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juletheghoul · 21 days

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Castaways (Part 1)

AN: Before I get into the notes for this - I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who took the time to send me a message / comment on my post, it meant a lot to me. 💜💜💜 As for this story, I started writing it in Sept of 2022, after watching the Harrison Ford movie, Six Days, Seven Nights lol. I had a lot of it down pretty quickly but eventually, I stopped. Now that new ideas aren't as bountiful as they once were, I started combing through all of the half-finished works in my docs and I fell back in love with this one. Hopefully you enjoy it. I have an ending planned out so there will definitely be a part 2! Shout out to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments in this doc. Enjoy xox.

Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader (Princess as a nickname)

Warnings; C o m p e t e n c y - a very brief snake…encounter?-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy with gusto (when doesn't he), creampie, longing, yearning, a helicopter crash (nothing too graphic), reader is spoiled at first and generally kind of snobby- enemies to lovers? Bit of a slow burn! let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

The click of your heels sounded throughout the airy hangar with a purpose, the echoing sound of it heralding your journey to give someone—anyone hell.

A quick flick of your wrist reminds you how late you already were for the retreat booked in your private slice of paradise; the private jet your father paid a fortune for had made an emergency stop in Puerto Rico- some nonsense about a storm.

Unacceptable.

An imperious sigh leaves your mouth -not a single person to lay into anywhere in sight, and it leaves you no choice but to head outside to see if there is a plane you could commandeer.

—

He wipes the grease onto the legs of his well-worn work coveralls, his previous scowl gone and replaced with a triumphant smile - finally got that fucking bolt off-

“Excuse me-” He turns toward the sound and is greeted by a very annoyed-looking woman. “Hi, do you know where I can find a pilot? There’s no one in the hangar.” She drags a very expensive-looking suitcase behind her with one hand, the other holding a ridiculously large hat onto her head.

“Hi, yes I’m a pilot - most of the staff have gone home, a big storm coming soon-”

“Perfect, can I hire you to fly me to this island?” Her fingers flew across the no-doubt latest model of smartphone in her hands - ignoring the shocked expression on his face at being so rudely interrupted. “This one here, I need to be there like three hours ago, and I would be there now if we hadn’t stopped here - you know where this is, right? Can you take me?” She all but shoves the phone into his face.

“No.” He carefully moves her manicured hand away from his face, and a tiny, cruel little part of him enjoys the shock in her expression - he very quickly gets the impression that this girl is not used to hearing the word. “As I was saying - everyone has gone home, a lot of people were grounded here, myself included. There is a big thunderstorm coming. Not safe to fly until it passes. Shouldn’t last too long - a quick squall - come back tomorrow, and I’ll happily fly you there.” He then turns to continue his work.

“Money is no object, but I need to leave now,” she says it through a huffed breath, and his eyebrows raise.

“And yet, my answer is still no.” He’s annoyed now. In truth, it was a fairly quick flight - he knew the island she’d shown him, had made the trip before, and it would be less than an hour, but her attitude was a black mark against her. Her phone trills then, a cheery tone, momentarily snatching her attention from him.

“Hi, Dad, yeah, I know. I’m at the hangar, looking for a ride.” She taps her foot, and it sets his teeth on edge. “There is a pilot here, but he says he won’t fly me.” She narrows her eyes at him when he turns to look at her, listening to the other half of the conversation he wasn’t privy to. “I’ll tell him- Sorry-” She inspects his name tag, “Francisco, my father says if you get me to the island within the hour, he’ll make it worth your while. Name your price.”

“I don’t know what part of it isn’t safe isn’t registering-” She raises her voice and speaks over him.

“He’ll pay you ten thousand dollars.” Her tone is loud but bored. “Besides - the skies are gorgeous - I’m sure we can make it before anything happens.” She waits a moment, “Plus another five grand when you land. And you can have accommodations until tomorrow - room service, the works. Just please - get me there.” Her eyes are hopeful, and for a brief moment, he acknowledges how pretty she is, or - would be, if she wasn’t such an insufferable princess.

He knew he should have said no. Knew he should have turned her down and followed the guidelines, but that kind of money would change his life. Change their lives- it would have been insane for him to turn it down.

“Fine.” He relents, shoving down the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll be your pilot. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.” She almost jumps with joy, and he can’t hide the annoyed expression on his face.

“Done - okay, I’ll be there soon, Dad! Bye.”

He was covered in grease.

You had to remind yourself not to wrinkle your nose at him. You supposed he could be handsome, in a scruffy, working man way, but that's beside the point. He was your saving grace right now, and that counted for a lot.

He fiddles with the engine of the helicopter for a moment more while he leaves you to wrestle your suitcase in by yourself, thankfully without breaking a nail.

“Alright - just going to perform a couple of checks, and we’ll be in the air.” He got in and began flicking switches, turning knobs, and checking over all manner of gauges while you made yourself as comfortable as was possible in the cramped little aircraft. It was hard, though, with your suitcase practically digging into your back behind you.

It’s fine. I’ll just have to get a massage once I land.

“Okay, we’re off.” He has his headset on, and you are in the air within a few moments. That, unfortunately, seemed to be the end of your good luck.

Whether by some cruel design, by the fates or gods, or whatever entity dictated the events of your life - it didn’t take twenty minutes in the air for the sky to turn a foreboding gray.

“That doesn’t look good,” he says, the words loud enough to be heard over the noise, his eyes quickly scanning the horizon, no doubt taking in the dark clouds flanking either side of the already rickety helicopter.

“It came out of nowhere.” One minute, the sky was blue, and the next, lightning forked the sky in the distance.

“No, it didn’t - I told you a storm was coming. This is too dangerous - I’m going to have to turn around for our safety.” He maneuvers the controls, and you have no choice but to agree despite your annoyance.

It all happened so fast.

Something strikes the aircraft, the sound of it booming in your ears so loud it hurts, and then he’s frantic. Manically pressing buttons and calling through the radio, but from the frustrated and frankly terrified expression, no one is answering.

“Fuck, tighten your seatbelt, we’re going down!” He grits his teeth, and all of a sudden, you are spinning, a scream being ripped from your throat - your heart falling out of your ass. “Impact coming - brace yourself!” he screams before the world goes black.

Someone is making noise, a low groaning noise that pulls him out from the depths of unconsciousness, he’s only mildly surprised to realize it is him.

The helicopter - his helicopter wasn’t making any noise, which was bad.

Under normal circumstances, it would be broadcasting out a signal beacon that would bring in a rescue team, but as it stood right now - without blinking lights or a working radio - it had gone completely silent.

Lighting must have fried it. Fuck.

He took stock of his situation. Luckily, he doesn’t feel any injuries aside from horrible whiplash. No blood, no broken bones. A softer groan comes from the woman beside him; she’s still out, and he couldn’t see any injuries- he’d know when she woke up.

I could kill you right now.

He thought the words, sighing loudly to himself before finding a way out of the cockpit. He’d managed to move most of what he had in the helicopter out onto the sand by the time she woke.

“Jesus Christ - what the hell happened?” She stumbles out, barely managing to stop herself from eating shit in the process, unfortunately.

“What happened is the storm I warned you about many times caught us in the air and grounded us here.” He’s laying out his supplies, lengths of rope, his toolbox, and empty water jugs. He has a small case with a flare gun, an emergency kit filled with first aid supplies, and a massive tarp. There are a few more things to go through, but it is important they find a source of freshwater soon, or they won’t last two days, especially with the heat making his clothes stick to his body.

She sighs loudly, struggling to make her way through the sand in those ridiculous heels she’s wearing

“And now we’re stuck here, on an island when, where I should be, is home with my-“

“Can’t you call mayday or something? My father is expecting me. I’m sure he’ll have an army looking for us.” She’s digging through her purse frantically, ignoring the scathing look he’s giving her.

Spoiled little brat, you only care about yourself, huh?

“Wow. You know what? That’s a great idea! Why the hell didn’t I think of that?” He can’t hold back. “Oh! I know, it’s because we were struck by lightning, and it fried everything, so whatever army your father sends won’t find us -there is no signal to hone in on.” He scowls at her, annoyed that she isn’t paying attention to him even now. “Doesn’t help that a lot of these islands that are usually full of tourists are uninhabited after the hurricane that hit a few months ago.”

“So we’re stuck here???” Her eyes are wild as they look past him, to the beach just beyond, and then to the thick greenery behind them. “This cannot be happening right now,” she spoke to herself.

“Where the fuck is my phone??” She moves and makes her way back into the cockpit, all but ripping the aircraft apart before- “Fuck! You have got to be fucking kidding me! Don’t you have some kind of satellite phone or something??” She’s tapping at the deeply damaged screen, it completely destroyed.

He couldn’t help but bark out cruel laughter.

“I don’t know what planet you’re on. People - regular people don’t just have satellite phones, sweetheart.” He got up from his place in the sand, making sure to put the flares back in the helicopter.

“Great. Just great.” She sighs loudly, “So we’re stuck here. Do you even know where here is?” She fishes into her bag once more, pulling out a bottle of what looks to be sunscreen, and squeezing out some to spread over her exposed skin.

“No. I don’t, but the heat is going to kill us if we don’t find water soon. Grab one of those jugs, and let’s go find water. You might want to change your shoes.” He pushes her suitcase at her, ignoring the shocked look on her face. “Chop chop, princess, let’s move.”

This couldn’t be happening, this could not be happening!

Right now, you should have been mingling with Louis, the gorgeous, billionaire bachelor your father invited to your private resort. You could almost picture it, the classy yet sexy outfit you’d be wearing while you flirted over a drink by the infinity pool. Broadening your horizons and nailing down the rich husband you deserve.

Instead, you’re here - stuck in the sand with the world's grumpiest pilot, trying desperately to get your phone to work, but it’s no use.

You can almost see the frantic look on your mother's face now that it was obvious that you hadn’t made it at the scheduled time, she and your father were probably coordinating with the military right this second, with the Navy.

What the fuck am I going to do-

The jug hits your lap, scaring you half to death.

“Come on, princess, let’s get moving. We have to find fresh water before we die of dehydration out here.” He’s standing a few feet away, staring at you with his perpetual scowl. “Change your shoes, and let’s go.”

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” They were pretty sensible as far as your sandals went, respectable heels, and relatively comfortable. His scowl deepens.

“You cannot stumble around the island in those, you’ll break an ankle, and I am not fucking dealing with that.” His eyes narrow. “Tell me you brought a pair of runners in that giant trunk.”

“Of course I did,” your tone is icy as you get up with a huff. You quickly changed into them, and then you were off.

The terrain got more and more treacherous the further you got from the powdery white sand of the beach. Dirt and bramble gave way to thick, almost jungle-like vegetation, making the trek harder and harder as time slogged by.

The sound of running water greets the two of you like a siren song, spurring your tired, sweat-soaked body to move quicker, and the sight that meets you once you break the dense treeline could've made you moan. You jump into the water to cool your heated skin, ignoring the warning from Francisco.

“You should get out of there.” He’s at the edge of the clearish water, filling the jugs quickly.

He seems to be determined to infuse his sour attitude into everything, your mouth opened to tell him to relax when something brushes past your leg. At first, you think it might be a piece of underwater flora, but it becomes apparent very quickly that it’s something far worse.

“Francisco.” His eyes met yours, “Francisco, something just swam into my shorts, I-I think it’s a snake.” Your voice trembles slightly, hands itching to pull whatever it was out, but his voice cuts through the urge.

“Don’t move- are you sure it’s a snake?” He put the jugs down beside him, moving closer to you, descending slowly into the water.

“Yes, It’s coiling around my thigh, moving up - I need it out right now, I wanna just grab it-“ Your head tilts down, but he stops you.

“Don’t move! It could be venomous.” He wades into the water towards you slowly, too slowly. Your heart’s racing, hands shaking as you wait for him to reach you.

“Help me, get it out, get it out!” your voice is almost manic, desperation colouring every single inch of you.

“Okay, okay, calm - deep breath.” You followed his example as best you could, trying yet failing to ignore the slithering against your skin. “Slowly pull your waistband away from your body, and I’ll see if I can grab it,” his tone had lowered, a soothing timbre reminding you for a moment of how a teacher would speak to a student.

It helps.

You did as he asked, pulling at the waistband of your shorts, all thoughts of propriety forgotten, and within a moment, his hand was shoved down deep - a rather large hand fighting with whatever it was that had made camp in your pants.

He bit his lip in concentration, bodily pulling you towards him as he struggled. A moment later, he was raising it up triumphantly.

A huge shiver went down your spine at the sight of it, spurring you to get out of the water as fast as humanly possible.

“Jesus Christ, it’s just one fucking thing after another,” you spoke as you made it out without incident, ignoring the huge sigh he let out behind you. “Thank you for that.” He was following closely behind you, not interested, it seemed, in having a similar experience.

“Don’t mention it. Let's fill these and get back to the beach.” He hands you a couple of empty jugs, and you reluctantly got to work.

All things considered, they were lucky. Frankie knew that. His helicopter - albeit small - was surprisingly well-equipped to handle being stranded. He had an emergency survival kit, purchased partly under the insistence of his mother but mostly so he never had to relive what had happened to him a few years ago. He’d tried not to think about it, but walking through the foliage back to the crash site had brought it all back. Vividly.

He pushed it away, shoved it down deep where he kept the rest of his issues - instead choosing to focus on what they needed to do. They needed some form of shelter, and soon.

“I am sweltering,” her voice was low behind him, whiny with the distinct tone of someone who had never truly been uncomfortable a day in her life. “Fucking starving.”

“Most likely, you’re dehydrated. Once we get back to the beach, we can figure out the water,” he spoke over his shoulder. “Have to make camp if we’re going to be here for a while.” They broke through the treeline, seeing his helicopter on the beach like a pile of old bones broke his heart a little - his only connection to home, to his little girl. He pushes it all away again.

“So how do we get this water drinkable?” she huffs out the words, dropping the jugs next to his laid-out supplies with great effort.

“We have to set up a purifying system, filter it, and then boil it.” He crouches down towards his supplies, looking for something clean he could use as a sieve. Luckily, he always kept an overnight bag with him, in case of being grounded somewhere, but he only had three shirts in there, he couldn’t burn one since he didn’t know exactly how long they’d be stuck there.

“I don’t have much in terms of clothes - you got anything we could use?” He looks up at her, “Something simple, a cotton t-shirt? Something we could use to strain the water.” He walks towards her trunk, waiting for her to open it up.

She opens it reluctantly, rifling through her things for a moment before handing over a simple white shirt. “Any chance I’ll be able to wear that again?” her voice is vaguely annoyed.

“I’m sure Daddy won’t mind buying you a new one.” She gives him an expression that could curdle milk. He ignores it. Instead, he busies himself, setting the jugs of water somewhere relatively level. He felt her eyes on him, and it compelled him to explain what he did as he worked. “We have to let the water settle for about an hour, let the sediment sink to the bottom, then strain it, then boil it.” Not for the first time in his life, he was happy to have his military gear within reach.

He works fast - you have to give him that.

As much as he grumbles and looks at you like you are the devil incarnate - you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly intelligent. Within a few hours of getting back to the camp, he had built an impressive fire, filtered the jugs of water, and had boiled most of it.

“Tomorrow, we’ll get to work building some sort of shelter,” he spoke after he finally sat down, the first break he’d taken all day. “Have to go about looking for food too, I saw some fruit trees - we’ll grab them on the way back from getting more water.” His eyes are heavy, you can see it in the way he blinked slower and slower.

“We have to make that trek again?” your voice is shrill, he sighs loudly.

“We’ll have to make that trek every single day until we’re rescued. Water is the most important thing. No delivery service here, princess,” his voice is sleepy, the usual bite in his words softened by the need for sleep.

“How will anyone find us?” The worry is evident in your voice.

“I have a flare gun and three flares - we’ll be able to signal someone. Go to bed, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” He gestures to the helicopter–lovely, this will be comfortable.

—

The knock on the helicopter window ripped you out of sleep, your heart racing as you clutched at your chest.

“Wake up, princess.” He taps on the glass and through bleary eyes, you take note of the smile on his face as he wakes you up, “We have work to do.” He taps one last time and then leaves you.

You flash him the middle finger as he turns and laughs, annoying you even more.

You join him on the beach a little later, ignoring the ache in your body from sleeping in a half seated position. God I really need that massage.

“I’m going to make the trek for more water, while I do that you are going to gather palm fronds.” He had a jug in his hand as he moved towards the treeline. For a moment you panicked, the thought of being alone causing your heart to sink.

“Wait, you’re leaving me alone?” You moved a few steps towards him, catching yourself before making it to him. “I mean–um,” You raised your chin at the surprised look on his face, ignoring it. “How many fronds?” There was an abundance of them, both on the ground and in the trees just beyond the sand. He paused, giving you a curious look.

“As many as you can, we’ll need way more than you think.” He turned then, and left you to it.

Time crawled by while you were alone, with only your thoughts and the sound of waves to accompany you. Sweat dripped down your brow as you gathered, gathered and gathered some more. Enough fronds that it made a huge pile beside the fire pit Francisco had made. Your stomach growling almost constantly now–the hunger so intense it was making you light headed.

Branches snapped, drawing your gaze towards his form. He had the jug in one hand and a stalk of bananas in the other. It was enough to make you moan.

“This is good, but it’s not enough. We have to gather more - have to cut down a bunch of bamboo too.” He put the jug next to the others before joining you where you sat. “Here, you must be starving.” He ripped off a handful of the glorious fruit and tossed them into your lap.

Nothing had ever tasted so good.

“Jesus Christ, I thought I would pass out.” You knew you had fruit on your face, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. “Thank you.” You peeled another, eating it just as quickly as the first.

“Don’t mention it. Okay, let's get to work.”

Your fingers were sore, your back was sore, every single part of you was sore. Hours crawled by with the sun beating down on you both as you weaved fronds together. He had you create sheets and sheets of it, had you help him cut down enough bamboo to build a house. He did the heavy lifting and made what looked like a crude rope tying together the bamboo in layers strong enough to hold both of you.

Wordlessly, he worked, the sweat dripping down his face, soaking through his shirt like a marathon runner until it was a hindrance and he took it off, used it as a rag that hung limp over his shoulders. This was much worse than a marathon, though, much worse than any workout you’d ever done in your life, and although you’d never say it out loud, you were incredibly thankful he was here.

I probably would have died by now.

It was a terrifying thought that without him, you wouldn’t survive - you shoved it away. It wouldn’t matter soon because your parents would be looking, and they wouldn’t stop until they found you.

“Come lay on this, I want to see if it’ll hold both of us.” He stood over the platform, laying on it as you came closer. It held. “Perfect. We’ll be elevated off the sand, less chance of bugs or crabs biting us, and it’ll be cooler than the helicopter.” He let out a weary, tired sigh.

“You’re expecting us both to sleep on this?” You couldn’t help your tone, and instantly you felt bad. He’d worked very hard on this. His brow furrowed.

“You’re welcome to sleep where you want. I’ll be on this.” He got up, his scowl now back in place, “I’m going to finish here and then go fishing. Keep weaving.”

Quietly, you got back to work.

In all his years, Francisco had never met someone so spoiled and self-serving - even though he’d expected it from her, it still hurt. He didn’t know why - why it would matter that some spoiled rich brat was acting like a spoiled rich brat; maybe it was the lack of gratitude. He was useful, he was smart and he had skills that he knew for a fact she’d die without.

He stewed over it as he swam towards a large boulder protruding out of the water near the shore. A perfect spot to catch the fish that swam around in the reef below the surface.

I should let her starve. Find her own food and her own water.

He wouldn’t, though, he couldn’t. All his life, he’d been taught to be a good person, to help where he could and after what had happened in that jungle - he shook it off, pushed it down. Ignored the cruel, petty voice in his head and set about catching something to eat. All the while keeping an eye on the horizon for a boat - for any sign that people were looking for him. That his people were looking for him.

He let himself think about them, really think about them for the first time since the crash. His parents, his little girl, let himself feel the emptiness of being without them. He let the waves of it crash over him just as the ocean around him crashed into the shore, and then he put it away.

She was still working when he came back with his catch, her face scrunched up in concentration - ignoring her, he went about doing what needed to be done.

“Is this enough?” Her voice cut through his concentration, and he nodded noncommittally - leaving the prepped fish on a relatively clean piece of driftwood he’d found.

“Hold this.” He stood at the corner of the raised bed and had her hold a tall, sturdy piece of bamboo. His plan was to make a small frame around the base, use the tarp in order to waterproof it, and lay the fronds all around to protect them from the winds that blew through here in bad weather.

She watched him work in silence, standing where he told her to stand, holding what he told her to hold and eventually, finally - they finished. It was as solid a structure as he could manage without planks of wood or nails, strong enough to survive against a moderate storm and to keep them off the sand.

He’d used the tarp to cover the roof and three sides, leaving one open for them - him to enter. On top were rows of fronds to catch rainwater and prevent it from pooling in the tarp, the rest of the unused woven sheets she’d made laid inside to use as bedding. With the emergency blanket and his military bedroll this would make a decent bed.

All in all, he was proud of himself, he took the raw materials he’d found on this island, and fashioned himself – themselves a shelter.

His stomach growled. It was time to start that fire.

Your stomach was screaming out in hunger. The bananas had been wonderful, but they weren’t enough.

“Are you sure that’s safe to eat?” You watched him wrap the fish in banana leaves and put it into red hot embers; you couldn’t help but be slightly dubious about eating something he’d just pulled out of the ocean. He sighed loudly before answering.

“You don’t have to eat it,” he sounded tired, and you supposed he must have been with how hard he’d worked. “It’s edible. I’ve caught this fish before.” He wiped at his brow with the shirt around his shoulders, his skin slightly pink from the sun.

You didn’t say anything, still unsure, but when the time came for him to unwrap the blackened leaves, your stomach growled loudly. It looked very good.

He didn’t offer any, instead, he snatched a piece of the steaming, flaky fish and popped it into his mouth, relishing the taste with a loud groan and a big smile. A nice smile, in truth.

“Maybe I’ll try a little bit.” You scooted closer to where he sat in the sand, unable to resist it.

“Here, careful - it’s very hot.” He tore a piece of a fresh banana leaf and gave you a decently sized filet, and with singed fingers and zero patience, you took a bite.

It was, without a doubt, the most delicious thing you’d ever eaten.

“Good?” He ate quickly, his expression amused at your very obvious enjoyment of the ‘dubious’ fish.

“It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever had.” You meant every word, and licked every last morsel off your fingers.

It was incredibly dark by the time the food was eaten, and the fire had died out. Francisco was attaching a piece of netting to the open side, and once he was done, he climbed in without another word.

The helicopter felt safe, enclosed and a space you could lock, but the shelter would have airflow. It would be infinitely cooler to sleep in. You knew that, eventually that helicopter would turn into a greenhouse that felt more like an oven. Not to mention how horrible it was to sleep sitting up.

Every second that passed made the shelter look more and more appealing, and after quickly changing into clean clothes, you slipped in silently, but it didn’t even matter, he was already asleep.

—

He woke to the feeling of soft breath on his back, the air was significantly cooler than it had been during midday, and now, in the early dawn of the morning she was seeking him out for warmth. It was in him to pull away, to deny her, but instead, he stayed motionless. Let her even breath comfort him for a few moments before he eventually rose to bathe in the ocean. Her hand was draped around his middle, pressing herself flat to him while she slept, completely oblivious.

He thought about how scandalized she’d be to know she was being so intimate with him; it almost made him laugh, but soon, that internalized mirth shifted to something bitter, something close to anger. He was only too aware that when she looked at him, she saw ‘the help’; someone like her could never see him as anything other than someone else to pay off, the person hired to do things below her. She shifted in her sleep, burrowing closer, her soft puffs of air ruffling the hair curling at the base of his skull.

Why does that bother me? I don’t even care about this person.

