subtle bas-relief of a foreign god." —Molly Siple

Description and photos scanned from a 1991 issue of Designer's West Magazine, additional photos scanned from the book Residential Lighting by Randall Whitehead

[walkintomymystery]

Fall Into Me

(Set after Sonic 3 - Alternate Ending - No spoilers!)

Defeated, world-weary, and impossibly lost, Shadow allows himself to be taken back into G.U.N custody. While they decide his fate, he is housed in a secret facility hidden deep in the heart of one of the country's National Parks. Still reeling from the heartbreaks that have shaped his life, Shadow never expected to find the closest thing to a home he'd known in over fifty years.

Pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x Original Female Character

Warnings for this chapter: a little about not eating/sleeping, a bit of action but no blood

//

Chapter Four

Shadow stared emptily at the wall opposite him. It had been another long night.

His self-inflicted confinement wasn’t so harsh really; he’d always been fairly adept at amusing himself. Without Maria by his side, the ARK had been a lonely place, and when she was too sick for him to visit, Shadow had to find ways to keep his mind busy.

The days were easy. He re-read his books, combed the room for cameras and bugs again and again, and tried to build a mental map of the base, for future reference. Shadow also found a chessboard tucked away in the bottom of his closet and had whiled away many hours beating himself in game after game.

He’d be alright, if it wasn’t for the nights. Time passed so slowly in that other world. In the deep violet twilight, Shadow could practically feel each second easing by.

The silence made his head hurt, and all he could do was stare and stare, and try in vain to keep his thoughts from wandering to places he’d safely locked away, never to be opened again.

Shadow still hadn’t slept. If anything, avoiding sleep had only gotten easier with each passing day, as if he’d finally pushed through and out the other side of his fatigue. Now insomnia clawed at him, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep if he wanted to. The thought of resting, of letting his guard down and surrendering to that exhaustion, filled him with more dread than ever before.

His empty stomach twisted and wrung itself in the pit of his belly, begging for food. It had been two days since he last ventured out, since he last ate anything, since he last saw Kit, and Shadow could feel his now mortal body growing weaker and weaker with every hour.

He’d considered sneaking out to the cafeteria, but every time he got close to caving, he was reminded that Kit was able to hear his every move, even from down the corridor. Sometimes, Shadow amused himself by muttering under his breath, cursing her and the people who kept him here, just in case she happened to be listening.

He didn’t want to give her or any soldiers the satisfaction of catching him sneaking out, so Shadow stayed locked up in his room, trying to formulate a plan.

All the information he’d gathered from the books Kit had left for him had been carefully stored away in his brain, filed and categorised for future reference. It would be hard to find someone on Earth who knew about Northern Montana than Shadow did, much to his dismay.

Consisting of just over a million acres, Glacier National Park was an enormous place to be lost in. There were mountains to traverse, over 130 lakes, thick brush, wild animals, tundras and prairies.

Even if he did manage to find the Going-to-the-Sun Road, the highway ran for fifty miles before it reached any kind of civilisation, and what then?

Without his powers, Shadow had no way off this planet. They’d catch up with him eventually, and he’d be right back where he started. But if he kept to the dense shrub, then it would take even longer to get away from The Hill.

Shadow sifted through the facts and figures he’d committed to his expansive memory. According to one of the books he’d devoured, 75% of the park still remained untouched, useful for keeping hidden, but he would have trouble finding his way.

Shadow sighed and lay down on the bed to stare up at the ceiling instead.

There was a way out of every trap. He’d learnt that the hard way. He just had to find it.

Shadow and Kit soon fell into a routine again. As he refused to sleep or leave his room, their morning and nightly rituals were his only way of keeping track of time.

In the mornings, Kit knocked and asked if he’d like to explore the woodland with her, or if he wanted to meet some of the people who worked at The Hill. Every morning, he ignored her, and she went away with a sigh.

Every evening, Kit would knock to tell Shadow that dinner was ready and that she’d love to see him in the cafeteria, before giving up and walking away again.

But tonight was different. When Kit knocked at the door at the usual time, she hesitated before speaking.

In the dark of his room, Shadow raised his head. The light from the hallway seeped under the door, casting a golden rectangle on the floor. He watched Kit’s shadow shift nervously from foot to foot, restless and uncertain, framed by yellow light.

“Shadow?”

Her voice sounded softer than usual, as if through ignoring her, he’d finally worn away its edge.

Kit knocked again.

He could imagine her ridiculous ears swivelling in every direction, trying to pick out his movements beneath the laughter in the next room, and the blaring television noise down the hall.

“I brought you those books you asked for. If you want, I can take away the ones you’ve finished?” She paused, then tentatively added, “I’d love to know what you thought?”

Shadow almost ignored her, but curiosity got the better of him. Though she was deceptive and annoyingly cavalier about his imprisonment, something about Kit made him want to look again, to take his time.

Shadow had tried to picture her in his head a few times but could never summon a complete image of her. Snatches of her bright, lavender eyes, her short, sharp black claws, and the dagger of her smile flashed through his mind, but Shadow found it hard to piece them all together into one person.

He could recall her voice though, as clear as a bell. Low and soft, clearly smart, enough to toy with her words and with him, but never cruel. And when she called his name through the door, Shadow found himself surrendering to that curiosity despite his better judgment.

Kit seemed even more surprised that he’d opened the door than he was. She smiled, and for the first time, it felt genuine and perhaps even a little shy.

“Hi, Shadow.”

He huffed in response, and felt a surge of victory when Kit’s smile dropped a little.

“What did you ask about the books?”

“What? Oh, I asked if you liked them?”

“Why?”

Kit glanced away, then back to him, confused.

“They were mine first. I’ve read them too. I just wondered what you thought of them.”

“Why?”

Kit only looked more confused.

“What?”

“Why?”

”Because,” She shrugged, her voice cracking as she searched for an answer. “I want to know your opinion. I’m interested.”

“In me?”

“Well,” Kit looked sheepish. “Yeah.”

Taken-aback, Shadow set his teeth.

Who was this fox? She moved and changed like the phases of the moon, one moment tough and inscrutable, the next earnest and forthcoming, and now this.

Kit shifted awkwardly from foot to foot again, reshuffling the small stack of books she held in her arms. Conversely, Shadow remained absolutely still, like a moss-patched statue.

It was Friday night, not that that meant anything to Shadow. The corridor was empty but most of the doors had been left ajar, like a college dorm. People could move easily to and fro, some just poking their head around the door, while others brought beer and snacks to share with their friends.

“How are you feeling?”

Kit kept her voice low. Though no one was paying them the least bit of attention, she didn’t want to be overheard.

Shadow’s frown deepened.

“How am I feeling?” he repeated incredulously.

