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systlinsideblog · 3 years

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Part 6

There was a terrible disorientation, darkness, pressure, and then he was lying facedown on something soft. He flinched as a familiar weight thunked against the back of his thighs; his shield. His sword was still in hand; he was gripping it tightly, out of pure instinct.

Somewhere above him was movement, and the sound of a sword being half drawn, and then a gasp. He recognized the distinctive traits of all three; and decided to simply lie there a bit yet. He had a raging headache suddenly, and there was no danger he could think of that could possibly get through his wife to harm him.

“Foicatch!?” She sounded shocked. There was a soft thump as Ice hit the soft rugs beneath them, and then hands on him, on the back of his shoulders and on his cheek. “Beloved?”

“Fuck.” He said into the carpets. With some effort, he pulled himself up to his knees and took a look around, instinctively taking in his surroundings and the lay of the land.

A tent of some sort, on a wooden platform. A wagon, most likely, judging from the slight give and sway. A large camp, from the noises outside. The tent was rich; gold and jewels glittered in lamplight, and the pallet he was on was of rich, soft carpets and furs. He did not recognize any of it, but was again not surprised. Gods played games with his wife’s life, and wherever she was he knew in his bones that she’d soon rise to the top.

Quite suddenly, arms were around his neck, and Systlin was clinging to him in a bone-creaking embrace. He started, surprised; she was normally a reserved woman, but now she was acting as if she’d not seen him in weeks.

“Sys.” He said weakly. “Sys. Darling. What…”

“Is Senna all right?” She pulled back and stared at him, her eyes bright, desperate. “Is she all right?”

“Of course she is. You saw her half an hour ago.” Foicatch rubbed at his aching temples. “What the fuck was that?”

Her whole body seemed to relax, almost slumping with abject relief, and she pulled back a little, but left one hand on his knee. “For me,” she said. “It’s been three months.”

He blinked a couple of times. “What.”

“Three months.”

“How…”

“The Lady.” When he’d been a boy, he’d never dreamed that he’d ever hear someone make such a matter of fact sort of statement about the Lady, Mother of All. Let alone that he would be married to that person, and that such a statement would make utter sense. “We’re on a world called Gor.” A slight pause. “’Catch, love, you’ve no clue how happy I am to have you here. This place is a shithole.”

“It can’t be that bad.” He waved a hand around at the tent. “This seems nice.”

“I had to kill three thousand men to unfuck this one tribe.” She said bluntly. “And it’s still not really done; that was just lancing the boil. ’Catch, the men of this world are slavers. All of them, from what I can tell, or at least most. They keep women as sex toys.”

Foicatch stared at her for a solid minute or so, appalled.

“What.” He finally managed.

It took her half an hour to fill him in on the details. By the end, his headache was fading, but a second one was threatening on his heels. He’d gotten to his feet some time back, and he was incandescently furious and pacing the tent. (The Ubara’s tent. He felt a flash of pride, at that. Of course she was Ubara; queen by her own hand within a day. He’d expect nothing less of her, and marveled, again, that such a woman as her had chosen him.)

He stopped his pacing long enough to touch her face, to brush her plait back. “You said you killed three thousand that first night.”

“Yes.” She said. The word was a flat statement of fact.

“You must have used your power.”

“Yes.” Again, a statement of fact.

“Are you all right?” He asked it softly. She never admitted to anyone else save Sura the cost of her gift for Breaking, the strain it caused when used too much. But he knew, because she trusted him.

“I am.” She covered his hand with hers. “I told you once; it gets easier to restrain it, with practice. And I’ve had a lot of practice. And the women…” She looked off, at the tent flap. “They’re remarkable. All they’ve been through, and survived. Many are brilliant, and funny, and kind, and fierce. They’ve not let me stew alone.”

He nodded, relieved. Do not let her be alone, Sura had told him once. Sura, bright, brilliant Sura, who’d realized before anyone else living what Systlin was, that there’d come a Breaker strong enough to break even her curse to her will.

They stood there for a moment. She stepped into his arms, and leaned against his chest. He looped his arms around her waist, and let her take comfort as long as she needed it.

At last, he said “So you’ve been gone months, but it’s been but moments at home.”

“Thank the gods.” Systlin’s voice was muffled by his chest. “I’ve been so, so worried, about you and Senna.”

“It’s reasonable then to assume that however long we take here, little or no time will have passed at home.”

“Thank the gods.” She said again, fervent.

“Well.” He said. “We might as well make a proper job of it then. Why don’t you show me around, Ubara?”

He was a very tall man, broad and muscular and strong, a fighting man in true. He wore a sword and shield with the air of a man long accustomed to their use. His eyes were green, and sharp. His hair fell to his shoulders, caught back in a leather tie. His beard was braided into a short plait bound in silver.

This is a proper man, I thought, but then to my horror I saw the glint of silver in his ear.

A man….a man, a fighting man! Had allowed his ear to be pierced! It was shameful, beyond shameful.

The she-sleen emerged from the wagon behind him. She said something, and he turned to listen. I realized that the ring in his ear was a twin to the silver one she wore, and in a flash realized that this was her mate, the one she’d claimed to be bonded to.

He laughed at something she said, and she grinned at him.

I thought that I had seen the she-sleen fight, that day she had slain Kamchak, Ubar of the Tuchuks.

I had not. Not truly. I had realized, of course, that she had been toying with him, toying with a Tuchuk, known as the fiercest and cleverest of warriors. But I had not known, not really, what she was.

I stared as she sparred the man…her husband, it still was a thing of horror to think of bedding such a woman, but if there was a man to master such a woman then I could believe it of this man.

He was magnificent. It was hot; he had stripped to his waist, baring a marvelously formed body to the sun. There were scars here and there, showing that he was a fighting man and had won many battles. His eyes were fierce and keen, and he wielded that metal shield and his sword as easily and lightly as if they were wooden toys, muscles rippling under taut bronze skin. He was fast, as fast as a snake, and his footwork was superb. Any city would have been honored to have a fighting man such as he in their ranks; I am man enough to admit that in battle he could have bested me, and it would have been no shame to lose to such a superb warrior.

But then there was her.

He was magnificent, the pinnacle of what a fighting man strives to be. And out of the three bouts I saw them fight, he lost two.

He was fast. But she was like the speed of a falcon bound into the body of a woman, and made the swordplay look almost as a dance. She would, I thought, have been magnificent in dancing silks.

She flowed like water around strikes. She was, quite nimbly, never where a strike seemed to go, and used her blades with the precision of a physician excising a tumor. Her stamina seemed boundless; indeed, even under the heat of the sun she was not even sweating.

The first match ended after what seemed an impossibly long time to hold out against either of those displays of masterful swordsmanship, with his sword at her breast. My heart soared; surely, I thought, now he would put her in her place, teach her what it meant that he was a man, and she but a female…

But it did not happen. She laughed, and he grinned, a brilliant flash of white teeth.

“See what I mean?” She said, and rolled her shoulders, stepping back. “I’ve needed this. There’s no one here who can really test me, and I’ve been getting sloppy.”

The comment stung; she’d faced the whole of the Tuchuk, and me, a warrior of Ko-Ro-Ba!

He snorted. “The Lady should have brought Stellead here if that was what you needed; a training dummy and someone to teach.”

“Hm.” She gave him a look out of the corner of her eye that shocked me; it was playful, and warm, and very unlike the coldness she usually showed. I wondered if there was a slave under that armor after all, but then of course that could not be; no self respecting man would let a woman who was his slave on the couches and in the furs carry on so in public. “No, I think I’m glad. You are much better looking.”

“Well.” He smiled again. “With all due respect to your lovely and very terrifying aunt, I must agree.”

There were more like her? The thought was horrific. But then they crossed swords again, and I could only watch.

She won that second bout, and the third. At the end of the third, they were staring at each other with a particular heat in their eyes that I knew well; I have seen lust, in many forms.

I was shocked again when she grasped the end of the short plait of his beard, pulled his head down with no great gentleness, and kissed him as thoroughly and passionately as a slave girl might.

I had thought that she must be frigid, in denial of her own womanhood, wishing to be a man and putting from her head all thought of licentiousness and lust. And yet here I saw her, dusty from the training ring, her sword still in her hand, still as unyielding as steel, her movements and body language all sureness and authority, and kissing like a passion slave.

It was shocking, as well; she was demanding of him, not begging, and instead of silks she was attired entirely unflatteringly in leather and wool. And yet somehow the magnificent warrior seemed as enthusiastic about this embrace as a Gorean man with a pleasure slave at his mercy.

She pulled back, but did not let go of his beard or break eye contact. “My tent, I think.” Her voice was all anticipation. “You can leave the boots on.”

“Only if you leave the sword belt on.” He took her hand, and they were gone.

A wagon is not really the most sound-proof of dwellings. Out of some terrible fascination, I drifted towards the wagon of the Ubara.

The noises were loud, and enthusiastic. They lasted quite some time. At times, it sounded as if a pitched battle was taking place within the wagon. It was, indeed, some hour and a half before the she-sleen emerged at last from the wagon. She looked quite pleased with herself. Her hair had been freshly plaited, and she was wearing new clothing. She headed off again towards the training fields, humming some tuneless little song to herself.

Foicatch exited the wagon some time later. He looked the way that a man only does after he has been well and thoroughly pleased. He had put on a tunic, but it was not laced up the front, and his magnificent musculature was still visible through the thin cloth anyways. He was eating a sar fruit. There were imprints of small, even teeth several places on his neck, I saw, and scratch marks down one forearm. He seemed equally pleased with himself.

He saw me staring, and gave me a wide grin. It was quite a smug grin.

“Jealous?” He laughed quietly, drew another sar fruit from his belt pouch, and tossed it my way; I caught it on reflex. “Can’t say I blame you. She’s magnificent, isn’t she?” He looked off in the direction of the practice rings, his expression fond.

“I would think,” I said. “That in going to bed with such a creature, you would risk death should you be found wanting.”

“Oh.” His grin grew wider. “Well, that’s gotten around already? It’s true, actually. She does kill lovers she finds unsatisfying.”

“Foicatch!” A sharp voice, as the she-sleen appeared again, and shook her head at her mate. “You are terrible.”

“Likes to nail the skulls up in the bedroom, just for motivation to any new ones.”

“Foicatch!”

“What? I’m only adding to your legend.”

She rolled her eyes, and gave him a look that was both fond and exasperated. “Terrible.” She vanished back into the wagon. “The council will be here soon to discuss strategy for gathering resources on the migration route. There’s many small towns and cities along the way, and I don’t intend to leave a single whip unburnt in our path.”

“And before you ask,” Foicatch said, as she vanished. “Yes, we’ve been married for thirty years.” A self satisfied grin. “Take from that what you will.”

I stared at him.

“What? Shut your mouth before a bird nests in there, man.”

“You…” I struggled for words. “But you are…you’re a red-blooded fighting man!”

A slight shrug. “Last time I checked, yes.” He finished the fruit.

“And you let your woman be…that?”

“Ah.” His expression shifted in a moment, going dark. “Right.” He gave me a disgusted sort of look. “To begin, there’s nothing on this world or any other that could make Systlin be anything but whatever she wishes to be; she’s herself, and that is why I love her.” The frown deepened. “Just because you lot on this world can only handle women fawning at your feet and fearing for their lives if they say one word against you, doesn’t mean we’re all such cowards on all worlds.”

That struck me deeply. I am many things, but a coward I have never been! I am a fighting man of Ko-Ro-Ba! I am a fighting man of Gor, where the strong rule!

“I am no coward!” I hissed, and had taken a step towards him before I knew it.

“Mmm.” He sounded unconvinced, and was entirely unconcerned at my anger. “Right. That’s why you keep women in chains.” He straightened a bit. I am a tall man, but he was taller, and I had to look up to stare angrily at him. Quite suddenly, in a flash, I wondered if this was how a slave girl felt, before a warrior such as myself, having to tilt her head back to look up at him. “Just because none of you can get a woman without buying her like a horse, chaining her to your bed, and beating her into submission…On my world, such a man would be ridiculed at the least and most pathetic of men.” A pause. “Well, and then executed. But also ridiculed.”

I stared. I had never heard it put so. “They are just women. They deserve no better”

I saw the blow coming, and moved to avoid it, but he was terribly quick and I was still recovering my full fitness since my broken leg. The strike across the face was sudden and sharp, and to my humiliation I realized that I had not been struck with a closed fist, as befitted a warrior, but backhanded like I was a misbehaving slave.

“Did that hurt?” His voice was low, and I realized that he was terribly angry. “Would you like it, to spend your life cringing, waiting for that at any moment because you did not stand correctly? It is braver, I think, to survive such a life than to be the monster who holds the other end of the chain. You are a coward, Tarl Cabot, and every man on this world is a coward if he thinks as you do. If you are afraid of women holding any role but your slaves, that is your failing, not that of men of other worlds.”

He spat in the dust at my feet. “Systlin said the men of this world were awful.” A shake of his head. “I didn’t realize how very much she was right. Go. Get away from this wagon. If I see you again today I might have to throttle you to death.” He turned, and ducked once more into the tent.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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I didn't know that you still wrote adsom.. if you're willing to take prompts - and it's totally okay if you aren't - I think I saw an old ask about Holland trying on kell's coat?

Hey, Anon! Sorry, I went to sleep last night just as this ask came in, I think. I took some time to think it over today and here, I have a little something for you. I hope you see it! Sorry again about missing it when it came in.

Holland Vosijk was not a man driven by flights of fancy. He had been, just a little, before Talya and the violent loss of his vision of a world he could simply live in. Now, though, everything but unwilling, unwanted survival had been burned away.

He would have called himself forged by fire, but most things forged become stronger afterward, and Holland rarely felt that way.

He was not a man of whims - he was instead the hand and arm that acted out the whims of his monarchs, his masters, that obeyed the pulse of the curse carved into his chest.

So when he stepped into the inn and finds a very recognizable coat draped over a chair, the urge to pick it up surprised him.

He wasn't aware he could still have sudden thoughts like that.

The coat's owner was up at the bar itself, seemingly three ales deep and working on the fourth, his pretty brother at his side. Holland tried not to look at either of them, hoping he could go unnoticed.

If there was a bevy of whispers, well, perhaps the little princes would assume they were about them, not him.

He stepped slowly up to the table the two must have been sitting at, littered with the empty finished ale cups, half-eaten meals, and the damned coat.

It looked normal enough - luxe soft wool heavily treated, impossibly expensive, in the deep saturated red that all these Arnesian people seemed to take as 'their' color. It was hideously unflattering to the prince, with his pale skin turned too reddened by it, his red hair made to look dull when Holland knew damn well Kell's hair was shining and coppery and gleamed like coins in the sun when Holland very much wasn't looking at him in the slightest-

Stop it.

He had come here to drink himself to senselessness in a world where his monarchs could not trace him, could not pay some citizen to speak of his whereabouts, could not torture some innocent youth who merely saw him pass on the street.

And yet...

He allowed his fingertips to run, just for a moment, along the line of the chair's back through the coat. He felt over a hint of golden thread sewn in along the lapel. Red and gold, pointless sickening luxury in a world grown fat on the magic it stole from a dying one.

In a sudden fit of violence, he jerked the jacket off the chair into his hands. The chair, knocked off-balance, toppled backwards onto the floor with a loud CRACK.

The inn went briefly quiet, and Holland felt two dozen pairs of Arnesian eyes quite suddenly land entirely and only on him.

Including those of the princes.

"Holland?" It was Rhy who spoke first, and drunk or not, the Arnesian prince slipped into an immediate smiling brilliance. Difficult to resist.

Holland, though, had an inborn defense against idiot princes. He, after all, spent his days and nights tortured by an idiot king.

"Have you come by to grace us with your company?" Rhy smiled, tilting his head. His amber-yellow eyes sparkled with the drink coursing through his veins.

If Astrid drank his blood, Holland thought idly, she might get drunk on it.

"No," he said, shortly, and turned, walking outside as quickly as he could, before the faintest blush in his cheeks might become visible, before they could read embarrassment even in his faded skin, his washed-out color.

He made it out into the street before he realized he still had Kell Maresh's coat in his hand.

He couldn't very well go back in and give it back, now could he? Admitting to that embarrassment would be a crime far worse than simple theft.

Instead, he walked quickly, turning left into an alleyway just as he heard the door open behind him and Kell's voice ring out, "Hey! He's got my coat!" with a note of nervous trepidation that had Holland rolling his eyes.

Like Holland didn't already know Kell smuggled between worlds. He'd been tracking him at it for months. Years, even.

That nasty little habit would get the redheaded Arnesian prince in trouble one day.

He came to a stop in a spot of near-total darkness down by the docks, the gentle sound of the river lapping at the shore a soothing balm. The Isle glowed a brilliant red, the usual nighttime sky in London, stars only vaguely visible through its haze.

They had so much magic. How little of it they could have shared and saved Makt.

Holland very nearly threw the coat in the damn Isle to drown the way he sometimes wished he could drown the entire Arnesian royal family before... before that damn whim struck again.

He turned the coat inside out.

The red became white, a white that nearly blinded him, with black thread. He frowned.

"No," He said out loud in the Royal language of Arnes.

He turned the coat inside-out again.

This time it was a pale robins-egg blue, with embroidered birds along the lapel. He wrinkled his nose.

"Absolutely not."

He tried one more time.

The third time, indeed, was the charm - the coat this time was a deep black, so solid it seemed to soak up light entirely. The embroidered cuffs and lapel were white, a series of spirals that made him think of a time long, long ago, when the doors were open to all.

It reminded him of how they once dressed in a London now dead and gone, entirely overrun by magic it grew addicted to rather than tightly controlled.

He sighed and undid the silver clasp for his half-cloak, pulling it off and carefully laying it over a short wrought-iron stair railing for a building next to him. The silver winked slightly in the red light of the Isle.

He slipped his arm into one sleeve and then the other, fully expecting them to be far too long - Kell was tall and lanky, after all, while Holland was far more compactly built, and short like the rest of Makt after a life spent working and fighting for every bite of food left.

The coat fit perfectly, as if tailored only for him.

He looked down at himself, and then up, finding a windowpane where he could see his own reflection.

He looked... Arnesian, almost.

Not quite - his hair was too faded, the deep black of his childhood gone charcoal-gray with the way the world had of leeching magic and life out of everyone. His skin was too pale, his Antari eye stood out like it did everywhere else.

And yet...

"Not bad," Kell Maresh said, and Holland's heart skipped a beat in surprise. It took all his willpower not to visibly flinch.

He instead turned smoothly, slowly, as if he had known the redhead was there all along. "I am glad you think so," He said in a dry voice devoid of sincerity. "It is unkind to follow a man at night, lile prins."

"Well, you ran off before I could talk to you," Kell pointed out, walking towards him. There was a high red spot in each cheek and a gleam to his blue eye that said he was still drunk.

"You could have as many coats as you wished, what is a few gold coins to a prince to replace it?"

"True. But that is my coat. It cannot be replaced."

"It could be my coat, if I wished it to be."

"It's not, though. Plus..." Kell's expression went into a kind of teasing look that made Holland uncomfortable and also oddly... interested in if this was what it looked like to see the Maresh prince flirt. It was awkward. It was endearing. "It is also unkind to steal a drunk man's clothing."

Holland hummed. "I am not a man known for kindness," He said, sliding the coat back off and folding it over his arm.

When Kell came closer - and he smelled of the flowery odd sort of beer they made and drank here, damn near wine. "And yet I think you have kindness in you that you will never express."

Holland stared at him, shocked. Kell Maresh often seemed to have little more sense than the gods gave a goat, and yet...

Perhaps the beer had loosened some kind of wisdom in him. There were stranger, less believable things in the worlds.

He held his hand out for the coat, and Holland, still too surprised to really think, simply handed it back. "Thank you," Kell said. He flipped the coat inside-out twice, until it was back to the color and style he liked, and slipped it on. "Why did you take it?"

"I don't know." It was, for once, a truly honest answer.

Kell considered, and then nodded, slowly. "I'll see you around," He said, stood there awkwardly waiting for Holland to reciprocate the farewell and receiving only silence in return, and then he turned and walked away, back towards the inn and his brother.

Holland watched him go, not quite sure what held him to the spot, but he found himself unwilling to move until the last sight of the other Antari's red hair shimmering with the light of the Isle was gone.

Holland inhaled, and the air smelled of roses, with a kind of steel underneath.

"For some reason," he murmured, "I genuinely don't want them to make me kill you."

Perhaps he could find some other way.

#adsom #adsom fanfiction #adsom fanfic #a darker shade of magic #kell maresh #holland vosijk #agos #acol #ve schwab #some light hinted at kelland here but mostly canon compliant #reluctantly so

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oh-for-fic-sake · 4 years

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Breeding A Human

Masterlist

READ THE WARNINGS THIS IS DARK!!!

Clark shows up to a a volatile murder and suicide attempt to late, usually everyone waits for him to fly over and save the day, yet one woman takes matters into her own hands and stirs up some troubling feelings in the man of steel at the same time. And it begs the question Whats a kryptonian supposed to do when he finds his mate?

Warnings: Adult situations +18, Smut, Dub con, Non con, Dark themes, Stalker,Emotional manipulation, Yandere,Breeding kink, Forced?Mating bond, Froced Mateing, Obsessive character ,Swearing, Spitting, Slight temperature play.

A/n: Sooo...Working on Trohpy is doing my nut it at the moment...I took a day off of it so I can go back with fresh eyes tomorrow but I'm in a yandere mood still so how about a dark supaman x reader smutshot that sort of wrote itself?

Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @magdelen69 @iloveyouyen

You watched gasping in horror as police surrounded the desperate man. He was on the bridge like on the bridge ready to jump into the water of the bay below. He waved a gun around pointing it at any who approached warding them off. As if that wasn't bad enough he had a child in his arms, his child she was screaming scared stiff, she couldn't have been older then four five wearing a thick wool pale pink dress, screaming to her daddy 'to get her down she didn't like it'. The bridge although now closed was packed the crowd grew as pedestrians gathered to watch, not to see if the police could talk him down god no. They watched to see if superman would show wanting to get a look at the godlike man. To get a video or photo to put on their social media.

The desperate man was shouting threatening to do it. The officers were shouting warning him to put down his weapon. but you seemed to be the only one to listen to what the man was saying.'If I can't have her neither can she!' thrown in to his frantic rant. You got the gist of his issue, he had either lost custody or the mother was with holding his daughter from him, either way he'd felt the need to kidnap his own daughter and threaten her life in a desperate attempt to be with her somehow. You were pushed back into the railing as the crowd moved growing as everyone came to see the fuss many holding up their phones filming what was promising to be stand off.

You were sickened It was clear the man needed help not a fucking audience not wanting to be apart of it you turned walking away. Then your stomach dropped. There was a second of panicked yelling then bullets you turned in time to see the man fall limply off the railing his little girl screeched as she plummeted with him to the freezing deep water below that separated metropolis and Gotham. Everyone gasped moving to get a look, you ran to the railing looking as the two hit the water and disappeared. Superman hadn't showed in time. You watched as it dawned on the people around you that no one was surfacing. The man had been shot and the little girl was probably being held under by the current. No one did anything! they just watched they were standing by as a little girl drowned!.

You quickly moved you were a strong swimmer you might be able to get her. Without much of a thought you shrugged your coat off throwing your bag and climbed hearing the shouts of the officers to stay still or they'd arrest you. You ignored them diving off the railing before any one could stop you taking a deep breath as you fell down to the water. It was a shock, the freezing water hit you like a brick wall but you kept going. You knew these waters you'd been swimming them years doing lengths back and forth across them as training, the current in this part was dangerous for anyone who didn't or couldn't swim it swooped down, she would be deeper.

You kicked your feet hoping she was alright that you'd find her. You saw a movement a light fabric, it was her! then kicked your feet faster she appeared slowly kicking and clawing at the water fighting to beat the current. She reached for you kicking wildly she wouldn't last long, you followed her descent reaching her and latched onto her. She grabbed you painfully tight you moved her as you let the current carry your legs below you turning you upright. Your hands found her legs and pulled wrapping them around your waist she hung on digging her little shoes into you making you wince. You ignored it and made a quick dash for the surface you moved quickly over coming the current that swept to the bed of the bay. you could fight it but a tiny thing like her had no hope. You watched as the surface got closer, the sun brighter glittering on the surface then as quick as you could you broke the surface. She gasped gulping huge breaths crying and coughing up water her tiny body heaving you looked up everyone had there phones out filming. You felt your blood boil, this is what we have come to? watching, posting and sharing instead of helping! this was life or death and they were doing nothing!

You looked to the girl she was wet, cold and scared.But alive. You shushed her treading water kicking fast to keep you both above the waves. "You're okay! I got you I got you!" she cried nodding coughing a little holding onto you for dear life pleading not to let he go. You moved trying to see how you were going to get out either side of the bridge was tall docks no ladders or access. Normally you'd swim up river slightly to the bay there was pedestrian access but she was to cold as it was shed freeze and get hypothermia, she was already shivering lips turning blue.

It was the shouts of the crowd that alerted you to his arrival, he was above you both before thinking you moved trying to hoist the girl up to him."Take her quick! Shes freezing already!" he looked at you confused, didn’t you need help to? normally people clambered to be saved by him. He moved and bent down hoisting you both out of the water with one hand then moved cradling you in one arm holding the small girl on his hip.

"Hold on tight you two" you both did she squealed as you were rushed through the air within seconds you were back on the bridge he landed softly by the officers but didn't release you.

"Are you alright? not hurt are you? Either of you?" you shook your head looking to the child who also shook her head

"C-cold" she mumbled he rubbed her back trying to get some warmth you wriggled trying to get out of his grip not wanting someone to use it as a photo op but he didn't let you down. If anything he tightened his arm around you it could have been taken as a reprimand?. A paramedic came over with a blanket and wrapped up the shaken child he let the woman take her. You heard her cry out as her mother rushed forward clutching her tight. You smiled she will be fine now.

"Is she okay?" You looked seeing another paramedic standing before you. You made to jump down out of his hold but once again he held firm and twisted you away slightly. He moved looking down you froze what was?...was he looking at you? Your suspicions were confirmed when he spoke.