He sighed, confused with himself over these baffling feelings of inadequacy, frustrated that being close to another person felt good. Annoyed that he didn’t want to pull away - no matter how much of a brat she was. If she woke now and saw them tangled, she’d be embarrassed, perhaps even disgusted, he knew this for a certainty. So he left her.

Dawn found you almost frustratingly well-rested, as well as alone. All doubts that may have lingered about the craftsmanship of the shelter evaporated like the morning dew. A long, much-needed stretch is the catalyst that moves you out of the shelter, making sure to close the netting on your way to grab your toiletry bag when he catches your eye from his place in the water. The early morning sun lit up the surface like diamonds. He was running his hands through his hair, wringing out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before. His skin was golden, the high planes of his face kissed by the sun's rays, his shoulders too. You watched him for a time, unable to ignore the breadth of his shoulders - the pleasant sight of his thighs and it was hard not to stare at him when he rose out of the water, the droplets from his golden skin casting a sort of spell on their way back down to earth.

His hands were something else altogether, weaving their own magic the closer he came to shore, from the way they wrung out the shirt easily to the way they adjusted his considerable bulge as he walked, and you looked away quickly, ignoring the curious heat crawling up your chest.

He found you brushing your teeth, pointedly looking away.

“I’m going to go look for more fruit.” He spoke as he put the wrung-out shirt to dry next to some of the other things he’d washed before changing out of his wet boxers behind the cover of the helicopter. “You should gather more firewood, things to burn for tonight.” When he came back around, he was dressed in a clean white tee and a pair of shorts. Looking for all the world like a man on vacation.

“I’m coming with you.” You rose from your place in the sand quickly, shuffling to reach him before he left you. “I’d rather not wait around.”

“Fine, come on then.” With that, you both set off into the trees.

The morning was full of birdsong and sunlight, bright buttery shafts of it cutting through the trees while the former echoed around you.

“This would be a gorgeous place to vacation.” He echoed your thoughts as you followed a faint path in the brush.

“I guess, would need a vast improvement.” Like a hotel, and an actual landing strip maybe. He laughed low, his eyes looking high into the trees.

“I don’t know, I don’t mind it being a bit rustic.” He pointed ahead, a few coconut trees catching his attention.

“This is more than a bit rustic I’d say. God I can’t wait until my parents find me. I should be by the pool right now, mingling with Louis.” Your palm smacks against the first of surely many bites rising on your skin.

“That your boyfriend?” He’s serious now, scooping a couple of coconuts from the floor and dropping them into your arms.

“No, but he should be. He’s an insanely wealthy man my father invited to our private island, where I should be right now.” You sighed loudly, annoyed at the situation all over again. “Soon. Soon, I will be back where I belong. God, my mother is probably worried sick, you know?” You stood there, holding onto the coconuts he stacked in your arms before moving on to find more fruit.

“Sure.” He all but grunts, moving carefully through the brush. “I get it-“

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the military is out searching for me right now.” An image of handsome Louis frantically joining the search with your parents makes your stomach flip.

I wonder if he is worried about me?

“Focus.” His voice rips you out of your daydream. “Let’s grab some more bananas, and head back.” He seems annoyed - he’s always annoyed.

“I hate this.” Your arms ache from holding the heavy coconuts. “Shouldn’t we be building a signal fire or something?” You can hear the whining tone, but you can’t stop it. Must everything be so hard?

“And just what are we meant to signal? Seen a bunch of planes, have you?” His tone is icy, his expression angry. “Cruise ships sailing by us every hour?” He finds a banana tree and cuts down a stalk, his movements aggressive.

“Well no-“

“Exactly. We’re on our own, which means until the military or whoever is looking for you finds this island- we have to work.” He props the bananas against his shoulder and turns back towards the camp, pointedly ignoring the way you struggle to keep up with him.

You’re already covered in sweat by the time you make it back to camp, breathing hard and soaking through your clothes.

“Jesus Christ, I cannot with these things.” You dump the coconuts next to the water jugs, shaking out your aching limbs. He sets the bananas next to them before moving to grab some firewood from the tree line. Your eyes scan the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore; it would be pretty enough without the eye sore that is the helicopter.

“I cannot wait to be away from this hunk of junk.” His movements stop at your words.

“That hunk of junk was my entire fucking livelihood. I don’t have a rich daddy to just buy me a new one.” He tosses the wood pieces angrily into the pit, ignoring the recoil his tone inspired. “Not everyone has it so easy, princess.”

“No, I guess they don’t, sorry-“ he spoke over you.

“Forget it.” He let out a sigh. “Let’s just do what we can to survive until someone finds us.” His expression was cold, and you can’t help the guilt that blooms in the pit of your stomach.

“Sounds good.” The rest of the day passed by in silence.

—

The days both fly, and crawl by and Frankie works each and every one of them. He works to find them food, he works to reinforce their shelter - to make them as comfortable as he possibly can, all while trying his hardest not to lose his mind. The picture of his little girl burned a hole in his heart when he looked at it each night. He only hoped she knew he’d come back to her.

Being stuck on an island by himself would have been bad enough; the loneliness, the isolation would no doubt be detrimental to his mental health, to his hopes of being found, but this? This had to be worse.

She helped, but only because he pushed her to. He knew that if it were up to her - they would have long since starved. He watched her as he braided more palm fronds to pad the sleeping platform, she was washing some of the clothes she’d worn as best she could, and he couldn’t help but admit that she was pretty. Her face was pleasant to look at when her nose wasn’t turned up. He can’t help but like the shape of her, imagining her skin would be soft and silky - he’d definitely been on this island too long.

Doesn’t matter how attractive she is, she doesn’t want you, and you don’t want her.

He didn’t know if he was reminding himself, or convincing himself.

A noise in the treeline behind him stops him mid-braid and for a moment, he thinks there might be someone else on the island, but he realizes what it is and grabs his knife. If he plays this right, tonight they’d eat like kings.

A new appreciation was born of having to wash your own clothes, for electricity, for washing machines and dryers, for Tide pods. For the maids who did your laundry and for the people who did your drycleaning, for the neat drawers full of clean clothes waiting at home.

For now, these would have to do. They wouldn’t smell like your favourite fabric softener, but they’d be clean enough to wear here at least. Francisco had set up a makeshift laundry line from the helicopter to a leaning palm tree, his things hanging as you added your own, and you briefly considered folding his things for him when his absence caught your attention.

“Francisco?” you called out to him, ignoring the way your heart raced. Usually, when he went off to get water or fruit, he let you know; it was unlike him to leave without a word. There had to be a reason. He wouldn’t just abandon you, would he?

Grab a hold of yourself, where the hell would he even go?

He crashed through the trees, triumphant and laughing, and you shoved away the altogether too-big feeling of relief that washed over you to see him.

“Good news, Princess, there’s wild boar on the island.” It was the happiest you’d seen him, well, ever. “It’ll be hard, but I think I can catch one.” He was making his way towards his supplies, and very quickly, the relief turned to dread. “We’re going to feast-”

“You’re going to kill a wild pig?” It was very hard to keep the worry out of your tone, or off your face.

“What’s the matter, never had pork chops?” He frowned now, his hands on his hips facing you.

“I mean, yeah, but this is a little different than going to a butcher and grabbing a few chops. You’re going to hunt down the animal and kill it? I’m not into that. I don’t know if I could eat it.” He narrowed his eyes at you, no doubt preparing to rip you a new one. “It’s also incredibly dangerous - they have a tendency to gore people.” His expression changed at that, real consequences seemed to get through to him.

“I mean, it’s not that different, but fine.” The wind had gone out of his sails, “I’ll see if I can catch something in the water - you okay with that?” He grabbed his fishing gear, raising an eyebrow, and you nodded before he made his way towards the water. You knew he was probably cursing you for ruining whatever he imagined cooking, but still, you couldn’t help but consider it a victory.

Babe, the pig wouldn’t be dying on your watch, and neither would he. Instead, he returned to the camp a few hours later with a fish, a few crabs, and a look that said you better not have any complaints. You didn’t. None that you’d say out loud anyway.

Dinner was a quiet affair, tasty and filling with the fish and the added protein; you both went to sleep full, and ungored.

Something loud dragged you up and out of the haze of sleep. It was still dark, and the sun had not risen yet. The sound was definitely something loud - probably just a plane. You shot up, scrambling out of the shelter to see if what you were hearing was real, Francisco barely moved.

It was high up, but it was definitely a plane.

“Francisco! There’s a plane. Where are the flares?” You all but barrelled into the shelter to shake him out of his dreams.

“Hmmm, tired baby.” He was out of it but strong when he pulled you closer - you ignored the way your stomach flipped on its ass at his pet name.

“Francisco, let me go, there’s a plane!” You smacked at his face lightly, just enough to wake him up.

“Huh? A plane?” your words broke through his sleep-addled brain, and he shot up. “What kind of plane?” He was out and grabbing at his bag momentarily before he swore loudly, a sigh filling the quiet of the dawn. “You called me for a commercial plane? You didn’t actually fire a flare, did you?” The blood drained from his face momentarily.

“No, I would have, but I didn’t know where you put the flare gun.” You frowned at him, annoyed. “I thought they’d see it.”

“Thank Christ.” He took a deep breath, his hands on his hips, “That Is a commercial flight, and if you’d fired the flare, it would have not only been a waste of a flare, but you could have burned the shelter down, could have ruined our supplies.” He seemed angry, and that, in turn, pissed you off.

“I didn’t think about that, I was trying to help-“ You crossed your arms, ignoring the annoyed look on his face.

“With the altitude that plane has, it wouldn’t matter if we had a thousand flares; come to me before you try to signal anyone, got it Princess?” He didn’t wait for a response, instead, he got back into bed and didn’t mention the incident again.

You got back into the shelter, laying in the pre-dawn glow - conflicting feelings fighting for dominance within you. You stared at his back, at the soft curl of hair he wore like a halo, and the fluttering of your stomach won out for just a moment. The solid press of him holding you close while still asleep was strangely welcome, although you’d never admit it. His condescending tone came to mind then, he had a habit of speaking down to you, and while you could admit you weren’t the most knowledgeable in survival, you still deserved to be spoken to like an adult.

You fell asleep fighting the urge to both press yourself close, and smack him upside the head.

When morning well and truly came, it found you both in a terrible mood.

He was quiet, much like he always was when he was annoyed, so you left him with his thoughts and set off to find more fruit through the path you’d both taken to traveling every few days. Luckily, the island was bountiful, and there were plenty of bananas, coconuts, and even some mangoes, but there was only so much you could take and you decided to venture out a bit further, keeping your eyes peeled for something different.

After a while, you found a berry bush, a small variety you didn’t recognize at once, but they were a very gorgeous, deep purple colour. Thinking he might appreciate a change as much as you, you picked a few handfuls and wrapped them up in a banana leaf before continuing your scavenging.

This was where your luck ran out, however, and if there were other varieties of fruit, they weren’t for you to find. Instead, you picked up a few mangoes and a coconut on your way back.

You found him looking through his things from the helicopter, a scowl on his face.

“Hey, I found some berries-” He looked up at the sound of your voice, his brow furrowed at the smile on your face. “I figured you were probably getting sick of the same fruit we’d been eating. I was hoping to find something else, but no luck.” You set them down in front of him.

“You didn’t eat this, did you?” his voice was curt and you frowned.

“No, I thought we could share them-”

“These are toxic.” He tossed them into the sand, burying them with a heavy sigh. “Do me a favour and don’t grab shit you don’t know for sure is edible. You could have made us really sick.” He turned then and continued with his inventory. Embarrassment and annoyance burned through your veins.

“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it, you know.” The words came on almost by themselves, bubbling up in your throat at the sanctimonious look on his face.

“What?” He paused and turned to look you in the face.

“You don’t have to be so fucking mean to me all the time.” You crossed your arms, holding in the frustration that seemed to expand in your lungs like a horrible balloon. “All you do is talk down to me. I said I was sorry about almost using the flare-” He huffed out an almost amused laugh and it boiled your blood. “It’s not funny! I’m stuck out here with you and all you do is yell, or talk to me like I’m stupid. I’m a person, and I deserve basic human decency-”

“What’s my last name?” He crossed his arms, his voice calm, but his question stole the words right out of your mouth.

“What?”

“You heard me - what is my last name? What do you know about me? Aside from the fact that my first name is Francisco, and that I’m a pilot.” He stood, knocking the sand off his shorts.

“I don’t think you told me-”

“No, I haven’t - do you know anything about who might be looking for me? Do you have any idea if I have anyone waiting for me to get home?” Your stomach sank, the anger slowly bleeding away and being replaced with shame. “Any idea if I’m married, or if I have kids?” He’s angry now, the scowl bigger than ever before.

“No, I-I don’t know.” You took a step back.

“No. No, you don’t. You don’t know that I’m divorced, that my parents are probably worried sick. You don’t know that I have a daughter, that her name is Tatiana, and that she’s probably thinking her dad abandoned her, or worse - that he’s dead.” You recoiled at that.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Your voice feels small, and the shame in your belly grows, vines of guilt wrapping themselves around your throat.

“How could you? You’ve never fucking asked me a single thing about who I am as a person! All you’ve done is complain. Complain and talk to me endlessly about how much money your parents have, how you should be on a private island, and how much of a fucking eyesore my livelihood is, and any time I’ve opened my mouth to respond or explain how we’re both stuck here, you’ve spoken over me.” His words cut at you - you don’t know this man at all, and you never ever cared to ask. You don’t respond.

He was well and truly angry now, kicking sand away from himself in his frustration.

“I’m sorry-” He put his hands up.

“Don’t. I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to pull your weight, and maybe realize that I’m also a person, and that all your money means jackshit to me. I need you to treat me like a human being, not just a sounding board.” He walked away, leaving you with your guilt - a sad balloon deflating alone.

They were both quiet that night. With Francisco, it was mostly out of anger. The feelings of inadequacy and frustration he’d been bottling up had finally been spoken aloud, and now he was processing them, all while still being stuck on this godforsaken island.

For her, he could see it was pure guilt. From the subdued expression, from her quiet words and general withdrawal, he knew no one had ever been so honest with her before. He would have almost felt guilty, if he hadn’t been so annoyed and hurt at the way she’d treated him. Instead, they both avoided each other for the rest of the night - a silent shared meal before wordlessly falling asleep in the shelter.

He woke the next morning to the feeling of her pressed against him again.

Her deep, even breaths against the back of his neck were embarrassingly welcome, and he ignored the way his body responded. He let out a low, deep sigh, grateful that he was facing away, a shudder passing through his body at the thought of having to explain why he was as hard as a rock.

His hand traveled down to where her leg was draped over his hip, unable to resist feeling her skin for just a moment before he slowly untangled their limbs, and made his way towards the water.

—

Days passed, and they passed without much conversation. This particular morning was somehow even more quiet despite the constant sound of waves lapping at the shore. The anger had fizzled out, and what was left was more akin to silent resignation. The two of you danced around each other, performing what were now everyday tasks without uttering a single word. The hours slipping by wordlessly, that is, until your scream cut through the silence.

“What is it?” He was at your side quickly, his eyes wide with something that looked suspiciously like worry.

“I think I stepped on a shell-” The sand around your foot was turning pink, your eyes widening at the sight.

“Okay, take a deep breath and sit here-” He guided you with surprisingly soft hands towards one of the logs around the burned-out fire. “Don’t move - try to keep your foot out of the sand.” He stood then, walking away.

“Where are you going?” Your voice sounded strange, almost whiny, and you ignored the little pang of despair.

Get a hold of yourself.

“Just going to get the first aid kit.” The cut throbbed as you waited, and soon he returned with one of the water bottles and a big red case. He walked with purpose, the look on his face shamed you to have been so clueless. This was a man that had obviously dealt with many a scraped knee. “Okay, let's see what we’re dealing with.”

He kneeled on the sand before you, taking your foot into his hands. You hissed when he softly brushed the sand away.

“Tsk, come on now Princess. I know you can be braver for me than that.” His hands were soft, and so was his tone, and it filled you with something, comfort amongst other, less wholesome thoughts. You shook them away, chewing on your bottom lip, watching as he played nurse. “Nothing too crazy, just a little cut.”

He rinsed the sand carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Okay, this might sting a little.” He rifled through the open case beside him, grabbing a little pack of what looked to be antiseptic. “Deep breath for me.” He watched you then, waiting until you let the breath go before wiping the wound clean. The sting almost slapped you across the face, every instinct screaming to pull your foot away from the mean man.

“Okay, okay - you’re okay.” his hands engulfed your ankle, holding you firmly in place. “Good job, we’re almost done.” he spoke low, opening up a waterproof bandaid and carefully covering the tiny wound. “There we go. All done.” He pressed a small kiss to the top of your foot, his eyes widening after. “Sorry- force of habit.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Thank you. It feels much better.” You felt the heat in your chest and in your ears and ignored it, ignored the whole mess of feelings blooming in your gut for him.

“Yeah, sure.” He collected his things before scratching at the back of his neck and it thrilled you to realize that he looked as flushed as you felt. “I’m going to go catch something.” He got up quickly, moving with purpose away from where you sat, curtailing any further discussion.

He hadn’t expected it, but she’d taken his words to heart. He’d felt terrible after going off on her. The embarrassment on her face at how she’d treated him, although completely warranted, pulled at his heartstrings. He couldn’t exactly say why - it wasn’t something he could explain, not something he wanted to delve into. Whether that was for his benefit or hers, he couldn’t be sure.

She no longer had to be told to fetch fruit, or water. She did her best to keep the camp organized, she no longer spoke about her wealth, or Louis. She was quiet most of the time, in fact, and he wasn’t sure if it was better, or worse.

Where she mostly avoided his annoyance throughout the day, she still clung to him at night. He never told her, convincing himself it was to spare her further embarrassment, ignoring the little part of him that knew it was because he was terrified that if she knew, she’d stop.

Things were different, that was for sure. The days passed and you had to admit to yourself that you’d been such an ungrateful, horrid little - well, Princess. He’d been completely right about you, and he’d had the patience of a saint. You saw him with different eyes now. You saw a competent, strong, intelligent man who up until now, was the only reason you’d survived on this godforsaken island as long as you had. It was well and truly humbling.

Instead of complaining, now you did your best to pull your weight. The goal was to show him that you were grateful, that you weren’t just some spoiled rich girl, that you could be something other than that, anyway. You wanted - needed to prove to him that you weren’t a burden.

It had been a particularly hot day, the sun beating down on the both of you with a vengeance. Sunset couldn’t come fast enough, and once it did, you cherished it like never before.

He dug around in the helicopter while you sat on the log, enjoying the tiny, but very welcome breeze coming off the water.

“Oh wow, I forgot about this,” You heard the smile in his voice, “How would you feel about a drink?” He held a bottle in his hand, making his way over to your place in the sand.

“I’d feel great actually, if you don’t mind sharing.”

“Bottle’s almost full, more than enough for both of us.” He sat next to you, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid before handing it to you. It was warmer than you would have liked, but the burn was pleasant enough that you didn’t care. “Good, right?” His smile is as breezy as the ocean, and just as welcome.

“Very good,” you couldn't help but admit before taking another long sip, “I can already feel it.” You smiled, handing it back to him.

“We’ll be cheap drunks tonight, that’s for sure.” He took another long swallow, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his throat worked. You watched the fire instead, focusing on the embers as the drink settled in your stomach. The heat spreads through your limbs, making you feel heavy where you sit beside him.

You both sat in silence for a time, passing the bottle back and forth until most of it was gone, and your head felt like a balloon barely tethered to your body.

“This would be such a beautiful place…without the whole ‘being stranded’ thing.” He held the bottle loosely, his eyes no doubt taking in the gorgeous sunset.

“You mean you don’t love being stuck out here with me?” You bumped his shoulder, and it vaguely registers how much you missed physical touch. He laughed, full-throated.

“Oh yeah, this is definitely heaven.” His expression is exaggerated, “You know what I mean.” He gestures to where the water laps at the shore. “This is a paradise, just needs a resort, and an airport.” He sighed, his mood is the friendliest you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah, it would definitely make a difference.” You leaned back and listened to the water. “Happy you’re here though, woulda died without you.” You didn’t mean to say it, but it’s absolutely true.

“Oh, I don’t know-” He shrugged, modest and much kinder than you deserved.

“Yes, you do-” You shoved at his arm softly, “You’re the only reason we’re still alive, super nice to me despite the fact that I can be a spoiled little brat.” You laughed.

“Can’t argue with that.” He laughed, “I like brats, though.” He smiled, and something that feels very much like butterflies fluttered around in your stomach. He didn't say anything else, and neither did you, the butterflies lingered, though, well into the night, and they only seemed to get stronger whenever his eyes found yours.

“It’s getting late-” He puts the bottle down, “-we should get some rest.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, instead, you just followed him towards the shelter.

It’s a strange, unfamiliar dance you’re both doing - the polar opposite of how things have been between you. Shy smiles replace cold stares, and a curious longing takes hold of you. It would embarrass you to fall prey to your baser instincts - there’s something in the way his eyes tracked you that says you weren’t alone in your feelings.

Something has shifted, he can feel it in the tense energy between them. A pleasant buzz flowed through his veins, danced along his nerves like a current, beat through his heart, and into his loins. She was so close, he could practically feel her warmth.

She sighed beside him, her legs rubbing together like a cricket and he knew in his gut, she felt the same energy.

“Good night, Frankie.” She whispered the words, as though someone might overhear. His eyes clenched shut at the feel of her breath ruffling through his hair, closer than she’d ever let herself get, awake anyway.

“Night-” Everything in him wanted to turn over, to feel her fingers ruffle through his hair, but something held him back. He stayed still, his body tense despite how relaxed the alcohol had made him.

“It’s a bit cold–” Her voice is a bit closer, so close he felt it in the shell of his ear, “-okay if I scoot closer?” Her hands pressed against his back, her legs tangled with his, and he knows in his bones, it’s just a ploy, but he stayed still nonetheless.

“Sure-get close.” He took her hand and wrapped it around his middle, holding it well above his waist, letting out a deep breath.

“Oh-okay.” She pressed her face into his shoulder, and every cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, to kiss her, bury his tongue in her mouth, and then trail it down, bury it between her legs, but he shook his head, convincing himself she just wants this.

“Night.” His voice cracked, but he said nothing more. He felt her staring at him, letting out a little sigh of her own.

“Night, Frankie.”

—

The days following your drunken night passed by in mostly silence, with a polite avoidance from him, and an annoyed quiet from you.

It was no secret that you had the power to annoy the hell out of him, but you’d thought there’d been something else. The look in his eye when he’d told you he liked brats, the sound of his voice when he’d held you close, the considerable boner pressing against your ass when you’d woken up to him wrapped around you that next morning.

Maybe you’d misread him, maybe it wasn’t flirting, maybe he’d just been stroking your ego, being nice to you, and you’d practically thrown yourself at him only to be.. What? Ignored?

The wind whipped around as you both ate dinner a few quiet days later, the sky dark and pregnant with the promise of a heavy rain, filling you with worry. The shelter was sturdy, you knew that, but you didn’t think it would hold up against a storm like the one that had blown you both onto the island to begin with.

“I don’t think we’ll be enjoying a fire tonight,” His eyes stared at the sky, same as you, “we should bring the clothes into the shelter; it’s going to pour soon.” He got up, tossing his banana peels into the fire pit just as the first few drops of water sprinkled down on top of you.

A nervous current flowed through your body as you made yourself comfortable within the shelter, making you acutely aware of his closeness.

The rain came down in sheets as you both lay there, filling the silence with its rhythmic pattering against the tarp. Lightning flashed, illuminating the space between you. A shiver ran through you at the look on his face.

“You okay?” His hand shot out, landing softly on your arm, raising goosebumps as it slid down towards your elbow.

“I’m fine.” You shudder, but all at once, annoyance springs up at his rejection the other night - you turn to give him your back.