“Fair enough. Stupid question. That’s on me.” Kit held up her hands to show him the books she’d brought for him. “Here. I raided the library. Well, we call it that but it’s more like a big…”

She trailed off, sensing he wasn’t in the mood.

“Anyway, the point is… Books.”

Shadow hesitated, then took the small stack she passed to him, being careful not to let their hands brush.

Something was wrong.

Kit looked nervous. He didn’t think he’d ever seen that before. Even in their first meeting, when he knew she must’ve been on high alert, she had maintained a mask of calm. Now, Kit’s soft lavender eyes were wide, and her gaze kept flicking to the left, down the corridor, as if she anticipated someone coming around the corner.

She fidgeted in the doorway, and he wondered momentarily if she was waiting for him to invite her in. But then Kit forced a smile again and her anxious hands stilled.

“I’m sorry about the other day. You’re right, we don’t know each other yet, I shouldn’t make assumptions. But I’d like to know you. And I’d like you to know me. Maybe even trust me. We really don’t expect anything of you, Shadow. We just want you to feel at home while you’re here, so… When I knock for you tomorrow, will you come to the door?”

Shadow wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d always appreciated candour, and others being straightforward with him, but an apology had completely blindsided him.

Again, he considered how little he understood about Kit, her motives, her actions, her attitude towards him. She shifted and reformed like the clouds, never settling in one place for very long before she reshaped herself.

He hated the unpredictable, and he couldn’t wrap his head around her. Shadow didn’t know if she was throwing everything she could think of at him to see what stuck, or if she was just as uncertain of how to navigate their relationship as he was.

“I just…” Her gaze rose to the ceiling briefly, then back to Shadow. “I just want you to feel as at home here as I do.”

“How can you ask that of me?”

Shadow readjusted the books in his hands, and Kit watched his movements, innocuous as they were. Still wary of him then, despite everything she said, despite the power she had over him.

“I know, I know…” Kit gave him a weak smile. “But I think we have more in common than you think. I-”

The laughter coming from next-door rose suddenly and Kit turned her head towards the sound, startled. When she looked back at him, her mask was back in place.

“I asked about your shoes. You should have them back soon but… I’m sorry. I did try.”

“What are they doing with them?” Shadow’s grip tightened on the books until his nails came close to puncturing the tough material of his gloves. “They were given… They’re important to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll keep asking. I promise.”

For some reason, Shadow believed her.

Kit took a tentative step closer, and he fought the instinct not to move away.

“Will you come tomorrow?”

Again, her eyes darted down the hallway, as if she was waiting for someone to come around the corner at any moment.

Was she not supposed to be here? No, that couldn’t be it. As Kit had reminded him many times, they were both allowed to wander around the base as they pleased, he just couldn’t leave.

So what then? She was allowed to be here, it was her job to speak to him… Perhaps Kit was saying things she ought not to be and was afraid of being overheard. But Kit was also, as she put it, a ‘guest’. She seemed right at home, practically one of the family. What did she have to be afraid of?

Shadow scowled. He felt exhausted and ravenous and weak, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was unpack the riddle of his captors.

“Will you ever leave me alone?”

“Never.” Kit smirked. “I told you, I’m persistent. This place… It means a lot to me. It could mean a lot to you too. I know it.”

“Why would I-”

“Because you don’t have a home. And this could be it. We could be… You could be happy. This is a good place, Shadow.”

He sighed.

“So you keep saying.”

Shadow had never been very good at reading people and their intentions. Keeping others at arm’s length tended to deal with that neatly, and Kit was no exception. But she seemed genuine enough.

In the low light of the hall, Kit’s eyes shone, open and honest, her small hands folded in front of her. He watched her thumb rub anxiously back and forth across the backs of her fingers, then his gaze found the brass rings snapped around her wrists. His own still buzzed angrily, sending short bursts of pain shooting through his marrow.

Shadow sighed again.

“I want my shoes back.”

Sensing an impending surrender, Kit brightened.

“I will get them for you, I promise. Cross my heart.”

With her index finger, she traced an X over the left side of her chest.

It made Shadow’s stomach twist to see it. Maria used to do the same. Whenever she made a promise, she would raise her right hand while the other crossed her chest, and all with a huge smile. Kit’s smile was almost as bright.

Shadow huffed and pulled the books closer to his chest.

“See to it that you do.”

He didn’t give Kit a chance to respond. He tapped the door closed with the heel of his borrowed sneaker, then sat down at the table to read.

Shadow slid the books slowly off the pile and placed them down, one by one, on the table in another stack. A few were non-fiction, more information about the park, but there were a few novels as well. The titles seemed vaguely familiar, and he wondered if he’d seen them before in the ARK’s extensive library. Maria loved to read.

At the bottom of the pile, he found a small rectangular box, the same size and shape as the books, disguised in their midst by its dark colour.

Shadow frowned, glancing towards the door.

When he slipped his thumb under the plastic lid, he found it came off easily. Inside, neatly organised into different compartments, was dinner. Vegetables, chicken, some fruit, something sweet, all from the cafeteria, but whether it was his aching hunger or the way it had been presented, it looked like a meal fit for a king.

Shadow stared. He stared and stared some more.

Slowly, he picked up the plastic fork that had come with it and poked tentatively at the chicken. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

Though his stomach begged him to hurry, Shadow took his time, knowing he’d make himself sick if he ate too fast.

Had this been what Kit was so nervous about? She was supposed to be his keeper, the one to convince him that this was home now and he should make himself comfortable. Perhaps they’d told her she had to entice him out, with food and water and a breath of fresh air, and she’d defied them. Perhaps false kindness was part of her plan.

Head churning with second-guesses and double-bluffs, Shadow ate his dinner, read his borrowed books, and finally felt the gentle hand of sleep on shoulder, rather than the thorny snare of his nightmares.

That night, he slept peacefully for the first time in fifty years.

/

Kit rolled back and forth on her feet from heel to toe, working up the courage to knock on Shadow’s door.

She’d been awake for hours already, which wasn’t like her at all. Most of the base was usually up, dressed, and on the way to work before she was even able to crack open her eyes.

Since Shadow arrived, things had been a little different. She had a mission now, an important role that only she could fill, and Kit would rather die than disappoint the people that took her in when she had nothing.

Being Shadow’s keeper meant getting him to breakfast before the cafeteria closed, which meant getting up at a good time, even if she’d only managed to draw him out of his room a grand total of once, so far.

Today would be different though, she could feel it. Or maybe that was just blind, desperate optimism.

Kit pulled in a deep breath, then briskly knocked four times on the door, as if anything about the situation was ordinary.

“C’mon,” she whispered to herself as her ears circled left and right, searching for him. “C’mon, tough guy. Give me a break. I’m doing my best here.”

Kit almost punched the air in celebration when she heard shuffling movement behind the door.

She took a step back, giving Shadow space, and tried not to look too worried when he finally showed his face.