"Shes fine nothing broken or fractured just cold" you flushed unsure what to make of a man, a stranger just eyeing up your insides.

"I will get a blanket for her"

"No need I will take care of her... She just needs to get home a warm bath and bed" the woman nodded uncertain it would seem you both thought it a little strange you turned and found him once again staring at you intently you cleared your throat.

"Could erm could you put me down please..I want to get out of here...Go and warm up somewhere" he let go of your legs letting them slip down to the floor you were tall for a woman he noted as you stood full height you came up to his nose. He blinked to be honest the staring was unsettling he held you tight to himself still reluctant to release you. You managed to somehow twist away from him making him grunt at you softly . You moved cursing as finally the cool water began taking its toll on you and you shivered.

You spoke as you worked on getting as much water as you could out of the tight knit sweater you wore

"Thank you for getting us out...I wasn't sure what to do she wouldn't have made it to the stairs by the docks" he looked at you softly but there was an admiration there. His staring was now different almost as if he had decided something.

"I'm just sorry I wasn't there fast a enough...Luckily you stepped in, she's alive because of you... But you were the only one who tried to help, put yourself at risk why?" you blinked at him not expecting his question.

"I wasn't going to watch her die! I'm not like them." you motioned to everyone filming and taking photos. He looked at the crowd with a blank look then back to you he frowned a little still not understanding. You sighed giving up on your sweater and looked up at him.

"I just..I don't know I mean you help people cos you know you can right? That’s what this was, fights, guns I can't deal with that but I'm a strong swimmer so I could help her not that spectacular or brave or what ever"

"But...It is no one else here tried just you, normally people don't bother they wait for me you didn't, its nothing to be sniffed at" you frowned at him getting annoyed now.

"I know that and it pisses me off.No offense but just because your here doesn't mean we have to stop trying to help ourselves! no one else was going to get to her and that water is dangerous I've been swimming it for years! she would have died...I had to do something I couldn't just watch when I knew what was going to happen.

"It was almost suicide...Then even in the water you tried handing her to me you didn't you want me to get you both out?" you shrugged moving your hands around yourself rubbing up and down really shaking now wishing he let the woman give you a fucking blanket as your clothes clung to you drenched, the cold was seeping into your bones creating an uncomfortable ache. You’d never know that he had wanted you to slide back up against him, he wanted to warm you with his own body heat.

Clark regarded you carefully there was something, he couldn't place his finger on it but you just got to him. He had seen you in the water grabbing the girl and surfacing. There was instantly something, when you broke through the surface his world stopped, he stopped mid flight, he could smell you a scent he has never happened across before his eyes had picked up on you from the city, honed in like a beacon he wanted you. He wasn't sure in what way but he did. He wanted to just scoop you up and fly you off somewhere anywhere just as long as you was with him. The need was almost a pain, a pit in his chest. It was a pull vibrating in his nerves that was constricting and consuming the hole in his chest making it hard to breath, an impulse to just take you, but he didn't understand whether it was to take you away? or to pin you down and take you.

That was when he snapped out of it enough to come and actually get you out of the water. Once he held you he didn’t want to let go you were cold shuddering yet offered the girl up first. You were beautiful and kind; you must have been out of all those people standing watching you were the one to make the leap. It was you who dived in after the child, that says a lot about your character.

He licked his lips really taking you in tall for a woman tho smaller than him. He swept his gaze across your form appreciating the way your clothes clung to you showing off a curvy supple form your nipples tempted him as they stood out from the cold. With your arms crossed you'd pressed the two mounds together showing off a delicious full bust. He was so invested in undressing you with his eyes he nearly missed your answer."I forgot..Didn't think I just knew she had to be out of the water asap" whatever he was going to say was cut off as an officer quickly came up behind you and grabbed your arms pulling them behind you painfully. You yelped as your arms were twisted behind you. You frowned did he just growl at the officer?

"Y/n Y/l/N you are under arrest under section-" you couldn't believe it! under arrest for saving someone, you looked around fearfully you'd never been in trouble before. Would you need a lawyer? How will you get home? Oh god how much is this going to cost?

Clark growled watching you wince and panic obviously frightened as the officer began handcuffing you placing you under arrest. Without thinking he placed a hand on the mans arm squeezing making the man wince then flinch as the man of steel cast a fierce look to him. Everyone froze including Clark. What the fuck was he doing? Protecting whats his! he answered his own thought immediately it shocked him but he understood. She was his now. He was unsure what being his meant but the possessive thought felt right, natural maybe this was just some new instinctual thing? that came with age. After all he wasn't human maybe kryptonian's had something like a second puberty? all he knew was that the new the need to protect you was absolute and unwavering, he would not let you leave with this officer. No. You were leaving with him.

"Su-Superman Sir?" Clark flicked his blue gaze from his woman to the officer a wave of anger? need?...He wasn't sure what to call it but it was strong and all consuming.

"No, I'm afraid I can't let you do that. If it wasn't for her that little girl would have drowned and I'm not letting you arrest her for it" the man trembled under the hero's stern gaze then looked to his sheriff for help the other officer was at a loss, the hero had never intervened in an arrest before and it wasn't like the police could over come him.

"I'm not arresting her for that, I'm arresting her for jumping, base jumping off public highways is an offense...Its against the law jumping from the bridge-" you twisted in his grip

"I only jumped to save her! I didn't see you diving in to help!" you gasped as superman silenced you he shushed you quickly.

"Your not arresting her at all" the officer was stuck he eyed him and hesitated "She has to be-"

"Your not arresting her" and with that said he held on to your arm pressing a hand to the officers chest and with a quick gentle shunt the officer was no longer holding you. He was stumbling back Clark felt a sense of pride as you held his wrist a gentle reassuring hold once making sure you was unharmed he turned glaring down at the police.

He moved holding your wrist twisting you behind on of his shoulders keeping you there becoming a barrier between you and the officers. The message was clear. They would be going through him before they got to you, you could hear many women in the crowd swooning as the man of steel protected you, others wondered out loud if you knew him or better yet were you dateing him?. You blinked looking up at him in awe, he going to stop them arresting you? go against the law? The officer was at a loss and looked for help from the others his sheriff stepped in.

"I suppose since she did save the poor girl we can overlook her infringement...Can't we officer Barns?" the officer nodded you sighed in relief Superman looked to the hand bag and coat on the floor by police.

"Is that yours?" you nodded meekly and in seconds you was cradled in his arms bag on your stomach and coat draped over your freezing form and you were both off.

"Close your eyes" you did quickly squeezing his arm on your tummy tight as he left the scene.

Clark shook his head as he flew to the city landing on one of the lower buildings. He needed to stop, to calm him self his thoughts were raging, he found himself thinking of where he could keep you,where he could put you so you'd be safe. He had almost changed direction to the fortress the only thing stopping him was the fact you were wet and cold as it is your freeze in moments and that was not an option. Something was wrong with him, he felt pulled to you unlike anything he had ever experienced before. You shivered looking up at him quizzically when he didn't put you down if anything he clutched you tighter...Was he smelling you? you shook your head must be and alien thing.

"Where do you live? I'll take you home you need to dry off and warm up." you blinked at him his voice was different more of a growl that reverberated through you, you chose to ignore it and quickly stuttered out your address through chattering teeth. He nodded he knew the place with a quick 'hang on' you were off again withing moments you’d landed outside your small house with a light thud, the kids playing on the street stared gobsmacked as the hero placed you on your feet carefully.You wobbled feeling drained your body more concerned with shivering and conserving heat more then trying to work, but he was quick to support you ,you flushed uneasy as he stared at you his breathing faster then regular but maybe flying took it out of him? you didn't know.

"You go have a bath...Warm not hot you'll get ill, then get to bed take care okay?" you nodded thanking him once again he didn't leave until you were in your house safe and sound.

He hovered high hidden in the clouds above your home looking around for some reason committing its location to memory, drawing maps and estimations in his head of how far away you was from his home and work. Something about you had captured him, it felt primal a pull ingrained into his being instinct wanting him to watch over you, protect you. He looked down into the roof of your home seeing right threw into your bathroom. You was doing what you were told. Good. He watched you for a few moments admiring you as you stripped naked, he could hear you grumbling to yourself as you pulled a soaked pantyliner from your underwear folding it up in a nappy bag then binning it.That must have been the scent drawing him to you, you was fertile, ripe. He shivered watching still entranced as you lowered yourself into the hot water yelping.

He sighed and grit his teeth you hadn't listened properly, you should have heeded him. He watched as you moved the wash cloth across your chest and tummy. For a self proclaimed swimmer you were curvy and soft, the type of woman you'd want to make a mother out of. He froze and smiled. Yes pregnancy would suit you well. He was overcome with the overwhelming urge to go and do just that. To breed you. The shiver down his spine and low growl emitting from his chest had settled it. That’s what he wanted, the root of these urges he wanted to fuck. Not just fuck he wanted to plough into your ripe soft body and impregnate you, force you to take his load until you was full, to rut into you until you were shaking and wailing! he groaned drawing in a deep breath through his nose taking in your tantalizing scent. Oh yes. He wanted to fill you and watch you grow with his seed. Shaking his head he moved he had to get out of here before he did do something he really shouldn't.

You woke up in a sweat heaving deep breaths quickly turning on your beside light sitting up pressing the hair out of your face. You did this every night now, it was maddening. You couldn't sleep soundly not since the bridge incident, you'd left it three weeks before you went to the doctor's. He gave you some pills to help with anxiety and sleeping some for sleep but neither seemed to be working. You were being watched you just knew, you felt haunted day and night by something not someone, something.

Call it a sixth sense or vibes but you knew what you felt. Eyes watching you, undressing you a hungry gaze that felt powerful and frightening. You tried telling yourself you was paranoid or had some fucking ptsd shit over seeing that little girl almost drown, but you knew it wasn't. It was worse at night during the day it wasn't there as much you couldn't feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end or the cool chill down your spine. Someone was watching you inside your house, you didn't know how or why but you were certain.

You began closing your curtains and keeping them closed even buying all new wooden venitian blinds but still they were watching. It terrified you. You curled up into yourself crying rocking back and forth. Three months, three long months this had been happening, you lost sleep you didn't eat to the point you were loosing weight and constantly looking over your shoulder but you never saw anyone. Never saw anything just the same four walls of your home like always.

"Please...please I know your there stop...Just stop I don't know what you want from me" you whispered into your folded arms cradling your knees. You screamed jumping at a knock on your window, looking up you saw someone you thought you'd never see again.

He hovered there dressed in his suit of blue and red hope splayed across his chest. He looked worried? you moved slowly to the window opening it for him. He moved so quickly you could barely register and landed behind you softly.

"Are you alright? I heard you as I was passing thought I'd check it out." you nodded to him then shook your head no you were not alright. You was alone,scared and vulnerable. Unable to hold back your sobs any longer. He moved quickly wrapping you in his arms tightly, you held onto him willing yourself to stop your dramatic crying.

He took a deep breath placing a hand to your head scratching your scalp softly as much as he hated to admit it he was enjoying the way your sobs vibrated through him, the proof of how close he was holding you, that you let him hold you,let him comfort you.

"Whats happened? Are you hurt? Please tell me so I can help" he didn't need to ask he knew what was wrong somehow you had picked up on him you were perceptive for a human it was good, it would ensure his children's safety when he wasn't around. He wasn't stalking you. He wasn't stalking. He was guarding you, his mate. He had finally put a name to describe what you were. You were his mate you must be! he didn't react this way to other females his need to breed you was overwhelming and he was stumped on what to do about it.

He had tried to get the ball rolling by coming by asking for an interview as Clark the reporter but you'd shut him down and slammed the door in his face. He was angry at first, how dare you try to shut him out?!of all people you were his. You should welcome him! you should offer everything you had to him bend to his will as and when he wanted.

However once he calmed down he had reasoned with himself you didn't know it was him so he could forgive you for that. It was good in a way you'd shut out what you thought was another male. So past all the anger he was happy you'd thrown out Clark because you were waiting for him. You were faithful to him. He was here at least once every night protecting you from... Well he wasn't sure but he was protecting you from something. You shook harder sobs overcoming you, you couldn't speak. He moved slipping his arm below your knees scooping you up and sat on the bed cradling you.

"shh its okay I'm here I'll protect you I promise...Did you have a bad dream?" you shook your head and tried wriggling out of his arms.

"N-No I didn't its...I'm...Someones been watching me...Their here every night and I don't know who?! or-or where they are but they are here always! I'm scared! so scared and tired I can't sleep and everyone I've spoken to thinks I'm mad! but I'm not, I'm not mad!" he sighed looking around the room rocking you still letting you catch your breath.

He felt bad but still he had to be here. He had to look after you. He made a show of turning his head casting his eyes a full 360.

"There isn't anyone here but us...Tell you what how about I watch out for you hmm? Make sure no one bothers you" you blinked up at him hopeful.

"Yo-you'd do that for me? Really you don't think I'm going round the twist?" He smiled down at you petting your hair lightly tucking it from out of your face. A shadow was cast over his face making him look sinister for a second before he moved tilting his head at you.

"I will do one better, I will come over every night..I have been meaning to come and see you..To see if you was okay and I have been...well I-I err just wanted to see you again but... I had no reason to, honestly I can’t get you off my mind, I’ve tried but your...you’ve enchanted me...wanted to see you I’ve past by many times but how do I... you know. I can't exactly ask to take you out to dinner now can I?.." You froze what? Dinner? He wants to? Did he just admit to having a crush? You flushed blinking confused.

He grinned at you listening to your pulse it quickened your eye blew wide. You were interested. Good. It would be easier.

"What you mean you-" He placed a finger to your lips.

"Shh not now just get some sleep I will watch over you tonight and see you tomorrow." You let out a breath frowning slightly.

"What you mean stay in here? What about the city? If something happens you need to go you cant just..." you trailed off as he laid you in your bed tucking you in leaving no room for arguing. That’s what he loved about you from watching guarding you he had noticed you were pure, kind, your moral compass was true and you held everyone to the same standard you wanted people to be better. For society to be better.

He smiled as he moved the covers over your confused form enjoying tending to you. "No Its not proper for me to stay in this room just yet...I will be up there" he nodded his head to the roof above you.

"I will watch over the house, if I’m needed in the city then I will leave and be back before you know it...No one will harm you, not while I'm around I promise" he sat on the side of the bed pulling your comforter higher pressing his hands along your sides making sure you were snug.

"If you need me just call" he leant over, you thought he was going to kiss you but instead he leaned to your head and smelt you again.

"Sweet dreams...Like I said I'm just outside I wont let anything hurt you mate...Okay...Trust me?" You nodded meekly and he grinned then just like that he was gone.

You stayed like that for what seemed hours you looked straight up to your ceiling. It was unnerving and reassuring having him guard you but why? Why would he do such a thing? You got the feeling he didn't do this for everyone. But then again he did sort of admit to having feelings for you. Maybe he did like you and he had a point he cant just ask you out so maybe this was his comprise. You got drowsy as your thoughts began mingling confused half sentences made you feel tired. You needed some sleep you could think in the morning and you was feeling much better that he was here or said he was here. Even tho the eyes were watching you still, the feeling was there but you could finally sleep knowing that someone was there for you, you had no doubt that he would interfere if something did happen. By this point you didnt have it in you to question why he was helping you again or what he meant earlier any more you just had to rest, thankfully it wasn't to long before you fell into a restless sleep.

He hovered above your home once again watching and listening pleased with himself. He had approached you things had gone well he made himself clear. well he thought it was clear, he would look out for you because you were his mate, he even called you by your title and you did argue you just accepted it, accepted him. He felt like he was on cloud nine his eyes looked down to you seeing you settle, wriggling into the covers taking glances up as if you could see him there protecting you. Once you was asleep he stayed for hours, there was no need really you were frightened by him but he would overlook that infavour of cherishing this moment, the moment when you had allowed him to guard you, you were down there you knew he was looking after you until the sun was beginning to rise. Nothing happened in the city he laid back lounging in the air absorbing the rays from the sun they would make up for his lack of sleep.

But finally and regretfully he had to leave. He sighed and left with a loud crack across the sky. He wanted you to know he had stayed. He swerved in the air making the short trip home. He was happy he had made progress and now could approach you each night without any suspicion or reason he could be near you and in time he would hold you again, caress you and love you. he changed quickly and got ready for his day at the office a smile on his face life was good.

You awoke with a start hearing a huge sound like thunder but not.it took you a moment to get your bearings but as soon as you did last night came back to you. Superman, he was here he helped you and watched over you for the night. That sound it wasn’t thunder It was him. You smiled slightly still unsure of what had actually happened last night but he must have kept true to his word and stayed the whole night, for you. You felt lighter that feeling was gone you could breath. Slowly you got out of bed making your way to the bathroom to begin your day. Feeling dare you say at ease, a tiny slither of hope crept through you, could this be the start of you finally getting back to normal. You bloody hoped so.

He spent the next few weeks frequenting your house sometimes you'd invite him in and you'd talk until you got tired then he would put you to bed..It was sweet and comforting. You were always nervous but he assumed that was just because you liked him. He had butterflies in his stomach when he saw you to. He had looked around your home smiling taking in your taste in decor. You had style homey and chic all in one, you'd do wonders with the house he was preparing once he moved you in.

He saw you as much as he could even following you in town a few times. He hadn't had to save you which was a shame; not that he wanted you in danger god no! but it would be nice to have an excuse to swoop in and save you once in a while. he couldn't very well walk down the street with you or date you in a normal sense but things were going swimmingly, but being unable to date you in public was also probably for the better. He did not like some of your acquaintances men mostly. He warn you to stay away from them they wasn't good for you but you’d ignored him.

He will admit he was displeased, he despised it but it would seem you got on with men more then women, you probably wouldn't if you had any idea of the things they whispered among themselves. Three of the men in your group of friend's wanted to fuck you, two of which had a fucking bet. Literally they wanted to see who'd fuck you first. It was a bet that they wouldn't ever accomplish, if they went to far he would make sure they wouldn't have anything to fuck a woman with.

No one was ever going to fuck you apart from him. And if they did force him to intervene...Well number one, he could do it so fast they would never know who or what fucking happened, two they'd probably bleed to death before getting help and three if they did survive and somehow knew it was him? no one would believe them. He was superman. A hero, the earths symbol of hope. Poster child of justice and peace. Who would believe that he flew down and ripped a couple of guys cocks off. Not many.

He didn't even like your toys, he wasn't jealous but he would rather you just come out and tell him. Just ask him to fuck you, to breech your luxurious feminine body and mark you, fill you until you was heavy with his seed;his child. You hadn't ever called out to him verbally as you withered and grinded on your selection of toys. But he supposed that was because you thought he would hear. You was a shy thing when it boiled down to it. But you were his, his mate, his other half so it was obviously him you were thinking of in those rare moments you allowed yourself. There has been a few mishaps in the beginning of your relationship he would admit. You was reluctant to let him touch you but now you'd gotten used to it! He could hold you to him and give you small caresses and such you had panicked when he tried kissing you, you were skittish he let it slide after all you he could wait for you, you'd come around. Besides he thought it was cute that you resisted him a little.

Currently he was guarding you in town, you'd left the house an hour ago. He had heard you enter the city and immediately dropped out of the office to investigate, he didn't like you out and about alone...or with your friends for that matter you were safe at home. For some reason you'd come over to the business park in the city he was curious as to why you'd venture out here normally you did shopping online now and only left your house when absolutely necessary. With a quick jerk to his head he looked down at the sound of sirens and screeching tires. What? Ah! it was an accident waiting to happen... Well might as well sort this out hey if what he does causes traffic you might even agree to a lift from him!

An overzealous police chase was speeding down the main street ducking in and out of the traffic causing a panic, they were coming from down town, jewellery thieves from what he could make out on the radios. Perfect. He ascended twisting then shot down landing on the car crushing the hood and flipping it before it could hit anyone but parts of the car flew through the air.

It landed in the center of the busy road glass fuel and oil everywhere. The road would be cornered off for clean up. So excited about the possibility of flying you home he had come in to fast again... He sighed trying to hide a grin, he would have a reason to see you in broad daylight! Around other people they would see him with you! They would know your his! he could flaunt your budding relationship. He tried containing his glee looking to the police unit who were surrounding the upturned car he moved flipping it back onto its wheels with a single hand before nodding dutifully to the officers as they thanked him others screaming orders to the criminals in the car. He looked around allowing the crowd a few moments to snap their silly pictures then shot back off into the clouds, he had more important things to do.

Now where had you got to... He closed his eyes listening he smiled picking up on your sweet melodious voice. To his left. He grinned moving lower to hear what you were up to as he listened his blood ran cold his body shook with fear and rage. Absolutely fucking not!

You were wrong! So so wrong! You hadn't got back to normal if anything you were so far from your normality that you believe you was going mad! The only time you felt sane and safe was when a certain kryptonian was around you. And even then that was taking a turn for the worst.

It had been another few weeks and since having the hero in your house you now had the horrid hunted feeling when out and about town in daylight which was new. Sure you could sleep at night somewhat now Superman Kal was there with you. You'd developed what you could call a friendship of a sorts. It was weird at first he did strange things. He sniffed you a lot and seemed to always have to be touching you, hugging ,holding hands he always had a palm on you or brushing up against him. You'd resisted at first but he was...persistent not in a bad way, it was like he couldn't help it like he was a hugger by nature sort of thing.

He was kind and gentle but he, there was something that sent red flags and you couldn't put your finger on it. He hadn't hurt you or insulted you but he seemed bossy? And passive aggressive he gave you what he called advice but it felt more like orders and got huffy if you didn't follow his 'advice' like a man child. And he did have a thing about safety. Its not safe to go there its not safe to do that bla bla bla. According to him you should just stay within your house and wait for him to come over.

Which is what you did in the end after a while of his griping you gave in. You found yourself being drawn in, you trusted him so you began to listen now you'd only leave the house if you absolutely needed to. Even though he said he made sure to always listen out for you. You'd laughed him off saying that was silly he couldn't be there all the time, but his face was set stern.

"Of course I can! I'm always here for you I could pick out your heartbeat, your voice from across the continent if I wanted to..No matter when or where if you need me just shout I will be there to protect you, I'm always here to protect you mate." It was weird and not once has he ever called you by your name it was always your pet name. Mate. You didn't ever call him out on it, you thought it was just a term for your friendship...The English always call there friends mate maybe he had been abroad and picked up on some slang, I mean if you could fly across the world in minuets you'd definitely spend time in other countries!

It was only another week later that you became worried, your paranoia had began to get out of control and you had begun to cling to him now, he didn't seem to mind in fact he seemed to enjoy your new found need for him to be around you. He held a smug look as you'd tell him he was the only thing keeping you together right now, that you were so grateful to him. But in the background you knew it was doing no good you were trapped. It was a slow descent into madness, paranoia and anxiety was the only constant, you felt sick when alone and had multiple panic attacks over the smallest things, like having to leave the house to get the mail. You'd spoke to him about getting help, seeing a therapist but he had persuaded you not to. He said he would help you through it, he would be here for you and that you can talk to him you believed him. A few days later when you'd argued with him over it he had stated quite bluntly that you couldn't afford it and you didn't need the money worry on top of everything else. It was a vindictive move on his part but once again he was right so you let it go. All his comment did was get you into an even worse state.

He was right you didn't need to pay someone to talk to not when you had him, he was a good listener he always listened he never judged and when he did throw in his opinions it was always with your best interest at heart..On the topic of money he had also convinced you to stop your medication

"It obviously isn't doing you any good, why pump your body with drugs if they aren't helping you mate?...You don't need them please....Don’t you trust me?" had you not been in such a vulnerable state you would have questioned him but no once again you trusted him to have your best interests at heart.

But through all this nothing was mentioned about his crush which you was thankful for. Your not to sure how you can turn down the man of steel but you'd have to. In the state you were in you couldn't pursue a relationship you had to get better!. You thought he had understood that without needing to say it. But then there was the attempted kiss a few days ago.

He was at your bedroom window, you'd opened it desperate for his visit carving to speak with him for a bit. You needed the company you had isolated yourself in fear of everyone around you, one of them was the culprit, the start of all this! you couldn't trust them but you could trust him. He protected you he helped you and listened. You liked to think you acted normal around him but in reality you knew he knew how sick you was. You'd leaned out a little to far for his liking and he had grabbed your shoulders and pressed you back gently.

"Hey! no mate back inside you'll fall I know you will I can't have that!" You giggled putting your hands on his once sliding then off. You leaned out again closer towards him.

"You saying you wouldn't catch me Kal? Hurt my feelings there-" he growled interrupting you with a fierce snarl

"Of course I would mate! I will always catch you! Never ever say something that stupid to me again!" You laughed him off waving your hand brushing off the words as banter not registering how serious he sounded. You'd been alone for to long now and just wanted some interaction,you loved his visits it was the only time you felt safe.

"I was teasing geez I know you wont let anything happen to me by now you love me to much~" he had just hummed a soft look across his face mumbling under his breath.

"I do" he licked his lips leaning in faster then you could really stop him, you tried shimmying back yourself back into the room but he held your wrist keeping you half hanging out. He stopped a hairs breath away from your lips. You froze tensing worried he would do it, that he would try and take a step you didn't want. He moved slower but you managed to dodge twisting your face pretending peek back at the clock in your room. He sighed as his lips met your cheek instead of their intended target. He moved his lips to your ear and spoke in a low baritone voice, he sounded disappointed.

"Get back inside, go to bed you need sleep. You had an early morning I will see you tomorrow mate." He was gone before you could see the dire look across his face

You shook your head after he had left, you panicked you were devastated what if he didn't come back? what if that was it? you'd never see him again? you had been a wreck that day crying yourself into hysterics thinking that was it! that night he had been a few hours late only adding to your turmoil. When he had arrived he quickly wrapped you up in his arms enjoying how you clutched at him so desperately. It may have been cruel to let you dwell in your pain a few hours longer, but he had to, it was a punishment for the way you'd refused him. He needed you to realize you were his. You needed him as much as he needed you. When he had come around he acted as if nothing happened ignoring the obvious rejection he simply ignored what he didn't like. He didn't like the almost kiss, didn't like that you'd pulled away so in his eyes it didn't happen. And that in itself was enough for you to not want a relationship like that with him.