“Are you… angry at me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Why would I be angry at you? It’s not like I threw myself at you or anything.”

“What?” His voice sounded incredulous, “You mean, when we were drinking?”

“Yes!” You sighed, “I was all over you. I guess I was wrong.” All at once, you’re embarrassed, and desperate to get away from his incredulous expression. The storm, however, holds you both hostage.

“Hm.” He sounded almost amused, and your stomach dropped, “Well, if I’d known that all you needed was to be fucked, things would have been different.”

Your stomach did a backflip onto its ass, shock, and pure adrenaline coursing through your body at his words. You turned slowly to face him.

“Sorry?” It came out almost stupidly, and he smiled a very self-satisfied smile.

“I said, if I’d known, that in order for you to stop being such a brat,” He moved in closer, forcing you to lay back and make space for him between your legs. “All you needed was for me to fuck you, I would have done it sooner.” He hovered above you, close enough that he must’ve surely felt your heart pounding where his chest met yours. It’s with Herculean strength, that you composed yourself, albeit nervously.

“Well, I guess I just thought you were more perceptive.” The bold words were completely at odds with the tremor in your voice; he laughed, full-throated, and it sent a current across every inch of you.

“Or maybe, I thought you’d open that pretty mouth of yours, and say what it is you wanted.” He pressed forward, dragging his lips across your jaw before capturing your mouth in a kiss. It started soft, and for a moment, the storm disappeared, your hands finding themselves tangled up in his messy waves, and then his tongue pressed forward, and it pulled a moan from somewhere deep inside you.

There was no more talking. Only the feeling of your heart racing, your cunt aching, and his comforting weight pressing you into the shelter, that is, before he shifted his hips and the considerable heft of him was slotted perfectly against where you needed him most.

The slip of his warm palm from the trembling skin of your belly raised goosebumps in its wake, and pulled a gasp from your mouth into his when it glided under your shit and landed on your breast. Those deft fingers you’d seen working away on all manner of things on this island, now plucked deliciously at your nipple.

It was almost violent, both the storm outside, and your haste to divest him of his clothes. The need to feel that golden skin on yours was a hunger pang, both terrible and euphoric, that burned as brightly as the flashes of lightning that lit up the shelter. His eyes shone with the same intensity you felt, and instantly, he moved away to help you, too, the two of you scrambling with a ferocity that bordered on anger.

“God, you’re so fucking hot–” He hissed the words onto your face before kissing you again, and any softness was gone, his teeth clicked against yours before his tongue took yours and laid down the law. Your skin burned with want, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back before you moved your hand down between you to finally grasp his cock. He pulled away from your mouth to stare down where you held onto him, drunk with the sight of just how big he looked in your grip.

“Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He held himself above you, watching as you stroked him slowly.

“God, yes, I wanted this - I want you to fuck me–” you swiped your thumb over the head, fat pearly drops of his own arousal making it slippery, “I want you to come inside me, make me feel good-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before his mouth claimed yours once more and pulled your hand away in order to slip himself between the lips of your sex, coating himself in you for a moment before he finally slipped inside.

“Jesus Christ, man.” You breathed the words onto his face at the stretch, at the way he seemed to have taken up every inch of space inside you, making you overflow with him. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, his hips snapping in a toe-curling rhythm. For a few minutes, there were no more words left, the only thing you can manage is to whimper, then moan in earnest when he ducked his head down to capture a nipple in his mouth. Your fingers like talons in his hair, keeping him close to your breast while your cunt soaked him in your want.

He let go of the perky bud with a pop, his eyes glazed.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come so fast,” he almost slurred his words, pussy drunk, “your tight little cunt is gonna make me fucking come–” He sped up, his cock punching into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make a lewd noise where you’re joined and you desperately wanted him to slow down so you can catch up.

“Wait–” Your legs squeezed where they’d hitched up high on his hips, “Frankie–” His rhythm stuttered for a moment before he thrust again, deep, filling you with his come, and you almost cried at the thought that he might be done so soon.

“Fuck-” He ground himself as deep as he could, milking himself inside you for a moment before pulling away abruptly, hissing through the oversensitivity to look at his handiwork, “that’s so fucking pretty baby, look at me dripping out-” He smiled at you, almost laughing at the look of anguish on your face at the emptiness, “what’s wrong?” His hand rubbed at your belly for a moment before it slipped down, and two big fingers filled you back up. “I know you didn’t come, but you don’t think I’m just going to leave you like this, right?” He pumped slowly, making you keen when he pressed against something holy inside of you. “No, I got you, baby.”

One moment he was kneeling between your legs, and the next, he was flat on his belly, his face pressed up against your pussy, tongue right on the button of your clit.

The moan you let out was obscene. His tongue circled your clit with devastating precision, over and over again, until you were staring down at him with your mouth open, begging and praying incoherently for him to keep going just like that. His eyes were bright, laser-focused on you just like his tongue, and his free hand came up to hold onto your breast, pinching at your nipple, and all of a sudden, the sting snapped, the wave crested, and you practically folded in half, swearing loudly as you gushed around his fingers.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but the storm got a little stronger, and louder as you both lay in the shelter, quiet and content to hold each other. Lightning turned the darkened skies into day for a moment before the boom of thunder shook you to your core.

“It’s okay, just loud.” He said it softly into your ear with the same patience he’d had when he bandaged your foot, the comforting words dads usually used for their children.

“I know, it just startled me.”

“Force of habit.”

“Your daughter, is she scared of thunderstorms?” You turned towards him, making yourself comfortable in his embrace.

“Only at first.” His smile was wistful, “She always jumps from the first big boom but then laughs,” his eyes crinkled, and it was hard not to notice just how handsome he is, the care and love he has for his daughter shining out through his eyes. “Sorry, I just miss her a lot.” It faltered, that handsome smile, and it made you sad for him.

“Don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine how hard all this must be for you.” Guilt swirled in your chest at the way you’d treated him before, at your general attitude towards everyone up until getting stranded. “I’m sorry about how I was–” He shook his head no, much too kind, kinder than you deserved, and you pushed through.

“No, let me say it. I’m sorry about how I treated you - I was horrible.”

“You weren’t that bad.”

“Yes, I was, so spoiled and insensitive, I didn’t even give your situation a second thought. All I cared about was myself and I can’t even believe it now. I’m sorry. I’m really lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, one of his palms rubbing your back soothingly, “you’ve definitely had a big turnaround.” He laughed, and you smacked his arm playfully. “I’m lucky you’re here too. I would have been miserable by myself.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but sigh at the simple comfort human touch could bring. “Not sure you would have ever agreed to go out with me had we not been stuck here together.”

His words were light, and for a moment, you wanted to protest, but you didn’t think you could, and it shamed you further.

“Oh god, what a moron I was.” You groaned, pressing your face into the warm skin of his neck.

“You weren’t a moron, maybe a little oblivious, and I don’t mean that in a cruel way. You and I are in very different circles. I doubt our paths would have even crossed, but I’m glad they did because as much as you have the power to drive me nuts, I really like you.” His hands continued their comforting sweep across your skin, lulling you into the most relaxed state you could remember being in, in a long time.

“I would have been an idiot to not give you a chance. You’re so sweet and smart, and so strong, so fucking handsome, too. You take care of me and make me laugh, and you have done your best to keep us both safe and sound and I’m just - I’m ashamed that maybe in the past I would have been too shallow and stuck up to notice.” The storm abates as you confess some feelings you’d been harboring.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I think I probably would have dismissed you just as quickly for similarly shallow reasons. As gorgeous as you are, I most likely would have written you off as some rich trust fund-baby.” He half-shrugged.

“I’m still sorry. It’s because of me that we’re here.”

“I could have said no.”

“I pressured you with money. I pushed even though you’d said it was unsafe.”

“I still could have said no. Let’s just forget it all, everything that happened before we got here. Point is we’re here, and we have to keep it together until someone finds us.” His hand kept its rhythm, sweeping over any and all skin, casting its spell of comfort until both it and the storm lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-----

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #francisco morales #frankie morales #triple frontier au #frankie x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales

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froggibus · 4 days

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hiiiiiii i just wanna say i love ur work so much. i was wondering if i could request a jason todd hurt/comfort fic. i recently had a really scary experience outside of a bar, and it has been taking a toll on me. maybe something like reader and jason fight over something silly, and then something like that happens to reader and he comforts them after and feels bad about the fight before? with a lot of fluff and reassurance. maybe he gives them a bath or something:) THANK YOUUUU

Never Let Me Go - Jason Todd

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn! reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst -> fluff

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: after an argument with Jason, you're left to fend for yourself outside of a bar

CW: attempted assault, attempted SA, chasing, slight violence, dissociation/shock (reader), arguing, alcohol, hurt/comfort, pet names (Jason calls reader baby/hun), bathing together, jason is snarky at first

sorry this took so long! really hope you're feeling better, but if you (or anyone else reading this) ever need to talk, my inbox is always open <3 i talk about my own struggles with ptsd on this blog, and i want everyone to be able to feel safe enough to talk about theirs, too

i tried to keep the assault scene short and brief, but i've also added cuts before and after in case anyone would like to skip it.

(title slightly based on this song)

“You know that stuff is pure sugar and no alcohol, right?”

You roll your eyes when Jason gestures to your drink with a look of distaste, hiding his snark behind the rim of his glass. You’re tempted to remind him that the foamy beer he’s pounding back has even less alcohol than your Cosmo, but think the better of it. He’s in a bitchy mood, and there’s no point making it worse.

He’d gotten into a fight with Bruce the night before, and had practically gone on a rampage through Gotham’s underground. The anger radiated off of him still when he’d showed up at your apartment an hour earlier, even after he’d flashed you a tense smile and planted a tentative kiss to your lips.

You’d told him at least three times since then that he didn’t have to come with you—given the bar was around the corner from your home, and you could stumble home from it drunk, backwards and in your sleep—but Jason had insisted. As if you ever thought Jason would be able to relax knowing you’re out at a bar in the heart of Gotham, despite your assertions that you would only be having a couple drinks and maybe some chili fries.

You swish your glass around, watching the raspberry coloured booze slosh on the sides. “We can go home if you’re not feeling up to this,” you say gently. “I don’t mind.”

He gives his broad shoulders an irritating shrug. “You wanted to get out of the house, we’re out of the house.”

Though he doesn’t say it, you can hear the unspoken words crackling through the air. What more do you want from me?

“But do you want to leave?”

Jason’s eyes narrow, black pupils forcing out imperial blue. “I go where you go.”

It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to resist tugging at your hair. Though it’s been years since he lived in Wayne Manor, and even longer since he studied under Bruce, the lessons he learned have never left him. Including this form of aggravating, diplomatic speech where his answers gave no answers at all.

“Whatever,” you sigh under your breath, crossing your legs and tilting your body back to your drink.

Jason scoffs, “whatever? Really?”

“Yes, really!” You’re grateful that the mix of conversations and the drone of 90s rock are loud enough to cover up your rising voice. “I just wanted to get out of the house for once and you’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean?” There’s a cruel smirk on his lips. “The only reason I’m here is because of you, so that you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

“I never asked for that.”

Your heart races painfully in your chest. You’ve never liked arguing, especially not in public when the both of you have been drinking and especially not when Jason is already chafing under the expectations of others. It’s a nightmarish combination that leaves electricity sizzling in the air and everyone in the room on edge.

He chugs the rest of his beer, not even bothering to wipe away the tiny bit of white foam that catches on the shadow above his upper lip. “Fine then,” he grumbles, and tosses a fifty onto the counter. “I’ll see you.”

He leaves no room for protest, already barreling his way through the tables. By the time you’ve even processed what just happened, he’s already at the door, back muscles tensing beneath brown leather as he yanks it open hard enough to shake the hinges.

You wait until you hear the familiar rev of his motorcycle before ordering another round.

It’s late by the time you decide to pay your tab and head home. Your phone has long since been dead weight in your pocket, but even if it weren’t, you wouldn’t have bothered to check it. There was a part of you that hoped Jason would come back, that he would apologize, but that part is about as dead as your phone is.

It’s brisk outside now, and cold rain sprinkles from above. The dark rain clouds block out the moon, dim flickering street lights the only light you can see. You take a long, deep breath that clouds the air as you release it, rubbing your freezing forearms. Home is just around the corner, but that’s still an eight minute walk. Minimum.

A groan slips past your lips as you lean against the outside of the building, peering into the dark streets for any sign of a cab. A rock skids across the ground to your left and you snap your head in the direction it came from.

A man saunters towards you, his body encased in shadows. “Need a ride?”

A shiver rises up your spine. You shuffle further to your right, trying to put more distance between you and the stranger.

He doesn’t take the hint. He moves closer, purposefully slamming his boots harder into the ground to get your attention. “I said,” he repeats, “do you need a ride?”

“No,” you swallow hard, adding a quick, “thank you.”

You don’t know this man, but you despise him. You despise his imposition, the southern twang of his voice, the fact you’re instinctually polite to him so that you don’t risk pissing him off.

Despite your plea, he keeps coming towards you. “I reckon you do.”

The alarm bells in your head start to shriek. You shove off of the wall, stumbling only slightly before you regain your balance and take off down the sidewalk. It’s dark and though you can no longer see him when you glance over your shoulder, you can hear the pounding of his boots on the pavement behind you.

And then his cold, clammy hands lock around your wrist and tug you hard. You strain against his grasp, using your entire body weight to get away, to go anywhere but here.

He’s so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath, feel the warmth of his body. Not warm the way Jason is, but warm the way a fire you shouldn’t go near is. You cry out desperately. The bar is still within sight, someone has to come out, someone has to see.

“Why not just let me show you a good time?” He says, “I’m a really nice guy if you give me a chance.”

You drive your elbow into his arm and his grip loosens enough for you to tug away. You rip your wrist from his grasp, but as you do, you lose your balance and crash onto the dirty, wet Gotham pavement. With how cold you are and the adrenaline your heart is furiously pumping through your body, you barely feel the impact.

You can’t see the expression on his face as you drag yourself across the pavement, but you hear a low chuckle. You imagine it’s similar to that of a wolf zeroing in on its prey.

And then, a booming voice cuts through the darkness. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jason sounds pissed, but it's maybe the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. The most beautiful string of words in the English language.

The man spins on his heels away from you just in time to catch a harsh uppercut to the face. A loud crack reverberates through the buildings, and he goes down like a sack of potatoes on the concrete next to you.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, looking up at Jason through your lashes. “You’re—how?”

“Oh, baby. Baby, baby,” he sighs, dropping to his knees on the pavement next to you. His new jeans are probably ruined from touching the ground—as are yours—but that seems to be the least of his concerns right now.

He cradles your head in his lap, his hands trailing up your damp, aching skin for any sign of injury. You shiver, closing your eyes and letting Jason hold you. The adrenaline flooding your veins has not yet diluted, and the calloused warmth from Jason’s hands is the only thing keeping you from floating away.

“I didn’t leave, baby, would never leave you. I was waiting around back when I heard you and,” he sighs, “I’m so sorry.”

His words are faint, so faint, and more gentle than you’ve ever heard him speak. Though he clutches you tightly to him, the feeling registers as barely a whisper. And then you’re on your feet, propped up against his side as he helps you back to where he propped his bike.

Your mind is somewhere else now. You’d have completely forgotten about your own body if it weren’t for the frantic, rhythmic shove of Jason’s heart against his ribcage with every step you take.

You’re not sure how you got back to your apartment, but you’re sure it was through no small effort on Jason’s part. Your waist is warm from where his hand rests—he’s refused to let you go for even a moment since he saw you on that pavement.

You shiver violently even after you return to the warmth of your home. Jason had wrapped you in his jacket but even that did little to stop the shaking.

He cups your face, a soft intensity in his eyes. “Let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

You barely react to his touch, or to his words. It doesn’t take a genius to know you’re in shock—Jason’s seen it more than enough times in his lifetime to recognize it at a glance.

The shivering, that faraway and glassy look in your eyes, the way your lips move as if they’ll form words but no sound comes out. Your pupils themselves have almost doubled in size from the adrenaline coursing through your system.

He’d take the crowbar a thousand damn times if it meant he would never have to see you like this. He would give away all that he has, and all that he is, to never subject you to this kind of pain.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, and starts towards the dark hallway leading to your bedroom and bathroom.

You let out a choked gasp—the most sound you’ve managed since earlier—and Jason whips around. Blue eyes snap to yours, looking more like broken glass through the tears catching on your own lashes.

Don’t leave, you want to say. Not even for a minute, not even for a second. But your words fail you, and all you have to fall back on is a gasp of air and the tears in your eyes.

Jason understands, though. “Let’s go together, then.”

He grabs one of your hands in his, and holds your waist with the other. You walk like that down the hall, Jason holding you tight and guiding you to your bathroom. He helps you settle down on the toilet seat while he runs a hot bath.

Jason has you sit on the side of the bathtub, only your bare feet resting in the warm water. He sits with you, his legs on either side of your own and his arms around your waist. Already, the shaking has subsided and your eyes have started to clear. Relief floods his system, wiping away the guilt that’s been bubbling in his stomach.

He waits a few minutes, before saying, “let’s get you out of those clothes and into the bath.”

It’s posed more like a question, his fingers tracing inquisitive circles on your hip. He’s asking, you realize, if it would be okay for him to help you undress. If you’re comfortable being naked in front of him right now. The kindness of the gesture has your shoulders dropping from your ears.

“Y-yeah,” you manage.

Jason keeps his touch firm, steady, while he peels your dirty shirt over your head. He has you raise your feet above the water so he can help you with your pants and underwear, discarding your clothes in a pile on the tiled floor.

He squeezes your shoulders reassuringly when he sees you hesitate at the side of the bathtub before finally stepping in and letting your aching body settle in the warm water.

It’s an immediate relief. The chill your skin has taken on, the ice running through your blood, starts to defrost.

Jason watches you relax into the warm porcelain, your impossibly tense muscles finally loosening. “Feeling any better?” He asks quietly.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble quietly.

He grabs a washcloth from the drawer beneath the counter. “Hey, none of that.”

“I just,” you take a deep, shaking breath, “if we had never gone out tonight, none of this would have happened and you wouldn’t have had to help me and—”

Jason splashes warm water over your head. “None of that,” he repeats. “I don’t want to hear any of that.”

“But—”

“Nothing that happened tonight was any fault of yours.” He brushes the wet washcloth across your face, wiping away stray tears. “You did nothing wrong. I should never have left you, plain and simple.”

“It’s not your fault either, Jay.”

He strokes the washcloth over your forehead. “I’m supposed to protect you, hun. I didn’t do a very good job of it tonight.”

“Get in here with me?” You clutch his forearm.

He chuckles. It’s been a very, very long time since Jason Todd could comfortably fit in a normal sized bathtub, but for you, he’d do anything. He’s gentle climbing in the bath behind you, propping his legs around the outside of yours so you can comfortably lay back on him.

It’s a cramped fit, it couldn’t possibly be comfortable for anyone—but Jason sucks it up for your sake. Despite the ways his knees ache from the angle he keeps his legs, it all feels worth it when you lay your head on his chest.

“Thank you for being here,” you say quietly.

He plants a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “For you? Anything.”

And you know he means it.

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

Masterlist | DC Masterlist

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd angst #jason todd hurt/comfort #red hood x you #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #batfam x reader

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animentality · 4 months

Text

can I just talk about Godzilla Minus One and how it was absolutely fucking brilliant for a minute?

It centered around a disgraced kamikaze pilot who hesitated, who was scared to die, so sabotaged his own plane before he could fly out. and because he sabotaged his plane, a crew of engineers had to hang back at the base, to try and fix it.

and then of course, this being a Godzilla movie, Godzilla attacks. kills most of them, excluding him and an engineer, who immediately blames him. says that if he had just died, then the rest of them would still be alive too.

his "cowardice" saved his life, and he was haunted by it, ashamed of "betraying" his country simply by wanting to live.

he spent the whole movie struggling with survivors guilt and feeling like he let his country down just by continuing to breathe.

and he couldn't forget the men he saw die, and he can't escape memories of the war, because he's living in the shattered remains of Tokyo after it was bombed, the place he used to call home, where his community is gone and his family is dead, and there is no escaping the death and devastation.

and the people who are still living? they hate him. they blame him for the loss of the war. they blame him for not dying for them.

and because he's haunted by his past, he cannot live in the present.

the guilt of being alive is too tightly wound around his heart. it can't beat even once without him being reminded of all the people whose hearts were nothing but dust now, and the outcome of the war feels like it's solely laid upon his chest.

and that's all very heavy. and I cried.

but that wasn't what I cried at. Because it wasn't the hopelessness that had the most impact on me. it was the end of the movie, where he was given the choice to redeem himself. to die for his country this time, and save them from Godzilla.

and he said he was ready, he can do it this time, he will be the hero. he will lay down his life this time.

only...

...this time, the engineer, who called him a coward... designed his new plane for this mission. and he gave him an ejector seat.

and the movie says this:

"This country has treated life far too cheaply. Poorly armored tanks. Poor supply chains resulting in half of all deaths from starvation and disease. Fighter planes built without ejection seats and finally, kamikaze and suicide attacks. That's why this time I'd take pride in a citizen led effort that sacrifices no lives at all! This next battle is not one waged to the death, but a battle to live for the future."

And it's like...

Oh it's so corny, it's always corny, when the message of a story is simply, life is precious.

But I don't fucking care.

It was still brilliant. It still hits every time. That's what made me cry. Not the hopelessness or the sad things, but the way the movie could be so heavy... while also being hopeful. optimistic.

Everything about that movie was just so perfect. A Godzilla movie actually set immediately after WW2 is a genius idea. The post war devastation. The criticism of Japanese imperialism, the war, and the way it treated its own people, both at home and abroad. The condemnation of kamikaze attacks and the callous disregard for human life.

And the deeply human story, of a man who was afraid to live, after seeing so much death.

Choosing to die wasn't easy. But choosing to live was even harder.

#godzilla minus one #godzilla

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081314 · 4 months

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Book 7: The Ruler of the Abyss – Chapter 6 (Part 2)

Following is part 2 of my translation of Chapter 6 of Book 7: The Ruler of the Abyss. This part contains Episode 7-89 to 7-94.

Main storyline spoilers after the cut.

Episode 7-89

Lilia: We finally…. made it… There’s Black Scale Castle!

Yuu: So this is where Tsunotarou grew up!

Imperial Guard C: Garururu! Gaaaaa!

Imperial Guard A: Kukeeee!!

Lilia: Forget about me! The egg… We need to get the egg to the castle! Please, go tell Queen Maleficia to prepare cradle tower… and hurry!

Imperial Guard C / A: Gyaoou!!

(The guards depart)

Lilia: Ugh…!

(Lilia collapses)

Baul: General! Someone, fetch a doctor!! He needs medical attention now!!

Lilia: I don’t need a damn doctor. I fulfilled the princess’s imperial decree… And I’m going back to the Verdant Moors…!

Baul: You idiot! It’s beyond reckless for you to return to the battlefield in your condition!

(Lightning flashes)

Everyone: !?

Sebek: What was that!? The sky to the east, it’s glowing all of a sudden…

Lilia: That light… No, it can’t be…!!

Land of Briar – Land near Castle

Meleanor (Dragon form): ROOOOOAAAAR!!

Iron One A: Aauuugh!!

Iron One B: That blasted witch! I can’t believe she still has the strength left to fight, we’ve hit her with everything we’ve got! And now she’s covered the sky with her black magic, and blocked off all our escape routes with those awful thorns… She truly is the definition of evil…!

Iron One C: There’s no telling how many of our comrades she’s taken out already. We can’t let her reign of terror continue one second longer. WE’LL FELL THAT FOUL BEAST HERE AND NOW!

Iron Ones: Uooooooooh!!!

Meleanor (Dragon form): ROOOOARRR!!