She knew he hadn't been sleeping. Sometimes, Kit awoke in the night to hear him shifting around in his room. It was faint and difficult to pinpoint amongst the others in the base, but once she got a lock on him, he was unmistakable. Shadow’s heartbeat was almost twice as fast as the humans that bracketed him, and he liked to huff and sigh to himself like an old man. Which, she supposed, he was.

His eyes had been so bright and stormy when he arrived. You could see the power crackling behind them, the rage and the fury that burned in his core. Now, he just looked tired and faint, like ink running off the page of a tear-stained letter.

Kit didn’t think pointing out how awful he looked would make Shadow any more agreeable, nor would suggesting he get some fresh air and then some rest. She didn’t think Shadow was open to taking any advice at all, least of all from her, so Kit stuck to what she knew.

“Morning, handsome.”

As expected, his response was gruff and terse, but Shadow did at least appear a little more amenable than he had the night before. The food must have done him some good. Which reminded her…

“I brought you breakfast.”

Kit pressed the handles of a small brown paper bag into his hand, being careful not to let their fingers brush, just as Shadow had the night before.

Shadow peered curiously inside.

“What is this?”

“Pancakes. They’re rare here so I thought I’d better snag you some before they went. They’re all boxed up so you can save them for later, if you want.”

She wasn't planning on this becoming the norm, but Kit simply couldn’t let Shadow’s hunger strike go on any longer.

“Here.”

She held out a steaming styrofoam cup, and Shadow hesitantly took it.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d like coffee or not but it’ll keep you warm either way. You’ll need it, it’s cold out today.”

Shadow scowled, first at the coffee, then at her.

“I don’t want it.”

Kit huffed.

“It’s not poisonous, Shadow. C’mon, it’ll make you feel better.”

He stared at her for a second, then Shadow lowered his head and gave the drink an experimental sniff.

The sharp smell of machine brewed coffee made his nose wrinkle, and Kit couldn’t blame him, it wasn’t the nicest stuff. Sometimes, Lisa brewed her own and that was infinitely tastier, but she hadn’t had time to ask.

Resigning himself to the situation, Shadow carefully wrapped his hand around the cup, then held it against the black sweater he wore, warming his chest through the material. It was the first and only time Kit had seen him be gentle.

“What do you want? What’s so important?” he asked.

“Lisa wants to meet you. I thought we could all go out onto the trail together.”

“Why would I want-”

“Lisa said she’d turn off your bracers. Or, at least, lower the inhibition rate.”

Kit glanced down at the rings around his wrists. Hers had only ever been switched on for a few minutes at a time, and only once or twice in all the time that she’d worn them. She remembered how it felt though, to have every ounce of life sapped from you as they buzzed and hummed through your bones.

She had mentioned the long-term effects of their use to Lisa. Shadow had been at the base for a week now, and his bracers had been permanently switched on, night and day. His back was starting to arch, and anyone could see how lifeless his eyes had become. He swayed slightly on unsteady feet, and if you looked closely, you could see that Shadow was trembling.

The bracers had never been used like that before, as far as Kit knew. But Lisa had reassured her that there would be no lasting effects; they would never do anything to harm Shadow. Kit had still looked concerned so Lisa promised that if he behaved, she would switch them off.

“It might make you feel better,” Kit said quietly, looking him up and down again, her chest tight.

Whether he’d finally realised that he could trust her, or his will had bent and snapped like the bow of a cedar in a storm, Shadow closed his scarlet eyes with a sigh.

“Fine,” he said.

Kit grinned.

/

Shadow left his breakfast behind but took the coffee. Every so often, he took an experimental sip, and seemed to hate it less every time.

Together, they trudged across the clearing towards the tree line.

It was a beautiful time of year in Glacier, before the snow settled, when the forest was still teeming with life and the burning orange and yellow leaves lay as a blanket of fire for them to follow.

The air was rich with woodsmoke and pine sap, and a gentle breeze brushed Kit’s cheeks as they made their way into the wood, which welcomed them with open arms.

She could feel Shadow’s eyes on her. He still didn’t trust her, that much was obvious, but she thought he might believe her when she said that no harm would ever come to him here. Then again, if she’d been through everything that Shadow had, Kit supposed she wouldn’t be very trusting either.

To her surprise, Shadow was the first one to break the silence.

“How long have you been here?”

Kit raised her hand to push away a low branch and held it aside, gesturing for Shadow to go past.

He regarded her curiously but did go on ahead.

“At The Hill?” she clarified.

“On Earth.”

Behind the tree line lay a foot-worn trail, carved out by many decades of hikers, and now the heavy, ridged boots of the soldiers. It wound deeper into the woods, curving behind a clutch of brilliant gold larches.

Kit knew these forests like the back of her hand. She surprised even herself. Sometimes, areas of the park felt familiar, even if they were entirely new to her, as if the whole wood was music on a stave and she could read every note intuitively. The park just made sense to her, this world made sense to her, even when nothing else did.

“To be honest,” Kit said. “I’m not sure. I think it’s been around six months.”

Shadow stopped and turned to her. He looked suddenly uncomfortable to be leading the way. It meant his back was to her, and though Kit wanted to show him that she wasn’t ever going to hurt him, she gave him this, and took the lead again.

She heard Shadow begin to follow her, his soft-soled sneakers carefully picking through the fallen leaves. His heart was beginning to race in his chest, she could just about hear its soft melody under the forests’ chorus

“How can you not be sure?”

“I…” Kit readjusted, settling her voice. “I don’t remember how I got here.”

“How can you not remember?”

She stopped, one hand pressed against the solid, cracked trunk of a fir tree. Its envy-green needles stretched out all around it, granting shade and shelter to those who passed beneath.

It was one of her favourite trees in the forest. Sweet-smelling resin seeped from its leaves when crushed between her hands, and the bark was often beaded with sap blisters, a reminder that this forest was alive and breathing and watching.

Kit turned to Shadow to find him gazing at her curiously.

You could easily forget that he was new to this world, new to everything that wasn’t the dark hull of a spaceship, suspended above all life on this planet. He wasn’t from Earth, but he wasn’t quite alien either.

How tragic, Kit thought, to be from nowhere, to have no one, and to know that your one purpose was gone. It made her want to reach out, to expose frayed nerves of her own, despite the strict orders she’d been given.

“Apparently, I fell to Earth like a star. All I remember is a bright white circle of light. And pain. It hurt.”

Kit grimaced.

“A few of the rangers found me in the woods, all muddy and wet. I must’ve been laying there in the rain for hours. They brought me back here, patched me up... I couldn’t remember anything, not even my own name. I still can’t.”

It was a thought that haunted her like a second shadow. Where had she come from? No one seemed able to tell her. How had she come to be here? Did anyone miss her? Had she come to Earth of her own devices or had someone pushed her here? These questions kept Kit up throughout those first few terrifying nights at the base.