It was then you decided enough was enough, as much as he had tried to help it just wasn't working you needed a change a new start you had made the drastic decision to move back home to central city. You were still being observed you didn't feel safe in your own home and that was something you couldn't see changing so today you were off to see an estate agent. You hadn't spoke to him about it, honestly you were dreading his reaction but he could always visit you travel wont really be an issue the talk was going to uncomfortable but it was necessary you couldn't stay here, not any more it was making you sick so today you was looking at property options you owned your house so was going to see how much they would buy it for. You gulped as you made your way out of your home anxious and shaking, this is why you were leaving something as simple as leaving the house brought a terror in your stomach so sickening you could barely function. You hoped you calmed down by the time you got to the office...But you doubted it. Once you were near the city that whole in your chest opened again your windpipe clenched painfully making it hard to breath. You were going to panic! you sat back on the seat of the bus you were stuck in traffic going nowhere fast. You wavered taking deep breaths closing your eyes just about ready to cry then you heard the gasps of 'superman' you turned quickly looking to the sky seeing him hovering looking down to your direction almost as if he was looking at you. You sighed and nodded to yourself. he was there. he was looking out for you.you calmed down inside you that feeling was still there that awful awful prey like feeling, but knowing he was around made you feel slightly better.

You sat with the woman brushing of your anxiety being down to the move. you looked at what they would effectively swap your home for, they were nice most in the suburbs two beds one caught your eye. it was a detached three bed house nice yard and a quaint neighborhood. You knew the area there was plenty of job opportunities in the local high street great transport links. you smiled.

"I like that one...Its a block away from my parents where I grew up... could I go see it? I am definitely interested." she smiled brightly as you said that seeing a sale in her sights.

"Yes of course..Its a lovely area as I’m sure you know very friendly which is hard to come by in these times...its around $25 000 under budget for what we would offer you on your place so you would also get change" she laughed you forced a chuckle just wanting this over asap.

"Wait what? I only paid around $140.000 for mine...Why the sudden change?." she chuckled

"Since Superman's appearance house prices in Metropolis have shot up no one moves out but everyone wants to be here to get a look at him!...We are the home to the only known alien on earth..People want to be here they believe its now one of the safest places in the country if not earth" you nodded it did make sense when she put it like that.

"Well at least I could decorate... is it empty now?" she smiled nodding shuffling the papers taking away the other houses seeing as you wasn't interested.

"Yes it is, ready to be moved into, if you like it and all goes well you will be able to pick up the keys in say three to four weeks? we even have a moving service for an extra fee packing delivering and unloading." you nodded looking a the pale green painted house. Yes you would go look. You sat and arranged a visit for a weeks time.

You left feeling lighter yet only for a few seconds when you got to the main road you screamed as before you could even blink and jump back at the sound of his violent landing Kal had grasped you roughly and took off again leaving a huge crater. You screamed as he did one huge swoop across the city to your home. You swore at him as he landed pushing you to your door. you turned to curse him out but stopped.

"What are you?" he cut you off snarling a single word twisting you roughly to the door.

"IN!" you gulped swallowing for the first time you were scared of him, frightened you moved opening the door with shaky hands and stepped inside he followed closely rage flooding his system. he directed you to your living room sitting you down.

"Your not leaving me mate...Your not going anywhere!,You are mine! My mate MINE!" he shouted making you squeak and flinch reminded of just how strong he was as his voice alone hurt your ears. He paced before you for a second then sat on your coffee table and leaned forward sharply pointing a finger at you.

"Y-You wasn't...Your not trying to leave me are you? I-I we were just about to start our life together..Why? Why would you do this? You love me..You have to I've seen it! Please this is a joke tell me this is a joke?..a cruel cruel joke!..Is it? TELL ME!" you shook as he grabbed you tears were in his eyes frantic his grip hurt.

"Kal Please! please calm down listen to me! I was going to tell you I'm just going to look at it! I'm not leaving, not yet anyway" he growled standing crouching over you pressing you tight back to the sofa you try to avoid his hot gaze.

"Your not leaving! you not going anywhere EVER!" you gasped out a sob frightened as he lost his cool you went to speak but he cut you off.

"You are mine, my mate, my one, you were made for me and you will stay with me! I thought I'd been clear! why do you think I was watching over you? I told you I couldn't stop thinking of you after the bridge. I love you. And you love me! I've seen it smelt it, the way you wither under your own touch, you do it for me...Tell me! tell me its me you think of, me! when you let your hands wander over yourself. I know you hold back your careful not to call out for me, you know I'm just above you, your shy you can't be blamed my love but I know...You don't have to hide anymore" he leaned close pressing himself between your thighs forcing your heat to press on him. You struggled to keep up with his dizzying rant.

Then you went cold. He had seen you touch yourself? He had been above the estate agents? and the night he came to you...Slowly it began to dawn on you just what had been going on. It. Was. Him.

He had been haunting you, he just admitted it since the bridge? he was watching spying. He's your stalker. You mumbled the words looking him right in the eye. He glared at you a sinister look and snarled giving you a firm shake and slammed your back into the sofa making the wooden frame creek.

"No! I was protecting you! its dangerous your small and alone you needed me! you still need me!" you scrabbled at him trying to get him off you screaming bloody murder. He was your stalker. The most powerful man on the planet! That’s why you felt it even in your own home. He could see through the walls!. You sobbed and struggled.

"You? You watched me..You wasn't protecting me! you were hurting me! you you isolated me! I'm worse now then I ever was! WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? NO! GET AWAY GET OFF OF ME!"

He growled pressing forward holding your wrists down by your sides. He lunged froward and kissed your open mouth entangling his tongue with yours forcefully, he had to show you. You screamed into the kiss trying to twist lifting your legs trying to get your knees between you but it was no use. He was incredibly strong and you were nothing but a wisp of a thing, you were human and he was all but a god.

He moaned into your mouth licking away at your tongue tracing patterns on the roof of your mouth. In your squirming you'd slipped down your back curving and center brushing him higher on his abdomen. He grinned taking the opportunity to slide his knees below your hips making you rub against him you flinched and bit at him, trying to hurt him he chuckled at your silly little attempt. Is this what it was supposed to be like? you fight him so he overcomes you? so he proves his strength, his worth as a mate? did he have to pin you and take you to show he was able to protect your children?. It must be that. You were his mate. If that’s what you needed then he would deliver.

With a grunt and a smile he moved his hands releasing you suddenly he has hit with a barrage of hits he could see you wincing as you hurt yourself hitting and slapping harder and harder at him. He ignored you, they would bruise and you would tire, he focused on the task at hand moving his palms over your behind then dug in puncturing holes in the seam and pulled splitting open the fabric of your jeans effortlessly until they no longer had a crotch. You screamed a fought harder to no avail, he had made his decision he was going to indulge. He was tried of waiting and playing around he would fuck you, fill you and breed you then he would take you away. You said so your self you wanted to leave and like any good mate he will oblige.

You cried feeling your clothes become tatters, his frame was huge and unmovable. You'd have better luck denting concrete. He hummed pulling back as you bit at him again trying to scratch and claw at him. Your hands were throbbing form your relentless beating on him.

"Now now mate stop being silly...Did you know that your ovulating? that’s probably what all this is hmm? the running away? the struggling and fighting? your testing me, you want to know just how strong their fathers going to be? I understand that, I already know how much of a fierce little mate you are...Our children will be strong" you froze staring at him in horror you gathered that he was going to...to force himself on you but...The fact that he intended to finish inside of you? to fill you. He took the moment of shock to quickly undress he was back between your thighs before your legs had lowered to the seat. you did little more then shake as he slide a finger below your panties.

"shh shh I know its exciting....Our own family... Please don't struggle my love I don't want to accidentally hurt you. I want our first time to be enjoyable for you...And then I can get down to business and breed you properly I wont stop until I've seen it! until I know without a doubt your mine and your carrying proof of our love." contrary to the threat and the violent truth behind them his words were like honey. Sweet and soothing a gentle lilt to them as he moved pulling then gave a quick tug but you cried out at him as your panties fought to hold on he rolled his eyes moving to hold either side then pulled.

You wept as the last barrier between you was removed. He shushed you and pressed his fingers at your core instantly, you were dry. He scowled you shouldn't be. You should want him. He ignored your pleas and pailful whimpers as he plunged two fingers inside your tiny heat. He grunted as the warm muscle protested around his thick fingers you screeched curling your toes unable to kick out at him as he held your legs between his arms and ribs pressing them open around his wide torso. You panted and cried, you wasn't ready or willing you tensed as he moved his fingers gradually opening you up for him. You looked up and cursed him, he was the definition of a beautiful monster. You glared at him knowing there wasn't anything you could do he was Superman you had no hope in overcoming him so in one final act of defiance you spat in his face.

He turned his head letting it hit his cheek and froze eyes closed as it slowly slid down his cheek and turned slowly back to you grinning you watched in horror and slight disgust as his tongue poked out licking it into his mouth he moaned.

"My love...I had no idea you were so filthy, spitting in the bedroom isn't something I've tried before however for you my love I'd do anything~" you gasped as he reared back taking a deep breath and spat onto his fingers you yelped as his fingers ploughed it into your hot pussy, it was freezing cold. You hissed it stung bad as his speared it deeper inside of you.

"Oh love? did you not like that? is it too cold? I'm sorry..I thought since we were experimenting I could play with temperature a bit...Sometimes I just get excited is all...But hey thanks to your little spitting fit my fingers are going in so much easier. And your body is opening up! you'll be ready for me soon enough" you shook your head and wriggled wanted to be free of him.

"Please please not like this-I don't want to! don't make me! don't force me please Kal" your words fell on deaf ears as he moved closer humming at you cooing softly trying to coax you into relaxing.

His cool spit was warmed inside of you as his fingers prodded deeper and deeper curling back and forth. He looked down intently to your abdomen staring then smiled.

"Shh shh its okay I'm here.... See your getting wet now, your pussy knows...Its hungry can't you feel it? trying to trap my fingers inside of you? wanting so desperately to have me breed you, it wont be satisfied until your full and your bulging with my love." he angled his fingers forward and pressed holding his fingers still bar from an incredibly fast flicking of the tips of his fingers.

You screamed it felt like vibrating rabbit ears grazing your soft patch of nerves. You couldn't help yourself you rocked and grinded in unwanted lust. Your body moving of its own accord as he moved his digits your blood hummed racing and hot you panted and thrashed against him pitifully. You screamed throwing your head back twisting your hips trying to buck him off or to slip a leg from his grasp. He chuckled following you keeping up his pace.

"That’s it...That’s it love see?! you want me my love! good girl such a good girl keep going love here maybe this will help? you know I've watched you, how you angle your toys it should be about...here" then suddenly he pushed roughly to the spot you choked on your moan as you clenched around him in a painful forced orgasm. You wept as your nerves burned and your body ached spasming and jerking onto his hand. You trembled from head to toe moaning and grunting as your body was pushed to its limits.

He smiled pulling away from you slowly as you came down panting and whining with every deep breath you rocked forward as he slid the flat of his palm over your drenched cunt collecting your release and wiped it across his thick frightening cock. He was smothering himself making sure there was enough on his tip to breach you.

You gulped watching as he started at you his eyes were half lidded he moaned as he moved slowly across his own cock pulling and teasing as he did so wanting to entice you. It had to opposite effect, it was huge and looked lethal and angry you don't have to touch it to see it was throbbing you could see it. You hissed still weeping pleading with him not to do this he shuffled back, it was the cold breeze that alerted you to the fact he'd just stripped you bare. You whined as he moved twisting you to lay flat on you stomach on the sofa with warm wet hands he pulled you into position dragging you across the sofa leaving sticky hand prints across your skin that cooled as he removed his palms from your skin

You felt his hand wander over your back, your legs trembled you were tempted to run, to launch yourself over the arm and in to the kitchen, the hall cupboard, fuck you would even try to make a mad dash to the stairs if it meant you'd get away. Thought of escape were all abandoned as his large wet hand was placed at your neck his fingers cupped your throat gently, you could smell your own arousal as he shuffled you making you come up onto your hands an knees before him you whined crying moving one hand to his large wrist.

"P-PlEASE PLease st-stop this! ple-ase don't rape me!" you sobbed out his answer was a growl he squeezed you throat letting an echo of his strength through the fingers.

"I'm not raping you...I'm making love to you, I'm breeding you, you came y/n you want this your just shy and confused... that’s all just confused. It must be part of this mating bond or-or it could be your a human you don't understand not yet..You will!, you want me really I know you do, now hold still whilst I claim you, it will all be over soon and we can go home trust me." you whined trying to move forward as he brought his hips to yours. You mewled bawling your eyes out as he pressed the crown of his weeping dangerously virile cock to your lips. He took a breath and pulled you back by your neck.

He dragged your body back onto him eyes blown as he watched his cock disappear into your hot cunt, he groaned feeling your body try to reject him. You were small and no matter how ready you were it was a shock you were bound to put up some resistance you didn't mean to he reasoned.

You gasped as he force fed you his cock, it was painful and hot you tired thinking of anything else but it was hard to, he was huge and was pressing against everything! your mouth hung open in silent screams, he drowned them out with his own chorus of growls and praise blowing hot breaths across your back. You winced yelping out as he stuffed you finally he was met with a barrier with an inch or so to go. He grunted as the tip of his cock nudged something, then looked in past your spine. It was your cervix, you yelped as he pressed harder on your insides it hurt, you moved a hand back trying to stop him not knowing what he had hit but it was painful.

"YOu?! NO I CaN'T PLeASE NO MORE! YOUR TO BIG!" he ran a hand over your back hushing your panic trying to sooth you he explained.

"Hush mate I know..I can see its just your cervix...Your ovulating so its soft and ready just stay still whilst I push pas-" you screamed when you realized what he was going to say you quickly reached forward for the sofa arm.

He growled at your blatant disrespect of his status! He was your mate! in a knee jerk fury fueled reaction he moved releasing your neck bringing both hands to your hips and slammed you back making you scream as his cock slipped past your wombs last defense.

"THAT’S ENOUGH! BEHAVE AND TAKE IT!" his bellow was shouted over you painful cries as he then began to rock into you with no mercy or regard for you or your pleasure. He moved faster massaging your cunt intent on filling you just as nature intended.

"There see? like a fucking glove! now just behave if you stopped your fighting you'd be enjoying my cock by now!" you cried as your insides were battered enduring the thrusts that were meant to punish. He grunted loudly into your ear leaning over your back his abs skimming your sweat slicked back. You felt each thrust rock across your back the room was filled with your cries pleading him to get off, pull out and stop his replies were groans and satisfied grunts, finally you gave up he wasn't listening, he wont stop, he wasn't leaving anytime soon.

You closed your mouth digging your fingers into the sofa below staring at the soft cream fabric of the cushions that were bout to be completely ruined, biting your lip you tried to ignore everything. his grunts and the loud slapping sound that accompanied each brutal thrust.

"Fuuuuck yes! I can't wait...can't wait until you fucking pregnant! I'm gonna make you a Mother today! fucking breed you! my mate MINE! fuck fuck yes!" you cringed as he moved faster, your pussy was clenching around his hot cock pulling and twisting around him as he ignited your nerves massaging your spot effortlessly. you quivered legs trembling struggling to hold your weight as he began swelling inside of you.

You keened quietly feeling the throbbing of his flesh you shook as he brought a hand to your clit and rolled it in a fast figure eight motion your legs widened and our arms gave out you screamed pressing your face in the cushions below crying and pleading as you release over him one loud protest after another fell from your lips as you jerk violently against him. You cried in shame as your release was one powerful stream of cum hitting him washing his heavy tensing balls as they swayed tapping your oversensitive cunt. He laughed rubbing your clit faster making it last, you sobbed as another think stream followed instantly coating him and your sofa. He stuttered his hips cock swelling you felt his balls pulling taught wetting your lips with your own release.

"NOOO! NOO PLEASE Please don't cum in me!!! don't! your to deep I can't-I'm not ready for that please KAL NO!" you screamed at him one last ditch attempt to halt him as he grunted loud into the living room releasing what felt like torrents into your vulnerable womb.

You sobbed quietly into the sofa feeling his seed filling you he held sill and deep as his load continued its desecration of your empty womb intent on filling you just as he promised. He looked down watching as he flooded your insides then he let out a huge breath through clenched teeth.

"Fuck yes... That’s it, good girl..Good mate not letting anything escape, you cant not until its taken...If only you could see this love, like me I'm so high, so far inside you, I wouldn't be surprised if I've coated your stomach" You held still and silent not wanting to respond..What could you say, it was done. so you stayed there head down ass up with your once hero embedded deep within you waiting for him to pull out. But he didn't as soon as his balls were finished emptying he immedieatly began thrusting again trying to press his semen deeper wanting it to take. you groaned twisting to look at him why is he still hard? he just finished? he shouldn't still be going."Oh love we've just begun, I can last hours and I did say I'm breeding you its going to take more then one little load to be sure" that brought all new floods of tears as he rutted into your bruised body beginning a second round of what you feared was many.

True to his word he had you bent over on the sofa for most of the day, fucking you relentlessly after a few hours he had stopped, not because he was done. oh hell no, he stopped because you were chafing even with the copious amout of fluids you'd both made..Well mostly you he had bypassed your cervix each time and very little had escaped you he had made sure in some cases holding you by your crossed ankles and tilting you up bouncing you slightly much to your shame he would hold you high to rest almost completely on your shoulder blades to be sure he was getting as much in your womb as possible, after all as he kept saying he had a job to do. By this point your almost certain you were pregnant but he still wanted to continue just to be sure. Tho currently he was giving you a break he moved slowly through the house getting you a juice and thin sheet he found in the laundry basket in the kitchen.

He draped the sheet over your form then left to go up stairs for a wash cloth deciding you needed a wipe down. You jumped when you heard a loud knock at the door. You wrapped the sheet around your frame wincing as you moved hunched over you moved taking baby steps to the door. You swallowed as you opened the door to the police?

you frowned tugging the sheet tighter to yourself around your chest. The officers eyes widened at your appearance and he blushed he stuttered and cleared his throat you spoke first seeing as words escaped him.

"Y-yes can I help you?" he blinked and shook his head then managed a professional voice.

"Are you okay miss? we have had calls about screaming and a possible domestic disturbance all afternoon... Your neighbors thought you were in trouble, we hadn't been able to get out earlier-OOHH my ahem err well" you frowned as the officer began nodding stuttering suddenly looking anywhere but you, you turned seeing Kal there now back in his suit hair still purposefully left messy you swallowed and shivered flushing embarrassed as he made a point to fold the black washcloth in his hands.

"I apologize for that officer...We took the afternoon to ourselves and I got...Well I had to make up for my absences didn't I love..." you whined as he moved up behind you wrapping an arm around your still tender tummy you hissed as he rubbed your stomach and abdomen kissing your neck smirking. You could see one of your neighbor's lean far over her porch railing stealing a look wanting to know what all your screams had been about and covered her mouth in shock seeing the man of steel she flushed fanning herself as she realized it had been privvy to his fucking marathon, she turned waving down another of your neighbors pointing. You cringed pressing back into Kal wanting to run and hide. He smiled at you kissing your cheek again.

"Ah yes...Well then that’s...That’s fine no harm done I suppose I can let you off with out a ticket for disturbing the peace seeing as it was is well...I’m sure no one would mind after all you so for us... I'd just ask you both be more considerate of the neighbor’s in future they were very concerned said it sounded like she was being...Attacked." you flinched if only they knew.

Kal laughed rubbing your tummy then lower almost cupping your violated screaming pussy he tugged you back to him.

"Haha OH..See love I told you we should of role played somewhere else, you frightened your poor neighbors!...I do apologize we...Tried something knew she just couldn't help her self but I will try to keep her quiet next time." you whined twisting in his hold you turned to Kal embarrassed

"K-kal please stop talking..."

"Oh love come now, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I'm sure the officer has dealt with this type of thing before...” he handed you the washcloth in his hands “Here you go and relax I'll have your bath ready in a moment. Don't think I didn't see you waddling over here, I told you to stay put until id drawn your bath, your still to tender to be moving...honestly I should never have put you on top!" he ushered you in behind him into the house and stood tall in the doorway you cringed as he spoke a little to loud for your liking as you heard your neighbor gasp and began giggling with each other.

"Once again I'm sorry for wasting your time but as you can see everything is fine" the other man nodded smiling to him shaking his outstretched hand only to happy to have the opportunity.

"We had to check it out as I'm sure you understand" Kal nodded laughing then bid goodbye to the man then called an apology to the giggling flushed neighbors then turned shutting the door behind him then walked into the living room finding you curled up on the floor crying.

He sighed and quickly scooped you up taking you up to bed. He would wait until you were asleep before moving you to his own secluded home he had prepared for you, for now he would hold you. it must have been a shock to find your soulmate just as it had been for him, but unlike him he would not allow you to go through the roller coaster of emotions alone, he would stay right here with you every step of the way.

#dark superman #dark! superman x reader #dark superman x reader #superman smut #superman x you #superman x reader #superman imagine #clark kent x you #clark kent smut #clark kent imagine #clark kent x reader #dark clark kent x reader #dark! clark kent x reader #clark kent x y/n #superman x y/n

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thebounty · 3 years

Text

Incompatible (Mandalorian x Hunter!Jedi!F Reader)

Chapter Two: This isn’t too bad, right?

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: tension, angst, nightmares, violence, soft Mando for a bit, soft reader for a bit, grammar mistakes most likely. I think that’s it!

A/N: I hope you all enjoy chapter two! I’m still on the fence about if I like it or not, but that could just be me. Feedback is always welcomed! Enjoy :)

Hyperspace was something else. No matter how many times you’ve gazed upon the fast-moving stars, it never bored you. It was calming even though you were literally traveling past thousands of planets at once. You could get so lost in thought while watching them go by, it was a type of Zen you’ve never experienced anywhere else. Not even with your family.

Glancing down at the tracking pad on the counsel, you read that you still had at least seven hours until you reached Voss. You ran a hand over your face and rubbed your eyes. You were exhausted, but you did not want to fall asleep. Partly because you didn’t know if Mando was going to use the com to call you while you slept for something, or just to annoy you. The latter seemed more likely. However, the overall factor of not wanting to sleep with the nightmares that sure to come.

Great. Always something to worry about, huh?

Groaning you slumped even further into your chair with your legs sprawled out in front of you, your wool socks grazed the hard paneling of the floor sending goosebumps up your legs. With a few pops and cracks on your back, you knew your body needed some rest. Your eyelids surely felt like steel as they began to flutter closed. You couldn’t help yourself as you drifted off to sleep a few minutes later.

The Mandalorian was in a similar state as you. Not wanting to sleep for various reasons as well. He did not have nightmares to worry about, but he was always on high alert. Plus, hyperspace was a huge escape for him, to just be and think. He knew that Voss was still extremely far away, so he busied himself. Stepping out of the pilots chair he made is way down the short hallway to the ladder and descended down to the hull of the Razor Crest.

It was a relatively big space, holding everything he needed. Small sleeping quarters, a small fresher, some cargo boxes, an armory, and his carbonite chamber. There wasn’t anything down here he would call a kitchen per say, but he had a few travels sized machinery he used as a makeshift kitchen set, like a portable microwave and a small stove top…thing. He wasn’t particular when it came to a home-made meal or rations. He wasn’t a cook at all, so he normally opted for the rations.

He turned towards his armory and pressed a few buttons before it sprung open, revealing many guns, knives, and various other kinds of weaponry. He had to admit, it was quite extensive. The number of weapons he had would be scary to anyone who weren’t Mandalorian. He took out the most recent ones he used and sat down on the nearest cargo box and began cleaning the blasters and knives. Using a worn-out rag, he cleaned every surface he could find that was dull or needed a polish. It was, soothing for him, almost as soothing as hyperspace. Most of the time his thoughts were flooded with a specific bounty hunter, so he used cleaning as his escape when hyperspace got boring. Now, he didn’t know what to do, since he is being forced to work with her now. Cleaning his weapons now, he didn’t feel his thoughts retreating from you.

“Kriff.” Mando muttered under his breath, taking out some of his frustrations on a hard blemish upon his blaster.

He was still coming to terms with how he felt about the matter. There was an emotion he couldn’t quite place, and it bothered him. His chest tightened whenever he looked into your eyes, those fierce and determined eyes. He hasn’t seen you smile often, or laugh around him, considering he was a pain in the ass towards you. He didn’t know what else to be. Mando wasn’t the best at expressing his emotions, and whatever this emotion was exactly, it didn’t feel like the one to verbally show.

You are, entrancing to him. You are insanely skilled with a dagger, blaster, and fighting in general. Your style of fighting was interesting as well, you move so quick and sly, like a loth cat he supposed. Mando recalls a time when you two pared once, he lost of course, that’s why he’s only pared with you once before. However, he loved to watch you when you fought other people, he could never take his eyes off of you when you did. He was thankful in those situations for his helmet, blocking his gaze upon you at all times. He wondered if you ever thought what he looked like under the helmet.

Of course you don’t.

He shook his head out of his thoughts when his hands stopped momentarily after homing in on a low beeping noise coming from the cockpit, instantly he knew it was the com link.

You were calling him?

Instinctively, he shot up and climbed up the latter in only a few seconds. A few hours must have passed because his back ached once he stood up from his hunched position. The door of the cockpit flew open to reveal the sound of the com link beeping at a low tone very rapidly. This only happened when the line on the other end was picking up some distress signal, or any sound of distress.

He frowned and tilted his head, not understanding what sounds of distress it could be picking up since the both of you were in hyperspace. He sat down and twirled around in his chair, hesitating before clicking the button of the com link. His blood went cold hearing a scream on the other end, knowing for certain it was you. He didn’t understand where this sudden act of care came in, he could easily press a button on the com and ignore it. However, the seemingly dense Mandalorian always let his guard down around you, but because of that, he feared it.

Mando said your name quickly but there was no answer just a few labored breaths on your end, causing him to jump into fight or flight mode instantly, gripping the com in his hand.