Knight of Dawn: …Haaah… hahhh…. Just where did we go wrong. If we’d only tried to understand each other better, to work together more… Then perhaps we all could have lived in peace. But I-… But we choose to go down this path, instead. We’ve hurt each other so much, lost so many of our dear friends… There’s no turning back now. I know I cannot ask for your forgiveness, but please… Please just let me have my dream. Let me dream of a world where all species, not just human and face… can smile together. And may my dream… become reality someday. ….Fairy guardians… LEND ME YOUR STRENGTH!

Land of Briar – Maleficia’s Castle

Sebek: The storm has ended, and those black clouds have vanished…

Silver: …It’s the dawn.

Lilia: Ah…. Aaaah…Ahhhhh…!!!

(Lilia falls to his knees)

Silver: General Vanrouge!?

Baul: No, that’s absurd!! It- It can’t be…!!!

Sebek: Sir Baul, just what is going on!?

Baul: Lady Meleanor’s magic, it’s…. it’s gone.

Sebek / Silver: ….!!

Lilia: Meleanor…. MELEANOOOR! If I were only stronger, I would’ve made you come with us….! Why…! Just why…! Levan… I couldn’t… I couldn’t keep our promise…! GOD DAMMMIIIIIIIIT!!

Episode 7-90

Lilia: Levan… I couldn’t… I couldn’t keep our promise…! GOD DAMMMIIIIIIIIT!!

Mysterious Voice: What is the meaning of this… Princess Meleanor has returned to the stars….

Mysterious Voice: She never backed down before the humans, not once. Oh, how noble she was! The very pride of the followers of the night!

Mysterious Voice: Rest in peace, dear child of the night.

Mysterious Voices: The night’s blessing upon ye.

Grim: The heck’s goin’ on? I hear voices whisperin’ in my ears, but there’s nobody here.

Baul (whispering): …It’s the senate.

Sebek (whispering): The senate!? I’ve heard though their bodies have returned to the stars, they linger in this world as naught but consciousnesses.

Lilia: ….Meleanor was noble? She was our pride? Bullshit! That’s all a fucking load of bullshit!! The hell does any of that even fucking matter now, she’s gone…!

Senate Member A: Shut your vile little mouth, you lowly bat. Have you no shame! You left the princess behind on the battlefield and slunk back here all by yourself…! You couldn’t protect the princess, yet you dare call yourself an Imperial Guard! Shame on you for running away!

Senate Member C: Ahh, dear princess…. The poor thing, to be stuck with a subordinate too daff to comprehend the fae’s pride…

Senate Member D: I warned her time and time again: a dirty little bat has no business at a dragon’s side.

Senate Member E: You returned the Draconia family’s kindness with ingratitude…. You good-for-nothing!

Baul: Please, wait! The General was protecting the heir under an imperial decree from Princess Meleanor…!

Lilia: …Stop, Baul. The high elders are right. From hereon I….. I resign from the Imperial Guard. I relinquish my title as General of the Right. My subordinates were just following my orders. I humbly ask if you could be… lenient in your judgement.

Senate Member F: You aren’t just going to lose your title - you’re never stepping foot within the capital again!

Senate Member G: Hurry up and get your filthy hands off the heir’s egg! You repulse me!

Yuu: But he was just trying to protect Tsunotarou!

Grim: What the- The egg slipped outta Lilia’s arms an’ now it’s floatin’ in the air!

Baul (whispering): Damnit… Damn that blasted senate!

Baul: Please, wait! Princess Meleanor instructed the general to hatch the egg if she failed to return! And even our distinguished senate cannot defy an imperial decree, you all know that!

(Mallyegg floats away and vanishes in a burst of light)

Lilia: ……Farewell, Malleus.

Baul: Ah! G-General! Where are you going!? Are you turning your back on Princess Meleanor’s decree!?

Lilia: …I’m not an Imperial Guard anymore, Baul. Her decree has nothing to do with me now.

Baul: But…!

Lilia: I don’t belong here anymore. And there’s nothing left for me to protect….

Silver: General Vanrouge… Please wait!

(Lilia slaps away Silver’s hand)

Lilia: Just leave me alone…

(The Darkness appears)

Baul: W-What is this… this foul energy!?

Sebek: Is it… Is it the Darkness!?

Silver: It’s being drawn in by father’s despair! Shit, it’s already got him surrounded!

Lilia: …Meleanor, Levan…. Are you down there?

Silver: No, you can’t go down there!! The Darkness is trying to trap you, General Vanrouge!

Lilia: You guys take me… with you…

Silver: FATHEEEEER!!

Sebek: Silver! We must go after Sir Lilia! Grim, Yuu, ready yourselves!

Silver: …Yeah. Let’s go!

Grim: Man, how come we had to wind up here again. It’s so dark an’ cold…

Sebek: Argh, cease with your mewling! If we’re able to locate Sir Lilia, and have him understood this is but a dream, we should return to where we were prior.

Silver: Yeah… That’s right. I never knew… I never knew father stepped down as general because of something that serious.

Sebek: ….In truth, there’s something I’ve been suspicious of ever since I first apprenticed under Sir Lilia. Don’t most of our retired leaders reside in vast mansions just outside the capital? And yet… And yet someone whom my grandfather respects as our nation’s hero, and someone whom the Young Lord adores as part of his family… Lives deep within the forest, far, far away from the capital - as though he were in hiding. I’ve long wondered why that was.

Silver: My father would always tell me the air up in the capital city disagreed with his skin. And he never took me with him there, either… So I just always thought he preferred a quiet life, surrounded by nature… But my father's known Lord Malleus since he was little, and I remember he’d often get summoned to the castle by Her Majesty and Lord Malleus.

Sebek: I wonder, just what transpired in the 200 years between Sir Lilia abdicating his position, and Lord Malleus being born?

Grim: Ain’t gonna do us any good just sittin’ around blabberin’. Come on, let’s go look for Lilia. Then we can get outta here!

Silver: Right. …Wait for us, father!

Episode 7-91

Sebek: Hmph. You are but small fry. You’ve no chance against us, Darkness!

Silver: !! Shh!

(Silver puts his hand over Sebek’s mouth)

Sebek: Fmph?!?

Silver: I hear someone talking, on your 2 o’clock. Let’s check it out.

Sebek: Hmphh!!

Silver: Is this… Dragon Capital City?

Grim: This is just like when we were lookin’ for Silver in the Darkness. We’re all see-through, like ghosts.

Sebek: Ghmph!! Fmmhp… *Sebek rips off Silver’s hand* …Ahh! You!!! Just how long do you intend to keep your hand upon my mouth!

Silver: !! Shh!

(Silver puts his hand back over Sebek’s mouth)

Sebek: Bfmph!?

Baul: Sir Vanrouge. I apologize for the abrupt summons…. But I’m glad you made it.

Lilia: It’s been ten years since we last met, eh?

Silver/Sebek/Grim: !!

Baul: I was concerned since I didn’t get any response to the New Year’s card I sent you… But I’m glad to see you’re doing well.

Lilia: Uh-huh, sure. You know that letter you sent me… I noticed it had the Draconia family’s coat of arms on it. It was Her Majesty who ordered I come here, right? …The heck’s going on? I can’t imagine the Senate or the aristocrats would be happy to see me here. I know Queen Maleficia's subject to their opinions, as well...

Baul: Indeed. That’s why we had that message delivered to you in secret. But you know… Your expertise in concealment hasn’t dulled a bit since you retired. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. …This way, please.

Lilia: …?

Silver: …Looks like this dream takes place about a decade after the battle ended.

Grim: Let’s trail ‘em.

Lilia: Is this… cradle tower?

Baul: Correct. The heir’s egg… Lord Malleus’s egg is sleeping up there. This tower is to serve as a temporary cradle for the royal family’s eggs, in case something happens that prevents one from hatching.

Lilia: So it’s basically a dragon incubator, since their eggs won’t grow if you don’t pour love and magic into them. I’m guessing Queen Maleficia’s the one providing the magic right now? I heard if dragon eggs don’t directly receive their parents’ love and affection, it takes a lot longer for them to hatch, but I never thought ten years would pass by without hearing news of the heir’s birth.

Baul: The truth is… you were summoned here due to a grave issue we’re having with the egg.

Lilia: …An issue?

Baul: Yes. For the first five years, Queen Maleficia poured her magic into the egg via the tower… And though its growth was slow, the egg did steadily develop in that time. However… Shortly thereafter, the egg began rejecting her magic.

Lilia: What?

Baul: The doctors we consulted said the egg would be more receptive to her magic and affection if she cradled it, instead of sending her magic to the tower. So in between her official duties, Her Majesty comes to the tower to hold the egg… But even that hasn’t had any effect.

Lilia: He’s rejecting her magic… Don’t tell me it’s because she’s not his parent? That’s ridiculous – his eyes aren’t even open yet, there’s no way he’d be able to tell whose magic he’s receiving!

Baul: We’ve summoned doctors from across the country to come look at things, but the cause for all this remains a mystery. The only thing we’re certain of is this: if we fail to find a way to fix this, Lord Malleus will go join the starts without ever hatching.

Episode 7-92

Baul: The only thing we’re certain of is this: if we fail to find a way to fix this, Lord Malleus will go join the starts without ever hatching.

Lilia: No…!

Baul: As the egg is accepting only a limited amount of magic at this point, Queen Maleficia has been pouring in several times the amount of magic needed to hatch him. But as she’s at an advanced age, it will be dangerous for her to keep this up for much longer. The Land of Briar-… Apologies, Briar Valley is in chaos right now, and we’re in a precipitous situation with the neighboring countries. The fate of our country rests on Her Majesty’s shoulders, and she can’t afford to tend to the egg 24/7.

Lilia: …Okay, and?

Baul: Sir Vanrouge, you were once renown as the Dragon’s Right Hand Man. And so I ask of you - please help us.

Lilia: Help you? The hell do you expect me to do? I was never anybody’s right hand man, I couldn’t even fulfill my duty. I’m just a good-for-nothing…. Just a “dirty little bat”.

Baul: I don’t care what anyone says, Her Majesty and I have faith in you. We’d like you to travel the world, and search for information on how to hatch dragon eggs.

Lilia: Travel the world… Does Briar Valley even have anything like passports we can use?

Baul: We do not. …Not official ones, at least.

Lilia: ….Ha, hahaha! Ahahahahaha! That’s rich, never thought I’d get to see the Queen act so reckless. Alright, so what’s in it for me?

Baul: Nothing… except… Do you recall our final audience with Lady Meleanor?

Lilia: Our final audience…

(Flashback)

Lilia: This egg won’t hatch without you!

Meleanor: Then you must hatch it for me.

Meleanor: And you loved Levan, too. You two, the General of the Right and the General of the Left, spent more time together than I did with my own husband. Of course you will love our child, just as you loved us.

(End flashback)

Lilia: “Then you must hatch it for me”….. *sigh* Why does everybody always gotto dump their problems onto me.

Baul: Does that mean you’ll….!

Lilia: I was just thinking about taking a little trip, actually. I’ll ask around about the egg while I’m gone. But that’s it, got it? Don’t expect I’ll be much help.

Baul: Of course. While you’re gone, we’ll keep trying to find a solution on our end. Safe travels… The night’s blessing upon ye.

(Baul departs)

Lilia: First things first, I need to find out where dragons live outside of Briar Valley. Then I can start my search there… *sigh* If we can’t hatch you before you join the stars, I already know your parents are gonna give me an earful when I get up there myself… So you better not kick the bucket while I’m gone… Malleus.

Episode 7-93

Silver: …So that’s the reason why father went traveling around the world. He was looking for a way to hatch Lord Malleus…

Sebek: Four hundred years ago, eh…‘Twas a time when prejudice against other species ran rampant. Doubtless ‘twas no pleasant journey.

Silver: …I wonder what happened while he was traveling?

Lilia: I heard there was a see-through dragon that pops up sometimes in the Shaftlands… But I doubt a dragon would live here, so close to humans.

Townsperson A: Hey, traveler! Come join on the fun! This festival only comes ‘round once a year.

Lilia: Sorry, I’m in a bit of a hurry. Ah, actually, have you heard about a dragon that lives around here?

Townsperson A: Dragon? No way, those things are just fairytales. Anyways, you don’t look so good. You feeling okay? You’re white as a ghost- Ah! T-Those pointy ears… Are you a fae…!?

Townsperson B: What!? They say the fae rule over the lands up north with an iron fist!

Townsperson C: M-Monsteeer!! Get away from us!

(The townspeople start throwing rocks at Lilia)

Lilia: A monster? You’re one to talk, human!

(Lilia starts charging up his magic, then stops)

Lilia: We’re just gonna look even worse if I cause any trouble… Dammit!

Maleficia’s Castle – Cradle Tower

Baul: How did your trip go, Sir Vanrouge?

Lilia: …I didn’t get any leads.

Baul: I see…

Lilia: How’s the egg doing?

Baul: Not much better, unfortunately. However… After you departed for your travels, he started accepting just a little bit more magic. Perhaps your parting words encouraged His Majesty.

Lilia: Don’t be ridiculous, it’s impossible to tell what babies are thinking. Long as he’s still alive, that’s what matters.

Baul: I’ve ordered everyone out of the tower. Would you like to go speak with him?

Lilia: I don’t see any reason why. Not like there’s anything I can do for him.

Baul: That’s not true. I’ve no doubt he’d be delighted just to hear your voice.

Lilia: …Fine, but only for a second…. Hey there, Malleus. Haven’t seen you in two years, just about. I was worried you’d go join the stars while I was gone… But I see you’re hanging in there just fine, yeah? I bet you must get bored just sleeping all the time. Here I’ll… I’ll tell you about my travels. I was just in the Shaftlands the other day. It ended up being a wild goose chase, so I… Ah, let me tell you a happier story. So this town I went to had this huge festival going on… There were restaurants and food stalls as far as the eye could see… I even got to try some goat’s milk cheese, and it was delicious. ….Is there any point telling you these stupid stories… I’ll be going down south next. Hopefully I can actually get some useful information this time. …See you, Malleus. Don’t kick the bucket while I’m gone.

Merchant: Dear traveler! Would you be interested in this magic lamp?

Lilia: Magic lamp?

Merchant: Indeed. If you rub this beautiful lamp here, a magic genie will appear and grant you three wishes. Amazing, isn’t it?

Lilia: He’ll grant my wish… So could he hatch a dragon egg, for example?

Merchant: A dragon… You mean those creatures from those old fairy tales? Why of course! I’m certain a genie could do that for you. Ah, well, this lamp is just a replica, so even if you rub it a genie won’t come out. So, you going to buy it or not?

Lilia: …No, I got enough luggage already.

Merchant: Well I think souvenirs are the real highlight of traveling, but okay. If you’re not going to buy anything, then scram. You’re getting in the way of my other customers.

Lilia: Fairy tales, huh. There’s still dragons alive today… So maybe the genie of the lamp is still out there somewhere. I’ll see if I can’t collect some more info while I’m here. Ugh, but the sunlight’s so strong in this country… *sigh*

Episode 7-94

Lilia: Hey there, Malleus. How’re you doing? Baul told me somedays you’ll accept magic, and somedays you won’t. But they can’t figure out any rhyme or reason to it. You’re too young to be this picky, you know. Your mother was an awful picky eater, I remember she gave the kitchen staff a lot of grief. Couldn’t you have picked a different quality of hers to take after? I’m sure Queen Maleficia’s just about fed up by now, too. …And I bet Meleanor’s up there laughing at us right now, seeing us run around all frazzled. Oh, and Levan. He always went around acting all prim and proper, but anytime he had to eat some vegetables he didn’t like, he’d hide them underneath the table cloth. I’m totally the opposite, though – I’ll eat just about anything, long as it fills my stomach. The three of you are the most bothersome family I’ll ever meet, I swear. …This time, I went to Scalding Sands. Humans are something else. In only ten years they built up their small villages into these huge cities, and it’s unbelievable how quickly their countries keep developing. For a pure blood fae like you, the world might just get harder and harder to live in as time goes on. …I’ll be leaving again soon. I’m sure I’ll find a way to hatch you this time. So until I get back, you better not…

Lilia (singing): Now sleep, sleep, my beloved child

I pray you’ll walk towards that light

That light that will guide you in your dreams…

Lilia: Haaa, haaah…. Legends say dragons lived in this valley… But this place is a ghost town. Maybe they relocated somewhere, or maybe they’re already… Dammit! It took me years to get here, but it was just another stupid goose chase. Isn’t there anything here that can give me any clues? I’ll ask the furniture and the carpeting if I have to. Just tell me, please! Tell me how to hatch a dragon egg! He’s been getting weaker and weaker all this time! I don’t care who or what… Just someone tell me! Please!!!

(magic starts building up)

Lilia: What’s going on? My magic’s flowing out of my fingertips by itself…! …. “Life is but a fleeting day, distance but an illusion.” Far Cry Cradle.

Lilia: Those visions just now… Was I seeing this castle’s past? ….Did my magic do that? I’ll try again… There! I can see it… It’s only just a little bit, but I can see the memories that were left behind here! Haha! Yes! With this spell, there’ll be so many new avenues I can take with my search. If I can peer into memories of the past… I’m sure I’ll find some clues on how to hatch dragon eggs…! I’ll find it, I know I will! I’ll find a way to hatch him!

Part 1

Part 3

#lilia vanrouge #baul zigvolt #sebek zigvolt #twst silver #twst book 7 #twst spoilers #twst #twisted wonderland #twst jp

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knightmareaceblue · 4 months

Text

The Amazonian Amethyst.

Since being stolen from its rightful owners by the tyrannical Queen Empress, no one has seen this legendary gemstone. Rumor has it that the Amethyst, like many lost treasures, was taken by the Queen Empress to her tomb, the Red Pyramid, from which no one had ever returned alive.

It'd make the perfect anniversary gift. When Charles of all people presents this plan to his partners, Henry and Ellie are completely on board. An anniversary adventure suits the Triple Threat more than some dinner date, anyways.

And nothing could possibly go wrong… right?

--------------------

Deep in the heart of an ancient jungle, far away from the modern comforts and conveniences of the human world, all was calm. The animals scurried and scattered about, out to hunt or gather for their next meal. The roaring rapids of a nearby river echoed through the tangle of trees, calling to creatures near and far to take their fair share of its fresh water and plump schools of fish. The songs of birds in the upper canopy competing to attract a mate completed the natural soundtrack of this ancient, majestic place.

Then, quite suddenly, the sharp mechanical buzzing of helicopter blades sliced through the melody of environment, causing the animals to scatter in fear of this strange new sound. At least one thousand feet above these scared grounds, three people, oblivious to their disruption, chattered excitedly amongst themselves.

“Man, doesn’t this bring you back?” Spoke the sole female of the group, a red-head named Ellie, who stared out at the jungle with a fond smile, her eyes soft with nostalgia. “Our first mission as the Triple Threat, flying over the Dogobogo Jungle to mess up the Toppat Clan’s day and send their rocket flying off into the sun.”

“Well, actually, Hen sent it to the Wall? But, you know, close enough.” Responded the pilot, one Mister Charles Calvin, who glanced back at her for only the briefest of moments before returning his focus to the wheel. His eyes scanned the canopy, searching for their destination, and a wide grin stretched across his face when he finally found it. “Whoa! Guys, you gotta check this out!!”

Henry, the final and most quiet member of the trio, raced over to Charles’ side first, Ellie hot on their trail. Their crimson eyes scanned the horizon, until they widened when they landed on the group’s destination: a gigantic pyramid, covered from top to bottom in green foliage as nature fought to overtake the ancient structure.

“There she is.” Ellie murmured, entranced by the sight, “The Imperial Tomb of the Queen Empress.”

“Exactly where my contact said it would be.” Declared the pilot, flicking switches and checking gauges as he prepared to descend. “According to him, the Amazonian Amethyst should be buried inside, along with the Empress. But everyone who’s ever gone searching for the tomb’s hidden treasure has mysteriously vanished~” The change of tone from Charles was accompanied by an amused smirk, almost as if daring fate to try and do the same to them. “So no one’s ever found the amethyst hidden inside. Which means it’s all ours for the taking.”

With a sharp squeal, Henry’s arms wrapped tightly around Charles’ shoulders, and they nuzzled their head into the side of Charles’. “This is the best anniversary gift ever.” Henry declared, and Charles felt his heart flutter.

When accepting the Airship mission so long ago, Charles hadn’t expected to fall in love with a criminal mastermind, let alone two of them. But exactly one year ago today, under the gentle light of the moon, Henry had taken both their hands and proclaimed their love to the heavens. The year that had followed had been the adventure of a lifetime; it hadn’t been without its challenges, but ultimately Charles had never been happier. The two standing behind him were his heart and soul made manifest. Of that, Charles was certain.

Of course, Charles’ love didn’t equate to ignorance of who, exactly, he was dating. By the time the government had picked them up for the Airship mission, Henry had become somewhat infamous for their prison break and theft of the Tunisian Diamond, and Ellie was in a similar position, living an outlaw’s life for various crimes she’d committed with a previous gang. And while they’d turned over a new leaf, partially for the benefits but mostly for Charles, it was clear that the transition to a clean cut lifestyle was… difficult, to say the least.

Thankfully the majority of what they craved, the action and adventure and excitement, was quelled by the missions they went on to save the world from whatever bad guy of the week dared to think they could stand up to the Triple Threat. However, the other addictive quality of their criminal lives – the material gains, the glitz and glamour of wealth that people like them could only get through illicit activities – that was another story entirely. Charles couldn’t count the number of times he’d had to drag Henry away from a display of shiny jewelry, or watch Ellie gaze longingly at the security trucks stores used to transport cash. He knew the two of them would never go behind his back to return to their old ways – he trusted them. But it was obvious even to him that they still missed it.

So, when their anniversary began to approach, Charles devised a plan. He’d preemptively gotten them a full two week’s vacation, scoured the dredges of the library and uncovered a lost treasure: The Amazonian Amethyst. A rare, large, and highly valuable purple gemstone that was said to have been stolen from its rightful owners by the very Queen Empress who was buried below them. She had taken many treasures with her to the grave, and for their anniversary, Charles had made all the arrangements necessary for them to go hunt it down. He’d rented a non-government helicopter (none of the bells and whistles he was used to, but the leather seats were a hell of a lot more comfortable than the ones from his usual bird), made sure they had all their paperwork and supplies, and took his two loves deep into the heart of the jungle on a death defying adventure to technically-not-steal a large amethyst from a long dead tyrant.

Maybe not entirely on the up and up, as far as legality went, but seeing the looks on Henry and Ellie’s faces when he told them his plan was totally worth the huge risk.

As their helicopter descended, Ellie scurried about, grabbing any last minute supplies she could get her hands on and tossing them into her personal inventory for later use. Simultaneously, Henry yanked open the door to the helicopter and hopped out as it landed, surveying the area with experienced precision. A practiced hand signal alerted their partners that the coast was clear, and Charles and Ellie soon hopped out after them. Inventories fully equipped, limbs stretched, and helicopter secured, the infamous Triple Threat made their way into the maw of the pyramid, eagerly chasing the adventure it promised.

Behind them, the song of the jungle stilled too suddenly, leaving only the increasingly loud crunch, crunch, crunch of plants being crushed.

--------------------

“Yo, check this place out!” Charles exclaimed as the trio stepped into the main hall. The smile on his face stretched from ear to ear, and Henry could practically see the stars in his eyes as he shook his fists in excitement.

Not that Henry could fault his sunshiny enthusiasm. The main hall was adorned with very ornate murals, each one portraying the Queen Empress throughout her life. From her miraculous birth, with light shining down on her from the heavens; to her childhood of objectively being better than everyone; to the worship of her citizens, despite the blood lust that lead her to raid and pillage and steal from weaker kingdoms near and far. The blatant narcissism on display was staggering. The shiny gems that were used in place of her pupils, however, made Henry’s fingers twitch.