But the humans who saved her had quickly become family, and the desire to know what had happened to her and the ache of a home she couldn’t remember were starting to fade. Kit had a sense of purpose now, she had a mission. Her fears and worries could be put to the wayside. She had someone else to look after.

Shadow frowned.

“They named you?”

Kit couldn’t help following the arc of the red arches above his bright eyes, how they seemed to emphasise the slightest shifts in Shadow’s expression. She’d thought him so blank and impassive when they first met. Now in the bright morning sunlight, Kit could see that wasn’t the case. You just had to look closely enough.

“Lisa did,” she said, and watched Shadow’s frown deepen.

“So you are a prisoner too.”

“Guest.” Kit spread her arms, emphasising all the freedom they had granted him. “You don’t look like a prisoner to me.”

Shadow’s sharp eyes fell to the bracers snapped around her wrists.

“You don’t look like a guest to me.”

Kit’s good mood soured. He had a habit of doing that. Just when she thought they were getting along, or at least starting to, Shadow cut through to the bone. The weight of responsibility resting on her shoulders only grew heavier with every step he took back from her.

But she had faith. Kit had never been one to shy away from a challenge, and getting Shadow to trust her, trust her friends, was definitely that. This was a good place. He would see that too, soon enough.

Tired of talking, Kit turned and pushed further into the woods until the trail widened up into another, smaller clearing where Lisa was waiting for them.

Her face immediately broke out into a smile when she saw them coming, dislodging her round glasses. She had to push them further up her nose to stop them slipping off.

Lisa raised her hand and waved.

“Good morning, guys! It’s good to finally meet you, Shadow. My name’s Lisa, I’m the head researcher here at the Hill.”

Shadow hung back at the edge of the clearing. He looked Lisa up and down, scowling so deeply, Kit was worried he’d give himself a headache. It made her chest squeeze to see.

“You’re the one I have to thank for these,” he said gruffly, and held out his gloved hands, making the bracers glint in the sunlight.

Kit glanced nervously at Lisa.

She wanted, needed, Shadow to like Lisa, to trust her as she did. Kit knew the scientists would help him either way, and keep him safely hidden away from the world for as long as was necessary, but she couldn’t help thinking Shadow would be happier if he felt at home.

Selfish as it was, she was lonely. It would be nice to have a friend who knew what it felt like to be otherly on Earth.

Lisa pressed her lips together in thought, or perhaps sympathy. Pushing her glasses up her nose again, she took a step towards Shadow, reaching out to him with clever, gentle hands.

“I’m sorry. The adjustment period can be rough, but it’s the only solution we have.”

She knelt down in front of him so that they were at eye-level.

Shadow regarded her warily, his lip curling back in a snarl, baring one sharp fang that gleamed brilliant white against his dark fur.

He seemed so unnatural out here, amongst the deep greens and earthy browns. His sleek black body was so alien against the trees, his red markings a warning to others not to get too close.

“Hey,” Lisa smiled and poked his chest. “This sweater used to be mine. My sister gave it to me, and I gave it to Kit. Is it keeping you warm? It can get pretty cold out here at night, huh?”

Shadow said nothing, though he did look down at the black pullover he’d chosen that morning.

Sensing she wasn’t going to get much out of him, Lisa pushed up her sleeves.

“Here, let me take a look.”

Lisa wrapped her long fingers around one of his bracers without fear.

Kit noted that she spoke to Shadow like a colleague. They knew he was smart, his impressive IQ had been just one of the many astounding statistics in his file, so it seemed ridiculous to even consider talking down to him.

Shadow watched her closely but allowed Lisa to lift his hand and turn it over, palm up. Her deft, careful movements were so different to how he’d been treated in the past.

Kit couldn’t imagine how much effort it must take for Shadow to rein in the anger and frustration coursing through him and allow someone to get so close, especially a scientist, someone he didn’t know and had no reason to trust.

Her ears twitched, swivelling in his direction, and heard his heart skip a beat when Lisa carefully pulled his hand closer to her. He was afraid.

“Are they still hurting?” Lisa asked.

Kit flinched when Shadow’s gaze rose to meet hers over Lisa’s shoulder. He seemed… Embarrassed? As if he would rather Kit weren’t here, like she was interrupting something private, encroaching on doctor/patient confidentiality.

It occurred to her later that although Shadow claimed to hate scientists, he fell into the role of test subject very easily. It was home to him, familiar, but with no semblance of warmth or comfort to be found.

“I feel… Cold all the time,” Shadow said quietly, his gaze falling to watch Lisa’s hands again. “I feel the need to eat and to sleep. These are not urges I am used to.”

Lisa nodded sympathetically.

“The bracers cut you off from your powers. Without them, you’re just like everyone else. Hunger, exhaustion, pain�� Hopefully, there’ll come a time where we can trust you, and you can trust us, and we won’t have to use them anymore.”

“Your pet still has them.”

Shadow’s sharp eyes found Kit again, and she scowled. She regretted reacting to that word so visibly when he first used it, now Shadow knew he had good ammunition against her.

It was a sore topic. Though most had welcomed her to the base with open arms, there were a few who apparently couldn’t resist antagonising her. They made her feel like a wild animal that the rangers had brought home one day, a mascot for the base. They were a reminder that she did not truly belong here, as much as she yearned for it with all her heart.

Lisa looked back over her shoulder and shot Kit a reassuring smile that made her chest feel a little less taut, then she turned back to Shadow.

“Kit’s powers are impressive. She can do things that fall right out of science fiction. Her bracers can help her channel her power as well as cut them off. Speaking of…”

Lisa straightened up and slipped her hands into the pockets of her army green jacket.

“How would you like to stretch your legs?”

Kit watched, hardly daring to breathe, as Lisa pulled out a small device from her pocket, almost like a television remote. There were a couple of buttons near the top and a dial set into the centre, sleek and black and designed to fit comfortably in Lisa’s hand.

Something in her chest twisted. Kit didn’t think it was a good idea to give Shadow anymore leniency then they already had. Even with his bracers, he was dangerous to be near to. One afternoon stroll through the forest where no one got hurt did not mean that the Ultimate Lifeform was in the mood to comply.

Kit opened her mouth to speak but stopped when Lisa looked her way. She didn’t have to say anything, a flash behind her dark eyes let Kit know that now was not a good time to interject.

Kit shut her mouth.

Lisa pressed her thumb against one of the buttons, then slowly turned the dial to the left.

Immediately, Shadow gasped, his coffee cup falling to the ground. His knees buckled beneath him and he staggered forward a step, only just catching himself on a nearby tree.

Kit instinctively took a step closer but Lisa silently held out her hand, warning her to stay where she was.

Shadow’s fingers dug into the rough bark of the tree, just barely keeping himself upright.