“Hey, is everything okay? Are you alright? What’s going on?” Mando spoke rather urgently into the communication line, hoping that you could hear him too. Thankfully, there was an emergency button to turn off your mute to him since you did press it before takeoff. You were mumbling something, but it was hardly loud enough to be coherent. His heart was hammering in his chest, he didn’t understand what was going on with you. He feared something happened to your ship, he hoped that whatever it was he could help fix over the communicator.

“Please, d-don’t kill them…my moon.” You sobbed clutching onto your tunic in your sleep. Mando knew then that you were having a nightmare, maybe even a night terror. It seemed terrible regardless. The sounds of your screams were vibrating his helmet. He had no clue what to do, especially being so far away from you, quite literally.

“Hey, listen to me, I hope you can hear me. You have to wake up.” Mando spoke loudly into the com. In all honesty, he had no idea if this was going to work. This was all new territory for him. He has never had to think about someone else’s needs before his own, let alone try to get them to wake up from a nightmare through a kriffing com link.

“Can you hear me? You’re having a nightmare. You need to wake up!” Mando yelled into the com line, uttering your name a few times before he heard a large gasp and some labored breaths after. You woke up with a start, your chest feeling as though Jabba the Hutt himself was sitting on it and feeling the nail marks in the leather that wrapped around your seat at your fingertips. You scrambled to your feet, feeling more discomfort than the last few times you’ve experienced nightmares. They have always been the same, but this time there was a different voice present. Something familiar-

“Hey, can you hear me? Are you awake? Are you okay?” You heard it again, but this time you knew who it was based on the blinking red light of the com link. You groaned running a hand through your semi-damp hair, probably from sweating. Guilt and dread made their way through your chest. You thanked the maker that he couldn’t see your face, it was probably red and soaked with tears. Your hair was a mess also, which added to the mentally ill look.

Great, he heard you panic. That’s- that’s, annoying.

“Yes. I’m fine.” You hissed before shutting off the com link entirely. You sat back down in your chair, finally coming down from the adrenaline rush you had minutes before. You were so embarrassed. He had to wake you up because of a nightmare, you never felt so childish in your whole life. On the one hand, there was no way you were going to shake this ‘good deed’ off of him for the entire duration of this job you two were quested to do. The Mandalorian on the other hand was speechless. He clutched the com in his hand before tossing it across the cockpit with a large grunt. He was fuming. How could he let his guard down so quickly? He needed to wake up before he made a fool of himself.

“Dang farrick! You di’kutla (you idiot)! How heartless could she possibly be? I just woke her up from a nightmare!? How ungrateful-” He rambled while pacing the cockpit floor. With a shake of his head, he all but jumped down the ladder to the hull to continue what he was doing before he puts a blaster hole in the nearest wall.

You didn’t need the force to tell you that the Mandalorian was fuming. You didn’t know what else to tell him.

“Oh yeah, thanks for invading my privacy of sleeping. Hey, yeah, let’s be friends now that you know nightmares haunt my dreams.”

You screamed of frustration before kicking your chair. Immediately regretting it when pain shot up your shin almost forcing you to sit back down again. To be completely honest, you didn’t know of any alternative scenario for the tin can after all, because you most likely would have done the same thing. However, you were in no hurry to apologize to him now after causing a scene.

These next few hours were going to be a pain.

Coming up on Voss you were greeted with the familiar yellowish atmosphere as you approached. The sky wasn’t necessarily foggy, but it was dense, and the color didn’t add to the fact that it was hard to distinguish where there was a break in the forest to park not only your ship but Mando’s as well. You haven’t heard a peep form him since you cut him off on the com link earlier, but you didn’t mind. It allowed you enough time to figure out what you were going to even talk about when you landed, or what an initial game plan would be for you two.

After what felt like ages, you both landed in a decently open area. You scanned the area upon landing and after reading the map you were about a day walk to the city and maybe a few miles from The Nightmare Lands, so that was great.

Mando parked and shut down his ship before advancing into his cot to gather anything he needed from there. It wasn’t much since he didn’t change clothes often, especially in front of others, so he was glad that he was wearing a new pair of fresh clothes. Descending into the hull, he slung his rifle over his shoulders, holstered his blaster, and made sure his vibroblade was in his boot. After stuffing his relatively small pack with the fracking fob and some rations, he pressed the button to open the ramp of his ship.

A gust of wind made its way through the hull causing him to stumble back a few steps. After gaining his bearings, he made his way onto the planet floor. It was relatively warm, pretty foggy, and just dense. He’s seen worse for sure, however being here with another person, just made it a tad more unlikeable. He scanned the area with his helmet before taking a few steps and sitting on a nearby log. Signing as he slumped down, he grumbled under his breath.

“Enteyor iviin’yc dala. (be fast woman).”

He was definitely wrong.

You put your ship on ground defense mode first thing before climbing down to the small hull of your ship to gather anything you needed. Landing on the floor you grabbed your backpack before folding in some extra clothes and a few rations to last you at least three days. Hopefully, this didn’t take that long. You were…hopeful about this bounty. You’ve never taken down a gang before though, that’s why you were strictly remaining just that, hopeful.

You were dragging your ‘getting ready’ for as long as you could, just to tease the Mandalorian a bit, but also for the fact that you did not want to confront him about your nightmare just yet. You strapped your lightsaber to your back after taking it out of its hiding place, which was a small sliver of metal that wasn’t attached to the hull of your ship. You pulled your cloak over your shoulders and tied it in the front of your neck and slipped your black gloves on before bracing yourself as you pressed the button to lower the ramp with a loud screech. Once the ramp was fully on the ground, it revealed a remarkably interesting image. The Mandalorian perched on a log that was definitely too small for him. You chuckled lowly before making your way down the ramp.

Mando visibly sighed before putting his hands on his thighs to hoist himself up. You were dreading any form of interaction with him to be honest, and so was he. You both didn’t have a single clue as to where to start with each other, or what lines that were never to be crossed. The basics for sure.

Where did you grow up? How is your family? Do you have a family? What dark secret’s can you unfold?

Those were a no go, even though you were both curious to know.

“Took you long enough. I feel like I’ve been sitting out here for hours.” Mando huffed stretching his back rather exaggerated. You laughed.

“Key phrase, I feel like. You didn’t actually sit here for hours, if you did, I bet you would’ve left by now. Try saying what is true and not try to be smart with me.” You smirked seeing his visor tear through your eyes. He knew you were right; he would have totally left you by now if it was just one bounty not a kriffing mob. The dense air didn’t add to the already blooming argument. You shook your head and sighed, bracing yourself or what you were about to say, and about to do.

Let your guard down.

“Look, I’m going to cut right to it. I know we both don’t want to be here. However, I know that we are more than capable of getting this done as long as we work together. I know it might sound impossible, but we need to not be at each other’s throats. I’ll watch your back and you will watch mine. I have no doubt that we can both do that, but I would much rather not argue in between. Especially since they have the advantage of knowing this planet better than we both do.” You said as calmy as you possibly could, trying to speak your phrase into existence, and have hope to any maker out there, that the Mandalorian would comply.

On the contrary, Mando was fuming under his helmet as he stepped forward towards you, pointing an orange leathered finger at you.

“Weren’t you the one earlier that shut off your com after I helped you? How am I supposed to help you if you won’t let me?” He seethed, not wasting time to go against your wishes. You would have groaned out of annoyance but Mando was awfully close to you, almost too close. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Instead, you decided to sigh and look down at his boots, biting the inside of your cheek to try and regain some composure, before looking up at his visor, not even a foot from your face. You wanted to argue, but if you went against your own suggestion, there was no way he would comply then.

“Look, I am sorry about earlier. Truly. No one has ever seen me like that, so I shut down. We need to trust each other if we are to get this done. That is all am saying, and I am ready to do that. Are you?” You questioned, speaking slowly and quietly. Mando was still close to you, he could see your chest rising and falling with your steady breathing. His now returned to normal.

Mando nodded slightly. If you weren’t this close to him, you for sure would have missed it.

“I- “Mando started but you quickly cut him off. Not wanting to drag this on further than needed.

“Can we please just get on with this?” You quickly said, shocking yourself when you didn’t argue further, or want to. You usually never gave into an argument that easily, but you just wanted to forget about your nightmares for now and think about the task at hand. Mando was surprised too, his helmet tilting slightly looking down at you.

“Ni ceta” (I’m sorry).

Your heartrate picked up after hearing his thoughts as clear as day through your head. You didn’t mean to read his mind.

How did you do that accidently?

You looked away suddenly, not being able to meet his dark gaze for another second. He felt your discomfort and took a step back clearing his throat. All he could fathom to do was nod his head again, clearing his thoughts as he reached into his pack for the fob.

“Well, we should start walking near the last known location, Voss-Ka. It’s a long walk. But no longer than a day I’m guessing.” Mando spoke slowly while looking at the fob then back up at you. You were leaning on one leg, arms crossed, and brows knitted together listening to him. You nodded and secured your bag on your back.

“Well, lets get started then. I have no clue how the cycles work on this planet, so lets make do with the light we have right now.” You offered while Mando nodded quickly, starting in the direction you two needed to go. Taking a deep breath, you fell into step with him quickly before descending into the dense forest in front of you.

The trees were mostly only two colors, red and a dull yellow. The planet floor was also yellow, blurring everything together and making you slightly dizzy as you walked. The crunch of the ground was also annoying, well you certainly could not farm on this dry planet that’s for sure. Large rocks were present as you walked through the forest, and huge tree stumps in peripheral view, it looked menacing. However, those things are easily avoidable, but the smell of this planet was not. An interesting combination of sulfur and campfire smoke danced around your nostrils making you want to wrap your cloak higher on your face. This was the safest option for you two though to not draw any unwanted attention on yourselves. Hopefully, the forest would not have any unexpected visitors.

Mando was not fond of having to walk through a forest to get to this city, he would have much rather parked right outside of the city walls, but you insisted on coming in quiet as to not draw attention on a planet that held rather gruesome citizens. He agreed because unlike him, you’ve been here before, so he took your word for it.

“You said you’ve been here before, right?” Mando spoke, breaking the silence you two were previously walking in. Stepping over a fallen tree you nodded.

“Yes. Only twice though, and they were both relatively short trips. The bounties I’ve collected here were easy to find. Almost too easy.” You chuckled thinking back on the memories. They were both stupid bounties, hiding out in the villages scattered throughout the planet. If they were smart, they would’ve hidden in the city. It was harder to find bounties in the city.

“Hmm. Guess they hid in the villages then?” Mando questioned, understanding what an easy bounty meant. You nodded.

“Yeah. Stupid halfwit.” You shook your head with a small smile as you recalled the look on your bounties faces. Mando was happy you two were getting along for once, even if it was only a few sentences, it was a start at least. But that did not change the way he thought of you.

Obviously. Mando cleared his throat.

“We should try to get more than halfway there and set up camp. So, then we will be able to get to the city in the morning and track their last whereabouts.” Mando spoke while increasing his speed slightly to stay a head of you in the woods, however it was difficult given the terrain.

“I don’t want to see what might be in these woods any longer than we have to, so that sounds like a plan.” You added, moving a branch away from your face before it smacked you. Mando only hummed in response as he leaped down from a rather large fallen tree. He turned and offered his hand to you to help you down. Mando knew this was out of his nature, but like you said earlier, try to be nice to each other. You scoffed and jumped down next to him obviously not wanting or needed his help as you carried on. Mando sighed.

That’s more normal at least.

A few hours of silence flew by and a dozen fallen trees later, you both stumbled upon what seemed to be ruins of some kind. It was the first sign of life you both came across so far so it was somewhat comforting for a minute, before you realized you might have found something else.

You remember reading about some ancient Jedi and Sith temples that were abandoned on this planet, the thought made your throat tighten. You were not in the mood for anything else about you to be revealed to the Mandalorian. He seemed rather curious as he scanned the ruins for any life forms. Like there was any, you said in your head as you looked around as well. The setting sun created a rather jarring image in front of you. The shadows that were casted worked very well with the many oranges, yellows, and reds that the land was now covered in from the sun’s rays. Large stones were around in a circle, then some smaller ones in a semi-circle in the middle surrounding a large stone. Some stones were broken in half, and others fallen over. But the structure was nonetheless breathtaking in this lighting.

“The scan doesn’t pick up any footprints, or signs of life here.”

“Well obviously, look at this place. It’s been deserted forever.”

“Hey, I was just taking precautions- “

“Well can’t you just accept the obvious- “

“No, you listen to me I- “

A rustle.

“Wait Mando- “

“Oh, now what!? Can’t you just listen to me for once- “

“Stop! Did you hear that?” You half whispered to Mando after hearing what sounded like heavy breathing, almost panting, like you would be after running. It wasn’t Mando’s breathing. You could recognize his modulated breathing anywhere and it was certainly not you.

You frowned, how come Mando didn’t pick up on the obvious breathing from his helmet? It was a life form, right? Why did his scan not pick up the life form, or forms? Unless they managed to sneak up on you or it out of reach from Mando’s scanner.

You looked around slowly, as did he. You both turned your backs, so they were almost touching each other so you are guarding the vulnerable side to each other, as if on instinct. You gripped your blaster the same time he gripped his. If anyone was watching you both, it was like you two were mirroring each other, exactly the same movements, and even the same breath. You tried to focus on any sound that you might be able to pick up with your ears as Mando listened through his now heightened helmet. You had an uneasy feeling about this. Whatever it was.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” You whispered to the Mandalorian, now gripping your blaster harder.

“Oh- you should little girl. But it was quite entertaining to hear you two bicker.” Came a voice from the distance causing both you and Mando to point your blaster directly at them. It was a Devaronian man. He was tall, dressed in all black, with horns probably as big as your forearms. You knew they were strong creatures, but what is one of them against both of you?

“There are two of us and one of you, why should we be afraid?” Mando pipped in, as if he heard what you were just previously thinking, not faltering once with his blaster. Your chest tightened; he wasn’t the only one.

Kriff.

“Because he’s not the only one here, Mandalorian.” Chimed in another Devaronian from behind. You turned around while Mando still faced the first man, this next one had a few more friends. Well, at least five more friends.

Great, this was spectacular.

“You had to speak so soon?” You whispered over your shoulder, slightly seeing Mando tilt his visor towards you. The fob on his belt was not beeping, so this could not be the gang you were after. Your blaster was aimed high still as they surrounded you both. This was not good, not good at all. No matter how good of a fighter you and Mando were, there was no way you could escape as least three Devaronian men and four other humans. At least you guessed they were, it was hard to tell in this light.

“Ah, who is the pretty lady? This one wouldn’t happen to be yours now would it Mando? That would be a shame.” One of the men spoke. He was disgustingly pale, had long dark hair, and one tooth missing from the front as he grinned towards you. You could’ve vomited right at his feet.

“No. I am not his, and never will be. Now back up before I blast you in the chest.” You seethed, gripping your blaster even tighter. He only laughed as the other men moved closer into you both. A few more steps and they would have you pinned against Mando’s back, you could feel his cape on your ankles. You sensed that Mando was trying to think of a way out, as were you. But you could not think of a way out that did not require the use of the force. You were not doing that.

Mando was insanely tense. He didn’t like the way these men were starring at you like a piece of meat. No matter how many times you two would argue and get under each other’s skin, no one deserved that. With the thought his grip tightened even more, he knew if he didn’t have his gloves on his knuckles would be white.

“The little girl has a bark, but what about the bite? You both can’t take us.” Another man spat from behind you. Mando could see him, and he moved his blaster in their direction instead.

“Let us go, and you can all walk away with your lives. We are just passing through; we mean no harm.” Mando spoke, trying to reason with them. You knew it was a good attempt, but useless with these men. They looked to be smugglers, and they were not about to walk away empty handed. You were battling in your head. If you used the force to kill these men, then the only person you’d have to answer to was Mando, and maybe you could convince him to stay quiet about the matter.

The idea was starting to become more endearing as one of the men reached their arm towards you, cupping your face slowly. You didn’t dare move or even blast him as you lowered your arm, afraid of what his friends would do if you tried. Surly they would ambush you, and you weren’t about to let yourself and Mando die. Above all, they were not about to steal your lightsaber. Mando was all out of ideas, he was remarkably close to just surrendering and attacking when they least expected it. You felt it in his aroma. You knew you had to do something.

“I said, don’t touch me.” You muttered letting your voice quiver a bit, trying to sound as scared as you could to throw them off. You sensed Mando’s discomfort and- was that protectiveness you felt?

Nope. That couldn’t be true.

Your mind was made up. You knew what you needed to do. You reached out to Mando through the force, trying to get in his head for a moment. You felt the energy around you, having the advantage of being in an old Jedi temple, you felt strong. You heard his breath hitch slightly as you focused on what you were going to say. Mando suddenly felt as though someone was slightly squeezing his temples together, he dared not move, he didn’t understand what was going on. It felt…familiar a little bit. His blaster did not falter when the feeling of something tickling his brain increased, and then a voice.

Your voice.

“Blast the three in front of you when I say to.”

“Oh sweetheart, you can’t tell me what-” The man started but was hilariously cut off as you raised your blaster and shot him in the chest as fast as a millisecond. If someone blinked, they would have missed it.

“Now!” You shouted before you rolled on your back. Mando worked quickly shooting down the three men in front of him as you worked on the remaining men in front of you. Dagger in one hand and blaster in the other, you shot down one man and used your dagger to slice another’s leg. Mando reacted quickly and turned towards you, knowing you were outnumbered by yourself; he flung his arm out and shot his grappling line to the man you injured with your dagger. As it wrapped around him, he heard a scream from you. Turning momentarily, he saw that you were pinned to the ground by the large Devaronian. He had you in a choke hold, you gripped their arm as he slowly retracted his knife from your abdomen.

“You’ll die for killing my brothers.” He grinned at you wickedly.

Quickly, Mand retracted the line and brought out his blade and drove it into the man’s back he had trapped. Dropping the man hard on the ground, he aimed his blaster at the Devaronian on top of you before halting his movements at the scene before him. He was, floating- no levitating above you now, not moving. Not even a scream came from him.

Okay- what?

You moved your arms quickly and the man hit the tree with a loud crack! His back was definitely broken as he fell to the ground, dead. You were panting and felt a huge pain in your side. Placing your hand there, you brought it back only to find it dripping with crimson blood. You grimaced and groaned as you fell back against the ground. You felt someone above you, you hoped to the maker it wasn’t another attacker.

Mando was panting, still gripping his blaster. He was mostly confused but you felt his concern as well. You could sense easily that he had so many questions.

You don’t blame him.

“Ask me later, but please help me up.” You whispered reaching out the arm not currently clutching your side. Mando took it quickly and helped you to your feet and let his arm slide around your waist to help keep you up. If you weren’t in pain and not exhausted from using the force, you might have liked this.

No, you most certainly wouldn’t.

“Where were you hit?” Mando whispered as he walked you two away from the scene, he found a dense patch of trees, one large one was fallen over the top creating a small shelter.

Well, it checked off two boxes for you two at least. A place to help patch you up, and a place to stay for the night, that wasn’t out in the open.

He set you down gently, leaning against a tree. He kneeled in front of you, waiting for your response. Your breaths were staggered, but not shallow. That was a good sign at least, Mando thought as he checked you for any other signs of injury or discomfort. He mentally checked over himself, but he was not hit.

“His knife got me on the side. I don’t think its deep. But I could be wrong.” You stammered watching as Mando took off his pack to rummage through it, looking for a bacta patch for you, and maybe thread.

“I’ll have to look at it.” Mando said between looking through his bag and peering up at you once in a while. Your eyes felt heavier with every passing minute. He took his hand and secured it on your chin, forcing you to look at him. You stopped breathing for a second.

“Hey, I need you to stay awake, just as a patch this up. I need to lift this, is that okay?” He whispered as his fingers lingered below your long black shirt. Your cloak was already off next to you and definitely had some blood on it, leaving you feeling vulnerable. You nodded, knowing your voice would fail you if you tried to use it. Your breathing became ragged, but not because of the pain.

It- it was just the blood loss for sure.

Mando nodded quickly before taking his gloves off and lifted your shirt, setting it down on in the lower part of your chest. The cut was on the lower left side of your abdomen and traveled upwards in a slanted motion towards the center of your stomach. It was deeper than you both previously thought, causing him to sigh slightly. You for sure felt lightheaded as his fingers settled on the skin just below the cut. His skin was golden brown, and you knew it was somewhat of an honor to see a Mandalorians skin, they keep that hidden from people, it was a part of their religion. You tried not to think about it. Mando’s hands were oddly soft for how many callouses there were on them. You felt goosebumps erupt on your skin- no, stop.

It’s the blood loss, it’s the blood loss, it’s the blood loss, it’s the-

“I’ll need to stitch it. Then after I’ll secure it with a bacta patch.” He spoke lowly, glancing up at you with his visor. You were staring at your wound, saddened at the thought of a new scar. Your gaze shifted upwards to him again and nodded slowly, trying not to remember his hands on you.

“Do what you need to do.” You muttered gripping his forearm for reassurance before dropping it back to your side. You let your head hang back against the tree as you felt him get the needle and thread out of his pack.

“This might sting a little bit.” He assured as he assembled the needle and thread before getting to work. The first threading hurt the most, well, it was uncomfortable. You’ve done this countless times on yourself and for the first time ever, you were happy someone else was doing it for you.

It was relatively silent as he stitched you up, but you could feel his mind racing. Mando was confused to say the least, but he was more focused on the task at hand. He tied up the end of the thread before putting the bacta patch over it and lowered your shirt back over you.

“It should be fine, but you should change the patch in at least two days.” Mando informed you as he put everything away, slipping on his gloves again in the process. You nodded as you got comfortable against the tree behind you. Mando sat across from you.

“Thank you. I appreciate this.” You smiled softly as you brought your cloak over legs to keep yourself warm now that the sun was fully set over the terrain. The soft light of the moon reflected off of Mando’s helmet creating a wonderful glow. You had to admit, the beskar was beautiful, and if you truly didn’t despise the man in front of you; you might have enjoyed the sight.

However, you do this time. Considering he did just patch you up. He could’ve left you for dead, carried on with the bounty, and got the whole reward for himself.

Mando was silent as were you for a while, you felt his tension calm down from earlier as he sank against the tree across from you more. You could tell he was avoiding your gaze even under the dark visor. To be completely honest you couldn’t blame him. Working with someone he didn’t like and now finding out she had weird sorcerer powers? Yeah, he could not comprehend that. Mando always seemed to get into interesting situations. You didn’t even know where to start to try and answer any questions he had without giving away too much about yourself. On the contrary, you weren’t going to bring it up if he didn’t. Not until you two left this planet anyway, you could not have him spill this secret about you.

“It seems like we make a good team, huh?” You whispered, trying to lighten the mood and tread carefully.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Mando said bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest.

You heard his next statement before he could utter it.

“Tell me how you did that, that thing,”

A beat.

“Or I’ll kill you.”

Oh. Oh shit.

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larissa-the-scribe · 3 years

Text

Not Actually Alone

900ish words

I had been stuck in the Catacombs for a week now. The pain—a constant background radiation to my every breath—made me wonder how much longer I would be alive to be stuck. Though, technically speaking, when one was dead one was still kind of stuck. Just. In a different way.

The metal of the cell door grated.

My eyes snapped open.

I had options. I could sit up and wait attentively for them to come in, on my toes, tense, and ready for anything. Or I could continue lying on the ripped cot and pretend I wasn’t bothered—maybe if I pretended to be asleep they’d leave me alone? Maybe I could get up and smack whoever was coming in the head with the cot. It wasn’t much of a weapon, and in the long run it’d result in more pain for me than my victim, but there would certainly be a cathartic value that might balance things out.

Funny, it seemed like this guard was having trouble getting the door open. The scraping continued. It also seemed to be making more noise than normal. Was the key was stuck? The hinges had rusted shut? The guard was so bored he was cleaning it with a steel wool sponge? That one seemed a little less likely.

I sat up. They could at least have the decency to get it over with. I gripped the edge of my cot, digging my fingers into the fabric. If they were going to drag me off, go ahead and drag me off. They didn’t have to prolong it.

I was a second away from yelling this at them when the door (finally) swung open.

It wasn’t a guard.

I stared.

The light streamed in around him, the contrast to the dinginess of my cell half-blinding me, but unless this was some cruel trick, some hallucination, there was no doubt as to who it was.

“Stanton?” My voice faltered.

The door clicked shut, and next thing I knew he was beside me, sweeping me into a hug. I froze.

This. It was too much. Too many surprises all at once. He was here, the door was apparently unlocked, I was getting a hug.

What. What was happening?

There were too many sensations for this to be a dream, right?

“Thank Ae we found you,” he said, pulling back.

I had a thousand thoughts flooding my head, things I wanted to say and ask based on his tone of sheer relief alone. I also maybe wanted to cry, even though I had promised myself I’d never cry in front of Stanton again. I did none of the above. “We?” I finally managed to squeak.

He smiled, and oh man was that the most beautiful thing to exist in all Mithaedrir. “Cal and I.”

“Cal?” I felt stupid, only able to speak in single words, but that was just one more unexpected impact. Cal was here, too, and they were working together.

Stanton shrugged. “He’s still on probation as far as I'm concerned. But we both agreed that we’d have to figure out our differences after we got you back.”

Got me back.

“How?” I glanced towards the door.

Stanton held up a slim pouch of slender iron tools. Lock picks. Stanton, CENCA’s golden boy and paragon of virtue, could pick locks. I hadn’t seen that coming.

I hadn’t seen any of this coming, sure, but it just goes to show you never know someone as well as you think you do.

“Guards?” I asked.

“Cal is taking care of them,” he said. “So far it’s been working great.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Shall we?”

I looked from outstretched hand to his face. This was happening. He was here. He came for me. Both him and Cal had come to get me. Slowly I took his hand, half-forgetting that I couldn’t use my foot. Stanton pulled me up, and I stumbled, hissing with renewed pain. He grabbed my arms to steady me.

“You alright?”

“Foot’s busted,” I said. “Long story,” I added, noting the frown of concern crossing his face.