Of course, they wouldn’t settle for those little pebbles. Charles had picked a gem especially for them. Henry was going to get their hands on it if it killed them.

“According to the notes from the last expedition…” Ellie flipped through her notebook pages casually, even as she sidled up to one of the murals and plucked out a shiny blue stone. Unlike Henry, she didn’t mind easy pickings. “In the 1950s, geez… this first area is relatively safe. It’s where the Queen’s followers were expected to bring offerings of food and drink to their Eternal Queen.” Ellie’s eyes, full and bright like the full moon, scanned over the entire room. “Given how open this place was, though, it was probably all eaten by animals.”

Henry openly scoffed. “Wanna bet the people in charge used the missing food as ‘proof’ that the Empress really was there?”

In response, Ellie only shook her head. The trio walked along, making light conversation up until they reached the end of the hallway. The doorway between the Offerings Hall and the rest of the tomb contained a final masterpiece: the Queen Empress, in all her regal glory, being called into heaven by the gods themselves in the same radiant light that had shone upon her at birth. It’d be poetic, if Henry didn’t find it so nauseatingly self-serving. Whoever the woman was, she tried incredibly too hard to portray herself as a literal gift from the gods.

More importantly, the entrance to the tomb was stuck shut. “Notes said it was sealed after the last expedition,” Ellie explained, shutting the book in her hands. “Probably so no more idiots would get themselves killed trying to get that big treasure.”

“Well, they clearly hadn’t counted on these idiots!” Charles proclaimed, pulling the two of them close so he could point his fingers down at the trio, as if that was supposed to be a compliment. Still, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Idiots though the three may be, this wouldn’t even be close to the toughest thing they’d tackled. The three of them? They got this. First they just had to find a world in which they got this stupid door open.

Should they Force it open? No, that probably wasn’t a good idea. Ellie’s powers were strong, sure, but they could be too strong at times. Using just the right amount of Force would require extreme concentration. Henry could see the future play out before their very eyes; Ellie’s powers would pry the heavy door away from the wall bit by bit, pulling at the melted welding keeping it in place until it finally broke free. They’d celebrate for a moment, just a second, before the door would hit all three of them, knocking them back and out. Apparently, there was such a thing as too much force. Who knew?

So that was a no go.

What about some controlled demolition, then? Somehow that seemed like an even worse idea. They would manage to knock down the wall surrounding the door, sure. It was just a matter of applying enough force to remove the stones. Then the whole ceiling would crash down around their ears, their universe ending in a single cosmic crunch. Of course it would. Henry had the luck of a black cat zooming underneath a row of ladders while crushing mirrors underneath its claws. And besides, it was Remodeling 101: You never destroy a load-baring structure.

“You know, we could always just teleport past it.” Ellie teased with a quirk of her lip. This caused an instinctual full body shutter from Henry at just the thought of that infernal contraption. Though they’d never used the device in their own world line, the aches and pains of its future malfunctions still radiated across their skin, a phantom pain from a wound that never was and always had been.

Future sight was a real bitch sometimes.

With an annoyed pout, they scolded her, “Don’t even joke about that.” Henry could see the amusement on Charles’ face as he joined Ellie with an elbow propped on her shoulder, and tried not to scowl. Ellie and Charles took their concerns seriously – Neither of them had ever doubted their future sight even once– but the two weren’t above teasing their beloved about the borderline paranoid raving they could go on. “In fact, new rule from now on: No more bringing the teleporter. It always backfires.”

“So that means we won’t get to see you make that cute pouty face whenever you pull it out of your bag anymore?” Teased the pilot, a grin as bright as the sun stretching along his face. He didn’t even look a little sad at the idea of Henry no longer being burdened by the infernal plaything of cruel fate that was the Teleporter.

“What a shame.” Ellie joked right alongside him. In terms of acting, she was a little better, in that she managed to look a little disappointed at the thought. But her eyes shone like the moonlight, letting her true feelings be known to those who could read her.

All the annoyance melted away at their expressions, and Henry tried not to let this show as they rolled their eyes and spun around to dig through their inventory. “Yeah, yeah. Give me a moment, I think I have something here… aha!”

Henry triumphantly pulled their prize from their inventory’s storage: a blowtorch, which Henry immediately lit up before their red-headed girlfriend dropped a protective mask down over their face. Pausing only to give her a brief thumbs up before going to town, they traced the outlines of the sealed metal entrance and slowly but surely began to destroy the fused sections between door and wall, allowing for the door to be effortlessly removed. Henry turned around and bowed to their sun and their moon, gesturing dramatically to guide them through the newly created hole in the ruin. Ellie, proper woman that she was, bowed back as she passed, her eyes reflecting the mirth Henry felt. And Charles, ray of sunshine that he was, gentle tapped Henry’s nose with a soft boop before all but skipping through the doorway.

They could be walking into death, sure. After all, no one had seen the interior of the pyramid and survived. Despite these terrible odds, Henry couldn’t help but feel at ease. After all, they were already capable of the impossible alone. With Ellie and Charles by their side, they were all but invincible.

Behind them, an ominous shadow shadow spread across the stone cold floor.

--------------------

The Triple Threat were greeted by a long, long hallway on the other side of the sealed doorway. It stretched onward and onward, shadows obscuring the pathway and all its secrets. The only lights came from the dull blue luminescence of the blue spheres embedded into the walls. There were more murals, Henry was certain, but their pictures were obscured by the darkness the entire corridor was draped in.

A darkness that was suddenly slashed through by a beam of light, courtesy of Charles. Now they could make out the plain, cold stone floor, the elaborate detailing on the wall portraying some myth long since lost to the age, the arches on the ceiling that provided the support needed for the heavy stone structure. There were no traps to be seen; no buttons, no spikes, no glowing eyed accursed beast doomed to wander these twisted hallways forever. It looked perfectly safe.

Naturally, Henry didn’t trust it.

Apparently Charles didn’t share this suspicious sentiment, because with a chipper, “Welp, let’s get moving!” He bound forward a few steps, and Ellie and Henry grabbed him and pulled him back just in time to avoid a long and dangerous drop down a pit of spikes.

“Watch your step, dumbass.” Ellie scolded, her hand tight around Charles’. In the meanwhile, Henry quickly checked him over. They’d been quick enough to catch him in this world (Future sight was a bitch), but better safe than sorry when it comes to mysterious ancient ruins and their many traps. And tetanus.

For his part, Charles seemed more embarrassed than scared. “Whoops.” He chuckled nervously as Ellie and Henry, now that they were done making sure he was really okay, crossed their arms and shot him matching glares, flat and unimpressed. “My bad. Sorry, guys.”

“Sheesh.” Ellie uncrossed her arms. On the outside she looked calm and composed, but Henry knew her well enough to see the slight tension in her face, or the way eyes kept darting to view the area behind Charles, as if expected another trap to jump out of nowhere and blot out the sun. “You’re going to be the death of us, I swear.”

With Charles’ near death experience out of the way, Ellie picked up a small pile of loose stones near the side of the passageway and began tossing them, one after the other. With each stone tossed, a section of the floor collapsed underneath the weight, revealing a pitfall that went down for meters. At the bottom, cascading off the floor, were subtle buttons that could only barely be made out in the dark, and entirely less subtle rows of spikes. A ghastly smell rose as the floor fell: a noxious fume of decay and rot that told them, even before Charles’ torch revealed the scatterings of bones both human and otherwise, the fates of all those whom had entered beforehand. An ominous rattling echoed up through the chamber as the light awoke various species of serpents lying in slumber in between the spikes, scattering quickly to hide around the buttons with their tails resonating dangerous warnings about disturbing them further. As the light continued to travel upward, the trio could make out tiny little holes in the walls, just large enough for any number of potentially poisonous instruments to fly or jut out, all the way from the bottom of the pit to the very top of the ceiling.

Now, if this had just been Henry, then they’d use a grappling hook to fly across the chasm, no problem. Or maybe create a platform with something nearby. But it was more than just Henry they were worried about today, and the ceiling was far too old and decrepit to hold all of them if they swung across. And the ruins were far too precarious to support the weight of three people. They’d collapse into the pit, get impaled on the spikes, and that would be the end of the Triple Threat’s story.

Despite the impending death of their loved ones, it struck Henry as more lame than terrifying.

What Henry forgot, of course, was that they were flanked by two equally competent (and equally crazy) partners, and Charles’ face suddenly lit up as he pushed his two partners behind him. “Don’t worry,” He smirked back at them confidentially, “I got this.”

Ellie and Henry were, naturally, extremely worried.

Without any further warning, Charles bolted forward. Henry’s panicked attempt to grab him and pull him back to safety was narrowly dodged, and Ellie’s call to halt was similarly ignored. Upon reaching the edge of the pit, Charles bent his legs down and sprung over it with an admittedly impressive leap, but one with nowhere near enough force or air to make it to the other side of the hazardous chasm.

Ellie gaped like a fish, her eyes following Charles with all the horror of witnessing an impending wreck. Henry winced and somehow managed not to look away.

Just as he reached the peak of his jump, Charles tossed a grenade down into the pit trap. The explosion was instantaneous, almost completely silent, and… purple? A cushion of purple gelatin arose from the torturous trenches, and Charles landed perfectly in it’s center with a boi-oing that echoed through the pyramid. And he bounced. Once. Twice. Each time a joyous laugh escaped Charles, loud and carefree despite the precarious perils underneath him.

A few bounces later – to test the durability of the gelatin or just for his own amusement, Henry couldn’t say – Charles leapt forward again and launched another grenade. He bounced off the cushion it produced and threw another, and another, until there was purple, bouncy path to the other side of the hazardous chasm. He finally, finally landed on the solid ground of the other side, and as he steadied along with Henry’s heartbeat, Charles turned around and tossed his partners a double thumbs up.

Henry stared after him, slack jawed. Words failed them completely.

Ellie, who had always managed to find the words that eluded Henry, commented, “That dumbass is going to get us killed one of these days.” Her voice was steady and strong, but a slight twitch of the eye betrayed her inner anxiety.

“Well? Come on!” Charles, whose ability to read the room was about on par with his risk assessment skills, called across the chasm, “The Amazonian Amethyst ain’t gonna come to you, slowpokes!”

Despite themselves, a grin stretched across Henry’s face. Now that the initial scare had passed, they found themselves more amused than upset. None of the Triple Threat were the cautious type to begin with – cautious types wouldn’t rob tombs, after all – and the heart attacks weren’t anything new, especially in their profession. So, only pausing to shrug at Ellie, Henry followed in Charles’ footsteps and leapt down into the pit of spikes.

They hit the mass of purple dead center, and was surprised to find that it was not at all sticky or mushy, as would be expected of gelatin. Instead it was soft and smooth, the same texture as a rubber exercise ball, with enough strength to hold their weight while standing firm against the spikes. An almost childlike joy came over Henry as they bounced up and down with loud, echoing boings, flipping and posing like they’d seen trampoline artists on the television do, before finally moving forward on the playful path Charles had created for them.

Behind them, Henry could hear Ellie bounce along as well. Her squeals were surprised and nervous at first, but quickly faded into the more melodious sounds of delight and enjoyment. A million ways to tease their moonlight popped into Henry’s head, but for the moment they simply enjoyed the sound of her unrestrained elation and focused on bouncing from one cushion of violet gelatin to the next, putting their signature style into every leap.

Henry hit the ground next to Charles hard, face first. Ellie landed much more gracefully, on one foot and one knee. She was up before Henry could even get to their knees, and by the time they were back on their feet she’d reached Charles and socked him in the arm. Not hard enough to hurt him, but not quite soft enough to be playful, either.

“Hey!” Charles flinched back a little, rubbing his arm. “What was that for?”

Ellie raised a brow at him. “You mean besides the heart attack you gave us when you jumped into a pit of spikes?”

Comprehension dawned on Charles’ sweet, stupid little face. “Oooh… yeah, I can see what you mean. Uh… whoops?” This earned him another hit, slightly more playful this time. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry, alright? I just wanted to show off for you guys.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” Ellie muttered with a glower, but no force in the world could stand up to Charles’ puppy dog eyes, so it wasn’t long before she was fighting a smile as he pouted up at her. “Okay, I forgive you. Just… no more throwing yourself into death pits please?”

“I won’t.” Charles promised, rewarding Ellie’s mercy with a sweet nuzzle and a gentle kiss. “’M sorry.”

Henry watched the tender moment play out between them, transfixed on their two loves from the sidelines, when Charles’ arm suddenly stretched the distance between them. It didn’t reach all the way to Henry, didn’t so much as brush against their skin, but Charles’ hand was open, invitation clear for Henry to accept at their leisure.

“I scared you too, didn’t I?” Asked the pilot, almost rhetorically. “Sorry, Hen.”

Affection flooded Henry’s heart, filling it full enough to burst, as they reached across the distance between them and took Charles’ hand. This was why he was their sunshine; Charles didn’t always have enough awareness to recognize his screw ups (and Henry had the phantom scars of worlds never lived to prove it), but when he did, he always approached them with complete compassion and understanding. He gave them each what they needed; Ellie a laugh to calm her nerves, and Henry the choice of contact and comfort, instead of startling them with a sudden touch they weren’t ready for. Henry relished in his light, the same light that brought the hope of daybreak to the hearts of two darkened criminals.

Instead of voicing their appreciation aloud, Henry accepted the unspoken invitation and allowed Charles to pull them close, peppering their faces with sweet little kisses, causing them to giggle. With his apologies accepted, Charles released his partners and the three turned around to face their next challenge, together.

Another door. Stone this time, a dark and heavy slab that sealed them off from the interior of the pyramid.

“Something tells me we’re not going to blowtorch our way through this one.” Ellie mused, then smiled as she added, in a light, airy voice, “Oh, if only we had some sort of device that could displace us through space and time to get us past this impossible obstacle!” She dramatically flung her hand over her forehead.

Charles tittered dramatically as he played along. “What a shame. Looks like we’ll have to go home without the Amethyst.”

“Knock it off.” Henry scolded, unamused. “Besides, who needs a Teleporter when you’ve got a…” They ruffled through their inventory until they found their prize, and triumphantly pulled out a... “Tire Jack!”

“Tire jack?” Echoed Ellie and Charles behind them, identical looks of confusion adorning their faces.

“Tire Jack.” Henry repeated one final time without elaboration, before dropping to their knees in front of the door. This little baby was a thief’s dream – unassuming, easy to carry, and absolutely perfect for doing things like prying open doors, or… whatever else a tire jack was used for. Henry fitted it to the stone slab, then pumped down once… twice… three times… and managed to create a crack just large enough for the three of them to squeeze through, one at a time.

Ellie nodded in understanding. “Ah. Tire jack.”

“Ooh, ooh! Me first!” Charles called as he ran at door. Henry managed to jump back just in time to avoid being bowled over by Charles’ power slide as he launched himself underneath the door’s crack.

All poor Henry and Ellie could do was gape after him, before Ellie shook her head and mumbled, “Going to be the death of us,” before following suit. Henry crawled underneath the door after them, leaving the chamber in silence.

…

Boing. Boing.

--------------------

Somehow, the chamber they entered after crawling under the door was even darker than what came before. None of the rooms allowed for any sunlight to penetrate the densely packed stones, but at least the previous chambers had the dim glow of the luminescent blue stones on the walls to provide a little bit of light. In this room, however, even that minuscule bit of illumination was absent, leaving Henry and their partners shrouded in complete darkness.

“Eugh, I can’t see a thing.” Ellie summarized, her voice echoing just enough to let Henry know that this was a large, spacious chamber. Her call acted as a beacon, drawing both partners’ attention over to the little corner of the dark expanse where she must have been. “Charles, a little light, sweetheart?”

“Huh?” Either to preserve battery life or to keep from smacking anyone in the eyes with the beam of his torch, Charles had shut it off at some point. The reminder from Ellie, however, caused him to audible scramble to pull it back out. “Oh, right, yeah! I’m on it-!”

The clacking of plastic against stone echoed through the chamber once, twice, three times as the torch hit the ground and bounced away. Then silence.

“…” Henry couldn’t see a damned thing, but they could practically feel Charles wince. “Uh, Yeaah… I’ll, uh, I’ll just…” Shuffling fabric could be heard, followed by a repetition of slap, slap, slap against the cold stone floor as Charles fumbled around. “I’m sure it’s, uh, around here somewhere… Hehe…”

Then, stone sliding against stone. Followed by a painfully loud click.

Henry only had a brief moment to brace themselves for whatever barrage of arrows or spikes or fire was about to kill them dead. Instead, an explosion of white began searing their retinas, forcing their eyes closed and their arms up to defend against the sudden barrage. To their side, Henry could hear Ellie grunt in pain, and the sounds of Charles crawling around had disappeared entirely. Time eased the burden of their pain, their eyes adjusted, and Henry lowered their arms and gazed out into the now lit room.

What greeted their eyes was a circular chamber, far larger than the entrance or connecting chambers behind them, with sunlight pouring through the rooftop. Like the entrance, the walls were painted with spectacular images, icons that had long since forgotten their meanings and portraits of divine beings with names lost to time. Three tables – or, more likely, altars – were set up around the chamber, one underneath each grand portrait of the gods. The grandest of all, however, was that of the Queen Empress, recognizable even to Henry’s history ignorant mind. She was encircled by heavenly light while, to each of her sides, the Gods shifted their gazes unto her.

“Whoa!” Charles, having found the flashlight not three feet in front of him, quickly picked it up and got back to his feet.

“These are amazing!” Ellie gushed, eyes lighting up as she took in the ancient murals. Her aesthetic sense was certainly different from Henry’s – a little flashier, a little more on the romantic side – but her eye for art was second to none. “I wish I had a camera.”

Without even thinking, Henry pulled a disposable camera from their bag and held it up in front of Ellie’s face. It’s primary function was for note-taking and placing identical photos of crime scenes in front of security cameras, but even though they were technically done committing crimes, Henry had never removed it from their inventory.

“Oh.” Ellie blinked, then took the camera. “Thank you.”

“Is this the burial chamber?” Charles asked, then, as if that was a definite yes, excitedly changed the question to, “Is the Amethyst here?”

“I don’t think so.” Ellie responded as she took more and more pictures. The film in that thing wasn’t unlimited, but she’d probably document all she wanted to long before it ran out. “Given that there’s no actual tomb or body here, this is probably a temple of some sort, to honour the gods rather than her.”

To that, Charles and Henry exchanged a glance before gazing up at the image of the Queen Empress, who was larger and grander than any of the divine beings on the wall. “I’m, uh, not a theologist.” Charles said as he quirked an eyebrow at her. “But isn’t imagery like this, like, umm… what the word I’m looking for?”

“Blasphemous?” Henry suggested.

Apparently that was correct, because Charles nodded. “Yeah, that.”

To that, Ellie only shrugged. “Eh, who knows? Maybe having the gods revere you was an old form of worship?”

As they spoke, Henry surveyed the temple. Beyond the portraits and the skylight, the round temple was decorated with ornate columns and intricately carved altars, each adorned with various symbols that had lost their meanings to the flow of time. Their eyes went from mural to mural, from wall to wall, and as they scanned each corner of the chamber a cold feeling sank to the bottom of their stomach.

“Uh, guys?” Henry interrupted, getting Ellie and Charles’ attention. “There’s no exit.”

Indeed, the walls had many things painted on them, but none of them had a door of any sort beyond the entrance.

“Oh. That’s a problem.” Charles mumbled as he too began to look around. “Uh, are you sure this isn’t the burial chamber then?”

“Do you see a body anywhere?” Ellie retorted, then kicked at the ground. The interior of the temple, in the open area just underneath the skylight, was a large circular stone slab inlaid in the floor, again adorned with a symbol Henry didn’t understand. “We entered around the center of the pyramid. The burial chamber and treasure chamber are probably below us somewhere.” Ellie scratched her chin, gazing around, “Which means… to proceed we’ll have to…”

“Dig!’ Charles interrupted, triumphantly pulling a shovel from his inventory. Grinning, he posed to strike down at the stone ground, only to have the shovel nabbed away from him by Ellie.

She spun it in her hand as she shook her head. “Not exactly. There’s probably some mechanism in the room that opens the floor, the same way that button you found opened the skylight. We just have to figure out where it is.” She tossed the twirling shovel into the air, allowing it to whirl before she caught it with ease. “So, let’s start by investigating the room. Charles, see if you can find any more buttons on the floor. Henry, check out the pillars and walls. I’ll take a look at the altars.”

With their tasks divided up, the Triple Threat went about exploring the chamber. Charles dropped to his hands and feet, crawling about the floor like a hound dog sniffing for clues. Henry couldn’t help but smile at the ridiculously serious display before turning to the walls. Like the entrance, the iconography seemed to tell a story. A trickster, a mysterious being cloaked in shadows with a crooked smile, stealing from the gods and causing them to turn their wrath on each other. A divine clash breaking out, a battle of apocalyptic proportions with the trickster caught in the middle. A god of the sky defeated with a necklace, a god of the ocean defeated with song, a god of the mountains defeated with a seed. And the spirits, the innocent bystanders who had perished in the clash, being escorted by the trickster to a new paradise.

Huh. What an odd story.

Henry didn’t have much time to take it all in, however, as a sudden and triumphant, “Aha!” from Charles caught their attention. They turned to find him in front of one of the altars, grinning and rubbing his hands. “Found the button!”

Ellie had been investigating the altar on the other side of the room, but she somehow managed to reach Charles’ side before Henry had. The three of them started down at the button for a long time, contemplating the many, many ways this thing could kill them, before a shrug from Ellie gave Charles the go ahead. It gave a soft click as it depressed all the way.

The Triple Threat tensed, got into formation, and waited for the trap to spring.

And waited.

And… waited…

And there was no trap. Not even a little one. Henry almost felt disappointed.

“Huh.” Ellie mused, getting out of formation and pressing the button down with her foot. Again, nothing happened. “Okay, that’s strange… but maybe…” Ellie stroked her chin as she walked away to the next altar, testing the ground in front of it with her foot until she found what she was looking for and smirked triumphantly. “Ah ha!”

With the same cool confidence as always, Ellie let her foot fall onto another hidden button. It crumbled under her mighty strength, clicking into place neatly.

Henry could sense a pattern here. They quickly walked over to the other side of the room, to the unattended altar, and stared down at where they were certain, based on where Charles and Ellie were standing, that the final button would be. Should they press it? Do they dare risk their life on the mere chance that this button would open the passageway forward?

...Eh, screw it. Henry stamped down on the button hard.

A final click echoed through the chamber. All was silent for one moment, then two, then three. The silence was broken by a rumbling, small at first but then, gradually, getting louder and louder until the whole chamber was shaking. Shadows began to stretch and grow across the floor as stone eclipsed the skylight, slowly, steadily, until nothing but darkness remained.

Henry’s fingers itched. Their every muscle tingled, phantom pains from a world soon to be echoing across their skin, screaming at them to move, move, move-!

Fire burst forth from the symbol on the altar, giving Henry mere seconds to dodge out of the way before the gods could scorch them with divine retribution. Behind them, Henry could hear Ellie gasp as something heavy slammed down way too close to where they knew she was standing, and on their other side, sputtering and coughing and what sounded like a geyser.

Before they could even thinking of running to their partners’ aid, another pillar of fire sprouted up just next to Henry, setting the room alight with a dangerous orange glow. Then another. And another. For now Henry could dodge them, but the streams of fire were going off faster than faster. This was not a matter of if they got burned to a crisp, but when.

In the glow of the firelight, Henry could make out Charles, soaked head to toe, struggling to push against a strong spray of water that had him pinned. Ellie, on the other side, was only narrowly dodging giant stone pillars raining down on her.

“What kind of trap is this?” Henry snapped in frustration. “There wasn’t anything on the walls!” There couldn’t have been, not with those portraits. A button would stand out far too much.