Kit knew what he was feeling. To abruptly jump from knowing nothing but an all-consuming numbness to feeling the power in your veins surging like an electrical current, it was almost too much to bear.

Shadow closed his eyes, his brow creased in concentration as he slowly rose to stand upright again. His back seemed straighter, his gloved hands balled into tight fists.

Shadow’s whole being was alight with the power that he’d been gifted at his creation. Kit could practically hear the energy cascading around his body.

Lisa wouldn’t have turned his bracers off completely, just lowered the inhibition rate enough to give Shadow some of his strength back. It wasn't enough to cause harm to others, but it would pull the most important scientific asset acquired in the last century back from the brink.

Shadow raised his head, and the whole forest seemed to bow in deference.

Fascinated, transfixed, Lisa grinned.

“Better?” she asked.

Shadow rolled his hands into fists.

“Much,” he said.

He didn’t let a single new second pass him by. Shadow bent his knees, drew in a lungful of clear, crisp air, then shot off into the woods, disappearing between the trees in the blink of an eye.

A quiet stillness fell in the clearing. There was only the gentle wind through the leaves to break the silence, and the sound of Kit’s own heartbeat thumping hard in her ears, her neck, her wrists. He’d acted just as Lisa predicted he would.

Beside her, the scientist took off her glasses to clean them on her sleeve. It was a habit Kit knew by heart, she often did it when she was thinking.

Lisa slipped her glasses back on, letting another few moments go by before she said,

“Kit?”

Though it made her heart sink in her chest, Kit nodded.

“On it.”

She caught up with Shadow quicker than she thought she might.

Though he had a speed advantage, his bracers were still switched on, even if their control had been reduced. He was not as fast as he was used to, and the strain it put on his body caused him to lose strength quickly. At least, that’s what Lisa had hypothesised.

Kit knew these woods as if she’d lived there all her life, every fallen tree trunk, every hillock and knoll, every bramble patch and streambank. Shadow’s senses were still dulled, while hers were sharp and focused. He had no idea where he was going; Kit would do anything to not disappoint her saviours.

A rush through the fallen, dry leaves to her left made Kit change direction on a pinhead and within seconds, she had eyes on Shadow. He ran across her path and she flung out her hands, knocking him off his feet with one burst of her power.

Shadow grunted as he hit the ground hard, rolling a few feet before finally ending up on his stomach. He immediately tried to get up, his worn, old sneakers scrabbling to find purchase on the carpet of silken leaves beneath him, but Kit waved her hand, pressing him down against the earth.

It came as naturally to her as breathing. With Lisa’s help, she’d only grown stronger. What had once required all her concentration now only warranted a passing thought, what had once been a tremendous effort was now just a flex of her muscles.

“You see how this works?”

Kit knelt down beside Shadow, her hand held out at her side. Fingers splayed, she held him in that position, focusing all her energy to the palm of her hand.

“If you behave, you get your freedom. If you try to run, I take you down.”

Shadow managed to turn his head, his cheek pressing into the dirt. He bared his teeth, his whole body trembling as he fought against her, but he barely managed to move an inch.

“I was right,” he spat, “You are their pet. Just an attack dog, to keep me trapped here.”

His words stung but Kit brushed the feeling away.

“I’m on your side, Shadow.”

“Then let me go.”

Kit shook her head.

“It’s not up to me.”

Shadow growled deep in his throat as he tried to push himself up, but he couldn’t move his arms. He kept trying to hook his hands under his chest but Kit only had to circle her wrist and he was pinned tighter to the ground.

But then, to her horror, the bracer at her wrist started to hum.

“What-”

Kit gasped as a sudden rush, like ice cold water, suddenly spread throughout her entire body. Both her bracers buzzed and seemed to tighten around her wrists, clamping down until it felt claustrophobic.

Her concentration broken, Kit grabbed at them, trying to dig her fingers under the bands to tug them away from her skin, but the awful numbing sensation only grew stronger.

They were too deep into the forest. They were out of range, and the failsafe settings had kicked in.

Sharp pain shot through her, breaking through the sudden dull haze that enveloped her. Kit cried out and tried to grab at her ankle but Shadow had swung his leg around and knocked her off her feet.

The world flipped on its axis. Kit fell hard, jarring her forearms and elbows as she attempted to catch herself.

She blinked and Shadow was on top of her, his body heavy against hers. He held her legs down with just one of his own so that her feet kicked uselessly against the ground. His hands found her wrists, pinning them by her shoulders so that they twisted painfully.

“Why are you keeping me here?”

“Shadow-”

Kit sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers tightened around her wrists. She was sure he’d be cutting off the circulation if it weren’t for the bracers.

“Tell me!”

“They just want to study us!” Kit’s arms trembled as she tried in vain to push him off. “We’re still aliens, Shadow. They’re putting a lot of trust in us. We should be thankful for their kindness, for letting us stay here. Ou-Our powers could be used to help people.”

Kit’s eyes flew wide as Shadow lowered his head, closing in on what remained of her personal space, his nose just a breath away from hers.

“I am not a lab rat,” he seethed.

Despite the panic clawing at her throat, Kit managed a dry, strained laugh.

“Aren’t you?” she shot back.

As Shadow’s eyes narrowed, the terrifying, awful crackling that seemed to rise from his chest filled Kit’s ear. To her own disappointment, she gave a frightened whimper while her legs scrabbled uselessly beneath him.

As the light behind his eyes grew brighter, she could feel the hands that held her down growing hotter and hotter, sparking and cracking like red-hot embers as Shadow’s power manifested.

But then, Kit felt her bracers switch off again. She sucked in a deep breath as the world came rushing back to greet her.

With a rough cry, she splayed her fingers and sent Shadow flying backwards.

She didn’t have time to think. Shadow landed on his feet and immediately ran at her again.

Kit waved her hand and knocked him off course, sending him sprawling into a bank of burning red and yellow leaves.

Shadow groaned, but she knew it wasn’t her doing. His bracers had snapped back into life again, severing his connection to his powers.

Slowly, Shadow sat up on his elbows. His face was all screwed up with frustration, and Kit knew his once sharp senses were whirling around his head, just out of reach.

“If I help you,” he growled. “Will you let me go?”

“Shadow, if you help us, we can both get what we want.”

Kit shook out her hands, bending and arching her fingers. It was good to have her powers back safely in her grasp. It almost felt like pins and needles, the prickling, uncomfortable sensation of life returning to her.

“Lisa is trying to find a way to get me home. She can help you too.”

Shadow struggled to his feet, snarling.

“I have no home.”

“Then why are you trying to escape? Where are you running to?” Kit shook her head. “The faster you realise that this is a good place, the faster you can leave. Please help us, Shadow.”

The bracers at her wrist stuttered and died again. Kit’s teeth clenched together so hard, she almost bit through her tongue.