He nodded. “Tell me later. For now, I’ll help you walk.”

“Wait, I need a second,” I said, holding onto his arm. It felt like my brain and body were catching up to what was happening, my head spinning from both surprise and vertigo from even the exertion of standing up.

I was leaving the Catacombs.

Looking up, I could see the worry and care in his eyes. So warm. So different from this past week.

I flung my arms around his neck, hugging him with what little strength I had, swallowing back the beginnings of tears. “Thank you,” I whispered, fighting to keep my voice from trembling. “Thanks for coming for me.” We probably wouldn’t make it. But that didn’t matter right now.

He hugged me back, holding me tightly and resting his head against mine with a chuckle that sounded just as shaky as me. “I told you I would always be there for you, didn’t I? No restrictions on location.”

We needed to get going. I knew that. But I also needed this, this moment of softness and comfort and warmth, this hug that fit perfectly. Half-dead as I was, it felt like I was physically recharging to be able to face the upcoming journey.

Finally—too soon—I stepped back. Stanton held my left arm in place, keeping it across his shoulders as he crouched a bit to support me.

“We will have to hurry a bit,” he said, “but we don’t have too far to go so don’t feel like you have to push yourself too hard.”

I nodded. I was still going to—I wanted to be gone from this place—but it was nice to hear. Stanton pulled the door open, and we began the trek along the suspended walkway.

Time to leave this Ae-forsaken horrorshow behind.

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readinglikechickensoup · 4 years

Note

Hiya, I was wondering if you'd be able to do a spies in disguise fanfic. I can't seem to find any Walter X lance fics with angst. My prompt would probably be something like Walter taking a shot for lance in the field. Or something along those lines where Walter gets hurt trying to save someone. Thank you!!

I’m sorry this took so long. I had to wait until I could get my hands on the movie. I hope you like it. Feel free to shoot me another request if it’s not quite what you wanted.

Words: 1,627 Warnings: Blood, violence, hospital, age difference (both are established adults)

The storm clouds were thick and grey like old fleece. Despite the climate control in the cockpit, Walter shivered and burrowed into his sweater and jacket.

“Cold?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Only a little.” Walter’s teeth chattered together; he closed his mouth tightly.

Lance checked the autopilot, then got up and rummaged in his bag, pulling out a heavy wool coat. He held it out expectantly.

“But won’t you get cold?”

“Nah. This is a spare.” Lance shrugged. “Figured you’d get cold. Now put it on.”

Walter stood and let Lance help him into each sleeve. It fit like a glove. Buttoning it up, he looked into Lance’s smirking face. “How’d you know?”

“You’re the size of my bicep, Walter. You’re always cold.” Lance patted Walter’s shoulder and went back to his seat. “You’re the genius, you know. You should’ve thought Scandinavia through.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Walter flopped back in his seat. They were on a covert mission to neutralize enemy technology in the Norwegian mountains.

Lance crossed his long legs and fiddled with his phone. If it weren’t for the drag of nerves that always preceded missions, Walter could almost believe they were home.

Granted, if they were home they would be on the couch, Walter’s shoulder tucked into Lance’s armpit. Walter would struggle to read through the Journal of Materials Science, burning up everywhere their bodies touched. Whenever their eyes met, Lance’s would drop to Walter’s mouth, then quickly look away.

Walter was admittedly very bad at social cues, but he couldn’t help the question that was burning a hole in his mind.

It had been five years since they defeated Killian. Aside from solo missions and dangerous lab testing, they were rarely apart. Lance had even invited Walter to live with him.

They ate together and defeated baddies together. Whenever Walter fell asleep over a project, he woke up in bed, shoes off, under a thick quilt.

Whenever Lance couldn’t sleep, he let Walter sit by his bed, rub his back, and talk about science. Those mornings, he woke up tucked into Lance’s side, so warm and safe he couldn’t bear to get up.

A few days ago, Walter wondered out loud if he should find his own place. Lance stalked out of the room and set the house on panic mode.

Whoops, he said as thick steel covered the windows and outside doors. Guess you can’t leave.

Walter had rolled his eyes then (like Lance could stop him from leaving if he wanted to), but it begged a question: what did it all mean?

"Hey Lance.”

Lance looked up from his phone. "Yeah?"

"What…” He swallowed. “What are we?"

"Uh. World-renowned spies on their way to gently kick some baddie ass?"

Walter flushed.

Lance peered at him. "How hard did you hit your head?"

"Not hard." Walter twisted his hands together. Lovey landed on his shoulder and snuggled into his neck. "What I meant was...I'm not sure if we're friends."

Lance's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? Of course we're friends."

"Yes. I know." Walter took a deep breath and looked into Lance's face. The warm brown of his skin and eyes. The cut of his cheekbone. "But are we...just friends?"

"Oh." Lance rubbed the back of his neck. "I’m eleven years older than you.”

“So?”

“So, eleven years is a pretty big difference. You were still in diapers when I started high school.”

“I was not still in diapers when I was three, thanks.” Lovey pecked at Walter’s cheek. He patted her absently. “I’m twenty-seven. My mom died when I was eight. I’ve been on my own since I was fifteen. I’m an adult.”

“A young adult.” Lance sighed. “Walter, we’re friends. Why do you want to ruin our friendship for something that might not even work?”

“Why would it ruin our friendship?” Walter demanded. “Isn’t romance just…friendship with benefits?”

Lance choked, recovered. Stared at his hands. “I don’t know about that. But I’ll level with you. I’ve never had a friendship like ours. And I’ve never had a…a romance that didn’t end badly.”

“I’ve never had a friend, before,” Walter admitted. “Other than my mom, I mean. But I think this could be good. Love is always good. Why can’t you trust me?”

"Because I...just...no."

The GPS beeped, indicating they were almost above the drop zone.

"Oh." Walter lowered his eyes, the old acid leaking into his veins. He read the situation wrong, again. Lance was trying to let him down gently. "It's me, isn't it? I'm too…too weird for you." He stood and shrugged on his parachute.

Lance stared, mouth slack. “That’s not—”

"It's fine.” Walter tried to smile. Failed. “Time to do this thing."

"Wait—”

"C'mon Lance. No time to waste." He leapt into the air, the wool coat taking the edge off the freeze.

---

Lance was in his element. He loved everything about missions—the cadence of fights, the rush of taking down a bad guy—even if he was throwing serious string instead of grenades these days. It felt better, after, anyway.

Lance fired string at the woman manning the control desk. She splattered against the wall. A computer beeped to his right, the steady count down of a bomb or a launch. He took a split second to look at the screen: a bomb launch.

He moved to the computer. Didn't see the woman yank her hand out of the glove that was stuck in the string and pull the gun from her pocket.

Lance heard the bang crack through the air, and then he was on the floor.

Only, he wasn't shot.

Only, her bare hand was plastered back against the wall.

Only, someone was on top of him. Someone with brown hair that smelled like pigeon feathers and chemicals.

Someone who wasn't moving.

"You okay, buddy?"

Walter wheezed a breath, a hollow noise. A wrong noise.

Forcing calm, Lance gently patted down Walter’s birdbone body. There was a damp hole in his coat, by his ribs.

No.

Lance pressed the button on his watch to call the field medic, then the one for reinforcements.

Cradling Walter’s body in his arms, Lance rolled in a slow, smooth motion, depositing Walter on the ground. As his back tapped against the ground, Walter whimpered.

“I’m sorry.” Lance unbuttoned Walter’s coat, unzipped his jacket. He pulled a knife from his pocket and cut Walter’s sweater open until he could see the gaping red mouth of the bullet wound in his side, going into a lung. Lance pulled off his jacket and pressed it to the wound as hard as he could.

"You're going to be okay, Walter, do you hear me?"

Walter smiled weakly, long canines poking into his bottom lip. "It's okay," he said, then muttered something Lance couldn't hear.

Lance's heart beat hard against his ribcage. "What was that, Walter? Stay with me."

A wheezing exhale. A too shallow inhale. Walter looked up at Lance with his bay-blue, gem-on-the-water eyes, color leaching from his skin.

"Stay with me. Please," Lance begged as Walter’s eyes closed and his breath shallowed.

---

It was the deep pain that finally pulled Walter back into consciousness. He blinked against the brightness of the overhead lights, throat scraped raw.

What happened?

"You were shot in your side." A nurse—Marlene Macon—came into focus. "The bullet fractured a rib, which pierced and collapsed your lung. You are going to be okay.”

Oh. Oh. The mission. The gun. Lance.

“What's your pain level?"

"Lance?" He coughed weakly. "Is Lance okay?"

"Right here, man." Lance stepped into the light. His normally immaculate suit was wrinkled, the white shirt brown with blood.

"Walter," Marlene said, "your pain level?"

"Two."

Marlene crossed her arms, fixed him with a look not unlike his grandmother’s “I know you took apart the TV” glare.

"Seven," he admitted.

"I'll let the doctor know."

Later, after more poking and prodding than he cared to remember, Walter was finally instructed to rest. Lance still sat in the corner, oddly silent.

"You can go home," Walter said. "I'm gonna be fine.”

"I'm not leaving until I can take you with me."

"That's not very healthy."

Lance stood, quickly. "You almost died in my arms. That's less healthy."

"This isn't a competition—"

"Why did you ask me if we were more than friends?"

Walter played with the threads in his thin hospital blanket. “I'm bad at reading social cues and wanted to be sure I knew what we were," he muttered.

The bed dipped under Lance's weight. "Is that the only reason?"

A deep lava-like shame burned in Walter's heart. "It's okay, Lance. We don't need to talk about this. I know you don't want me like that."

"Did I say that?"

"I mean, not in so many words, but--"

"Walter Beckett, did I say I didn't want you?" Lance demanded.

"No."

"No. Because I..." Lance took a deep breath. "So I got scared, okay? 'Cause this—this is like nothing I've ever felt before."

Walter chanced a glance up and met Lance's eyes, warm and shimmering in the fluorescent lights. "What about our friendship?"

Lance smiled, slow and curling. "I think we both know we're already more than friends. Question is, do you want to take this further?"

Hope fluttered in Walter’s chest. "Are you asking if I want to date you?”

"Well, do you?"

"Yes."

Lance leaned down and kissed him, soft and undemanding. Hand shaking, heart racing, Walter reached up and traced the hard line of his jaw.

When Lance pulled back, he wore a smirk.

"I love you," Walter said, wide open.

Lance’s smirk softened into a smile. “I love you, too,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to Walter’s forehead.

#spies in disguise #wallance #walter x lance #readinglikechickensoup #requests #fanfiction

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therollingstonys · 4 years

Text

How Long Will I Love You?

For @rosy-cheeked-girl who requested a hanahaki au for our 1k follower celebration!! Hope you enjoy it darling! :)

It starts with a tickle in the back of his throat, a flutter of muscle and then a cough, like something is stuck and his body is trying to dislodge it.

Except, he’s never choked before. Never even had a cold or a cough or allergies after the serum.

He coughs again, harder this time, and then three more times and when he gets out of his too big, too soft bed, it’s still dark out, late enough to be called pre dawn, and he’s barely slept at all.

Water soothes it, but now he’s awake—not that he was getting much sleep before while reviewing footage of his last training session with Tony. He’d made Tony laugh with a joke about condoms and how his star spangled suit looked a little too much like a patriotic rubber for his taste—and Tony had laughed, full throated and deep from his belly, eyes bright with delight.

He coughs again, huffing in frustration that this irritation won’t go away. He sips more water and stares at the holoscreen where the video is paused on Tony’s smiling face—fine lines around his eyes betray his age, but Steve thinks it makes Tony more handsome.

With a sigh, he shuts off the projection and pulls on running gear, throwing on a cold weather jacket and wool beanie for good measure—it’s cold and windy and raining out, and while he doesn’t like any of those things, he can’t stay here and stare at training video all night.

He runs and runs and runs, till he’s soaked in sweat and rain, shivering as the sun peaks over the edge of the skyline. He watches it as he rides the elevator back up the tower to his suite, the hot air blasting out of the vents warming him so his skin isn’t quite so icy.

The doors to the elevator open on his kitchen and he pauses when he steps out, brow furrowing at the sight of a deeply rumpled and grease stained Tony sitting at his kitchen bar, staring down into his coffee like it might hold the answers to the universe.

He coughs.

Tony’s head comes up and they stare at each other for a long moment, and then Tony smiles—exhaustion paling his normally golden skin and making his lips tremble. “Hey, sorry, I was out of coffee in the lab and at my place. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Steve shakes his head and strides over, unzipping his jacket as he goes, peeling it off his skin with a grimace of distaste. The beanie goes too and he shudders at the warm air on his cold skin, but works up a smile for Tony anyway. “Not a problem Tony, you’re always welcome here,” he murmurs, waving a hand around to encompass the room.

Tony nods and smiles half heartedly, “Thanks. What’s got you up and out so early?” he asks, voice rasping and low. His shoulders are hunched forward and Steve wonders for a moment when he last slept.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answers, moving on autopilot to gather what he needs for a protein shake and a filling breakfast. “Watched training video for awhile but, I uh, just needed to get out,” he explains.

Tony doesn’t respond and when he looks over from where he’s cutting up fruit, he finds that the other man is staring a hole through the countertop, eyes glazed over and distant. He considers trying to break that intense concentration, but instead decides to leave Tony in peace and quiet while he cooks.

It’s not uncomfortable, the silence, not exactly, but every time he looks up at Tony, his brow furrows a little more. The other man looks exhausted and....broken? Steve thinks maybe that’s what’s in his eyes, a brokenness, a sorrow of some kind.

When he sets a plate full of fruit and bacon and eggs in front of Tony the other man startles and looks up at him with wide eyes, as though he’s surprised to see Steve. He smiles softly at Tony and takes his empty coffee mug away and gently replaces it with a shake.

“Eat up,” he encourages, lips twitching into a fuller smile when Tony obeys and picks up his fork. He watches the other man eat for a moment, satisfaction warming his chest, filling it till his ribs hurt from the pressure. Tony very rarely lets anyone else take care of him, rarely asks for help either—so Steve treasures these moments where his teammate and friend will allow him to help.

Steve coughs.

They eat in relative silence, but Steve’s gaze lingers on Tony the whole time. By the time Tony finishes eating his eyes are hooded and the exhaustion in his shoulders is bowing them forward, as though he can no longer bear the weight of the world.

Steve washes the dishes while Tony sits, staring at the counters.

“Pepper left.”

The plate in his fingers slips and clatters against the sink, startling them both. He picks it up again with shaking fingers and shoots a glance at Tony. “I’m sorry Tony,” he murmurs, “is there, uh, anything to be done about it?”

Tony laughs mirthlessly and shakes his head, and when he looks up and meets Steve’s gaze, his eyes are pits of despair, too bright and shining with sorrow.

“I can’t give her what she wants. Iron Man and I are one, it’s not just a suit of armor. She wants it to be a thing I can just stop doing, but I—I don’t know how.”

Tony makes a soft choked sound and covers his face with shaking hands. “I fucked it up Steve,” he murmurs unevenly, voice rasping and thick, “just by being me.” When Tony’s shoulders hitch and Steve hears a strangled sob he abandons the dishes and hastily wipes his wet and soapy hands off on his shirt.

His hand hovers over Tony’s shoulder for a moment before landing and they both shudder at the contact. He’s...he’s not very good at this, but he’ll try, for Tony.

Moving in slow, wide circles, he rubs Tony’s back. “Tony, you being you have saved the world more than a few times. You stopped manufacturing weapons and brought on a new green energy revolution—you did that. You’re going to be saving the world long after you’re alive, and people will know that Tony Stark wasn’t just Iron Man, he was a good man.”

Tony shudders hard and Steve can feel his breath hitching beneath his palm, the way he’s trying not to cry, trying to hide his pain, and it makes Steve’s chest hurt and his throat feel too thick.

He coughs. And coughs again, and then once more.

Sliding his hand up to rest at the base of Tony’s neck, he rubs his thumb along the arc of Tony’s throat, feeling his pulse under his fingers. Tony is always so very alive—he’s bright and loud and dynamic and it had unnerved Steve at first, to meet someone so very alive when he felt half dead inside.

“You’re a good man Tony, the world needs you in and out of the suit.”

He squeezes Tony’s neck and is surprised when the other man reaches up, worn and calloused fingers wrapping around his wrist, holding his hand there against Tony’s neck.

Tony lifts his chin and gives Steve a watery smile, breathing a little unsteadily. “Thank you,” he whispers, “I wish I could be the man you see,” he admits softly and something in Steve’s chest aches and he longs to pull Tony into a hug, to hold him close till that brokenness heals.

He coughs and Tony frowns, but Steve cuts off the questions he knows are coming by smiling sadly at the other man and giving his neck another gentle squeeze before letting his hand slip away.

“You are that man Tony. You are.”

Tony stares at him for a moment and then smiles, but it’s not a good smile, it’s a mask and Steve hates it. “Sure thing Cap,” he agrees, nodding, even though it’s clear he doesn’t actually agree. He slides off the stool he’s been occupying, unsteady for a moment, and then he’s backing away towards the elevator, fake smile in place.

“Gotta go, thanks for the breakfast and the pep talk. A plus, 10 out of 10 would recommend to a friend,” he jokes, voice just barely unsteady, smile quivering for a moment before he’s stepping into the elevator and disappearing behind a wall of steel.

Steve stands there, staring at the place where Tony had sat until his eyes burn and his throat goes dry and suddenly he’s bowing forward and coughing so hard he can barely catch his breath.

When it subsides, his heart is pounding and he tastes copper in his mouth. He lifts a shaking hand to his lips and wipes, exhaling hard when his fingers come away streaked with blood.

Something is very, very wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cough comes and goes in varying degrees of intensity, and Steve takes to carrying hankies with him so he can duck into another room and muffle himself when he’s with the team. He’s sure that Natasha has noticed, and Clint too, and while they don’t say anything, he can feel their gazes lingering on him, questioning silently.

Tony spends too much time alone in the lab, emerging after days of solitude, grey faced with exhaustion and shaking from hunger. Steve makes sure he’s fed before guiding him to the nearest soft surface to sleep, heart aching for his friend.

His cough grows more frequent, more intense, but he hides it as best he can, shaking off questions by attributing it to the cold winter air, the dryness, the wind, anything to keep his teammates from looking too closely and asking questions he doesn’t have answers to.

He wakes up one morning, three months later, and finds that Pepper has returned. He’s gone up to ask Tony a question about training and freezes after he’s stepped off the elevator; the sight of Pepper standing in the kitchen in one of Tony’s T-shirts, bare legs stretching on for miles sending a ripple of shock through him.

She blushes and waves him over, offering him eggs and juice that he numbly refuses, smile wooden and stiff as she chatters nervously, smiling at him uncertainly till Tony emerges in boxers and an open robe, the reactor glowing from where it’s seated between his ribs.

Pepper vanishes and Steve blushes under Tony’s scrutiny. “Still no good with dames,” he admits, looking back up when Tony laughs, something in him relaxing when he sees the amusement in Tony’s eyes.

“They don’t really like being called dames nowadays Cap,” Tony explains with a laugh. Steve blushes again and Tony claps a hand to his shoulder, “c’mon Steve, no harm done. Now, what brings you to my humble abode?”

Steve mutters some kind of excuse and steps out from under Tony’s hand, trying to avoid the look of disappointment in the other man’s eyes and not really succeeding. He mutters something about training later and works up a smile, lips trembling as he backs away, the beginnings of a coughing fit clawing at his throat.

He’s just barely able to hold it off till the doors to the elevator close and then he’s coughing so hard he’s doubled over, gut wrenching as he coughs and splutters and gasps for air.

When it finally subsides and he pulls his hanky from his mouth, it’s splattered in blood and there’s…something lying on the fabric, coated in blood.

His hands shake as he washes it off, fingers trembling as he holds it up to the light and stares in wonder at the flower petal that’s seemingly come from inside his body.

The taste of copper lies heavy on his tongue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a daffodil petal.

Which makes even less sense than before because he hasn’t even seen a daffodil lately, what with it being February in New York.

He debates just throwing it out, but something compels him to keep it, stored in a small cedar box that he tucks behind his socks and tries to forget about.

The cough lingers, but he doesn’t have a fit again like the one that produced the flower, so he does his best to just ignore it. The others notice and Bruce mentions coming in for some tests, but Steve shrugs it off and reassures his teammates that he’s fine.

With Pepper back, Tony spends less time in the lab and more traveling for SI, so much so that when Steve sees him again, it’s the end of March and the earth is beginning its slow thaw into spring.

He sleeps less, driven to move, always move, because if he stops, he thinks about Tony’s unhappy smile and his sad eyes and how there’s nothing he can do to make it better and then he coughs and coughs and coughs.

Steve visits Peggy and comes back to the tower feeling leaden, grief in his throat making it hard to breathe. He doesn’t pay attention to where his feet take him till he hears “Steve? What’s wrong?” and looks up to find himself in Tony’s shop.

He opens his mouth to lie and chokes on it, chest hitching as he tries to lie, and then suddenly he’s crying, swaying as his knees buckle, and Tony’s eyes widen in shock as Steve falls to his knees, hard.

“Shit, Steve, what’s—are you—dammit,” Tony mutters, hesitating a moment before he reaches out and combs his fingers through Steve’s hair. It’s the gentleness that breaks the last of his resolve, shattering him. He sobs and gasps Peggy’s name and then Tony’s, unable to form words, breathless and scared and broken.

Tony curses again and crouches down, a blur in Steve’s teary vision. He sighs and then sits down beside Steve, shoulders to the wall, and then wraps an arm around Steve’s broad shoulders and tugs, till Steve collapses and buries his face against Tony’s shoulder.

Tony holds him like that till his tears start to slow and his breathing comes under his control once more. A hand pets through his hair the whole time, soothing and gentle and he rubs his face into Tony’s shirt, cheeks blazing with embarrassment.

“I take it Aunt Peggy isn’t doing well?”

Steve shakes his head and pulls away, a shudder of loss running over his frame when Tony’s hand slips from his hair. He wipes at his face and avoids Tony’s gaze; “She didn’t remember me today,” he whispers hoarsely, thirst thick and raw from his sobs. “I never thought there’d be a day where I’d see such a strong woman seem so weak,” he tells Tony.

Tony nods and pats his knee, sighing softly. “She was an amazing woman,” he murmurs, “she always pushed me to do better, always thought I was destined for greatness,” he muses softly.

Steve looks up and smiles weakly, “She was right,” he murmurs, “she usually was,” he says with a small, wry laugh.

Tony smiles sadly and nods, “Yea, dad never much liked being wrong, but he used to tell me that he usually was when it came to Peggy. He said she was smarter than most of the people around her and rarely got the praise she deserved.”

“She didn’t do it for the praise,” Steve replies, smiling sadly, fondly, “she did it because it was right.”

Tony nods and squeezes his knee, drawing his gaze back up. Dark eyes search his face and Steve wants to duck his head and avoid the scrutiny, but he holds fast, meeting that dark and curious gaze.

“I can go with you next time,” Tony offers, “moral support and all that.” He looks hesitant, like he’s not sure how Steve will react, like he thinks Steve will reject him, and in that moment he realizes his much he’s been pushing his friends away—especially Tony.

His smile is a little weak, but he nods in agreement. “Yea, I’d like that,” he agrees, heart stuttering when Tony smiles brightly at him. It feels like looking at the sun when Tony smiles like that—dazing and a little painful, but he wants to bask in its warmth anyways.

Tony pats his knee and grins, “Great! That’s good. Are uh, are you ok?” he asks cautiously, “I mean, I know I’m not you know, good at the emotions thing, but uh, I’m here if you want to talk,” he offers, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

A tickle in his throat is his warning and he hurries to his feet, nodding and smiling unevenly, “I uh, I appreciate it Tony, but I uh, have to go, I need, I have, I have to go,” he stutters as he stumbles backward, apologizing when he bumps into Dum-E, cringing internally at the look of rejection on Tony’s face.

He makes it back to his suite before the coughing fit takes over, wracking his body with spasms, the ache in his chest reminding him of all the times he’d nearly coughed himself to death when he was younger.

There’s blood in his palm and a clump of something else and his hands shake when he washes them off and finds a different clump of petals than the ones before.

He has JARVIS scan them and shakes as the AI explains. Clove flowers sir, symbolizing undying love. Daffodils symbolize unrequited love, uncertainty, a desire to have love returned.

Slumping bonelessly to the floor, he stares at the small red petals in his palm.

Undying, unrequited love.

He closes his fingers into a fist and crushes them, inhaling the fragrant spice they release, head falling back against the cabinet.

He wonders if this will kill him. If losing Peggy will be his undoing, the thing that finally breaks his heart for good.

Whatever this thing is that’s making him cough up blood and flowers, it means that he’s broken, perhaps dying, and the thought doesn’t scare him as much as he thinks it should.

He never belonged here anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He finds out Bucky’s alive the same week Peggy dies and it all feels like too much—too much grief, too much hope, too much to bear.

The team attends the funeral as some kind of moral support that in theory he appreciates, but is far too numb to actually process. Tony is on one side of the casket and he’s on the other, helping her sons to carry her down the aisle of the church.

The casket is too light, like she’s not really in there and he panics for a moment, on the edge of dropping it and throwing the lid open to make sure she’s there, and then Tony is guiding him to his seat with a hand at the small of his back and he leans into the smaller man, throat dry and eyes aching with the urge to cry.

He listens as Peggy’s children speak about her and wonders if they could have been his if he had just jumped from the plane before it crashed. He thinks about a lot of things, numb to his surroundings, and then suddenly Tony is squeezing his arm and giving him a questioning look that means he must have already asked Steve something.

He searches for words and something flickers in Tony’s face; he looks past Steve and nods to the others, “Go ahead, I’ll stay with him.”

They sit in silence, incense and wax in the air and he stares at the casket where the only woman he’d ever loved lies. He doesn’t remember getting to his feet, nor does he feel himself opening the lid of the casket, all he knows is that suddenly he’s staring at her weathered face and grey curls and a sob is rising in his throat.