As Charles was too busy battling a barrage of water, it was Ellie who replied. “I have no clue! The way the buttons were positioned – I thought it made sense-”

She sounded genuinely distressed, and that made Henry’s heart ache worse than anything. Ellie was their moon, their constant anchor in an ever-changing world, and they felt her distress as if it were their own. “Hey- hey- it’s okay.” Henry consoled. “If it helps, this is less stupid then, say, jumping out of a bag and directly into an alarm.”

“Yeah!” Charles had managed to keep the extreme stream of water at bay enough to finally contribute – or maybe he was just powering through it. Hard to say with him. “It’s just a little water… and fire… and some rocks… we got this! We’ll just, uh- um…”

As their sunshine rambled on, Henry could see something click in Ellie’s head. Her eyes widened, shimmering with reflected firelight. “Water… fire… and rocks- no, earth…” Ellie’s gaze traveled upward, to the eclipsed skylight. “Henry!” Her force powers kept the crushing stone pillars at bay while she pointed towards the tip top of the ceiling. “I need to get up there!”

Henry rolled out of the way of an incoming stream of fire. They didn’t have a lot of time. Inside their bag were a few things that could get Ellie away from the rocks and up towards the skylight, but what?

There was a pair of boots in Henry’s inventory that would allow for a super jump – just bend your knees and boom! Up you go. Of course, there were way too many ways for that to end horrifically. The flames that were one wrong dodge away from ending Henry were not the greatest source of light. All it took was too much force and Ellie’s head would crack like an egg against the tough stone ceiling. Or too little force, perhaps, and she would fall into one of the various traps spread across the chamber. It was unwise to leap before one could look, after all.

There was a wooden pole stashed away in there as well. One of those nice collapsible ones. Henry could toss it javelin style to Ellie and of course she’d catch it, she’s Ellie, and once she had it she’d go vaulting over the stone crushers keeping her trapped. The wood was very flexible after all, so it wouldn’t be a-

Wait, no. It was made of wood. Which meant, with Henry’s luck, they’d toss it to Ellie only for the trio to watch it be burnt to ash mid-flight. That would be a terrible way for the Triple Threat to burn out.

So, something that wouldn’t be destroyed by the fire, and something that she’d be able to control even under these poor lighting conditions. That left…

A silver chain glistened in the firelight, strong and fierce and far, far more fireproof then the wooden pole. The primary purpose of this thing was to lift and pull, and Henry couldn’t use it for much else. Ellie, however, was far more versatile, and that showed in her shining eyes as she caught the chain in midair, not even looking back at Henry as she did.

Ellie smirked, and Henry knew they were in for a good time.

She whipped the silver chain over her head and out to one of the many decorative protrusions on the rounded ceiling. It stuck firmly in place, and just before a crushing pillar could flatten her into pancake, Ellie launched into a wide swing. Fire licked at her feet and clothing as she came around to Henry’s side of the chamber, but she didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, she held one arm out wide to catch her partner as she swung past, and Henry gripped her hand for all it was worth. They continued their arc around the chamber, and Henry didn’t even need to be told to hold on to Ellie with one arm as they approached where the strong geyser of water had Charles pinned. Henry grabbed him by the collar and held him tight as the soaked pilot got his grip on Ellie.

“You guys okay?” Ellie called down to them, and Charles nodded while Henry gave her a thumbs up. “Awesome! Hang on tight, we’re going up!”

The arc of their swing widened and quickened, spinning them around the room again and again until they built up enough speed for Ellie to launch them towards the spot where the skylight would be. The air rushed past them as they flew upward. Ellie released one hand from her chain, reaching towards the stone covering. They inched closer, and closer…

And something clicked as Ellie’s outstretched hand pushed in the final button.

Below them, the traps disappeared as quickly as they had activated. The fire stopped. The stone crushing pillars retreated back to their spots hidden in the ceiling. The stream of water sputtered to a halt. The trio landed back on solid ground just as the skylight began to open again, illuminating the temple with sparkling sunlight. Just behind them, the ground rumbled and shook before opening up to reveal a spiral staircase into the unknown depths.

“Woo-hoo!” Charles cheered. The fabric of his clothing was drenched and worn from the pressure of the water that had trapped him earlier, but Charles hardly paid it any mind as he threw his arms around his partner. “Way to go Els!”

“That was so cool!” Henry gushed, piling into her from the other side to keep her sandwiched between them. With her two loves surrounding her, Ellie was able to wind down a little, her shoulders relaxing and her smile widening to expose cute dimples on each side of her mouth.

Ellie giggled in response to their compliments. One of her arms snaked around Henry’s waist while the other latched around Charles’ shoulders. “It wasn’t a big deal.” She shrugged, mock bashfulness on her face even as she reveled in their praise. “I just figured, once Charles said that thing about fire and water and stone, that the traps were based on the elements, and from there it wasn’t hard to figure out that there was another button on the skylight.”

“Still! That was AWESOME!” Charles eyes practically sparkled with delight. “The way you tossed that hook and just-” Charles paused to lift both Ellie and Henry off the ground. He was strong enough to do so, but only barely, leaving Ellie squealing and Henry clinging on for dear life. Charles spun as he continued to recount the events that they’d just lived through, thank you very much.

When Charles finally put them down, Henry took the opportunity to link their fingers with Ellie’s, bringing a softer expression to her face. “Seriously. You were amazing.”

Ellie met their eyes. Those purple orbs seemed to glow softly in the sunlight, reflecting every feeling she couldn’t say. All her worry, her joy, her excitement, her pride, her love… she could spill it out in a thousand words like Charles, but that was never her style. She showed her love in her actions, in her worried fussing, in the look in her eyes as she watched after the two of them.

Henry squeezed her hand a little tighter, relishing in her tender gaze.

“-and then you landed perfectly!” Having finished his little tirade, Charles gazed back at the two of them, and his entire demeanor seemed to soften when he noticed their intertwined hands. “So, yeah. That was super cool.”

“It was.” Ellie agreed finally. She gave Henry’s hand a final squeeze before pulling away to jog lazily towards the newly revealed stairwell. “Now come on! We’re so close to the amethyst I can practically taste it!” Charles chased after her, laughing, and Henry followed suit down the long set of spiral stairs. Darkness waited below, but for now they had the beam of light from the opening directly overhead, granting them safe passage. As they descended, the air cooled; from Henry’s limited experience, the jungle was never anything but unpleasantly humid, so it was a nice change of pace. They zoned out as they walked: listening to Ellie and Charles discuss what might lie ahead, feeling the cool air grant their skin sweet relief from the awful heat, seeing the shadows grow across the ground below them, smelling the old musk of trapped air rise-

Henry blinked and looked back down at the ground below the skylight. The rays hit the ground uninterrupted, illuminating the old stones for the first time in centuries. They then looked upward at the skylight, seeing it clearly, without any sort of obstacle that could cast a shadow. But Henry could have sworn…

No, it was just their paranoia acting up again. Henry exhaled deeply and continued onward.

--------------------

The spiral staircase went down a long, long way, extending past what Henry thought would be the bottom of the pyramid. When they finally reached the end, the Triple Threat found the passageway as dark and foreboding as the ones upstairs before the skylight. They had Charles’ torch, but even its beam could only extend so far. Down below the surface the air was cooler but stale, and the walls, while thick and beautifully crafted, had no more stories to tell. Instead a pattern of intricate molding and paneling lead their way to the depths of the tomb.

The silence between them was deafening as each member of the Triple Threat prepared, in their own way, for whatever traps might lay ahead. As it turned out though, the largest trap they had to worry about was the architecture. Each pathway ended with a split in two directions. All it took was two turns for Henry to realize just how lost they could get in this convoluted maze. Luckily, their partners had a solution.

“It’s the same system we use when gaming together.” Charles explained as he scribbled on a piece of notebook paper. “We’ll make a map as we go, and mark shapes into the walls so we don’t get turned around.” As if to demonstrate, Ellie marked an o with a line through it right next to a clear dead end, and Charles made a corresponding mark on the map. “I don’t mean to ah, brag or anything, but we’re basically professional cartographers at this point.”

As if to demonstrate their prowess, Charles turned and proudly presented the map, which was just a jumble of lines with random symbols on it to Henry. Still, they gave the two an approving thumbs up.

So the trio marched on. This section of the pyramid wasn’t necessarily difficult, given that the traps were all laughably easy to dodge, but it did drag on a bit. The labyrinth was designed to confuse and entrap any enterprising thieves, and perhaps it would have successfully diverted one on their own.

Good thing these thieves came in a set of three.

At some point they reached a long sloping hallway, stretching so far forward that Charles’ flashlight could not even illuminate the far wall. The scent of upcoming danger wafted in the air, causing a mixture of anxiety and excitement in the trio. Charles got the privilege of leading the way due to his incredible skill of remembering to bring a torch, but Ellie and Henry were not far behind.

“Keep a sharp eye out.” Ellie warned as they crept down the long, long passageway. “There could be traps everywhere. Be prepared for anything-”

Click.

Henry looked down at their foot, and the slight indent in the floor from where they’d managed to step on a button. Whoops.

“What did I literally just say?” Ellie scolded, looking more annoyed than genuinely panicked. All Henry could muster in response was a sheepish grin.

The whole pyramid shook underneath their feet. Ellie and Charles, somehow, kept their balance, but Henry could not, and it was only after they’d fallen to the floor and were forced to look up that they saw the giant boulder cascading down towards them. They were up and running in an instant, and the screaming behind them told Henry their sunshine and moonlight were trailing behind them.

“Ah, Henry?” Charles called. His voice held a hint of nervousness – just a small touch – as he somehow managed to keep pace with the two thieves. “Now might be a good time for one of your tricks. You know, like that earthbending thing you can sometimes do-” Wouldn’t work. Henry’s skills weren’t strong enough to stop something that big in it’s tracks. They’d create a ramp to launch the blasted thing just above their heads and end up managing to crush the trio like a batch of gross pancakes. “-or maybe one of those Gizmo Gabe things you’re always carrying around-” Nah, Henry didn’t even need future sight to see where that would go wrong. Gadget Gabe (Charles never could get that name right) meant well, but their devices were… well, half-baked. The Float-O-Matic in their pack might get them away from the boulder, but it might also get them stuck to the ceiling with no hope of escape. No thank you.

“Or, you know,” Ellie yelled over the rumbling. Her voice was a little stressed, but also a little teasing, “We could teleport away from it!”

“Get bent!” Henry snapped back at her. “We don’t need that thing! It ALWAYS backfires!”

With that, Henry pulled out a sheet of paper, a canvas about the size of their body, and spun around to face the boulder head on. Ellie and Charles called out behind them, but Henry was singularly focused on the rock speeding at them at high speeds. The paper in their arms crinkled loudly as Henry waved it with both arms, as if airing out a towel, before dramatically bringing it up over their head. They waited for the boulder to get in to place.

Waiting…

Waiting….

Waiting… now!

The paper tore the boulder into tiny little shreds, sending shrapnel flying all around. Henry paid it no mind, driving the giant sheet of paper down further and further. It ground down the boulder until nothing but dust remained.

“See?” Henry looked back, speaking between deep breaths. Using that much force really took a lot out of a person. “We don’t need the teleporter.”

Ellie blinked stupidly at the display in front of her. “What- but- how did you-?!”

Dearest Charles, the only sympathetic party to her confusion, patted her gently on the back as he explained: “Paper beats rock. That’s just logic.”

“That only works in rock, paper, scissors!” Ellie cried out, frustrated. “That’s not how-”

She was shushed gently, and treated to one of Charles’ sunshiny smiles. “It’s Henry.” He said plainly, as if this explained what she’d just seen. “Don’t question it.”

As Henry passed her, listening to her frustrated grunting, they couldn’t help but smile. Mere moments after they disappeared into the darkness, the crackling and crunching of stone debris could be heard behind them.

--------------------

Finally, after long hours of trekking, after all the falls and traps and near death experiences that had protected the treasure within, the Triple Threat arrived at the grand entrance to the tomb. Before them stood a door at least as tall as the three stacked up. It was engraved with the Queen Empress’ visage, grand and imposing as she stared down at the mighty rats who dared steal from her precious tomb. Never one to do things by halves, the Mighty Empress had the door’s framing made of shining gold, which had Henry and Ellie salivating and Charles rolling his eyes. The torches that once illuminated the path to her final place of resting had been damp and cold far longer than any of them had been alive.

“You know,” Ellie looked up at the humongous image of the woman, as grand as she was tall, with crossed arms and thin lips, “I think this might be the burial chamber. Not sure why, but I just get that vibe, you know?”

Charles snorted. “I dunno, we’ve seen a lot of this woman plastered everywhere.”

“Good point.” Ellie agreed.

While they bickered and quipped, Henry took a good look at the grand entrance and stroked their chin thoughtfully. They pushed at the door and, to no one’s surprise, it didn’t budge. So they’d have to pull it open. A difficult task, without handles on a door more than twice Henry’s size, but Henry was a master of work smarter, not harder.

Except for that one time with the bank.

Or that other time with the prison.

Or… you know what? Henry was just going to drop this line of thought before they embarrassed themselves further.

Instead, Henry pulled a crowbar out of their inventory and wedged it carefully between the giant stone doors. Its lodging gave Henry the leverage needed to pry the door open, and the task was made easier when Charles and Ellie finally broke away from their banter to lend their strength. Together they succeeded, as they always did, and the door to the crypt opened with a gust of wind and a pungent odor. Rot and decay caused the trio’s eyes and noses to burn, but they pressed onward. Ellie, in a moment of practical brilliance, handed out air fresheners she’d stolen from the helicopter rental place. The scent of pine was too faint to completely block out the stench, but it provided a little relief.

The entire interior of the chamber was bathed in green light, illuminated by lines of shimmering green stone on the ground. Made from the same glowing material as the murals upstairs, it did such a good job of lighting up the joint that Charles was able to give his poor, overworked torch a well deserved rest. The lines ran up the walls, across the floor, in circles and in straight dashes across dark stone, revealing a room about as large as the temple above, and… largely empty. A few altars were placed in each corner beneath a mural, and in the center of the room was an unremarkable stone box which must have contained the queen’s body.

Charles echoed Henry’s thoughts exactly. “Wait, is this it?”

“Not seeing a lot of treasure here, Charlie.” Ellie remarked. She waltzed ahead to the stone casket, frowning as she mulled it over.

“No, wait, no!” Almost frantically, their poor pilot began zipping around the room, at this point uncaring of any traps he might uncover. “There has to be more! There’s no way this isn’t the place! Unless… they didn’t bury her with it? But that wouldn’t make any sense…!”

Henry idly pat Charles on the back while he spiraled over the misinformation. They were just about to tell him something along the lines of ‘It’s about the journey, not the destination’ (a useless platitude, but one that might make him feel better) when their eyes drifted to the wall behind one of the altars, to the large portrait of a god surrounded by mountains. The divine being’s eyes were blank, painted without pupils, but the rest of their body language – their stance, their expression, the scowl on their face – suggested pure, unbridled rage. Scanning the rest of the room, Henry found two more familiar figures along the walls near the other altars. The Ocean God and the Sky God, each gazing into the room with the same fury as the Mountain God.

Henry had seen this before.

While the fire and water and giant stones had been a very good distraction from what Henry had assumed was just a common legend immortalized upon the walls, they had still managed to take a good look before they’d been forced to move on. Three altars for three gods that had needed to be placated by a trickster.

Just as Ellie had made her way over to join them in comforting Charles, Henry left his side and made their way over to the Mountain God’s altar. How had the mural gone again?

A god of the mountains defeated with a seed. All Henry had on them that could satisfy that condition was some sunflower seeds that Charles had packed for snacking. Taking a breath and praying this wouldn’t get them all killed in some horrible way, Henry took one seed from the packet and dropped it on the altar.

The glowing lines on the floor suddenly shifted, spinning as the mural changed before their eyes. The angry god smiled down happily at the seedling on their altar, placated by the promise of new plants spreading across the mountains. Sounds of awe came from Ellie and Charles, but Henry paid their partners no mind as they struggled to recall the next image. The god of the sky, with storm clouds flooding the air around them and lightning a their fingertips, had been placated with a… piece of jewelry? A ring? No, that wasn’t right… a necklace…? Yeah, that was it.

While Henry had more than their fair share of fine accessories, they weren’t in the habit of bringing those accessories with them, on account of potentially losing them, or breaking them, or being electrocuted when the metal catches lightning or something. So instead of a nice, fancy necklace like in the mural above ground, all they could offer to the sky god was their employee badge from work, a little lanyard with a picture of Henry and a bar-code on it. Nothing like the ornate piece that was offered in the mural, but the sky god accepted it anyways. As before, the lines on the floor changed, transforming the image instead to that a pleased god with calm skies and a sunny smile.

That just left the final mural. The god of the oceans, vast and temperamental, plagued with storms and swells alike, glared down at Henry in clear rage. The last god was soothed with a song, Henry recalled. So how should they proceed?

Henry already knew singing was out of the question. Their throat was already sore from a day of mere conversational talking, and even beyond that Henry’s musical gifts did… not extend to their vocal chords. Breaking out into song would only shatter all their heads like glass. Hitting the high note was not among Henry’s many talents; Their B sharp would only fall flat.

So, instead, Henry produced a long out of date mp3 player from their inventory. How long had that thing been in there? Five years? Ten? However long it took for the once widespread piece of musical tech to become completely irrelevant. Of course, somehow, it still had a charge on it, and Henry’s grin only widened as a familiar hip hop tune, popular in whatever decade Henry had last bothered to update the thing, began thumping out, echoing sweetly in the large chamber.

Charles’ face lit up immediately, “Ooh, I remember this! Aw man, I used to sing this all the time when I was a kid!” As if to prove his point, Charles joined in with the next line. Much like Charles himself, the singing was a little clumsy, a little off note, but so sweet and so enthusiastic that you couldn’t help but bask in the warmth.

Ellie laughed along, reflecting Charles’ enthusiasm with her own uniquely charming mirth, and joined in on the singing. Her voice was elegant and refined, carrying the tune of the song far more easily than Charles’. Ellie would have never sung like this even a year ago, when they’d first started dating, too concerned with proving herself cool and reliable to her new comrades, even if she let her true self slip through once in a while. Now she was unafraid to really let her hair down, matching Charles’s silliness with unrestrained enthusiasm.

And, of course, they’d never leave Henry out. For even though Henry couldn’t sing, they were quite the dancer, and all it took was the gentlest pull of their sun and moon’s gravity for Henry to be sucked into their orbit. They spun and twirled and danced to the beat of the song, Henry guiding their partners through the motions of the rhythm. None of the Triple Threat paid any mind to the change in the green lines, or the appearance of a fourth mural as the beaming trickster appeared to create a fourth line of green luminescent light. It was only at the end of the song, when the trio were exhausted and laughing on the floor, did they catch the tail end of the changes in the room as the lid of the coffin retracted.

Henry exchange a look with their partners before approaching the open tomb. They expected a collection of withered bones and tattered clothes to be laid before them as they peered into the grave, but to their surprise what instead met their eyes was one final staircase.

“So this was a false burial chamber.” Ellie mused from behind them. “Sneaky. Verrrrry sneaky.”

“Hah!” Charles cheered, pumping an arm in celebration. “I knew there had to be more to it! No way my information was wrong!” The melancholy of his earlier disappointment had completely flipped on its head, leaving fierce determination in its place. “That treasure’s gotta be just up ahead! Come on, team! Final stretch!”

He extended out a hand, and it was almost without thought that Henry reached out to place their own atop it, followed swiftly by Ellie. Their eyes met, green and red and violet sparkling with the emerald light of the glowing stone lines surrounding them, and the Triple Threat nodded as they broke their huddle by launching their hands to the ceiling in one final show of commitment to their quest before charging down the secret stairs, energy renewed.

All the while unaware of the silhouetted form shadowing them, silently darkening the space behind them. The figure halted, watching and listening, before descending down after them with slow, tenacious steps.

--------------------

Darkness crept upward as the Triple Threat crept down. The ray of Charles’ torch, now beginning to fade in intensity after several hours of use, was the only source of light in the dank, shadowy crypt. Almost as unnerving as the darkness was the silence, the complete and utter cessation of any sounds other than their echoing footsteps. Tingling sensations traveled along Henry’s spine with each stride downward they took, muscles tensed as they awaited the next trap, the next emergency, the next big bad thing that would jump out from the pitch black nothing stretching ahead of them and their partners.

What instead greeted them was the sound of rushing water.

Each member of the team immediately jolted to a halt as their tired minds finally processed the sound, and once they did Henry spared a glance to first Ellie, right behind them with eyes blown wide, then Charles, whose jaw dropped so low it was practically on the floor. Caution thrown to the wind, the Triple Threat redoubled their pace, going as fast as they dared until they reached the end of the final descent. The bottom of the stairs lead to a hallway only a few meters long, its exit beckoning them with a rainbow of illuminated stones. Charles’ torch clicked off, but the light in the room didn’t diminish enough to hamper the quickened steps of the suddenly elated adventurers. Henry’s heart pounded harder, disbelief buzzing over their bones as hope built in their chest. Was this it? Did they make it?

The end of the hallway opened up, and Charles’ sharp gasp of shock and awe did more to express Henry’s feelings in that moment than anything they could have put into words.

The Queen Empress had built her final resting place atop an underground spring full of crystal clear water carving its way through the spacious cavern. Its forks and twists created small islands, upon each of which was a small mountain of captured treasures for the Empress to take into her next life. It felt like something out of a cheesy movie; piles of glittering gold coins and cups and whatever else the tyrant had managed to snatch away from their rightful owners, stretching so tall one almost couldn’t see over them to the rocky edges of the naturally formed cave. Henry took a few stunned steps forward, only noting the possibility of more traps after failing to be hit by any. A quick glance to their six showed that their partners were in similar states of awe, Charles oohing and ahhing and Ellie practically salivating over the piles of treasure.

With this much moolah, the Triple Threat would never have to work again… they could live in the lap of luxury, servants at their beck and call, all their wishes and desires fulfilled with only a snap of the fingers… diamond jewelry and name-brand furniture and private chefs and golden toilet seats and-!

“Aw man, this is so cool!” Charles chirped up behind Henry, knocking them out of their daydreams, wading across the one of the streams with a carefree swagger. “It must’ve taken years to get all this down here! How do you think they got it all down those stairs?”

Of course. Damned logistics. Well, Henry was certain they could get at least a good chunk outta here before their vacation was up. After they found their prize, of course.

At the center of the spring, surrounded by waterfalls and luscious cave flowers, was the Queen Empress’ sarcophagus. It was delicately carved, much more ornate and intricate than the fake sarcophagus upstairs, which made Henry feel silly for ever thinking that slab of lazily slapped together stone was the real tomb of such an egomaniac. And hovering above her coffin, the centerpiece of a grand chandelier dangling from the ceiling, was the Amazonian Amethyst, shimmering stunningly as light from the glowing stones that decorated the tomb reflected off of its brilliant surface.

“Beautiful…” Ellie whispered, walking ahead of Henry almost as if in a trance. Henry themselves hadn’t even realized they’d paused in a stupor until she overtook them, and then, well, it became a race. They playfully, not too hard, shoved Ellie to the side and bolted ahead, and of course she ran after them and shoved back even harder.

Somewhere behind them, Charles laughed. “Play nice, you two!” He called forward, no doubt fully aware that his demand would go unheeded.

The impromptu race took Ellie and Henry swiftly across the pathway through the spring, up the staircase and finally halting just underneath the chandelier. Now, how to lower it? Henry could just jump up and try to pull the gigantic gemstone loose, but something told them that they’d take the whole chandelier – and part of the stalactite it was dangling from – down with it, crushing both themselves and Ellie. Not the kind of bringing down the roof they were fond of. They could try and poke it loose with a stick or something, but it looked pretty wedged in there. It wouldn’t budge for quite a while, and them and Ellie would poke harder, and harder, until they’d used enough force to launch it into the air, where it’d fly up and up and then down and down and then hit their pilot in the head, knocking him out cold. Some anniversary present, eh Charles?