Shadow’s sharp gaze crossed her face, immediately sensing the shift in her.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he leapt forward and swung his fist at her head, but he wasn’t as fast or as strong as he was used to.

Kit managed to duck out of his way in time but still felt the power behind his fist as it whistled past her head.

Shadow swung again, this time grabbing onto one of her long ears and pulling down hard.

Kit shrieked, her hands flying to prise his off her, but Shadow flung her against the nearest tree trunk.

He pressed his forearm against her throat, not hard enough to choke her, but enough pressure to make Kit scrabble and panic as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

“Your powers,” Shadow leaned close again, crowding her body with his till she couldn’t move an inch. “Lisa said she was helping you grow stronger. What did she mean by that?”

Kit tried to tuck her fingers under his arm, hoping to pull it away from her throat, but Shadow just pressed down harder.

“Tell me!”

“She thinks I might be able to control more than the physical!”

Kit clung to his arm, raising her chin as far as she could to ease the strain on her windpipe, but it had little effect.

“She thinks, with time, I might be able to control the mind as well. See into people. The results are- Ah! They’re limited at the moment but I’m growing stronger with every session. That’s why she invented the bracers, to help me concentrate my powers.”

Shadow narrowed his eyes.

“And take away mine.”

Right on cue, Kit felt the bracers flicker into life again. She closed her eyes, reached out to her power, and pulled it back to her.

Shadow grunted as his back hit the rough bark of a nearby tree, scraping his skin and knocking the air from his lungs.

With her hand wrapped around her throat, Kit pulled in deep breath after deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.

This was not what she thought convincing Shadow would look like. This was beyond anything she’d ever trained for.

Doubt clouded her mind but she tried to push through the fog. Lisa had entrusted her with this for a reason. She could do this. If Kit ever wanted to find out who she was, if she ever wanted to find a way home, she had to do this.

Kit sighed as she approached Shadow, disappointed that it had come to this. She’d never had to use her power for self defense before. It irked her that she obviously wasn’t very good at it.

“I’m sorry. But you’re just too dangerous, Shadow.”

Kit flicked her hand and lifted him a few feet off the ground, pinning Shadow against the tree trunk until he was forced to meet her gaze.

“They have no reason to trust you. Give them one.”

Shadow huffed. His arms hung limp at his sides now, all his fight gone.

“You can reach into people’s minds?”

Kit flattened the ear he’d grabbed and carefully ran her fingers along its edge, feeling for any tenderness and hissing between her teeth when she found it.

“Barely.”

“For now. How will I know you’re not controlling me?”

Again, Kit was surprised by how much his words hurt.

She didn’t think befriending Shadow would be easy, not by a long shot, but she thought she’d done enough to show that she just wanted him to be happy. Obviously, she was wrong.

Kit had to remind herself that Shadow was frightened, he was alone, and a very long way from everything he’d ever known. She could relate to that, but he didn’t seem to care.

Did he really think so little of her? Kit supposed they still hardly knew anything about each other, apart from what she’d read in the extensive, boggling notes left by Gerald Robotnik and G.U.N. She’d have to fix that. Maybe, if he let her, she could fix him too.

“Hopefully, we’ll get to know each other a little better over time, and you’ll realise what a ridiculous question that is.”

Kit raised her hand and slowly, carefully lowered Shadow to the ground.

She tensed, bracing for another attack, but instead, Shadow sank down, his back sliding against the tree trunk until he was sitting on the ground, his knees drawn up to his chest.

He watched her, and she watched him right back, the freak and the monster, alone in the woods.

At last, Shadow sighed.

“What could I possibly help you with?”

That was the million dollar question. Kit wasn’t sure just how much she was permitted to give away. They weren’t hiding anything from Shadow, not really, not forever. But he was already proving uncooperative and unpredictable. The finer details would be kept close to their chests. For now, all that mattered was making sure Shadow felt at home.

“Look after the forests,” Kit shrugged. “Help people. Learn about this planet. Tell Lisa everything you can about other worlds. And be kind to yourself.”

Kit offered him a wobbly sort of a smile, hoping to claw back some of their already tattered relationship, but of course, Shadow did not return it. He didn’t scoff or try to argue, though, and in that was one small glimmer of hope.

“Isn’t that what you’re for?” Shadow asked. “You’re my keeper, aren’t you?”

Kit began to smile properly then. Was that an attempt at humour? He was a strange one.

“You’re right. I haven’t been doing a very good job.” She moved closer, kicking a stray pebble aside with the toe of her shoe. “But I think you need to meet me halfway, Shadow.”

“Will you leave me alone?”

“I still think we could be good friends.”

Shadow huffed, and it was as close to a real, genuinely mirthful laugh that Kit had ever heard from him.

“You’re crazy,” Shadow muttered.

Kit took a few steps closer, but she wasn’t afraid. If Shadow tried anything, she could easily put him right back down. But he wouldn’t, she was sure of it. He was angry but he wasn’t stupid. He acted forcefully, not thoughtlessly.

“Maybe,” Kit said. “I don’t really know anything about who I am.”

She held out her hand to him, open and empty.

“Help me figure it out?”

Shadow stared at her palm.

She watched a hundred different emotions pass behind his eyes, flashes of light, uncertainty, fear, memories, and under it all, an aching, reaching, grasping, squeezing feeling of longing. He wanted to trust. He wanted to belong. Who didn’t?

Finally, Shadow took her hand and let Kit pull him to his feet.

“Okay.”

/

He awoke in the middle of the night again.

For a few moments, Shadow couldn’t breathe. All he knew were flashes of the inside of a laboratory, stark white walls, a cold metal gurney, and the most overwhelming sense of fear he’d ever known.

Shadow wasn’t sure what was worse, that awful, lonely room, or the blood-soaked pictures that usually haunted his dreams.

He felt better than he had in days but he still wasn’t comfortable. His belly was full, he’d been able to stretch his legs and feel his powers warming his body again, but he was still here, alone in the dark.

Just a few rooms away, Kit was sleeping soundly. He wondered what she dreamt about. She had even less than had. No memories, no one to miss, not even the soft anguish of knowing you were once loved by another, even if that person was now gone.

Kit’s mask of amusement had slipped just a little when he asked her about it, and Shadow was granted a glimpse at the face beneath.

Something, something behind the soft lavender fields of her eyes, was guarded and sharp. He had prodded and poked and picked away at her and found something real and important at last.

Her hand had risen subconsciously to her wrist again, and fiddled with her bracer. Though she claimed she understood the reason behind their use, she didn’t seem completely comfortable with them. Heavy and clumsy, they slipped up and down her wrists as if she still wasn’t completely used to them, even after six months.

I don’t really know anything about who I am. Help me figure it out.

It was an antagonistic thing for her say. Shadow didn’t care about Kit. He didn’t care about this place and its mission. But curiosity, a need to understand his new circumstances, a desire to be free despite everything, forced him to recognise that knowing his captors would be the surest way of surviving them.