Tears burn down his cheeks and he curls over her, gasping her name, nonsense flowing from his lips. He labors to breathe Bucky’s name to her, to tell her what’s happened, but he can’t catch his breath and then there’s a strong arm around his waist and Tony’s familiar scent in his nose and he coughs, coughs again, and panic rises in his throat alongside the pain.

He lurches away blindly and stumbles to the bathroom, ignoring Tony’s calling of his name. Bolts the door, slumps over the sink and coughs, coughs till the porcelain stains with spatters of bright shiny crimson. Red and white petals clump together, sticky with blood and he chokes, throat tightening as he spasms and hacks.

He’s dizzy when his throat is finally clear, swaying as his vision blurs. He can hear Tony calling his name and he hastily cleans the sink, pausing to wash the petals and shove them in his pocket.

He doesn’t know why he does it.

Tony pesters him when he finally emerges, worry in the lines between his brows and for once, Steve lets himself be taken care of. He leans into the arm Tony puts around his waist and lets the older man guide him out to the waiting car.

He’s tired, so very tired and he doesn’t fight it when he leans over into Tony and rests his head on his shoulder. Tony makes some soft sound and then there’s a hand in his hair and he hums softly, eyes already falling closed as Tony murmurs something in what sounds like Italian.

It takes his mind a moment to process it through the static in his brain, and as he falls asleep he realizes what Tony has said.

You’re safe my dear one, I’ve got you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They’re battling Hydra and Tony’s gone after Bucky, trying to get him back, to keep him safe, when there’s an explosion over the coms and then silence.

Steve’s heart pounds as he flings his shield and knocks two soldiers to the snowy ground. “Check in,” he orders through gritted teeth, heart careening wildly when everyone but Tony responds.

His fists are vicious, he’s not pulling his punches now, and he can hear the life leaving the men he’s hitting, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Not when Tony’s in danger.

He sprints in the direction Tony had gone, JARVIS guiding him through the building till he stumbles out into a room that looks straight from hell. Old blood coats the floor, rusty and tangy in the air and Steve swears he can smell the despair that’s seeped into the walls.

The Iron Man armor lays motionless and lightless on the ground and Steve flashes back to the terror he had felt when Tony had fallen through space in a powerless suit and they had all thought him dead.

He slides on his knees and lands beside Tony, feels for the emergency release and rips the faceplate off, gut wrenching when he sees Tony, motionless and not breathing.

“Fuck c’mon Tony, not like this,” he pants, pulling the plating from his chest till the reactor is exposed. His chest doesn’t move, no air filling his lungs and Steve whines low in his throat, “Not like this Tony, please.”

He starts compressions and tilts his head back, breathing his own air into Tony’s lungs, over and over again, despair filling him as nothing happens.

He coughs and tastes copper but doesn’t stop, breathing life into Tony’s body, willing it to work even as he coughs and spits blood before lowering his lips to Tony’s again.

“Please Tony, don’t go,” he gasps, tears burning in his eyes, willing himself not to push too hard and break a rib. He’s careful, so so careful, because Tony is only human, breakable and precious.

He pauses as the coughing grows worse and spits out flower petals, cursing himself as it goes on and on. He needs to breathe for Tony, needs to restart his heart but he can barely draw a breath of his own.

Bruce is there suddenly, taking over the breathing as Steve coughs, hunched over beside Tony’s body, blood dripping from his lips, bruised and slick petals piling on the cold concrete floor.

He sobs Tony’s name and spits, fingers curling around the armor encased arm. He closes his eyes and bows his head till his feverish brow touches the cool armor, a shudder running over his skin at the difference.

“Please, Tony, I need you to come back,” he whispers, barely audible, throat raw and sore.

Please

A great heaving breath startles him into sitting upright, shock pulsing through his veins as Tony’s big brown eyes open wide, resting on Bruce’s face for a moment before landing on Steve.

A sobbing sound of joy rips from his chest and he wraps a gentle hand around the nape of Tony’s neck, drawing him up out of the ruined armor and into his shaking arms.

Tony’s arms slide up his back and he shudders, “Don’t go,” he whispers, tears in his cheeks, “please don’t leave me.”

Calloused hands rub over his back and Tony tucks his face into Steve’s neck where his breath washes warmly over his cold sweat slicked skin.

“I’m here Steve, I’m here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve finds out from Bruce he has a disease—Hanahaki, specifically. It’s contracted only by those who bear such an unrequited or unfulfilled love that their heart cannot bear it. It sounds silly and made up, but the flowers he coughs are very, very real.

“You need to tell Tony how you feel,” Bruce murmurs kindly, and it’s that—the kindness—that cuts him deeply enough that it feels like a blade between his ribs, shining and sharp. He presses a hand to his ribs, but there’s nothing there and when he looks up at Bruce, the empathy in his eyes looks more like pity and Steve can’t stand it.

“I can’t,” he mutters, rising to his feet. “He has Pepper. He doesn’t need me, doesn’t want me,” he amends, shaking his head, “I’m not what a man like Tony wants.”

Bruce sighs softly and slides his glasses off to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Steve…”

Steve cuts him off with a shake of his head and pulls the leads off his chest monitoring his heart rate, “What’s this disease mean?” he demands, “how long will I be sick?”

Bruce sighs again and raises his hands in a helpless gesture, “I don’t know Steve. On anyone else? They’d be dead by now. For you? I’m guessing the serum keeps it from killing you, but it’s not enough to get rid of it while you harbor the unresolved feelings that feed the disease.”

Bruce shakes his head and smiles sadly, “I can’t give you anything to treat it because there is no treatment. Most people either die or confess and heal.” His smile fades and all that’s left is sorrow, “You know what you have to do Steve.”

Steve’s smile is tight lipped with grief, more a grimace than anything.

“I can live with it,” he replies.

The door is nearly shut behind him when Bruce’s soft words reach him.

That’s not living

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve stares down into the small wooden box he’s been using to save the flowers, nearly full now after almost a year. Anemones, daffodils, pink camellias and half a dozen more types that JARVIS has had to explain to him.

He doesn’t delude himself anymore—he loves Tony, he can admit that to himself, but never Tony.

He thinks that maybe Tony knows something is wrong because the other man is distant—there’s no more joking and playful teasing. His hands don’t touch Steve unless it’s necessary and they aren’t alone together unless they both wind up in the kitchen at 3am.

“Captain, forgive the interruption, but there is someone here for you.”

Steve looks around and frowns, it’s just after 2am and the number of people that it could be is small—Natasha and Clint are off on a mission for Fury, Tony was in his shop last Steve checked, and Bruce is...somewhere.

“Where are they?” he asks of JARVIS and is directed down to the communal floor of the tower. When the elevator doors open his heart skips a beat, ribs tightening so hard it feels like he can’t breathe.

“Bucky?”

His best friend looks wary and nervous, but he nods faintly, face partially obscured by his long hair and ball cap pulled down low. His grey blue eyes flicker around the room, cataloging every potential weapon and point of entry.

Bucky’s gaze lands on him and softens. “Hey punk,” he murmurs softly and Steve’s breath sobs out, chest aching with the urge to go and hug him.

It must show in his face because Bucky smirks faintly and waves a beckoning hand and then Steve’s hugging him and Bucky is hugging him back and he can’t fight the tears that stream down his face.

“Uhhh…”

Steve jerks back and wipes at his face, smiling shakily at a dumbfounded Tony. “Tony, this is Bucky.”

Tony nods, face pale, gaze flickering between them, something in his eyes that Steve can’t identify. His posture changes, shifting into the man Steve sees in front of the cameras and for the life of him, he can’t figure out why.

“Welcome to Casa Avenger,” Tony says brightly, “if you need anything give JARVIS a shout. Hey J man say hello to Manchurian Candidate here,” he calls and Steve frowns at the reference, but from behind him he hears Bucky snort out a laugh.

“Very pleased to meet you Sergeant Barnes. Welcome home. If you need anything, please let me know.”

Tony nods and claps his hands together, smile too bright and too wide. “Right, well I assume you’ll want to stay with Steve, long lost whatever and all. I’ll see you later kids, don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

Before Steve has a chance to question Tony’s oddness, the other man is gone, the only bit of him left behind the faint scent of metal and smoke on the air.

Something in his chest aches and he coughs, eyes falling shut for a moment as he sighs, trying to swallow down the urge to keep coughing.

It fades, but Steve knows it won’t stay gone for long.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky settles in easily enough, Natasha greets him with a pleased smile and a hug, whispering Yasha, a name he hasn’t heard in so long it gives him pause for a moment.

Tony is endlessly fascinated by his arm, taking x rays and scans while quizzing him for details till Bucky is sure they’ve exhausted the topic. A few weeks pass before Tony announces at dinner with the team that he can upgrade the arm and fix the nerve damage done by Hydra.

Bucky sees Steve stare at the older man with eyes so filled with love Bucky thinks that maybe he’ll finally grab the man and kiss him, but he doesn’t, he ducks his head and swallows hard, a cough rattling out of his throat a moment later.

When the coughing continues they all watch as Steve abandons the table, long legs eating up the distance to the elevator. Bucky follows, takes the stairs instead and cuts Steve off as he heads for the bathroom in their suite.

Steve tries to push past but a wave of coughing so strong it doubles him over hits and Bucky grabs his arm, holding him up as he coughs and chokes. “What the fuck kid? Your asthma come back?” he demands, frowning when Steve shakes his head but can’t respond.

The coughing grows more intense before finally ending and when Steve pulls his hand away from his mouth Bucky’s horrified to see blood on his lips.

“Steve,” he gasps, “what the hell?”

Steve shakes his head and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “It’s fine Buck, it’s just a cough.” He smiles weakly and Bucky can see the tremor in his lips—Steve always was a bad liar.

“You’re still a shit liar,” he snaps, “now, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Steve stares at him for a long moment and then sighs, shoulders slumping. His eyes turn stormy and sorrowful and his smile is sad and small when he explains.

When he’s finished, Bucky doesn’t know if he wants to cry or laugh.

“You goddamn fool,” he says softly, not unkindly.

Steve’s smile quivers and his big blue eyes shine with unshed tears. He nods, and Bucky can tell he can’t speak through his feelings—something he knows a little bit about, so he gathers his punk best friend into his arms and holds him as he cries, his own heart feeling like it’s breaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Instead of plating and ridges it’s going to be one single cast of vibranium nanites,” Tony explains, “clothes and skin won’t get caught in it and the weight should be about 300% lighter. It’ll help the strain it’s been putting on your spine and lungs.”

Bucky nods and watches as Tony plays with the hologram, showing him all the ways his new arm will be better.

“It’ll also be vibration sensitive and register temperature in the same way a bio arm would. I’m sure Spangles will appreciate that—no one likes surprise temperature play.”

It takes a second to register what Tony’s talking about and when it does Bucky bursts out laughing—laughs so hard it takes a minute for him to calm down, and damn, it feels good to laugh like that again.

“You think?” he cracks up again and pauses, trying to collect himself. “Me and Stevie?” he says, incredulous.

Tony frowns at him, “Yea, you’re like, practically married, I mean, c’mon it’s kinda obvious.”

Bucky laughs so hard he cries.

When he finally calms himself he explains to Tony that no, he’s not practically married because Steve is his brother in arms, his best friend, nothing more.

“He doesn’t love me like that,” he tells Tony, pausing for a moment before murmuring, “you might try asking him out yourself.”

Tony whirls to stare at him, wide eyed and panicked.

“W-why would I do that?”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky grins at the other man and shakes his head, “You two are the biggest idiots in love I’ve ever seen.”

He can hear Tony spluttering behind him as he walks away, and he can’t help the low chuckle that slips out.

“Good luck Romeo!” he calls over his shoulder, grinning when Tony makes a choked noise and something large clatters to the floor.

Now if they can just get their heads out of their asses, Bucky thinks maybe they’ll end up happily ever after or something equally romantic and nauseating for everyone else to be around.

He pauses on the stairs and examines that thought—Steve is a stubborn little shit prone to doing exactly the opposite just for spite.

This might take more time than he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony does what he does best when presented with a problem he doesn’t understand—he researches.

He starts with security footage for the last year with he and Steve and asks JARVIS to assess their facial expressions and body language for any consistent pattern.

He tries to tinker and distract himself but at some point he has to at least admit to himself that it’s not going to happen, so he sets aside his tools and sits, watching the footage from the past year.

JARVIS slows the footage for him and he smiles softly, watching as Steve shows him how to improve his stance during a sparring session. He remembers the way Steve had smiled at him when he’d—

He laughs and watches himself flip Steve onto his back, the look of surprise in the larger man’s eyes making his chest ache with fondness.

There’s a moment where Tony wipes off his face with a towel and now, as an outside observer, he can see the look in Steve’s eyes as he stares at Tony-on-the-screen.

The pure affection and pride shining from those radiant eyes makes his breath stutter—he didn’t know Steve could see him like that.

“JARVIS, catalogue every expression on Steve’s face when we’re together or when I’m mentioned in conversation. I want a breakdown of emotions and a data spread on how often those emotions are expressed over time.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the video blurs as JARVIS extrapolates data. Tony paces, unsure if the thing clutching at his guts is fear or hope—hope for what, he wonders, because even in the quiet moments when he lets himself think that maybe Steve feels something more than just friendship for him, he can’t quite allow that hope to solidify.

His experience has taught him a lot—don’t sleep with Ty Stone, always buy custom, and never trust anyone.

There’s a small handful of people that he trusts, but even those few have terms and conditions.

Pepper wants him to stop being Iron Man and settle down into a safe domestic life and it’s not that he doesn’t want that, because the idea of children and domestic bliss is appealing as hell, it’s just that...he is and always will be Iron Man.

Rhodey too has encouraged him to slow down, take a break, to savor the softer, sweeter moments in life and a part of Tony wishes he could, wishes he could just set aside this piece of himself, but it would be like removing his heart and trying to function without it.

If he did that he’d be no better than a tin man; heartless and hopeless.

Steve…he doesn’t know what Steve wants.

“Sir? Results rendered.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Now It’s all just speculation at this point, but that looks very much like an engagement ring, wouldn’t you agree Kacee?”

“Oh my god, you’re so right Adele, and look at the size of it!”

“Well, would you really expect anything else from Tony Stark? He’s a billionaire! Though it does look vintage—OH! I wonder if it’s his mother’s!”

“OH MY GOD that’s so sweet!”

Steve stares at the tv, gut churning as two perky news hosts—though he doesn’t think this tabloid trash counts as news—squeal over the ring that Pepper is sporting on her left middle finger.

They’re not wrong—it does look like an engagement ring.

His throat goes tight and dry and he coughs and coughs and coughs until his throat is raw and he’s wheezing, laboring for breath.

“Now onto the real question—will there be children??”

He falls to his knees and curls over, retching and gasping as flower petals spatter to the floor. He tastes blood and groans, inhaling wetly before spitting it out onto the hardwood floor.

“OMG can you imagine Tony Stark as a dad?? Ooo can you say daddy?!”

Steve hacks wetly, choking and gasping as yet more flowers come out, eyes watering as he struggles to breathe, and some part of him thinks this is it, I’m going to die, and it shouldn’t feel like relief, but it does.

“I’m guessing it’ll be a spring wedding, we all know Pepper has fantastic taste, and if there is a reason for it to be uh, urgent, I’m sure she’d want the dress to look as sleek as possible.”

His vision goes blurry as he struggles for air, head pounding as his diaphragm spasms. It hurts so bad, worse than anything he’s felt in a very long time and with the last of the air in his lungs, he sobs out a strangled gasp of Tony’s name and collapses.

“Well I’ll say this, it’ll be the wedding of the century. This is American royalty!”

A petal clings wetly to his lip, fluttering faintly as he exhales slowly, eyes falling closed.

“A true love story for the ages.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve?”

He’s knocked three times already and Steve hasn’t answered and Tony’s starting to wonder if the man is just straight out avoiding him.

“Sir, Captain Rogers is having a medical emergency, I am overriding personal privacy settings to allow you in.”

Medical emergency? Can Steve even have those?

Fear pierces his heart and when the door slides open, Tony steps inside Steve’s suite, gaze flickering around the living area and kitchen as he calls his name urgently.

“Behind the couch sir.”

The TV is playing some tabloid show, and it barely registers that they’re talking about him and Pepper before he sees Steve’s feet sticking out and then he’s lunging forward, heart pounding too fast, chest aching when he sees the pool of blood on the floor.

He falls to his knees beside the broad form and it dimly registers that Steve isn’t breathing. Panic floods his veins and his hands shake as he struggles to flip Steve onto his back.

“Vitals J!”

“Captain Rogers is not breathing sir, his airway is obstructed and his heart has stopped. Clinical brain death will occur in two minutes if his heart is not restarted.”

Tony inhales sharply and looks around wildly for the first aid kit installed in each suite. The red of it by the elevator doors makes his heart skip and he lurches to his feet, stumbling as he runs to it and rips it from the wall.

He’s back at Steve’s side and he distantly notes the blood staining his jeans, Steve’s blood, and it makes his gut wrench, but he can’t, he can’t focus on that right now.

Buttons fly as he rips open Steve’s shirt and attaches the leads to the defibrillator to his chest. He tilts Steve’s head back and uses the tweezers from within the kit to pull a clump of something from his throat, wet and red and shiny.

“J!?”

“Airway clear. Administer one shock to the heart and then three breaths.”

Tony nods jerkily and presses the button to the defibrillator, wincing when it fires, Steve’s broad chest jumping violently.

“Again sir.”

Tony fights back a whimper and breaths into Steve’s lungs, his lips coming away tasting like blood and then watches as an electric shock is applied to Steve’s heart.

“C’mon Steve, don’t go,” he whispers, cupping his cheek with shaking fingers. His skin is cool to the touch and his lips are pale and he’s still—too still for a man so normally filled with life.

“Please Steve, don’t leave me,” he pleads against Steve’s lips, pushing the oxygen into his body like it’s a prayer, a desperate plea to the fire that burns in Steve’s chest, to the thing that gives him life and makes him the man Tony loves.

Oh god…Tony sobs as the shock runs again, higher this time. “I love you Steve, don’t you dare go into that fucking light,” he threatens, shaking Steve’s shoulder none too gently.

“You don’t get to leave me,” he gasps, his own lungs aching from the harsh expell of air into Steve’s pliant mouth. “Not yet Steve, not yet.”

The shock is so high it makes Steve’s back bow off the ground and Tony sobs as he watches, gut writhing with terror.

Steve still isn’t breathing.

He’s failed.

Sobbing, he collapses, brow pressing to Steve’s, tears falling from his face to the cool skin of Steve’s.

“I’m sorry Steve, I’m sorry, please, come back. Please, I love you.”

He kisses Steve’s mouth and shudders at how yielding it is, how there’s no life or warmth to the lips he’s thought about so often he could map them out without ever having touched them.

The pain in his chest feels like he’s back in the cave with Yinsen—he’s being cracked open, sternum to stomach, and his soft insides are spilling out.

He didn’t know love could hurt like this.

“Tony?”

His breath catches on his lips, heart thundering with hope that’s so painful it makes him want to vomit it up, expel it from his body so he doesn’t feel like this anymore.

He’s shaking as he pulls back, and when he sees Steve’s eyes are open, watching him, he lifts a shaking hand to press against the broad plane of his chest, a sob wracking his chest when he feels a steady heartbeat beneath his palm.

Steve’s hand shakes when it cups his cheek and Tony leans into it, tears on his cheeks as Steve cradles his face, murmuring Tony’s name like a prayer.

Tony turns his chin and presses his lips to Steve’s palm, smiling shakily. When he leans down to kiss Steve he can feel the surprise in his broad form for a long moment before he melts into it, into Tony.

They’re both breathing unsteadily when they part, and Tony’s lips taste like salt and copper and Steve.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” Tony pleads, chest hitching with emotion.

Steve shakes his head gently, brows pressed together, hands holding Tony close.

“Never,” he agrees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Captain America and Iron Man—The superhero romance no one saw coming!!

Captain America GAY??? Scandal strikes superhero!

Pepper Potts abandoned for a gay love affair!! Heartbreak in America!

Tony snorts and tosses aside the tablet, the soft thump of it against the duvet barely noticeable in the big cushy bed.

Steve stirs beside him and he rolls over eagerly, watching with awe as the man he loves wakes slowly.

Long, fine lashes flutter first, followed by a slow inhale and then a stretch that reminds Tony of a cat. He’s smiling softly by the time Steve’s eyes are half open, reaching out to brush his thumb gently against Steve’s plush lower lip.

“Morning beloved,” he whispers, a flush on his cheeks at the easy way he’s so soft and affectionate with Steve. Pet names fall from his lips like water these days, and the way Steve blushes at them and leans toward him like a flower chasing the sun never fails to make his heart skip a beat.

This morning is no different; Steve flushes pink and shifts his chin to kiss Tony’s thumb and then his palm.

“Morning love,” he whispers back, already reaching out to pull Tony closer.

Tony goes easily, contentment in his heart. Lips pressing to Steve’s throat, he hums softly, eyes falling shut.

“How you feeling?”

It’s the same question he’s been asking for three weeks now—every few hours it seems, but Tony can’t really help it.

Steve died.

He died and Tony almost lost him.

“Perfect. Happy. In love.”

Tony smiles softly and kisses his throat again, listening to the steady sounds of Steve breathing. Sometimes he lays awake at night listening to it, scared it’ll stop and he’ll be alone again.

“With me?”

Steve laughs softly, “Yea Tony, with you.” A broad hand spreads over his back and pulls him closer so they’re pressed together with barely an inch of space left.

“I love you.”

Tony’s throat flutters and it feels hard to breath for a moment.

“I love you too.”

The words taste like Steve’s skin, warm and reassuring. He holds them close, tucks them into his heart and saves them for them days when he’s not sure he knows how to breath on his own.

His lungs are filled with Steve, with the life he’d breathed into Tony all those months ago when he’d saved his life.

Steve’s chest rises and falls, Tony’s life force inside him, giving that big beautiful heart what it needs to beat.

Tony inhales slowly, a smile on his lips.

#stony #stevetony #superhusbands #steve rogers x tony stark #mod stella writes #hanahaki au #1k follower celebration