It was while Henry was skimming through their options that the sudden sound of metal clanking and clacking startled them into a jump. Their gaze darted around until it finally rested on Ellie, carefully lowering the chandelier on the opposite side of the sarcophagus with a smile and, once her eye caught Henry’s, a playful wink.

God, they loved this woman.

The chandelier came to rest atop the coffin. Henry and Ellie stood above it, and Henry didn’t need to look over at their moonlight to know that her eyes reflected the excitement as their own. They didn’t even need to speak; Henry pressed down on the chandelier with the full weight of their body while Ellie hopped atop the structure to pull at the amethyst.

“Come on,” She muttered to the gemstone stuck in the structure,” Come to mama.”

Her arms were quivering with the effort it took, but unlike Henry Ellie was strong, so with each pull it came a little more loose, then a little more… then more…

Until, with a pop, it was finally free. Ellie had been using so much force that she toppled off the chandelier and into Henry’s waiting arms.

She looked down at the gem, as if she couldn’t quite believe it was there in her hands, and then back up at Henry to begin laughing in sheer astonishment. “We found it,” She forced out between chuckles. Henry sauntered over to place their own hands underneath the gigantic gem, helping Ellie to support its weight. “We actually found it! Charles! Hey Charles!” Their guy, who had been distracted combing over the mountain of treasures, looked up at them and immediately his eyes popped out of their sockets. The expression had Ellie laughing even harder. “Aw, man, I can’t believe-”

Her mirthful tone was cut short by a bang.

Its echos thundered across the cavern, piercing Henry’s eardrums and stilling them instantly. There was no mistaking that sound, not for a trio of experienced adventurers like them. The sharp gasp that followed, however, was far scarier.

Henry and Ellie whipped their heads down to watch their partner gasp and stumble back, clutching at his leg, Without a second to spare Ellie dropped the gem and began sprinting back, and Henry followed swiftly after. They only halted when Charles’ fall to the ground was interrupted by a pair of large hands grabbing him and forcing him back on his feet. Streaks of red began running down Charles’ leg, staining his clothes, and as painful as it must have been for him to stand on his wounded leg, Charles’ only response was to bite his lip and glare up, past the muzzle of the gun shoved in his face, at the assailant now holding him hostage.

There was something familiar about this man, something that had a name dancing on the edge of Henry’s brain, but in their panic they couldn’t quite grasp it. Rather than try, Henry squared their shoulders and took a defensive stance, eyes darting around as they looked for options.

So far, nothing that wouldn’t get Charles killed.

“I don’t know who the hell you are,” Ellie addressed the attacker with a near business-like seriousness, only a hint of the rage Henry was sure she had bubbling within her lacing the words, “But if you drop the pilot now and begin running, I’ll give you five minutes to get out of here.” Swift as a hurricane gale, the sidearm Ellie always carried was in her hands, drawn and pointed at the assailant. She wouldn’t actually fire it, of course. She’d never risk hitting Charles-

(Which was why Henry hadn’t drawn theirs. With their bad luck, it’d misfire and put a hole clear through his skull.)

-but the attacker didn’t know that. Probably.

“Feh.” He scoffed, his red mustache twitching as his lips curled in disgust. “Ya don’ bother talkin’ about us, Henry?” The sheer resentment in his tone tickled something in Henry’s mind – a life they hadn’t lived, an alliance they hadn’t made, broken by a man they’d never met. If only they could put a name to the face…

Henry forced themselves to snap back to reality. Charles’ needed them in the now, they couldn’t afford to get lost in a life not lived.

“Or do you two actually not remembah me?” This time his embittered query was directed at Charles, which sparked an increasingly familiar protective fury in Henry’s chest, “Ya took everything I had, ruined my life, and ya can’t even be bothered ta remembah?!” As he went on, his voice got louder, his wrath colouring his words more and more, until he was screaming in Charles’ ear. Credit to their partner, Charles didn’t so much as flinch, the stern military composure that he almost never displayed finally being put to use.

That didn’t make it any easier to watch.

“If you’re so ticked about us forgetting,” Ellie quipped, the only clue that she shared Henry’s fear and fury hidden in the tenseness of her shoulders, “Then why don’t you remind us?

The call-out caused the bristling man to cool, at least somewhat. “Tch. It don’t actually matter a lick if ya know why ya need to die.” He pressed the muzzle of his gun into Charles’ neck, and their pilot, their sunshine, only grew colder and stonier in response. “Just that you do.”

He forced Charles to take a step backward, and in response to Ellie’s call of, “Wait, stop!”, he only aimed his gun at Henry and Ellie, forcing them to stop. His grip around Charles’ tightened to prevent escape in lieu of the gun threat; even if he hadn’t, the shot to the leg would’ve kept Charles’ from running.

“Oh, no, you two ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Growled the assailant. “This ol’ tomb is yours now. You’ll both die in this place. Not ‘im though.” Again, the gun’s tip rested against Charles’ skin. “’E’s my ticket to my next target. Can’t kill ‘em ‘til I get my ‘ands on that ringleader o’ yours.”

That one puzzled Henry a bit, but Ellie picked up on the clues faster. “You’re after the General.” She accused.

“Him,” The assailant proclaimed, and for just a moment Henry could see a flicker of red mechanical? light in one of his eyes, “’Is subordinates, ‘is witnesses… everyone who ‘ad a hand in bringing us down. I’m gonna get a little payback.”

Echoes of a voice across a timeline, a fight that never occurred, a betrayal from a man he never met… “Time fer a little payback!”

Without even thinking, Henry’s mind found the name amongst the fractures of futures that never were, and they whispered, “Right Hand Man.”

“So ya do remembah me.” He snipped. In this world, Henry had only really seen the man on the news, back when the Toppats were first being arrested, but he’d changed since then. His hair had grown far longer, his body thin from a diet of delicious prison slop, and his hat didn’t quite match up with the ex-con’s memories. But Henry felt stupid for forgetting what the man looked like, considering his impact in the alternate futures Henry had seen. “How flattering.”

“Know this guy, Hen?” Ellie asked, her brows furrowing at her partner. Henry tried not to think about what that could mean, or, with their mind fractured between timelines, how easily she could pull up memories from a world they weren’t as friendly in.

All they could manage was one word. “Toppats.”

“That’s what this is about?!” Charles exploded, breaking his stoic mask to glare at his captor. Henry’s silent prayers for him to shut up went unanswered, proving once again how the universe hated them, “Dude, we took down the Toppats, like, three years ago or something! You seriously couldn’t have found another clan to-?!”

Apparently this was what it took to offend the Right Hand Man, because he shifted his hold to grab at Charles’ hair and yank hard, causing a flinch of pain that made Henry’s arm hair stiffen. “I may need ya alive fer now,” He spat, “But if ya wanna keep that waggin’ tongue of yers, I suggest puttin’ a sock in it.”

Charles, thankfully, took that advice, even as he was forced to walk backwards on his injured leg. Everything in Henry was telling them to run after the Toppat cretin, to take back their Charles and make him pay for the damage he’d caused, but the gun barrel pointed at Charles’ face kept both them and Ellie painfully still. All they could do was watch as their sunlight was dragged away from them, leaving the duo stuck in the dark of the cavern.

“Dammit,” Ellie growled under her breath, We’ve got to-”

Once again, she was rudely cut off with a bang, this one much grander in scale. The cavern began to shake with the force of a small explosion set off from the very exit Charles and the Right Hand Man had just taken. Rocks began falling from the ceiling and, with growing horror, Henry realized that the Right Hand Man had intended to keep his promise: The exit was being sealed off. They would die here.

Ellie’s voice cut through the air with a sharp, “Henry, move!”

The exit seemed so far away, and the rocks were falling so fast. They wouldn’t make it. Not at the speed they were running at. Henry’s gut sank, and their mind raced as they peered desperately into the future.

A power slide wouldn’t get them enough speed. They’d make it just close enough for their foot to be crushed underneath the falling debris. Miles away from a home run.

Ultra speed shoes would make them go too fast, overshooting their target and burrowing through the staircase on the other side. That would cave in on top of them just as painfully as standing in the entrance would. And them without any power rings.

Time was slipping away. Fast. Soon the clock would run out, and they’d be trapped, and Charles would be- Charles would-

There was one other option. A change for escape that was just fast enough to get one of them out before the passage was sealed off. Without warning Henry grabbed Ellie’s hand, ignoring her sharp shriek as they spun around once, twice, three times… before tossing her like a hammer. Ellie barely had enough time to brace herself as she flew just underneath the falling the rubble, making it to safety on the other side before the final stones fell, sealing off the tomb completely.

A sigh of relief escaped Henry.

From behind the pillar of rubble, Ellie’s voice cried out. “Henry?! Henry!! Henry, are you there?!”

“I’m here!” They called, moving more swiftly towards the barrier between them and the outside. “I’m okay, I promise! Now get out of here!”

“What?! But you-!”

“Have air and water.” Henry cut her off. “I’ll be find until you can send for help. But Charles is alone with that psychopath. He needs you far more than I do right now.”

There was a pause from the other side, but no sound of Ellie moving away, so Henry kept silent until they finally heard her, “I’m coming back for you.” She promised, her voice carrying a rare sense of desperate seriousness. “I promise, I’m not going to abandon you here. No matter what happens.”

Ah, of course. Their Rose, their shimmering light in the dark, had been chewed up and left for the cops by some previous associates. If there was one thing she’d never joke about, it was betrayal. “I know.” They told her with all the trust in their heart, and they hoped that was enough for her. “Now go get our boy and show that Toppat jerk just who he’s messed with.”

“Okay.” Ellie agreed, her footsteps audible even through the debris. Then they fell silent. “I love you.” Her voice called back, and before Henry could respond Ellie was sprinting off into the distance.

Though their was no way their quiet voice could reach her, Henry whispered back, “Love you too, Moonlight.”

They continued listening through the rubble, Ellie’s footsteps becoming quieter and quieter until, finally, the only sound remaining was the babbling of the underground river, slowly flowing by. With no way to follow after their two loves, all Henry could do was drop to the ground, releasing the tension within them into a heavy sigh.

There was nothing they more they could do at this point. As well stocked as they kept their inventory, they’d somehow failed to think they’d need to bring any sort of mining equipment. Forcing their way out was out of the question. And while they could follow the underwater streams, there was no way of knowing how far the channel traveled before emptying itself outside – if it did at all. There was just as likely a chance of Henry finding a flooded cavern, and while they could swim reasonably well, they were far from a seasoned diver. The safest option was to wait for Ellie to save Charles and return to rescue them.

If she managed to catch them at all, a traitorous part of their brain whispered. Henry swallowed thickly around the familiar dryness in their throat.

Instead of dwelling on the what ifs and the fight no doubt going on above, Henry tried instead to focus on the positives, what few they could find. Right Hand Man’s explosion had only been large enough to cave in the entrance; the rest of the burial chamber, sans some debris and a few displaced pieces of treasure, was entirely intact, with little chance of caving in on Henry’s head. Glancing around the cavern, they could also see algae and moss growing along the sides of the river. With luck, that meant fish, so they were not likely to starve before help arrived either. Sushi was far from their preferred meal of choice, but they were used to working with what little they had.

Continuing their observation of the burial chamber, Henry’s eyes were quickly drawn to something out of place; a splotch of bright red in a room otherwise filled with muted blues and greens and golds. A gym bag, made of a rough modern fabric with a dark zipper, sat unassumingly not far from where the bloodstain of Charles’ shooting marred the ground. Alarm bells went off in Henry’s head the second they registered what they were looking at. Bags like this were typically used in the case of an inventory being exceeded, but the only tool the Right Hand Man had used was their gun, a pistol that lacked the equipment requirements to necessitate that much gear, and the explosives that had blown up the cavern. And why leave the bag behind?

Henry forced themselves to stand, an uneasy weight shifting in their gut as they moved. The bag was zipped shut. Henry’s fingers were slowly and shaky as they pulled the zipper up, over, and down…

Exposing the bomb left instead the bag. A much larger explosive with a much bigger yield. Henry’s experience with this particular brand of bomb was minimal, but they knew enough to know that it could easily level the entire pyramid.

The bastard had promised that Henry would die, after all. Of course he wouldn’t leave it to chance.

There was no clock on the bomb, no sign that it would just explode at random. That didn’t mean it wasn’t on a timer, of course, but given how spiteful the Right Hand Man had been so far, Henry had a feeling it would go off at his whim. Either way, however, time was short for Henry Stickmin. They had to find a way out of the mess, and fast.

Attempting to disarm the explosive was a possibility, of course, but Henry didn’t know diddly squat about bomb disposal. Any attempt to cut the wires would just set the bomb off. All the wires might as well be the red one when you have no idea what you’re doing, after all.

Their next thought was to attempt an escape through the river, but their previous logic gave them pause. If the stream emptied out into a completely submerged cavern, then Henry would either have to swim for freedom and hope they could find an exit or… drown. And there was no guarantee a bomb with this kind of yield wouldn’t cause a cave in that could leave Henry trapped without air. Of the many, many ways they’d seen themselves die, suffocating to death tended to be some of the worst, primarily because suffocating was slow. The worst deaths were always the slow ones.

Sighing heavily, Henry plopped themselves down next to the bag. Their eyes scanned it over when they noticed something… underneath the bomb.

No way. The Right Hand Man was NOT stupid enough to leave anything else inside that bag… right?

Very carefully, so as not to set off a premature explosion, Henry inched the bomb aside and took a gander at the contents underneath. Indeed, the Right Hand Man had left other things inside along with the bomb… mostly his trash. Old wrappers, what may have been a shopping list before water damage got to it, a photograph of Henry and their partners littered with cigarette burns that was absolutely not chilling in any way, thank you very much. Growling a little, Henry continued to shuffle things around, hoping that something in this trash might be a little useful. A manual for the explosive was probably too optimistic to ask, but maybe there was some gum they could use to gunk up the interior, or an old radio that could be used to jam the activation frequency, or… or…

Henry’s mind ground to a halt as they reached the bottom of the bag, staring down at the final piece of garbage with their mouth agape. For the first time since bidding Ellie adieu, they spoke.

“You have GOT to be kidding me!”

--------------------

For the second time in a single day, a thousand years of peaceful rest for the dead was disturbed by a barrage of footsteps. The first time Ellie traversed these halls, her steps carried caution, nervousness, excitement, and determination that damped the sounds of her and her partners’ (and their stalker’s) traversal through the tomb. Now, however, those same sounds were louder, stronger, more frequent as they bounced off the walls and amplified ten times over. Just as loud was the steady, heavy breathing that escaped from her gasping mouth as she raced backwards through the pyramid.

Louder still was the beating of her heart in her chest.

Ellie couldn’t’ let herself think. If she did, all her worries and fears, the danger her boys were in, would overwhelm her in an instant. All she could do was keep pace, keep looking forward. Follow her map through the labyrinth protecting the burial chamber and try not to think of the silly look on Charles’ face as he focused on making it. Climb the staircase into the temple and don’t think of Henry’s confident smile as they danced their way through the false burial chamber. By this point the purple jelly… rubber… things had dissolved or something, so Ellie had to use Henry’s metal chain to swing across the pit of deadly spikes and potentially less deadly snakes and not think about whether or not the kidnapper got Charles across unscathed.

At last she reached the exit, the light at the end of the tunnel. Exhaustion was seeping into her bones, but Ellie did her best not to heed it any mind. She ignored the searing pain of fresh sunlight piercing her sensitive retinas as she returned to the land of the living. Ellie’s gaze darted around the jungle, searching for her targets with the same discerning eye that once picked originals out of fakes. In mere moments she found her boy struggling against the grip of his attacker at the very edge of the treeline.

Ellie couldn’t waste a second. She skipped the stairs and slid down the side of the pyramid instead, coming to a halt at the very bottom. She didn’t pause to so much as catch her breath. Instead she flew forward, her lungs burning at the sight of Charles stuck in that bastard’s grip, his pistol at Charles’ temple, and without so much as a cry of warning she shot her pistol with pin perfect accuracy. Her mark, the tree immediately to the left of the captor and hostage, had a smoking hole clear through the center ring, at the same height of the red-headed bitch’s face. A singular warning of just what kind of force he was messing with before things got ugly.

(And if there was so much as a scratch on her Charles… oh, would things get ugly.)

Though she hardly needed to make the demand aloud, Ellie called out to the Toppat, “I’ll give you one more chance. Release the pilot, now.”

The Toppat – what had Henry called him? The Right Something? - took one look at her, at the smoking tip of the gun in her hand, and had the utter audacity to smirk at the sight of it. “Heh. You all by your lonesome, girly?”

Let it be known that Ellie’s boys could never keep a secret from her, and even through his military bravado Ellie could see the truth in Charles’ eyes. The initial wave of relief when her shot rang out, noting her safety, followed by a stunned sense of fear and panic. His eyes met her, the unspoken question broadcasted plainly in the crinkle of his brow, the way his lips pressed tight. Though he dared not speak aloud, Charles was all but begging for the truth.

Never one to let a dramatic moment go to waste, Ellie answered the questions of both men with a smirk. “What, you mean to imply your little firecracker did any actual damage? Hardly.” Charles’ shoulders relaxed just a fraction in response to Ellie’s answer, and her grin widened. “They’re a little caught up though, so I’m sure they won’t mind me having all the fun.”

The Right Hand Whatever’s smug expression only got smugger. Something sour coiled in Ellie’s gut, an alarm bell signaling trouble on the horizon, but despite her suspicions Ellie couldn’t back down. Not when all the chips were on the table, when Charles was clearly struggling on his injured leg. Not when her opponent clearly had an ace up his sleeve, while her cleverly disguised hand was an utter train wreck waiting to happen. All she could do was shore up her grin and keep her poker face strong.

For her Charles, who was hurt and scared and had a gun pointed at his face. For her Henry, who was trapped and alone and waiting for her to return. She needed to find out what this son of a bitch had planned.

“That right?” The Right Something or Other asked cheekily. “You should know something, girl. I was Right ‘and Man of the Toppat Clan. Second in command of the entire brigade. The enforcer to our leader’s brains. I ‘andled every threat that would ever cross ‘is desk.” His one hand, the one that had Charles’ arm in a death grip, began moving up, fingers dancing on Charles’ sleeve, until they reached his shoulders, where they tapped, tapped, tapped away. Ellie could see Charles’ brow wrinkle as he tried not to show his discomfort with the action. “I nevah missed a mark. Even when I did, I didn’t. Because I always, always ‘ad a backup plan.”

Ellie’s very mind went numb as a bone chilling dread set in.

And then, behind her, the pyramid exploded.

The force of the explosion was enough to very nearly knock Ellie off her feet. All she could bring herself to do was stare back at what remained of the ruins. Every thought in her head came to a grinding, crashing halt as she struggled to comprehend what she was seeing. Henry, her gemstone, her partner in crime, her best fucking friend was in there. Ellie left them there, and had promised to come back, and didn’t. And now they’re gone. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to scream.

All she could do was stand there and stare, like the idiot who’d let herself be betrayed all those years ago.

Charles did the reacting for her, calling out, “Henry!!” In a bone-chillingly horrified cry that, momentarily, drew Ellie out of her stupor. She spun back around just in time to see the Right Hand Man’s grip around Charles shift so that his arm was wrapped around their sweetheart’s throat, not quite tight enough to completely cut off air but tight enough to choke and hurt, and a new terror grew in her when she saw Charles struggling to break free. Their eyes met.

The hope that had ignited in Charles when Ellie had appeared was entirely gone now, replaced with a darkness Ellie couldn’t quite place in her normally optimistic partner. The tears in his eyes broke free every few seconds, leaving a scorching trail down his face. Ellie felt the sight trigger a burning in her own eyes and bit her lip to try and keep it in. She already knew that was a losing battle.

Then, Charles’ escape attempts redoubled as he shouted, “Shoot him!”

Stunned, Ellie’s eyes briefly darted to her gun, the sidearm she hadn’t lowered once throughout the entire exchange, before returning to Charles, “What?!”

“Shoot him!” Repeated the pilot. His lack of resistance to his captor so far, combined with his injury, must have left the Right Hand Murderer complacent, because he was genuinely struggling to get Charles under control again with only one arm, “Fucking kill him-! Make him pay, he can’t get away with this, he can’t-!”

“But-” Half of Ellie’s remaining strength was channeled into her hands, trying to prevent them from shaking. Her vision was too blurry with building tears to tell how successful she was, “I can’t- he’ll shoot you-” The Right Hand Monster’s weapon had been drawn away a little, but it was still pointed at Charles’ head. He could still very easily get a shot off before Ellie could finish pulling the trigger.

The utter rage in Charles’ voice only made Ellie’s shaking worse, “I don’t care, I don’t fucking care! He needs to die! He needs to suffer for what he did-!”

The murderer was yelling something at Charles, but it flew over Ellie’s head as she swallowed past the heavy lump in her throat. Her eyes burned, her vision blurring so badly she could only barely tell her boyfriend apart from that monster. The pressure of all that had happened in the past two minutes began to crush her lungs, leaving her gasping for air.

Henry was dead. They were gone and dead because of that man, that monster who hurt her partners and if she were a better agent, a stronger person, she could take the shot, take him out and avenge her gemstone but- but Charles was right there. All it would take was one misfire, one mistake, one twitch of her shaking hands and then she’d have lost both her partners.

She couldn’t breath. Her lungs were burning, Every gulp of air she took only fed the fire, suffocating her faster in a smoky haze of grief and terror.

Then, for what must have been the fourth time that day, Ellie was blinded by light.

This burst of light, however, was far more short lived, only blinding the three for a few key seconds. Just long enough for Henry’s fist to collide with the Right Bastard’s face. He flew back from the force of it, head colliding with the trunk of a nearby tree. That accursed gun was launched into the distance and lost amongst the natural chaos of the rain forest. Ellie frantically wiped at her face, desperate to clear her clouded sight and prove this wasn’t a trick of the eyes.

Once she could see, Ellie was treated to a vision of absolute beauty. Her partner, her gemstone, standing tall and proud above the Right Hand Loser, breathing heavily. His one hand was balled into a fist. His other kept hold of a painfully familiar device, and the sight of it nearly brought Ellie to tears of laughter.

“Never bring the teleporter!” Henry scolded the old man with all the fierceness of the drill instructors Ellie overheard back at base. They tossed the offending device far off into the distance, utter disgust written on their face. “It always backfires!”

“Henry…!” Charles called out, having been knocked aside in the chaos. As Henry’s attention was directed to their partner, Ellie noted the Right Hand What’s His Face darting towards the jungle and immediately turned her gaze in his direction. Her hands still, her vision clear, Ellie aimed true and hit the hat clean off his head.

This knocked the Right Hand Bastard off balance, which gave Ellie just enough time to rush him with all the force she could muster. Compounded with the strength of her force power, it was more than enough to knock the monster off his feet and onto the ground.

Her follow-up blow was blocked by his elbow, and when their gazes met Ellie could feel the resentment in his sneer. There was something below the hate, below the anger that brought them to this point, but now that her two lovers were safe Ellie let the full force of her rage out, throwing her fists and her feet into the man’s body wherever she could manage. His arms, his stomach, his head, his legs… wherever her hits could land, they landed with precision and force. Ellie barely felt the blows she got back in return, the punches to her stomach and head and chest that she knew she’d feel tomorrow. She didn’t care. She couldn’t care.

All she cared about was unleashing her pain on this sick, sick bastard.

An explosion of force suddenly hit Ellie’s stomach, propelling her back and away from the target of her wrath. For a moment nausea and vertigo overwhelmed her, just enough that the Right Hand Man managed to get back on his feet and start hurriedly limping towards the jungle.