Shadow closed his eyes and slipped slowly off to sleep again, his dreams alight with sunbeams cutting through the leaf canopy, of the dewey grass against his fingertips, and the smile on Kit’s face when he agreed to help her.

Anything to shut her up and get her off his back. That smile was his ticket out here.

That smile.

//

Next Chapter

Master List

[zyuu-fusil]

Prowl and Wander (OC), in the Ark-19.

I made it look like a comic cover ☺️

(Commission by @.兔中兔RJL on Lofter)

[libraryofgage]

A Place Like Steve in a Boy Like This

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three (you’re here!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse (also on the way and also a modern royalty au cuz I got the urge to write one so bad lmao)

This AU was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner!

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

I hope y'all enjoy this part! It was a lotta fun to write, actually, since I got to talk about folklore I'm more familiar with lol

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

----

Steve huffs as he kicks a pebble down the street. It bounces a few times before settling on the sidewalk, doing nothing interesting enough to alleviate his boredom. He turns around, squinting against the sun shining in his eyes, and looks at his parents. His mother is speaking quietly to a woman with a shawl around her shoulders, both of them bent over some book that definitely should have been crumbling by now. His father idly taps at bricks on the building next to them, looking relaxed but alert.

Steve glances at the building his parents are avoiding, the one the woman with the shawl walked out of. It’s a pale, faded yellow, the kind that tells him the building is old, old enough to have seen wars and generations pass it by. Shingles line a low roof, but something that’s either incredibly durable wood or stone so old it’s turned brown makes up the vaguely mountain-shaped top that reaches to the sky. Steve studies the building, his eyes wandering until he sees the door cracked open on the side. 

He takes a slow step towards it, checks that neither of his parents noticed, and takes another. This continues until he’s in the shadow of the building, his fingers brushing against the wood. It’s cool against his skin, and the door isn’t nearly as heavy as it looks. He pushes lightly against it, an eager feeling building in the pit of his stomach as he slips inside.

A dimly lit hall made of stone sprawls out in front of him, and Steve hums softly as he passes by the paintings and scraps of scroll that are framed along the wall. He recognizes Hebrew on all the scrolls, but he doesn’t linger long enough to read any of it. Instead, he continues to walk, glancing through an opening that leads into a sanctuary. The opening is to the left of the bema, and he’s momentarily caught by the ark that contains the Torah. He can’t even see the holy scrolls, but something in his spine jerks and he’s overwhelmed by the urge to open the doors so he can gaze upon them. 

He’s already going to get in trouble for slipping inside, though. Maybe he shouldn’t make it worse. Steve grasps this thought tightly, holding it in his mind until he’s able to tear his gaze away and continue walking down the hall. Other than that opening, there’s only one door left at the very end. It, too, is made of wood and opens far easier than Steve expected.

Shafts of sunlight stream in through narrow windows, illuminating dust that floats in the still air of an undisturbed staircase. Steve looks down at the first steps, crouches, and drags his finger carefully over the stone. A layer of dust comes off, and Steve comes to the conclusion that nobody has been up these stairs in a long, long time. 

With a grin, Steve begins to climb. 

The stairs wind up and up, far higher than Steve thinks should be possible given the height of the building itself, but what does he know? He just focuses on climbing, on reaching the top as he passes narrow window after narrow window, breathing in stale air that stirs in his lungs and builds. Strangely enough, he’s not breathless from the climbing, but from something else entirely. He isn’t able to name that feeling until he finally (finally) reaches the top of the stairs. 

As he stands on the top step and looks over the loft spread out before him, he realizes it was anticipation. Like the stairs, this attic-loft is covered in dust, untouched by people for a very long time. A large window is opposite the stairs, allowing sunlight to stream into the area. The space holds a desk, a bed, more books than Steve has ever seen before, and a statue.

Steve stares at the statue, licks his lips nervously, and steps into the room. He doesn’t spare the books or anything else a second glance, instead making a beeline for the statue. It’s huge, towering over the twelve-years-old Steve even though it’s sitting. Its legs are crossed, and its hands are held palm-up just above its navel. The statue is round and smooth, not a straight edge in sight. It doesn’t have a neck, and its head is like a little bump on its shoulders, just big enough to hold triangle-shaped divots for eyes. Carefully placed next to the statue is a small clay jar and a paintbrush.

Without thinking, Steve picks up the jar and looks inside. Golden-hued paint shimmers inside, and Steve wonders how it hasn’t caked over or disintegrated after all this time. He tilts the clay pot a few times, watching the paint slide against the edges, and then looks up at the statue again. At second glance, he sees that the statue’s head is big enough for more than just its eyes. He could probably write on it, too. 

With that thought, Steve grabs the paintbrush and very carefully pokes his foot against the statue’s leg. It seems strong enough, so he climbs up, following the statue’s calf to its knee. From there, he carefully holds the paintbrush with his teeth so he can steady himself on the statue’s arm. Once he has, Steve pulls himself up onto the statue’s hands, finding himself at the perfect height to reach its forehead.

Steve holds the paintbrush and dips it into the jar. The brush comes out covered in the gold paint, and Steve pauses, looking at the statue’s forehead.

He remembers a story his mother once told him about this very city, this very building. It involved a statue like this one, a golem, that was brought to life to protect his mom’s ancestors. Steve hums softly and carefully paints aleph, mem, tav on the statue’s forehead. His mom will find it funny when he brings her up here to show her the “golem” he found. 

As he finishes off the tav, giving it a pretty little flourish just for the fun of it, the ground beneath him jerks. No, not the ground. The hands he’s standing on. Steve yelps, losing his balance and about to fall only to be cradled and carefully set on the ground.

Steve blinks, looking up at the golem to see it leaning down and staring at him expectantly. “Uh. Hi,” he says, breathless as he receives a small nod and wave in return. “Holy shit.”

Before he can say more, he hears a familiar voice in the distance shouting, “Steve! Where are you?”

Keeping his eyes on the golem, Steve sets the jar and paint down, scooting back along the floor until he reaches the top of the stairs. “I’m up here!” he shouts, hearing a muffled curse and the slam of a door far below. He sighs and stands, slowly approaching the golem.

“You’re really real,” he mumbles, stopping in front of the golem as he hears someone running up the steps.

He turns just in time to see his father reach the attic, guns at the ready, and panting from adrenaline and the climb. “What the fuck is that?!” he shouts, aiming the guns at the golem without thinking. 

“Don’t shoot it!” Steve yells, barely getting the words out before he’s scooped into the golem’s arms and completely covered by its hands. The world goes dark, and he’s pressed close enough to the golem’s chest that all he can smell is pomegranate and the old ink and paper of Talmud studies. 

“It’s holding you captive, and you’re telling me not to shoot it?!” his father asks. 