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azvolrien · 4 years

Text

Water Horses - Chapter Three

Fun With Fantasy Economics

~~~

They loaded the panniers back onto Pardus’s back and led the construct along the path toward the market.

“How does this usually work?” asked Asta. “Do you set up a stall?”

“You can,” said Roan, “but there are always a couple of merchants who’ll just buy the whole lot in one go. So I usually have a wander around to determine how much things are going for and sell to one of them. You make more money running a stall – it’s not like you need to pay a fee for it; you can just arrive and set up – but the convenience of going to a buyer can often be worth it if you don’t have the patience for a stall.”

“And what have you got today?”

Asta stopped dead. “Who said that?”

A huge creature leapt down from the summit of a rock formation to their left, landing neatly on the path in front of them. Razor-sharp talons, each one six inches long – a cruelly hooked beak bigger than any eagle’s – keen, utterly inhuman yellow eyes – Asta backed behind Pardus, ready to leap into the saddle and run back to the boat.

“Oh, it’s just you,” said Roan. “Morning, Pirate.”

“What’s the matter with her?” asked the creature – Pirate? “Has she never seen a gryphon before?”

“It’s possible that she hasn’t,” said Roan thoughtfully. “Asta? You can come out – he won’t hurt you.”

“Sorry if I gave you a bit of a fright,” said Pirate. “Most people who come out here are used enough to us. Most Stormhaven crews have a gryphon or two among them.”

Without the detail-focus provided by sheer panic, it was easier to take in the whole picture. On all fours, Pirate was big enough to stand eye-to-eye with Roan, while his wings might have been more than twenty feet across if he fully unfolded them. His feathers were a uniform dark tan colour across his whole body, save for a golden-brown strip back between his pointed ears and a black patch over one eye. Asta managed a nervous smile.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you come here with another person before,” said Pirate, addressing Roan again. “What’s up?” He peered more closely at Asta, and his eyes narrowed. “You haven’t started trading in slaves, have you?” His tone suggested that things could get extremely nasty if the answer was ‘Yes’.

Asta swallowed and edged out from behind Pardus. “No, she hasn’t – I’m an escapee. She thought I might be able to get passage to Stormhaven here.”

“Oh, that’s all right, then,” said Pirate, brightening.

“Is your captain around?” asked Roan. “I thought she might be the best bet.”

“She’s up at the market,” said Pirate. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

“So… you’re a pirate?” asked Asta as they walked.

Pirate laughed, or at least he made a strange clacking sound in his throat that seemed to be the gryphon equivalent. “No, just a smuggler. ‘Pirate’ is my name – after this.” He tapped the back of one talon against his black marking. “And our crew doesn’t deal in… questionable goods,” he added, seeing that Asta still looked uncertain. “No drugs, slaves or weapons. Everything we carry is harmless. We just, ah… bypass the official tariffs on it.”

“It’s a long and illustrious tradition,” said Roan, deadpan. “Here we are.”

The market didn’t exactly look like Asta’s idea of a smugglers’ den, though her idea had mostly been gleaned from childhood adventure novels. A couple of dozen stalls had been set up around the perimeter of a wide, sandy ‘square’, with canvas awnings stretched over their stockpiles of goods. People – not looking furtive at all – wandered around, stopping at this stall or another and haggling over whatever they bought or sold. The majority of them were human, but another gryphon hung around a campfire near one stall, and an elf in the black habit of a Starwatch acolyte was deep in negotiations over a sack of coffee beans. Although it was not as refined as Siraki Square back in Duncraig, where the ground was paved with polished granite slabs and the stalls in permanent stone-built booths, in most other ways it could have been any village square on market day.

The biggest difference, other than the location, was how many of the traders were armed. Roan still carried her spear, and almost everyone but Asta and the gryphons sported at least a long knife at their belt, if not more formidable weaponry. The gryphons, of course, had their talons.

Pirate led them over to the stall with the other gryphon, who was conversing with two humans over a chart laid out on a crate. “Captain! These two would like a word with you.”

“Captain Steel,” said Roan with a respectful nod.

“Roan NicBruide,” said the gryphon in reply. Like Pirate, she had clearly been named for her appearance: unlike him, her eyes were a shade of grey very like Roan’s, and the feathers around both of them made a silvery mask. She wore a leather harness around her chest, carrying a number of handy satchels, but the closest things she had to rank insignia were a couple of silver rings piercing her ears and a scarf tied around her neck, the fine wool dyed a very expensive shade of purple. She glanced briefly at Asta, her eyes narrowing as Pirate’s had when she noticed the collar. “Looking to sell?”

“Yes, but not her,” said Roan. She quickly explained the situation, with a few details from Asta.

Steel raked the talons of one hind foot through the feathers on her belly. “Well, with regards to selling, I know McClellan at the far stall there has a reputation for giving a fair price. Takes the stance that you’ll lose money in the long run by swindling people, since fewer people will want to trade with you. With regards to you, Ms zeDamar…” She trailed off, her eyes narrowing in thought again. “No, no, this is annoying me too much. Keelan, run down to Blayney and get the bolt cutters, will you? I’m taking that collar off her.” One of her human crew nodded and ran off. “Back to the matter of your passage.” She gestured with a wing for them to follow her over to the chart. “I would, of course, be delighted to offer you passage to Stormhaven. Our laws not just allow but require sanctuary to be given to escaped slaves, and on a more personal level we’re always happy to thumb our noses at the trade. So to speak.”

“However…?” said Asta, sensing an incoming caveat.

Steel inclined her head towards her. “We aren’t going directly back to Stormhaven.” She tapped the point of a talon against the map, showing the route plotted out. “We’re heading north – all the way up to Valsnes at the mouth of Myrkfjord.”

“Won’t you hit the sea ice at this time of year?” asked Roan.

“We expect to, yes,” said Steel. “That’s why Curlew is travelling in convoy with Narwhal – it’s an icebreaker. So.” She flexed her wings and folded them more closely against her back. “Would I be correct in saying you would prefer not to accompany us up to Valsnes?”

“It does sound rather cold,” admitted Asta.

Steel laughed. “Thought as much. We’ll be back here in about a month. If you still want to leave with us, the offer will still stand.”

“Think you can handle another month in the broch?” asked Roan.

“If you don’t mind having me.”

“You’re easy enough company,” said Roan. “I’m going to go and check the market values – will you be all right staying with Pardus and this lot to mind our stuff?” When Asta nodded, Roan shouldered her spear and set off along the row of stalls.

Steel chuckled.

“What?” asked Asta.

“Nothing, really,” said Steel. “She just always reminds me somewhat of one of the journeyman wizards up at the College back at home.”

“How so?” asked Pirate, tilting his head.

“Colour scheme, mainly.” Steel turned away from the chart to rummage in one of the crates. “While Ms NicBruide is off on her rounds, can I offer you some tea?”

Keelan returned with the bolt cutters as another of the crew started boiling a kettle on the campfire. A human might have had trouble breaking the metal, but with the strength of a gryphon behind them the bolt-cutters sliced through the brass collar with ease.

Asta pulled it free and rubbed her throat. “It’s been years,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it.” The kettle began to whistle over the fire. Its handle was bigger and wider than normal, allowing Steel to hook her talons under it and start pouring out the boiling water.

“You – you said you were travelling with the Narwhal?” asked Asta.

“That’s correct, yes.” Steel dipped the tip of her beak into her own mug. “Curlew is good for sailing up and down the coast – its design has a good compromise between speed and cargo space – but it doesn’t have the hull for sea ice. Narwhal is designed to break right through it.”

“I think I saw it being launched, back in Duncraig,” said Asta. “It’s actually a construct, isn’t it?”

Steel looked rather impressed by this question. “Yes – the biggest ever grown. It carries the ‘ship’ on a harness on its back, while its skull is ridged and armoured for breaking ice. The armour looks a little like its namesake’s horn, but much sturdier.”

“The Constructists back at home will never admit it,” supplied Pirate, “but the ones in Duncraig are working on some very exciting stuff with aquatic constructs.”

“They still have a while to go until producing constructs like Narwhal is entirely practical,” said Steel, “but at least they’ve proved the concept is sound. More tea?”

Roan returned after about a quarter of an hour to find Asta deep in conversation with Steel, Pirate, Keelan and a couple of other crew members about the merits of grown constructs versus built ones.

“I suppose they both have their positives and negatives,” said Asta. “Speaking as an enthusiastic observer, that is – the only magic I can do is to summon and dismiss Pardus here,” she stroked her construct’s nose, “and that’s all in the summoning stone, not in me.”

“Grown constructs are much less wasteful,” said Keelan. “Once made, they last for a lifetime.”

“That’s true, but they’re also much slower to make,” said Pirate. “A skilled Constructist can knock together a half-decent built construct in a couple of days, if they have the materials for it; Narwhal took months to grow, and Pardus would have taken – what, a fortnight?”

“That’s about right, yes,” said Asta. “I would ultimately argue that grown constructs are better for personal transportation – a bound construct can’t be stolen; Pardus will never obey anyone but me, or Daro would have taken it to sell – but built ones are probably more economical on an industrial scale.”

Roan cleared her throat, hiding her smile behind her fist. “Speaking of your construct – I need it to carry our stuff over to McClellan’s stall.”

Asta waved farewell to the Curlew crew and led Pardus after Roan.

“That seemed to go well,” Roan commented.

“…Did you leave me alone with them to see if I could trust them?”

“No, I knew full well you could trust them. I left you alone with them to see if you could stand them enough to share a boat with them.”

“Very cunning,” said Asta flatly, half-suppressing a smile.

“You look much better with the collar off, by the way,” Roan added. “You stand taller without it.”

McClellan’s reputation for fairness turned out to be accurate: he gave Roan a good price for the fish, pelts, vegetables and other goods Each-Uisge had borne over from the mainland, enough to buy fresh supplies with a little left over to set aside. All in all, Pardus was hardly less laden returning to the boat than it had been when they arrived.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you talking about your interests,” said Roan, packing a sack of oats into the locker. “So you like constructs, then?”

Asta passed a bag of bread rolls down to her. “Yes. They were something of an obsession when I was little – I used to sit in my window for hours, just watching for any passing by in the street – and I’ve made a bit of a study of them ever since. I know all the steps and spells for how to make one, too – I just…” She held out one hand palm-up, demonstrating her complete lack of magical ability. “…can’t actually do it.”

Roan glanced at Pardus, then looked back at Asta and raised an eyebrow.

“Pardus was a gift,” explained Asta. “My parents commissioned it to celebrate my university graduation.”

Roan nodded and packed the rolls in next to the oats. “That must have cost them a fair bit.”

“I think they started saving up as soon as I matriculated,” said Asta. “They couldn’t have afforded it otherwise. We weren’t poverty-stricken, but not exactly rich either. We had enough for everything we needed, but not necessarily everything we wanted.” She sighed and looked out at the horizon.

Roan let the silence lie for a couple of seconds before she cleared her throat again and pointed at the next item, a smallish bale of woollen cloth. “That Daro lad probably got everything he wanted growing up, and look how he turned out.”

Asta shook her head as if to clear it, rubbing the back of one hand against her eyes, and half-laughed, half-winced. It was easier to joke about Daro when he was well out of sight. “Yes, that’s him in a nutshell.” She lifted the roll of cloth and handed it down, and climbed back into the boat herself once everything was packed away.

“Time to go,” said Roan, coiling the mooring rope and hanging it over its hook. “For obvious reasons, we need to be back at the broch before dark.”

“Do the water horses like that beach as well?” asked Asta as Roan readied the sail and adjusted the tiller.

“Not as much as they like the rocks, for some reason,” said Roan. “But still – best to avoid it after dark just in case.”

They were almost back to the mainland when Roan suddenly pressed a finger to her lips and pointed into the water alongside the boat, jerking her head in the same direction when Asta just gave her a confused shrug in reply. Asta nodded and, keeping low and moving slowly, shifted from one side of the boat to the other to peer over the side.

The water was murky with peat and silt washed down from the hills, but even so the great mottled shape was clear enough. Riabhach the water stallion was keeping pace with the boat just below the surface of the water, and close up it became clear that he was not only bigger than his fellow water horses, he was longer than the boat and easily big enough to shatter its planking should he take exception to its presence.

Roan pointedly met Asta’s eyes and pointed downwards, before sliding off her seat in the stern to crouch in the bottom of the hull. Asta nodded back and copied her. The boat creaked and rocked as Riabhach’s back scraped against the underside. Roan and Asta stared at each other, holding completely still for a few minutes. Something broke the surface; a huge snout let out a gruff snort. Then, nothing. Roan gestured for silence again and carefully sat back up to look over each side of the boat in turn.

“He’s gone,” she said, sitting back in the pilot’s seat with a sigh of relief. “Close one, though.”

“Would he have attacked the boat?” asked Asta, fighting back the tremor in her voice.

“He never has,” said Roan, with a grimace that acknowledged this was not a reassuring ‘no’. “I’ve never been wholly sure how clever they are. I’m pretty sure he knows a boat isn’t prey or a rival – but I don’t know if he thinks it’s just an interesting piece of flotsam, or if he knows full well it’s something people ride in and just didn’t think we were enough of a threat to bother with.”

“Maybe he’s less territorial towards things he meets out at sea? If the rocks and beaches are where all his, his wives and children are most unsafe?”

Roan gave her an odd look with a small smile. “I’ve never heard anyone refer to a water horse as having wives and children before. But that would make some sense, aye.”

At last, Each-Uisge ran back up on the beach and Roan climbed out to shove it back into the shed. “With a bit of time to spare, too,” she said, gesturing towards the western horizon, where the sun was sinking lower but had not yet turned red. “We’ll – well, Pardus will carry everything back to the broch in one trip, and then you can help me get Vanessa and the girls locked up.”

Asta paused in the middle of summoning Pardus back out of its stone and blinked. “Who’s Vanessa?”

“The boss hen.”

“Oh. You’re talking about the chickens.” She held the summoning stone up and stood back to let Pardus materialise around it. “The chickens have a boss?”

“Of course!” Roan lifted the panniers, ready to swing them across Pardus’s back. “Haven’t you heard of a pecking order?”

“Very funny.” Roan just grinned, and started loading the panniers as soon as they were in place.

With the hens safely cooped up for the night – and feisty Vanessa duly identified as having a redder tail than the others – Roan unlocked the broch door and let them back into the gloom of the interior. The fire had died down to a few glints of red among the ash, but it still cast some warmth out into the room.

“Well, then,” said Roan, dusting off her hands once everything from the market had been properly stored away. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other for a month.” Nothing in her tone suggested she was disappointed about this.

Asta folded her arms, leaning against the wall by the stairs. Roan’s wound tincture had done its work well; covered by the dressing and her tunic, the wounds on Asta’s back were no longer unbearable to the touch. “Funnily enough,” she said, smiling, “I think I’m all right with that.”

~~~

Steel doesn’t actually know Wygar; I’m not sure if she even knows what his name is. He just has a very memorable appearance.

Roan is more sentimental about her hens than you might expect. She doesn’t even eat them once they stop laying.

#az writes stories

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hermannsthumb · 5 years

Note

we know much about touch starved hermann but have we ever considered highly sleep deprived, exceptionally sassy/kind (choose your fighter) hermann?

oh FUCK yes sleepy kind affectionate herm is gtier

As a general rule, Hermann cares a little more about himself than Newt does--enough to put protein in his body, occasionally, to eat crap that isn’t prepackaged dessert cakes for breakfast--but that sure as hell doesn’t extend to sleep. He sleeps less than Newt, somehow. He’s there in the evenings, when Newt hangs up his headlamp and throws out his gloves and calls it a night, and he’s there in the mornings, when Newt’s dressed and (sometimes) showered and done up his hair with the appropriate amount of gel. It’s due to a lot of factors, probably. Anxiety with a side of insomnia. Hermann’s hip, the pain in which often flares up and makes it difficult for him to fall asleep. The simple fact that, while Newt obviously loves his work, Hermann (with his equations that he places the weight of the world on) is downright obsessive about his.

The point: Hermann never sleeps. Hermann didn’t sleep last night, either, to the extent that he’s very nearly nodding off at his desk. Normally, Newt would’ve herded him off to his bed by now, plucked off his dorky little shoes and his blazer and practically barricaded in Hermann’s door, but he’s busy himself, so he doesn’t notice something’s amiss until it’s way past midnight.

What clues him in is the distinctly jarring experience of arms suddenly finding their way around his waist and a chin suddenly resting on his shoulder and the very distinct smell of Hermann’s favored blend of tea. Newt startles and drops his scalpel. It clangs onto his workbench, metal reverberating on metal. “Hermann?” he squeaks.

“Mm,” Hermann says, to the left of Newt’s ear, breath puffing warm and gentle and, somewhat, pleasant.

Newt shivers. He fidgets. He blushes. “Hermann,” he tries again.

Hermann taps his fingers on Newt’s hip. He breathes in deeply. “Yes, Newton?”

“What are ya, uh,” he pokes at Hermann’s hand, “doing there, buddy?”

“You’re warm,” Hermann says. “And soft.” His noses into Newt’s neck. After a few moments, Newt feels a tiny, feather-light kiss pressed to his collarbone through his shirt.

Oh, wow.

“Oh, wow,” Newt says.

It’s not unheard of for Hermann to kiss Newt, nor is it unheard of for Hermann to touch Newt and wrap Newt in his arms like this, but usually it’s either proceeded or preceded by something a little more...intimate. Them going at it in one of their beds. It’s one of the rare times Hermann allows himself to get all touchy-feely, one of the rare times he pulls down those walls and unbuttons that collar and just loosens up a bit. Newt’s not sure what brought this fit on, but frankly, he’s into it. He does wish it was at a slightly less inconvenient moment, though. “Alright, Herm,” he says. He pats Hermann’s hand this time. Hermann hums happily. He presses another little kiss. “How about we get you on over to the couch, okay?”

He does get Hermann onto the couch, but with no small amount of difficulty--Hermann’s left his cane at his chalkboard, and he clings to Newt like a needy rag doll and takes him down with him--and Hermann refuses to let go of him when Newt tries to get back to his feet. “Dude,” Newt says, “I got a dissection to finish up, can you--”

Hermann pulls Newt down on top of him entirely. “You work yourself so hard,” he mumbles, clutching onto the back of Newt’s shirt.

“And you don’t?” Newt laughs. “Dirty hypocrite.” Hermann’s left his glasses on, and they’ve slid up, ridiculously high, to his hairline, librarian chain steadily pressing a red line into his cheek. Newt slips them off carefully and sets them on the cluttered side table; Hermann blinks owlishly at him. “I’m still here,” Newt assures him with a little grin. Hermann’s ridiculously far-sighted.

Hermann sighs contentedly and presses Newt’s head to his chest, and Newt gets an eyeful of worn wool sweatervest, and his own glasses make a worrying creaking noise. Hermann doesn’t notice. Dude’s got a grip like steel. “You looked very handsome today,” Hermann says.

Newt laughs again, but it comes out muffled. “Thanks,” he says.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you all day,” Hermann says. “You’ve been terribly distracting.” He rubs his fingers in a little circle on Newt’s back. Newt relaxes, just a bit. Resisting a cuddly Hermann is a losing battle. “Sweet man,” Hermann says, in another slurring mumble.

God, Hermann’s cute. Newt smiles. “Take a little nap, okay, dude?” he says. He manages to struggle up onto his elbows. Hermann’s eyes have drifted shut.

“Mmhmm,” Hermann says. He cracks open one eyelid. “Stay, won’t you?”

“’Course,” Newt says, and, figuring he has nothing to lose, snuggles back into Hermann’s chest. If he whispers something that might sound suspiciously like love you, Hermann’ll be none the wiser.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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thewatchau · 5 years

Text

Keep The Watch: A Watch AU Story

After about two weeks of drafting, rewriting, shortening, shortening more, finalizing, and then shortening AGAIN, the project I announced in this post is finally complete! There are actually two versions; I’m posting the more detailed one here, but a slightly shorter one can also be found linked on Discord.

This tale takes place during the events of mid-December 1613 when The Enemy sent that infamous message. “Still here I see. Very good.”

Many thanks to @viostormcaller for letting me bring Mage Vio into the tale! I’d also like to thank everyone else who gave me permission to use their watchers, even if the length constraints kept me from using them. @starlightxnightmare, @a-septic-mind, @thelunarmasquerade, @theshapeshifter100, and @shamrockace, thank you so much guys!

Now, without further ado...

Emily could have sworn it had only been an hour since she lit the first candle, yet here she was, staring at a pile of spent matches and stubs of wax. With the wool plugs in her ears and unfinished map of The Watch’s outposts in Duilintinn before her, time itself seemed intent to take advantage of the distraction.

Time wasn’t the only force working behind her back, the bard remembered with a shudder. Last night, spies of The Enemy had infiltrated King Sean’s castle, playing the eerie tune favored by their foe before vanishing into the night. It was the first time The Enemy had actually made a move in years, and of course, she had been holed up in her room making a map.

“Stupid, stabby, magic breaking, mind controlling, kingdom destroying bastard,” Emily muttered angrily under her breath. Whether she was more furious with The Enemy’s taunts or her own obliviousness was up for debate, and the bard’s frustration spiked when a particularly forceful stroke snapped the point of her quill. Again.

Now more concerned with berating her own clumsiness than the intangible threat that stalked the kingdom, Emily forced herself to her feet. A walk would do her some good, and Vio will probably have some extra quills and candles somewhere…

*~*~*

The creaks of the wooden eves seemed to echo Vio’s internal screaming as she read the page before her. Every instinct told the mage to run, yet she couldn’t look away. No one could. The entire Watch, ordinarily filled with the ring of clashing steel and the shouts of arriving messengers, was completely silent.

Who could blame them? Vio could hardly breathe deeply enough to think straight; much less break the silence with empty words. The music last night had been one thing, but this… the identical page that had appeared for every member of The Watch; a message from The Enemy who had never before acknowledged their vigil… this was something far worse.

Vio had read the message at least a dozen times in the last few hours, testing spells on the page while frantically writing and discarding theories about its intent. Even the scratch of her quill seemed damning in the horrified silence. Vio didn’t even have to look at the original message anymore, with those phrases burned into her brain.

“You have to stop watching.”

“Otherwise, I’m just going to be here.”

“I’m just going to be here all the time.”

“Staring. Watching. Waiting.”

“Still here I see?”

“Very good.”

She wanted to scream. She wanted to find The Enemy himself and shoot lightning out of her hands until he explained who the fuck he was to think that he could blame The Watch for the destruction and hatred he had razed upon Duilintinn in the past two decades...

But more than anything else, Vio was scared.

So scared in fact, that the sound of the door opening behind her brought her shooting to her feet, face to face with Emily. A starkly normal expression was on the bard’s face, scrunched up in frustration at the broken quill she had clenched in her ink-stained fingers.

“Vio, do you-” The question died on her friend’s lips as everyone in the room turned in shock to face her. Vio watched the young bard’s face shift into an expression of dawning horror.

“Wait,” The bard’s eyes found the mage’s as her voice shook, “What’s happened?”

A deep breath, and Vio began to speak past the lump of fear in constricting her throat.

*~*~*

As Vio showed Emily the letter in her hand and explained the horrible choice The Enemy laid before them, horror threatened to overwhelm the bard as a million panicked thoughts raced through her mind. Yet, when her friend finally finished speaking, she could only grasp upon one thing to say:

“GOD DAMMIT I WAS MAKING ANOTHER MAP!”

The broken quill fell to the floor, forgotten, as Emily grabbed a pile of parchment and sprinted down the hall. The annoyance with herself she had felt earlier was nothing compared to the guilt that squeezed her chest right now. She was the garrison’s bard, the one who was supposed to immortalize and spread the story of The Watch across the kingdom, both to keep everyone informed and to ensure future generations never make the same mistakes… and yet here she was, missing yet another threat because of a stupid map.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” Emily repeated to herself as she began frantically drafting her report. She had never grabbed a new quill, she thought ruefully, but a charcoal pencil was good enough. Forgetfulness was the least damning item on her list of faults right now.

Moments later, the page was folded, sealed, and given to the nearest messenger. In the garrison’s courtyard, even the moon seemed to be watching the bard as she sunk to the flagstones. Cold seeped into her bones from the freezing rocks. Emily didn’t care.

*~*~*

Vio peered around the corner just in time to see her friend flop to the ground and hiss out a rare curse. “Hell!”

“Tell me about it,” she responded, settling down on the ground next to the bard. “I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my entire life.”

Silence, and then, “What do we do?”

“I have no idea,” Vio groaned, placing her head in her hands. Frankly, the mage was exhausted. “Seems that, somehow, the attention we- The Watch- give The Enemy is making him stronger. But if we don’t watch, he’s free to do whatever he wishes…”

“Exactly.” Emily rolled over to a seated position, crossing her bare feet under her skirt with a serious expression. “We have no choice, but The Enemy wants us to think that we do. He gave us a choice that doesn’t exist, then gloated about how we sided with him… but he knows that, no matter what we choose, we betray the king.”

As realization dawned on Emily’s face, her tone shifted, from that of a nervous confidant to a general upon the eve of battle. With every word, her voice grew stronger as she continued.

“He forced us into a choice where either way meant that we would be betraying the most wonderful, amazing ruler who brought Duilintinn out of the ashes and gave us hope where none existed. The Enemy forced us to do this. This. Is. Not. Our. Fault. We had no choice.”

Vio cursed loudly, getting the attention of other Watchers passing by, but the bard didn’t take notice. Her eyes were focused somewhere off in the distance, reading between the lines of a message none of the others could see.

“So what are our options, really?” continued the bard, not stopping for an answer. “If we stop watching, King Sean, Duilintinn, and everything we stand for is doomed, but if we keep watching, we still have a chance. The Enemy wants us to think that he will never go away if we keep watching, but that’s because he’s an arrogant fool who truly believes we are helpless.”

“But-”

“But we’re not.” Emily jumped to her feet, gesturing wildly at the walls of the garrison. “The Watch is anything but helpless, and we can prove it to him.”

The crowd of Watchers continued to grow around Vio and Emily, but only the former seemed to notice. A cheer began bubbling up in the mage’s chest as she watched her friend raise her fist.

“We. Will. Watch. We take the choice that he forced us to make; that he believes will help his evil cause, and WE TURN IT AGAINST HIM!”

A whoop sounded in the crowd, dying away as quickly as it came, but Vio could feel the group’s excitement rise as everyone latched onto Emily’s words.

“Eventually, he’s going to make a mistake. Eventually, he’s going to slip up and give us some information that we can use against him. We might never be able to kill him or to get rid of him permanently, but we wouldn’t be doing that if we stopped watching. That would just be giving up. If we stop watching, King Sean and the kingdom he built will vanish from our lives and The Enemy would get what he wants anyway.

“Instead, we are going to continue to WATCH. We are going to continue to stand by our king, look The Enemy in the eye, and say, ‘You can wield the blade that kills him himself if you want to, but you will not turn this Watch into your puppet that destroys this kingdom for you.’ If both choices turn us into the enemy’s puppets, then we might as well be puppets that will stand at King Sean’s side to the bitter end.

“The enemy made a critical mistake today. He showed his hand. We know what he wants now. He wants to destroy everything good that this kingdom has ever worked to create. And maybe by staying, we give him power. But if we leave, we are accomplishing his goal for him.”

For the first time, Emily’s eyes focused in on the crowd in front of her. For a moment, her face wavered, but as Vio met the eyes of her friend, the bard stepped forward and quietly addressed them.

“Now that we know The Enemy’s goal, we, as members of The Watch, have one job. STOP. HIM.” The bard’s body language seemed to punctuate every word as her voice began to rise again.

“Even if The Enemy actually manages to kill the king for good this time, that power-hungry bastard hasn’t won until he’s destroyed everything that’s left of King Sean’s legacy. Hope, community, positivity, the The Watch, Duilintinn, everything. If we stop keeping The Watch, all that dies!”

Breathing heavily, Emily quietly concluded with a single phrase. “As long as we are still carrying on King Sean’s legacy of kindness, positivity, charity, enthusiasm, and community to the bitter end, The Enemy will NEVER win.”

As Vio glanced around at the Watchers standing around them, she knew that Emily was right. The battle was far from over, and the worst was yet to come, but they had a duty. A duty to keep The Watch, even if The Enemy they face tries to use them for his own ends.

Even the darkest of foes can die upon their own blades, especially if that blade has a mind of its own.

Taglist (because why not?):

@theshapeshifter100 @bloodygoldensam @thelunarmasquerade@viostormcaller @mijako98 @shamrockace @septicuniverse@blusilence0 @the-lonely-angel @acuriousquail@honestlyitsjustkenna @illyriashade56 @livingemerald@triplealovely @delphicvoiceaddragh @isa-ghost

#jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #jacksepticeye au #jacksepticeye fanfiction #the watch au #antisepticeye #still here i see #quit the game to win #qtgtw #Tales From The Watch #December 1613 #3/21/2019 #Vio Stormcaller #Emily Keyes #bard drabbles

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sigynpenniman · 5 years

Text

Just Sick - a very fluffy Julian BashirxReader one shot

In which Julian Bashir is a very, very good doctor.

Author note: I write best in first person so first person it is. It’s still a reader insert in my mind though, just insert yourself lol. Also, not really a romantic relationship here, just an affectionate and close one. This is pretty much just a warn, fluffy, “Julian Bashir cares for you while you are very ill”. Fluff, H/C, not-really-romantic, tw/cw for hospital/medical stuff, descriptions of being very ill and mention of needles. Tbh this is the fic I wanted to exist, but it didn’t, so I just...wrote it. @a-star-that-fell - based on that message you sent me, I think you might enjoy this one!

I woke up before I opened my eyes. I wasn’t even sure what had woken me up - it was silent in the room save for the persistent beeping that permeated every space on the station. I shivered. It was freezing cold; or, more accurately, I was freezing cold. And someone was after me. Or were they? I felt my heart rate rise, slightly. Where was I, even?