“It’s protecting him!” his mother shouts, her voice shrill and panicked enough about his father shooting a golem to make Steve almost laugh.

Steve wiggles around, tapping the golem’s chest. “Those are my parents,” he says, “Please let me down.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, the golem does, carefully and slowly placing Steve on his feet once more. Its hands stay on either side of him, looking ready to pull him back into its protective embrace. His father looks harried, but his mother looks awed as she steps forward. The golem allows her to approach, and she carefully runs her fingers over the golem’s arms. “This is amazing, Steve,” she says softly.

“Can we please step away from the dangerous statue now?” his father asks, taking a step forward only to stop when the golem suddenly stands and towers over him. “Uh, what’s it doing?”

“You’re not Jewish, Rick,” Steve’s mother says, looking over her shoulder. “The golem is a protective figure in Jewish folklore, among other things. It’s most famous stories are about keeping Jewish towns safe from pogroms. It’s wary of you.”

“I’m your husband!” Steve’s father protests, angrily shoving his guns back into their holsters, “And Steve’s father! We should be on the same team!”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, walking over to his father and taking his hand. “I just have to introduce you.” With that, Steve leads his father over to the golem, placing his father’s hand on its arm, and saying, “This is someone you should protect, too.”

----------

After explaining everything, with plenty of interruptions from the kids after they came running back into the living room to escape Uncle Jonathan’s gin, Steve’s parents demanded to see the lab where it all started. 

And now they’re here, standing in one of the lower levels, surrounded by dead vines that still haunt Steve’s nightmares on particularly bad nights. If he’s lucky, he won’t have one of those while his parents are home, but Steve has never really called himself lucky in situations that don’t involve life or death. 

The wall that once held a gate to the Upside Down is nothing more than charred cement, reduced to a jagged line of something Steve really hopes is soot and not, like, disintegrated demogorgon. He carefully makes his way through the vines, avoiding them when he can and holding his breath whenever he has to step on one. 

“Did you know this was a lab?” Rick asks, his voice echoing in the hall ahead of them. 

“Of course, not,” Evelyn replies, and Steve can picture the glare she’s aiming at him. “I wouldn’t have let our son live here if I’d known.”

“Well,” Eddie says, “I, for one, and very relieved Stevie lived here considering several of us would be dead without him.”

“Me, too,” Dustin says.

“Me three,” El says.

“I think Steve and I would’ve found each other even if he wasn’t in Hawkins,” Robin says, nudging Steve’s ribs with her elbow as she grins. “Platonic soulmates can’t he kept apart.”

Steve snorts and stops when he reaches the wall. He looks around and notices the corpse of a demodog a few feet away. Or, well, he thinks it’s a demodog corpse. “Stay here,” he says, tightening his grip on his bat as he takes a step closer to it.

“Hold it right there, young man,” his mother says, her tone bringing him to an immediate halt. “Your father will go towards the monster, and you will stay a safe distance away.”

“Gee, thanks for asking,” Rick mutters, rolling his shoulders as he makes his way over to the demodog corpse. He studies it for a second before just kicking the thing with his foot. Steve nearly jumps in to yank his father back, but stays frozen in place by Robin’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

His father kicks the corpse again, and Eddie suddenly asks, “Why do I feel like this is disrespectful?”

“Because it used to be alive,” El offers.

“It’s definitely not anymore,” Rick says, crouching down and using the barrel of his gun to push back one of the petals on its head. “Shit, what’s it need so many teeth for?”

“The better to eat you with,” Steve says, earning a snort from Robin and Eddie.

“And there were how many of these?” Evelyn asks.

“Dozens. Like, multiple packs, and they were all connected by this hive mind kinda thing,” Dustin explains, walking over to the corpse with no fear. “I mean, they weren’t all bad. Dart was okay.”

“He ate your cat,” Steve says.

“Yeah, and then he didn’t eat us in the tunnel.”

“I can’t believe you were facing these things and didn’t use your guns to spare some girl’s feelings,” Rick says, looking at Steve over his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you didn’t just use the golem,” his mother says, frowning as she turns to Steve. “I mean, you know where it is, dear. You know how to bring it to life.”

“A golem? Like…from Lord of the Rings?” Dustin asks.

“You had a golem? Why didn’t you tell me you had a golem?” Eddie asks.

“How did we not think of the golem? Holy shit, we’re dumb,” Robin says, smacking her forehead with her palm.

“I couldn’t trust that it wouldn’t hurt one of my friends,” Steve says, ignoring Dustin for now. “It would only protect me and Robin. If something happened to one of us, it would abandon the kids without question. What’s the point then?”

“Hello! Confused people over here!” Dustin shouts, getting their attention. “What golem?”

“You know,” Robin says, “like…of Prague.”

“No, still lost,” Dustin says.

Steve sighs, about to explain it when Eddie beats him to it. “The golem is from Jewish folklore,” he says, tilting his head as he looks at Steve, “It was created and brought to life by a rabbi in Prague to protect his congregation from pogroms and acts of antisemitism. There are debates on why he had to disintegrate the golem, though. Some stories say it started killing innocent people, others say it fell in love, and others say the congregation were using it to do chores instead of letting it focus on protecting them.”

“Yes, exactly,” Evelyn says, smiling at Eddie and nodding with approval, “The golem doesn’t speak much, but it can answer basic questions. According to it, Rabbi Loew removed its aleph because it requested to go to sleep.”

“Oh, so it just wanted a nap,” El says, nodding as though this makes perfect sense to her.

“You said you had the golem,” Eddie says. “Where?”

“At the house,” Steve replies, watching as his father stands from the corpse and drags Dustin away from it. “I keep it in the locked room downstairs.”

“You said that was your parents’ room,” Dustin says.

“No, you assumed it was, and I never corrected you.”

“Can I see it?” Eddie asks.

Steve looks up, meeting Eddie’s gaze. After a few seconds, he nods once and looks at his parents. “Did you see what you wanted?” he asks, “Can we head back?”

“Yeah,” Rick says, frowning as he nudges a vine with his foot. “I’ll come back later with Ardeth. See if he knows anything that might help.”

“What do we need help with?” Dustin asks. “The portal is closed for good. We closed it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with making sure,” Evelyn tells him, smiling reassuringly before turning back the way they came. “Now that Rick and I are here, we’ll do everything we can to make sure those gates never open again.”

“And if they do,” Rick says, bringing up the rear as the kids follow Evelyn, “we’ll take care of it. You kids don’t need to put yourselves in danger anymore.”

Something in Steve settles at hearing this, his next exhale taking all the stress that had made its home between his shoulders with it. For the first time in a long time, he thinks about something normal. He glances at Eddie and Robin and thinks about going to see a movie with them, drinking at the lake, and just being stupid teens that don’t have to worry about interdimensional monsters.

------

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