I opened my eyes and looked straight ahead at a blueish grey wall. Right. The infirmary. I pushed my hand into the bed and pulled myself into an upright position. It was then that I felt it, all over. The overwhelming misery. I hadn’t been that miserable when Julian had left me here - not great, not even good, but okay. He had diagnosed me with some disease with an alien name but a routine and nearly harmless prognosis and sent me home. I had one too many experiences with illnesses that felt like nothing but then weren’t, and so I had asked if I could spend the night in the infirmary instead. Julian had, of course, said yes.

I put my head in my hands. My brain felt like warm syrup, and my whole body felt like I was dying. I swallowed. It sent a wave of electric pain through me. My throat felt as if someone has scoured it with steel wool. I started to cry. The misery was overwhelming; there was nothing to do but cry. My brain struggled to keep up. It was like thinking in molasses. I tried to figure out exactly why I was crying, but I wasn’t quite able to think clearly enough to know. I only had single words flash through: miserable, cold, scared, tired. I heard a rapidly approaching set of footsteps, and Julian leaned into the room and looked at me.

“Are you alright? I thought I heard crying.”

“Julian!” I nearly yelled, through my tears.

His eyes grew wide with concern. “Anne, what’s wrong?” He asked.

I started to open my mouth to answer, but all that came out was a panicked sob.

“Hey...hey...you’re okay. You’re alright.”

Julian spoke warmly and crossed the space between us in a few, long strides. He reached out and gently rubbed my shoulder. “Hey” He said again, quietly.

I made eye contact with him. “Julian...” I repeated. I was having a hard time collecting things to say that weren’t just his name.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He asked. He sat down on the bed next to me.

I hunted for words. They came out all once, and a little bit incoherent, between sobs.

“I feel so bad. I feel...so bad. My throat hurts so much. And my head, too. I can’t...think? My brain is moving kinda slow. And thick. And sticky? That makes no sense. I’m not even sure what’s real. I’m pretty sure I was having a dream about someone being after me...”

I paused and locked eyes with Julian in a panic. “Is someone after me? No one’s after me right?”

Julian smiled slightly, an affectionate, slightly amused, but deeply concerned, smile. It was the kind of look you give anyone you love who’s just looked at you and tearfully asked a nonsense question. He shook his head. “No, no one’s after you. NoTHING is after you. You’re safe.”

I nodded. Moving my head made my brain feel like it was rattling in my skull. The sudden, pounding pain caught me off guard and I put my head in my hands again.

“Are you cold?”

“Very.” I answered.

“Look at me.”

I removed my hands from my face and picked my head up. Julian pressed a cool hand against my forehead.

“You’re absolutely melting. That’s why you’re a little delirious too - high fevers can cause delirium, in some cases.” He removed a tricorder from his pocket and scanned me, studying it intensely.

“How high?” I asked.

“One hundred and three. And you’re very dehydrated, as well.” He tapped the Rs in “hundred” and “three” slightly in his proper English accent and I couldn’t help but smile despite my overwhelming misery. He caught this out of the corner of his eye, and smiled back at me.

“Ah! That got a smile! Though, I’m not really sure why that’s what got a smile.”

“I just never get tired of your accent.”

“It’s been three years” – He stuffed his tricorder back in his pocket – “And you’re still not over my accent?”

I shook my head.

“Julian, I will never be over your accent.”

I coughed, several times. My throat felt as if it was being ripped through. Julian, who was still sitting next to me, rubbed my back. The ripping pain in my throat put me back over the edge and tears began to bite at my eyes again.

“I’m going to try and make you feel better, okay? Let me do a quick symptom rundown here, and you tell me if I’m missing anything: fever, headache, throat hurts, general malaise. Did I miss anything?”

I shook my head.

“Alright. I’m going to go gather a pile of medication for you, and we’ll see how many of these things we can take the edge off. I’ll get you some water as well, you need to keep drinking. Got any further requests?”

I shook my head again. I knew if I opened my mouth to speak I would just start crying again, so I kept my answers to nods.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Julian asked softly.

Another nod. Julian stood and walked out of room. I gave up trying to keep it together and melted back into heavy sobs. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been too sick to stop crying, but it wasn’t an experience I was enjoying.

When Julian returned a few minutes later, I was sitting, knees pulled to my chest, sort of balled up on the bed, with the blanket wrapped around me. I was still sobbing. I didn’t even realize Julian was in the room until he rested his hand on my shoulder. I jumped slightly and looked up, and straight into Julian’s dark, kind, worried eyes.

“It’s okay. It’s just me.” He spread a hypospray and an assortment of tubes full of medication out on the bed next to me and handed me a glass of water.

“Drink. You have to stay hydrated. You’re already headed towards dangerously dehydrated as it is - if you don’t want an IV in your arm, I recommend that you start knocking back the water.”

“Thanks” I answered with a heavy sniffle. I took the glass from him and took a long sip. Even the water hurt my throat going down and I went back to crying. Julian frowned and wrapped his arms around me, the whole ball of knees and weeping that I was. I buried my snotty face in his uniform. He stroked my hair.

“It’s okay. You’re going to be alright. I’m going to try and make you feel better, okay? I can’t promise it’s enough, but I’ll going to do my best. And I’ll be right here with you, no matter what. I’m not going to leave you alone again.”

I nodded, which mostly just meant rubbing my face on his uniform a bit.

“Can I let you go, briefly?” He asked. “I need to tank you up. I want to get all these meds into your system as quickly as possible so they start working. How about this – let me let you go for a minute and medicate you, and you drink some more water, and then you can unfold yourself and I can hug you properly.”

“It’s a deal” I answered. Julian unwrapped me from his arms. I leaned my head to one side and presented my neck. I watched my ever affectionate, ever concerned doctor loading one of the tubes of medication into the hypospray in his hand.

“You know” Julian began, in the tone that meant he was about to launch into a list of facts of some kind or other. I made a hum of acknowledgement as Julian steadied my head with his hand and pressed the the cold metal of the hypospray into my neck. “You should be glad you live in the 24th century. The Hypospray is a pretty recent invention - if we were in the 21st century, I’d be sticking needles in you right now.”

“I’m glad every day.”

Julian finished unloading the various medicines into my neck. I sat up straight and Julian pressed the glass of water back into my hand. I took another long, painful sip and handed it back to him.

“Can I be honest?” I asked, my voice sounding like gravel.

“Of course.”

“I don’t think any of that helped at all.”

“It won’t, immediately. It’ll probably take about 15 minutes for the medication to start working.”

“Then it’s normal that I still feel like I’m dying?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“...was that thing you said earlier about a hug a promise?”

“It absolutely was. Can you unfold yourself?”

I nodded tearfully and removed my knees from my chest. Julian sat down on the bed next to me.

“Is there anything else I can do?” He asked.

“Just hug me. Please.” I sniffled. Julian pulled me into a tight hug.

“You’re going to be okay” he reassured me, as I leaned into him.

I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder. His uniform was crisp and cool under my cheek, but his body was warm, and I snuggled as close to him as I could and did my best to soak it up. I was still freezing cold.

“You’re shaking!”

“I’m still so cold. It’s like I’m cold to my bones. But you’re warm.”

Julian squeezed me tighter. I adjusted my head on his shoulder and realized I could hear his heart beating; quiet, slow, rhythmic. I inhaled deeply and did my best to relax the varying parts of my body I had been tensing for some reason or another. Julian was a thin man, but a soft one. He made for a very good snuggle. I still didn’t feel good, I was still sick as a dog, but I felt better in his arms.

“I bet you never thought you’d just be snuggling one of your patients.”

Julian gently rubbed my arm. “Is it helping?” He asked.

“So much” I whispered.

“Then I’m just doing my job as a healer.”

I took another deep breath. “I think it’s a natural gift you’ve got. You’re not a healer for your skills or training. It’s just your aura. All that legit medical attention...” I paused. “And I think just being snuggled helps more than any of it.”

Julian tucked my head under his chin. I yawned. I felt the most like falling asleep I had in forever. It seemed like the easiest thing in the world, safe and warm and entangled completely with Julian.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course” Julian answered, dutifully.

“Can you...stay? I know you’ve got other things to do and places to be, but I feel so much better like this. I’m so tired. I could just fall asleep just as I am.”

Julian laughed. It was a warm, loving, slightly amused laugh. “I said I wasn’t leaving you I wasn’t kidding. I absolutely can stay and I absolutely will. Can we...rearrange this?”

I laughed too.

“Of course.” I removed myself from Julian’s hug. He pulled himself up to the head of the bed and leaned against the back wall. He stuffed a pillow behind his back and extended his arms to me. I crawled back into his lap and he wrapped his arms around me again. I resumed my position, resting my head against his chest, his heart beating quietly under my ear. All the noises of the infirmary beeped quietly in the background. Julian had tucked my head under his chin again and was gently rubbing my arm. This was, I felt sure, the most comforting place in the world to be. I closed my eyes and felt myself drifting immediately.

“Goodnight Julian” I whispered. He kissed the top of my head.

“Goodnight Anne.”

The next time I woke up, it was only briefly. Julian, bless him, was still holding me close. He was, however, also fast asleep. I grinned at his sleeping face and fell back asleep myself.

When I woke up for good I was alone. I pulled myself out of the bed and took a couple questioning steps towards the door. I felt like a different person than the night before. I walked out of the back room of infirmary and into Julian’s laboratory. He was studying something on the computer.

“Good morning!” I exclaimed brightly. Julian spun around in his chair and smiled at me.

“Good morning! You seem much better!”

“I am. Thank you. How did you get out from under me without waking me up?”

Julian shrugged. “Carefully.”

“I know that was a tall order last night. But you stayed with me. I can’t tell you how much it helped.” I crossed the few steps between us and extended my hands to him. He reached out and took them. “Thank you” I breathed. “Thank you, for everything.”

“You said it helped, right?”

“More than you know.”

Julian squeezed my hands. “Then, my dear, I am just doing my job.”

“As a friend? As a healer?”

Julian smiled.

“As both.”

#star trek #fanfic #julian bashir #doctor bashir #fluff #h/c #very g rated #deep space 9 #deep space nine #ds9 #i wrote what i wanted to read and here we are #julian bashirxreader #fanfiction

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

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CSUAPR prt 15

Babies... Keith's head was filled with everything baby. His legs as shaky as a new born fawn as he stumbled along beside his mother's side. She hadn't held back. On any of it. Keith wasn't sure if he was relieved that his dick was semi-normal by Galra standards. Sure. Not all of them did what his did, so it wasn't common in recent era's, but it wasn't completely uncommon either. Though it usually happened when they considered their partners their other half after years of trust... Not when the relationship was new and fresh, and not so much between same sexed couples. So his dick had a mind of its own in that aspect. Or that was the general gist of what he got. There was something about cross species and Altean's and he didn't need to know that Kolivan had never swelled up in his mother, and yet, he'd been cursed with that information against his will. No amount of mental soap and steel wool would ever expunge that from existence. They hadn't even touched the topic of Lance other than the very top layer of him not being alright, his interest in Galra pregnancy failed to stay a background interest. Once his mother started she didn't shut up. No matter how many times he'd groaned, dry wretched or covered his ears. And Kolivan... Kolivan was loud. Keith nearly threw up on that fact alone. He didn't need to know his father was a "grunter" while Kolivan was "loud". No amount of therapy would help him. Why did he need to know any of this?! Why was he being punished!? He wanted his husband. Lance wouldn't subject him to the "ins and outs" of his parents sex life. Even phrasing it like that led to his soul draining away a fraction more. Kolivan wasn't loud... Loud Kolivan... How was he supposed to face Kolivan again? Still in a daze, Keith could see Shiro and Curtis approaching, both men happily holding hands as they took in the fun of their festival. He envied them. There they were, oblivious to Kolivan in bed, while he was haunted. Pushing his boyfriend towards them, Keith kept walking until he smacked into Shiro's wide chest. Krolia sighing at him, while Curtis hung back behind Shiro "Keith? You ok there, bud?" "Kolivan's loud in bed" Blurting out the most tormenting thought of all, Krolia snickered at him. Shiro awkwardly patting his back, as if that would magically make him feel better "Uh... Good for him?" Keith shook his head, looking up to meet Shiro's eyes with a silent desperation in his to be saved. Covering her mouth as she continued to laugh, his mother was horrible "I gave the birds, the bees, and the babies, talk. He's been like this for the last varga" Shiro's face morphed into second hand embarrassment as he sympathised "Oh, man. I'm sorry to hear that" Dropping his gaze back to Shiro's chest, Keith mumbled "It's in my head" "Did you learn anything useful?" "Kolivan's loud in bed" "I don't think that counts as useful. Where's Lance? I thought he'd be with you?" "He's lucky. He escaped. He's sleeping... Shiro..." "I know. I heard you. Are you sure he's alright on his own? Maybe I should go check on him" "He's got Kosmo. If you want to be helpful, you can take mum" Snorting at him, Shiro's robotic arm patted his head "Sorry, little bro. I've got an arm wrestling match to win" "Take me with you? Please... I can't take any more" "Keith, you're being over dramatic. You're part Galra, and though you and Lance aren't ready for children yet, you should know about your heritage, whether you choose to adopt or use an egg donor" Keith whined at Shiro. He definitely was not ready to be a father. Not after what his mother said. Babies now took the top list of terrifying things. Projecting out both ends. Endless nights of screaming. Crying with no idea why. Mood swings. Leaking boobs. Constant need to pee... Puking. Poop all the way up and out the nappy. Sudden infant death. Defects. Potential haemorrhaging during birth. Strokes. His knees just about gave out. His mother was supposed to make him feel better. Not scare the ever living quiznak out of him. How was Lance even functional. He had to know about all these things "I think you've broken, Krolia. Would you like to join us? Curtis has a tendency to really get into these kind of things. He's nearly as entertaining as the match itself" Curtis grumbled about his boyfriend, but Keith could hear the love. It only served to make him miss the grounding presence of his husband. He never should have climbed out of bed. All he'd done since climbing out of bed was be hassled by spiralling thoughts, and nearly upset Shay. A whole lot of "nothing accomplished". "How could I say no to you, Shiro? It's a much better invitation than walking around with Keith like this" Shiro laughed, his brother was traitor. His brother had also been painfully right. He had no idea what he'd gotten himself into... or gotten he and Lance into. He needed his husband. Lance would know what to say... hopefully... Mumbling Lance's name, Shiro patted him on the head again "Curtis, do you want to go check on Lance real quick for us? I would send Keith, but he's defaulted to factory settings" "I don't mind... but do we have the time?" "We have a little over 40 doboshes before the first match starts. That should be enough time for you to check on Lance and to get back in time to start checking out the competition" Turning Keith, Shiro placed both hands on his shoulders and pushed him forward "Come on, you. Hot sweaty arm wrestlers are just the thing to brighten your mood" "Not as hot as Lance" Leaning in, Shiro proceeded to prove he was able to fuck with him just as bad as Krolia did "Trust me. Curtis goes crazy for this, in more ways than one. He barely keeps it in his pants. Maybe you should enter? I bet Lance would go all weak-kneed" Keith bit down a silent groan. His family were a bunch of mean weirdos. As he felt himself walking forward, he could only ponder as to why he even let them into his life to begin with. * Woken by Kosmo barking, Lance hadn't had enough sleep. His head throbbed, and his throat felt as if someone had held his mouth open then poured gravel down his throat. Confused by what was going on, he made to climb off the bed, only for Kosmo to growl at him. The wolf seemed to have grown in size as he paced between the bed and the door. It wasn't until he heard a "thud" against the door that his heart started racing. Someone was out there. Someone was out there and they were doing something. If it'd been Keith, or one of their friends, then Kosmo wouldn't be going crazy. Scrambling off the bed, Lance grabbed his blades from his boots, Kosmo growling at him again, then grabbing him by the hand when Lance went to move towards the door. Pulling his hand from Kosmo's mouth, Lance sidestepped silently to the wall, following along to the door. His senses narrowed and focus on the shuffling sound on the other side of the door, waiting for them to make their move. Each tick a dozen beats of his heart... but nothing was happening. Looking at Kosmo and giving him the slightest nod, the wolf teleported from the bedroom. A clear yelp coming from the otherside. Not wanting Kosmo to kill someone, and not completely sure it wasn't a case of the wrong room because all the passages looked exactly the same, he whistled softly, Kosmo reappearing as the sounds of heavy footsteps running gradually faded away. All at once, he deflated against Kosmo as the wolf trotted to him. Wrapping his arms around him, Lance buried his face in Kosmo's thick fur as he tried to calm down "Thanks, boy. I'm ok... I'm ok" Whining at him, Kosmo gave a yip and wriggled out his hold, before head butting softly at Lance's stomach with a kind of" questioning yip". Lance would have laughed if his heart wasn't still going a zillion miles an hour. With shaky arms, he wrapped them back around Kosmo who teleported them over to the bed. Kosmo was trying to make him rest, but it honestly felt like he'd left his stomach back over near the door. He'd always know Kosmo was so much smarter than he played. He obviously knew Lance was pregnant... Kosmo probably smelt it on him. He knew such things were possible. He been a "pregnant whore" before. Feeling his fears turning to tears, Lance remained semi-kneeling as he started to cry softly. Keith had barely been gone a few vargas. He remembered telling his husband to go, and now he was having a meltdown because Keith wasn't there to hold his hand. He had no idea what he would have done if they had entered his room. He'd sent Kosmo out there when they could have hurt him. He hadn't thought. He hadn't acted rationally. He'd grabbed his blades in preparation to attack. If he hadn't recognised the person... he could have... he probably would have... He... It wouldn't have been the first time that he'd murdered someone. There they were... He and Keith playing happily like he didn't have a past. Like he deserved to be happy. To start a family. How many people had he taken away from their family? Whining softly, Kosmo wriggled to get his head up, nosing at his tears. He didn't want to upset Kosmo. He didn't want to upset Keith. Keith was so excited about their twins. He'd thought he be happier about it all. He thought he and Keith would choose when it was time, when their marriage was actually functioning. He had to be fine by the time Keith came back. His husband was trying to hard to make him feel loved and safe "I'm ok, Kosmo. Thank you. I think I want to get some more sleep, but I can't do it when you're sitting on the blankets. Hop off for me, then you can have all the pats and cuddles you want" Jumping down off the bed, Kosmo trotted over to the door where he sniffed loudly at the bottom seam line, before starting to scratch at it. His fur son sending his heart racing all over again at the thought that someone could still be standing there. Someone waiting for him... His lungs already felt tight, as if verging on a panic attack. Knowing that it wouldn't leave until he knew for sure that no one was there. Lance moved much more carefully and slowly as he climbed off the bed again. His steps were just as light as he moved to the door, slamming his hand down on the door button. Darting forward, Kosmo grabbed something off the floor. Lance kicking into overdrive with the panic the action brought. What was he thinking!? Did his son really not have as many brain cells as he thought he did? Grabbing Kosmo by his collar, Lance wrestled him back into the bedroom, hitting the door button blindly as he moved to stand over Kosmo, feet planted both sides of the menace. As the door silently slid closed, Lance grabbed the object from Kosmo's, Kosmo having the nerve to look proud of himself "Go get on the bed. You're a shit. You don't do that. You cannot, I repeated, you cannot go around putting whatever you want in your mouth. Don't scare me like that again" Kosmo's tail kept thumping. Lance's words going right over his head as he tuned him out "Bed. Now!" Huffing, Kosmo teleported away, the wolf scratching back the top blankets to climb underneath with his arse hanging out. Tail still wagging. His son was an idiot. The object in Kosmo's mouth turned out to be an envelope. Sliding the tongue out, no mysterious powered poofed out. Holding the envelope with his left hand, he carefully pulled out what seemed to be a series of photos with his right. Frowning at the top photo, it was of his date the previous day. With the envelope behind the photos for support, his hands grew shakier. The first 9 photos were of his date with Keith. All of them taken from a distance. All of them of him, zoomed in so his face took up the majority of the frame... He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. Why would anyone take photos of him? He was on a date with his husband. He hadn't hurt anyone... Hitting the last two last photos, his eyes widened as he thumbed them on angle so both were visible. Vomit shooting up his throat, as the room swayed. One photo was his face scratched out. The second the stylised "y" he still hadn't recovered from. The stupid "y" that he found himself searching for on each customer that visited his bar, which was followed by the moment of fear when he couldn't see their arms. He loved his job. He lived for his job. That didn't mean he didn't have those fears. That didn't mean that some days he wanted to hide because of those at his outpost. Shaking so hard he fumbled the photos, Lance let out a squeak as the photos went up in flames, gone in a couple of ticks, as if the envelope had never been real. No ash or scorch marks on the floor. No scent of burning paper. Nothing... just... This had to be a dream. It'd been phoebs... Phoebs... He hadn't pissed anyone off lately, or anyone that he thought had a connection to those people... Sensing Lance's spiral, Kosmo teleported off the bed. The sudden touch of his long wet tongue against Lance skin made him shudder. Ghosting fingers sliding across his throat. The sensation of a hot breath against his ear. His breathing catching in his throat as his mind went blank. * Arm wrestling wasn't Keith's thing. Shiro and Krolia were locked in a heated debate over the competition line up. Shiro had the advantage with his robotic arm, but some of the competitors... you couldn't tell where the muscles ended and their heads started. They were so jacked that Keith wasn't sure they had any kind of life outside of the gym. Maybe it was just him, but liked men like Lance and himself. Neither of them looked particularly strong on the outside, but completely dominate a fight if needed. Long and lean, he loved his husband's strong arms, and even stronger legs. The soft warm hands that felt full of love, yet had and could kill if pushed so far. These guys reminded him of cheap plastic figures stuck in place, whereas Lance was flexible as hell. To an overly impressive degree... More than Keith was... which was frustrating. Lance got into enough trouble without being able to squeeze into even more trouble. Left to ponder what his husband would think of all of this, he wondered if it would be better to just slip away back to their room. Only, he didn't have the words he needed yet. He was in love with his twins, yet fucking terrified thanks to his mother. He loved Lance more than them, so why was it that when he tried to reassure himself that if something happened Lance being safe and well was his priority, that he couldn't get the thought of their hands and faces out his mind. Did that mean they meant more to him than his husband? Would there be a time when they meant more to Lance than he did? He felt like he'd missed the bottom stair and was stuck in the horrible long moment of limbo. When Curtis finally joined them, the first match had begun. Holding his left forearm, Curtis sidled up to him, confusing him with his meek manner. He'd only gone to check on Lance, what possibly could have gone wrong "Curtis, everything alright?" "Have I done something wrong?" Keith blinked half a dozen times "No? Did something happen? Did Lance say something? If he's having a panic attack or a meltdown he sometimes acts without control" "I didn't even get to check on Lance. Kosmo bit me" Rolling up his sleeve, the marks were bloody where his wolf had latched on. Keith's eyes went wide at the sight. Kosmo knew Curtis. He'd solicited pats from him more than once before "What did you?!" Yelled at to "shut up", Curtis didn't make his mistake of yelling. Instead he dropped to a more of an angry hiss "Me? I was pacing out there trying to figure out if I should knock, or let myself in case Lance was sleeping. I didn't want to disturb his rest if he wasn't feeling well still. Then when I hit the door button, I mustn't have hit it properly because I walked straight into the door. Then Kosmo teleported out and bit me!" Keith groaned, burying his face in his hands. Why the quiznak was Kosmo such an idiot!? Curtis was a friend. He knew Curtis was a friend... yet... Lance was also pregnant. Kosmo hadn't seen him since before he fell pregnant... His wolf was only trying to protect Lance in his vulnerable state... but that didn't make him any less of an idiot. It was Curtis! Curtis had the patience of a Saint! "I think I know what happened. Kosmo wasn't trying to hurt you. He was trying to protect Lance. He's nearly telepathic with Lance's moods. I am so sorry. Lance was most likely asleep, maybe even having a nightmare, and Kosmo saw anyone who wasn't me as a threat. We should get that cleaned up..." Curtis slumped back in his seat "I feel stupid for not knocking now. It felt wrong to just walk in on him..." Keith's appreciation of Curtis only rose further. Curtis genuinely cared for Lance, and wanted to respect his boundaries. Having been through so much with Shiro, Curtis most likely understood how triggering an unknown presence could be "Lance wouldn't want you bitten. Maybe next time try knocking, then letting yourself in? I don't know what to say. He's never acted like that before. Does it hurt? It looks like it should hurt" "Honestly, the moment he latched on I... I think I screamed before I ran" The confession was low, Curtis's pride damaged by Kosmo of all things. Screaming because of Kosmo... That was usually Lance as he was tackled down and licked to death "If it makes you feel better, Kosmo's tackled Lance and made him scream before" "It doesn't. He's a menace" Sounding huffy, Curtis only made it funnier by sounding exactly like Lance. The laughter he gave not appreciated as Curtis covered his bitten arm, before crossing both arms and glaring down at the arm wrestling ring "Sorry, Curtis. Lance frequently calls Kosmo a menace" "Lance is right. See if he gets extra treats next time he's on the Atlas. He's gone and done his dash" No wonder Lance and Curtis had found common ground so easily. They were way too alike... Having listened in on their conversation, Krolia leaned right over Keith. Showering his lap with the pastry crumbs of the weird thing she was munching on "You never got to check on Lance, did you?" His mother was right. Kosmo had chased Curtis away before he'd had the chance "No... If Kosmo is with him, and that aggressive, then he should be fine, shouldn't he? You did say he was sleeping when you left him, didn't you, Keith?" Keith nodded. Still, a sense of dread had started to rise from the pit of his stomach. Lance could have been having a panic attack on the other side of the door. He could have had a nightmare. He could have been throwing up again... What if he'd stressed himself into another seizure? "Yeah. Had a late night, maybe I should go?" Krolia sighed at him, spilling more crumbs as she nearly crushed the pastry while waving off his comment "If he's sleeping, you should let him sleep. Both of you are so stubborn about resting when you need to. Still, it's strange for Kosmo to bite..." Shooting up, Keith clenched his fists. Ignoring the fact he'd basically hit his mother by accident in his haste, Keith didn't feel reassured by either "adult" he'd been seated between. His life felt like a kaleidoscope of chaos, and he needed more "adult" adult "That's it. I'm going to check on him" "Keith" Calling his name, Keith ignored his mother. She'd filled his head with a hundred and one things to think of. He literally didn't think his brain able to absorb anything more.

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