Gritting her teeth, Ellie twisted herself around to launch herself again, feeling the rocks on the ground dig into her palms, feeling the heat of the jungle sun on her back. She could leap like a lion, could tackle him to the ground and beat him bloody before he even knew what hit him-

“Ellie!”

Henry’s voice gave the once thief pause, and she turned her gaze around to see Henry sat on the ground, Charles’ limp form cradled in their arms. The sight of the bloody bandages hastily wrapped around his leg caused her stomach to start spinning all over again.

Cursing her own stupidity for letting the Right Hand Whatever distract her for so long, Ellie pushed herself up and limped over to help Henry. Looking her partner over, Ellie could tell Henry had escaped by the skin of their teeth yet again. Their clothes were filthy, covered in soot and damaged from the rocks. Their hands, wrapped around Charles and holding him close, were stained with blood. Ellie briefly wondered if all of it was Charles, then immediately shut that thought down. She couldn’t handle any more worries right now.

Henry’s mouth opened and shut in a few false starts as their overly stressed brain struggled to put words in their mouth. Eventually they managed to spit out, “Help. For Charles.”

“Help for Charles.” Ellie agreed. Hopefully Henry remembered more from Charles’ on the fly piloting lessons than she did, because otherwise it was going to be a very long, very dangerous flight back.

--------------------

Ellie awoke to fingers at her face, pushing in her cheeks. Not forceful enough to hurt, but definitely enough to be annoying.

“Henry?” She grumbled, clumsily pushing their hand away from her. Despite their mutual agreement to get some sleep while their partner was being treated, Henry barely looked any better. They’d changed clothes at least, wearing some cheap t-shirt and sweatpants that the hospital had kindly provided, but dark shadows still highlighted their eyes.

But there was a shiny happiness in those ruby red orbs that brought any complaints Ellie had to a grinding halt. Their hands, stiff from soreness, moved slower than normal as they signed to her, “Charles is awake.”

That woke her up more thoroughly than any coffee could have.

Sure enough, sitting up on the bed at the end of the room was their pilot, their sweethearted ray of sunshine, who was too focused on picking the crust off his provided sandwich to notice the two approach at first. But Ellie could see the moment he spotted them, how his excited grin grew so wide it brightened the entire room.

“Yo, Els!” Charles greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“I think I should be asking you that.” She responded, keeping her tone light and playful despite the nerves wriggling within her. “Are you alright? Are you hurting anywhere?”

“Don’t worry, they got me hooked up on some good stuff.” Charles assured her, then hesitated, and something in Ellie went cold. Was something wrong? Had she missed something snoozing away?

Before her thoughts could get away from her, a warmth enveloped Ellie’s hand as Charles took it in his own. The light in his eyes was dim, morose, and it only made her want to hold him tight and never let go. The urge to follow up on that impulse, however, was halted by a single pair of words.

“I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Ellie hadn't been sure she’d heard him right. “You’re… sorry?” At his affirmative nod, she asked, “Sorry for what?” A thought occurred to her, and Ellie scowled, “If you’re blaming yourself for getting shot-”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Charles paused a second, “I mean, I should have been paying more attention-” Whatever he was about to say was interrupted with a light jab from Henry’s elbow into his side “Ah!” He shot a glance at Henry, who merely stared back at him, silent, expressionless. With a sigh, Charles proceeded along his original train of thought. “But I’m talking about what happened when- when Henry-” The words seemed to get caught in Charles throat, so again he redirected, “Uh, when the pyramid blew up, I said some… really aggressive things.”

Ellie forced her face into something neutral. She knew what Charles was talking about. She was trying not to dwell on it, on that unfamiliar rage in his eyes, on the sickening feeling that she was going to lose everything in one single, horrible day. If she looked as bad as she felt even remembering that moment, Ellie was certain she’d only make Charles feel worse.

But her skill at maintaining a poker face must have been out of practice, because Ellie could see the hurt in his eyes anyways.

“And- And I know I made you feel awful. I’m so sorry.” Charles buried his face in his hands and leaned back, allowing Henry to hold him as he continued. “I was just so mad… I thought Henry was- was gone, and I thought it was his fault, and- and- I just wanted him to pay for it. I didn’t care what happened to me, as long as he suffered. But- but that wasn’t fair to you.” Charles sighed, and Henry’s fingers began coming through his hair soothingly. “I’m really, really sorry, Els.”

Ellie exhaled deeply, feeling the tension in her body begin to relax a little. “I get it.” She said, approaching Charles’ bedside and sitting next to him. Curled up into Henry’s side, Charles looked incredibly small, and it made her heart leap. Ellie slipped her hand onto Charles’ knee, rubbing it comfortingly. “When the pyramid exploded, and Henry was still inside… I was angry too. I still am.” Ellie looked down at her bruised knuckles. She wondered if she’d managed to hurt that insufferable bastard. She hoped so. “If I thought for a second he’d have been the only one hurt, I would’ve taken the shot. Hell, if I were in your place…” Ellie could feel Charles’ muscles tense under her hand at the mere thought, and leaned over to lay her head on his shoulder. “I’d have probably done the same thing.”

“Are you sure?” Charles asked, uncertain. “Because you’re supposed to be smarter than me. You remember that, right?”

Henry snorted, drawing both of their attention upward. “If you thought that explosion could take me down,” They signed, grinning smugly, “Then both of you are idiots.”

“Rude.” Ellie snapped back with no bite. One of Charles’ hands came to rest on hers, and she brushed their fingers gently together, hoping the sensation was as soothing to Charles as it was to her. Judging from the pleasant sigh her partner let out, she was right on the money. On Charles’ other side, Henry had taken a seat on the bed and seemed content to have Charles’ weight pressed into their own, eyes a shimmer with fondness as Charles nuzzled into their side.

All was peaceful. All was calm. So, naturally, the government had to step in to ruin it.

More precisely, a small procession of soldiers came through the door with barely an announcement, causing the Triple Threat to scramble to attention, practically throwing themselves away from each other to sit up straight and look semi-professional. They inspected each corner of the room, clearing it inch by inch, before lining up at the doorway and saluting professionally.

When Galeforce walked into the room and dismissed the procession to play guard in the hall, Ellie felt her muscles all simultaneously slump into an awkward half-laying, half-sitting position. She was so done with surprises today. Any more and her heart would burst, Ellie was sure of it.

Once they were alone, Galeforce quickly reached their bedside with long, purposeful strides. “I’d just gotten word through my contacts that you’d been rushed in with a gun wound. Glad to see you’re all alright,” The old man admitted, an unusual softness in his voice. When working, Galeforce endeavored to remain professional in his interactions with his men, but it was not much of a secret that he had a weakness for the little orphan pilot that could. His attention turned to Henry and Ellie, both now recovered enough to sit casually by Charles’ side. “But what happened? I didn’t receive any reports of organized criminal activity in this area- at least, not anyone who would’ve known who you three are.”

“Toppat scum.” Henry signed at their commander. Just those two words had them looking like they’d swallowed something sour.

Galeforce’s sign language skills weren’t quite at Charles and Ellie’s level, but he recognized at least the important word and his shoulders went rigged. “Dammit.” Swore the general. “You all have my sincerest apologies. I should have warned you sooner.”

“Warned us?” Ellie asked, her tone sharpening at the implications.

The General sighed heavily, barely managing to keep his shoulders square with the weight of his guilt on his back. “Just after your vacation started, I’d gotten word that the leader of the Toppat Clan, Reginald Copperbottom, had been assassinated in prison.”

Ellie felt her eyes go wide, and she could feel Charles stiffen in surprise as well. Glancing across the hospital bed at Henry, Ellie found them staring up at the general aimlessly. She’d seen this lost look in their eyes before, when they were gazing into futures that would never happen, and wondered, not for the first time, how they managed with such a heavy burden on their shoulders. Seeing the future was a curse Henry bore mostly with silence, but her and Charles had been learning to pick up on the cues. Ellie’s arm wrapped around Charles, gripping Henry’s hand with just enough strength to anchor them to the present, and a moment later she felt them squeeze it back in recognition.

They’d explain later, most likely. For now, though, the General’s explanation kept their attention.

“Some prison guard had a family history with one of the chief’s predecessors. I won’t bore you with the details.” Galeforce sat on the empty bed nearby, leaning forward with his hands folded in front of his face. “But that very same night Reginald’s Right Hand Man, the second in command of the entire clan, escaped from prison. We’re still not sure how he even knew about Reginald’s death, but he managed to kill the assassin and grab his leader’s corpse on the way out. I thought he’d be more focused on resurrecting the clan than anything else, and with your vacation being out of the country, I decided to bring you into the loop once you got back.” Regret and frustration shone in the General’s eyes as he spoke, his gaze downcast to avoid looking at any of the trio. “I have no idea how he even managed to find you three, let alone pull off something like this. He has nothing; no resources, no allies, not even a penny to his name. I didn’t think-” The old man sighed, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t know how I can even begin making this up to you.”

Ellie took a moment to breath. Her first reaction was the familiar sting of hurt and betrayal, and at one point she may have gotten up in Galeforce’s face to really give him a piece of her mind. Years of unconditional support from her partners, however, gave her the patience to wait out that initial wave and follow up with a much more logical response of understanding. They were on vacation, out in the middle of nowhere with minimal ways to track them down. It wouldn’t have occurred to Galeforce that the bastard would even know where they are, let actually finding them and making them suffer. It would have been nice to have warning, but at the end of the day it wasn’t really his fault.

Henry stared off into space, their eyes clouded with conflict as they struggled between the frustration they were no doubt riddled with and the same logical conclusion Ellie came to. Charles sat slumped in the hospital bed, gazing down as he fiddled his thumbs. Charles had known Galeforce longer than either of them, and the bond of trust they’d built as subordinate and commander was hard to break, but she had no doubt her sweetheart was still upset.

So Ellie took the lead, smiling cheekily at the General, “Well, a few more weeks of vacation would be nice.”

Two pairs of eyes instantly hit the back of Ellie’s head, and she struggled not to turn around and face them. But hearing Ellie let the General off easy must have helped them make up their minds, because soon she felt Charles leaning against her back, his smile tickling the skin on her shoulder as he agreed, “And maybe a bit of overtime? I mean, we did technically face off against an enemy of the state…”

Galeforce chuckled at their responses, the weight on his shoulders lightening up bit by bit. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Henry pushed away from the wall, drawing enough attention to them so they could sign, “I can come up with a trap for the guy.” Their signing was more fluid, more playfully bouncy, and Ellie felt a little more of her worry edge away, “All we need is a few miles of rope, a pool of pudding, the Tunisian Diamond…”

“Now you’re pushing it.” The General joked back, standing with a smile. He seemed lighter on his feet than when he first entered. “I’ll arrange for transport back to base once Charlie is feeling a little better, and you’ll be under guard until further notice. For now, though, just focus on getting some rest. We’ve got protection duty taken care of.” The General began walking back towards the door, only to pause and look back, tipping his hat. “Oh. And happy anniversary.”

Silence rang loudly between them as Galeforce stepped out, quietly opening and closing the door behind him. The moment hung in the air and stretched the seconds into hours.

Finally, at last, Charles broke through the quiet with his usual blunt charm, clumsily destroying the remaining tension in the air with his joking snort. “Some anniversary.” He declared, crossing his arms. “We almost died, an ancient marvel of the lost world got blown up, and we have nothing to show for it!” He huffed, pouted, and then loudly declared, “Whoever planned this trip deserves to get shot.”

And despite all of it, Ellie couldn’t help but burst into laughs.

“It is a shame,” She agreed, wistfully recounting the weight of the amethyst in her hands. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Henry stand, but paid them no mind for the moment. “Still, up until that Toppat clown showed up it was pretty fun.”

“Yeah.” Charles agreed. “Like when you swung over those traps to pull our sorry butts out of the fire? Heh, that was pretty cool.” The stars shimmering in his eyes suggested he remembered the event being way more than cool, and Ellie couldn’t help but puff up a little in pride. It hadn’t been hard – she’d done way crazier back in her criminal days – but something about Charles’ earnest, enthusiastic reactions made her feel like the tallest person in the world. Henry (standing weirdly close, with a weird grin spread across their face) called him their sunshine for a reason, and as much as the two liked to tease them about their choice of nicknames, Ellie had to admit they were right on the money with that one.

“Or how you created a path of freakin’ bouncy balls to get across that weird spike pit.” Ellie recounted. At the time she’d felt her blood pressure spike with each bounce, but now, in hindsight, it had been both impressive and hilarious.

Charles laughed along, as full and bright as himself, and nodded eagerly. “Or- or how Henry broke out into a random dance and that somehow opened the way to the real tomb?” The memory of their dance across the false burial site only caused Ellie to laugh harder, a deep blush growing across her face. How could she have ever wanted to be a serious criminal, when being silly with these two idiots was so much more fun?

The fluttering laughter came to a slow halt as Ellie suddenly noticed Henry’s arms outstretched between her and Charles. More specifically, the gigantic purple gem nestled in their hands, reflecting the harsh light of the hospital to shine brighter than it had in the dim catacombs of the tomb. Ellie’s eyes trailed up Henry’s arms, across their shoulder, all the way up to that stupid smug grin on their face.

The cheeky bastard. When had they even had time to grab that thing?

“You clever little sneak!” Charles yelled out, recovering from the shock of seeing their hard won prize much faster than Ellie. His arms reached out, grabbing for his two partners, and Ellie and Henry reached back without hesitation. Any thought of the Right Hand Whatever, of the dangers past and dangers to come, of anything that could stand in the way of the Triple Threat floated to the very edge of Ellie’s mind, leaving her clear to focus on what was really important.

As far as anniversaries went, Ellie supposed this could have gone a lot worse.

--------------------

As the sun set over the city, a single man sat on a lone rooftop. His gaze was as piercing as the setting sun, matching it’s blinding glare with equal fierceness.

Feh, of course they bloody survived. Nothing could go right for the prior Right Hand Man lately.

Unwilling to let himself drown in his thoughts, the once Right Hand Man removed a crumpled piece of paper from his inventory, directing his ire down at the paper as if it was what had offended him, and not the myriad of names listed upon it.

Dozens upon dozens of people would have found their names upon that list. A small number were crossed out. A worthless avenger, a couple of gossiping jail guards, an old judge with a bad hair cut; a mere handful, compared to the number of names remaining. A thief, a pilot, and, more recently, an ex-gang runner. A general, his personal guard, a witness pulled from the airship’s brig. Turncoats and traitors to the clan, selling out their brothers for a scrap of leniency. Anyone and everyone even remotely involved in the fall of the Toppat Clan and the death of it’s leader were listed on this single scrap of paper.

“Don’ you worry a bit, Reg.” Murmured the enforcer, running his finger down the list like he was running a knife across some traitor’s skin. “I’ll make ‘em pay. Every last one of ‘em fuckers ‘at destroyed our clan. ‘Ey’ll all pay for wot they did. And once ‘ey do…”

His finger finally paused on the list’s final name, the ultimate victim of his revenge spree. The one who’s failure had lead to the destruction of everything the once Right Hand Man held dear.

“...I’ll be comin’ for ya, Reg. Save a spot in ‘ell fer me, would ya?”

--------------------

Aw, yes! More Polythreat!

I'm sorry for kind of being AWOL. I've been active on Tumblr, but was afflicted with some nasty writer's block. It took me a whole year to write this, believe it or not. I'd hoped to get it done by my birthday, but I'm just happy to have it done. Merry Christmas, everybody!

The events surrounding RHM and Reginald are depicted in a comic here on my tumblr: Atychiphobia - Fear of Failure. You can probably find it pretty easily. Neither RHM nor Copperright have been tagged, though. To preserve the surprise. Tags do kind of give away something going down, but it happens.

Thank you for reading! Hopefully I'll come up with something else to write soon.

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erika-xero · 6 months

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REPOSTOBER, day 22: the Champion of Cyrodiil (2015-2017)

TW! this post has some TES-headcanons which might not be everyone's cup of tea, but please, don't judge a woman by her headcanons lmao

Here he is, my weird lil man. His mom worshipped Mephala and almost sacrifised her own newborn child to the Ebony Blade, but his father managed to steal the baby and hide him in Skyrim. Cero was raised in the orphanage (YES, THAT Orphanage) being bullied by the nord children for being, well, an elf. Many years later, Cero became a gladiator in the Imperial City Arena, and this is pretty much where his story begins.

He starts off as a man, who kill people for money at the start of the game, and being an assassin for the Dark Brotherhood doesn't seem any difference, so he joins in.

Lucien, being the one who brought him into the family, fascinates him. Cero soon develops feelings towards the Speaker, which he describes like some sort of a spiritual bond. He can't fully express what exactly he feels (because he is being in denial), so he keeps his feelings to himself, before it is too late.

This was a breaking point for Cero, who was already traumatized by the Purification, so he cut his ties with Dark Brotherhood and excapes, using the chaos of the Oblivion Crisis. After the series of unfortunate events he becomes the one, who carried the Amulet of Kings and the one, who saved Martin in Kvatch. They soon become friends and Martin is the one who actually tries to make Cero a better person. And then Martin dies too.

Being ceverely depressed and traumatized by losing all the people he loved and who were actually nice to him in a quite short period of time, Cero starts drowning himself in alcohol. And at that very moment, the Dark Brotherhood finally show up and capture the man and take him to Bravil for a trial. He manages to excape. And this is when the Shivering Isles storyline begins.

I wrote a bunch of fics (in russian) about Cero in the Shivering Isles, and in my AU he is literally possessed by Sheogorath who takes over his body and desperately try to fight back, and the main antagonist of the story is Haskill, who does everything so that Cero would lose himself and all his memories forever.

Eventually, he manages to take control of his own body for a few times, and one of them happened during the Skyrim timeline:

His body changed over time, he starts looking less than himself and more like Sheogorath: his hair and eyes gone white, his skin became pale and rosy, but he never actually ended up looking the way Haskill wanted him to look. Somewhere after the Skyrim timeline his former self gets in control of his body again and gets in a fight with Haskill. Cero uses the sword of Jyggalag to snap the Staff of Sheogorath in two parts and finally breaks free. He's memory is wague, his feelings are all messed up and he barely understand what is happening, the only thing that keeps him going is his lust for freedom. And this is the point when the events of my Champion/Nerevarine AU begin. Small bonus for everyone, who read it this far: Cero as Jyggalag.

And Cero with his lover - my Nerevarine Raelin, who was the first person he encountered when he finally broke free from the Shivering Isles, and the person who helped him regain all of his memories (she's also probably the only person in the universe who can handle this firce lil man).

And yes, Cero is actually his father's surname. The champion has a name, but the only person who knew his name was Martin.

#repostober #oblivion #the elder scrolls oblivion #champion of Cyrodiil #hero of kvatch #lucian lacnahce #sheogorath #martin septim #nerevarine #also yeah he is a closeted bisexual #he's a reflection of my own trauma at this point because I too lost a dear friend of mine in an accident #TW: the elder scrolls HEADCANONS

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gffa · 1 year

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So is this the end of the larger story of Mandalore? Because what’s even left? The Empire is gone, Gideon is dead, the Imperial base destroyed, the other Imperial Remnants didn’t seem that interested in Mandalore, the Darksaber is gone, Mandalorians are reunited with each other, Bo-Katan has stepped up to leadership, they’ve reclaimed their planet, life is growing there again, is this what the end of approximately 15 years of storyline has been building towards? I guess it’s possible that there may be more, they’re not around for the sequels, so maybe the First Order comes for them at some point, maybe wipes them out, maybe they truly do retire here. It’s a bit of a strange feeling, this storyline has been threaded through The Clone Wars, through Rebels, through The Mandalorian, and despite that we never see huge chunks of it, it might actually be finished. It’s a strange feeling, I think, because the Darksaber is really the only thing that seemed to connect the storyline to anything that came before, there’s no mention of anything that happened with Satine, there’s no mention of anything of where Sabine is, there’s no mention of any of the other main families of Mandalore, the history they give us is vague at best, and it just makes the whole thing feel half-finished. On their own, these last two episodes of season 3 were probably some of the strongest of the season, but when taken into the context of the bigger story of the events of Mandalore, it feels like a half-finished sketch to me.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #mandalore #meta

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transmutationisms · 9 months

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Thank you for letting me do this, really~~~

Like you mentioned in another post, this isn't specifically about oppenheimer or any narratives it portrays but the wider discussion that's been resurging around usamerican imperialism, nuclear weapons and the military/militarization in general. And this is so very long so I apologise.

The fact of the matter is, even after all the "lessons" learnt from bombing Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the us wanted to do further testing to see the full extent of the impact of nuclear weapons. These tests were carried out in the Marshall Islands in the Pacific, which was already heavily militarized by this point.

As usual when it comes to military interventions and imperialism by core nations, these tests were framed as a necessity "for the greater good", and to "end all wars", even framing its supposed necessity through religious narratives (which, well, christian missionary efforts).

There were 67 tests conducted from 1946 to 1958, and some of the weapons tested like the Bravo bomb dropped on March 1, 1954 over Bikini Atoll were many times more powerful than the ones used in WWII. As expected, these tests completely destroyed the Marshall Islands, from the ocean to the atmosphere to the land. So much radioactive fallout, so much devastation and literally uninhabitable to any living being.

I want to talk specifically about one of the most atrocious aspects of this whole ordeal which is that while the usamerican authorities evacuated the Marshallese people in Bikini and Enewetak during the 1948-52 testing period (operations sandstone, greenhouse and ivy) to nearby islands, they failed to do so for operation castle series begun in 1954. The relocated populations suffered as well, since there weren't enough resources on the islands they were resettled in to sustain this extra population, and of course, the nuclear fallout would affect them even though no weapons were directly tested in these islands.

The impact of the bravo bomb detonated over Bikini was mainly on the people from Rongerik, Rongelap and Ailinginae atolls, who were not evacuated until after the bomb was detonated at which point they were already exposed to high levels of radiation. In fact, the Rongelapese people were basically used as human test subjects as they were relocated back to Rongelap in 1957 where they remained until 1985 when they had to evacuate themselves.

The us actually declared Rongelap safe and that there were no long term effects from nuclear fallout in order to relocate them. Edward teller himself has gone on interviews to declare how little of an impact the bravo test has had on human lives. Iirc the documents regarding the tests were only declassified in the 70s, so Marshallese people were deliberately kept in the dark about the cause of the illnesses they were experiencing due to nuclear fallout. Here is Lijon Eknilang, a Rongelapese survivor talking about her experiences:

In June 1957, when we did return, we saw changes on our island. Some of our food crops, such as arrowroot, completely disappeared. Makmok, or tapioca plants, stopped bearing fruit. What we did eat gave us blisters on our lips and in our mouths and we suffered terrible stomach problems and nausea. Some of the fish we caught caused the same problems. These were things that had not happened before 1954. Our staple foods had never made us ill. We brought these problems to the attention of the doctors and officials who visited us. They said we were preparing the foods incorrectly, or that we had fish poisoning. We knew that was impossible because we had been preparing and surviving from these foods for centuries without suffering from the problems that appeared after 1954.

It has always been interesting to me that even the people who were not on Rongelap in 1954, but who went there with us in 1957, began to experience the same illnesses we did in later years. Foreign doctors and other officials called those people the “control group,” and we were told the sickness of that group proved our illnesses were common to all Marshallese. We did not believe that, and we learned only recently that the “control group” had come from areas that had also been contaminated by radioactivity from the weapons tests.

The usamerican authorities to this day do not acknowledge how serious and how much of an impact the nuclear weapons have left on the Marshall Islands and its people. There is no acknowledgement of the fact that people outside of the Enewetak, Utrik, Bikini and Rongelap atolls during testing were affected even when they show effects of radiation. There is no acknowledgement of just how much destruction they've brought upon these islands (also keeping in mind that animals were not evacuated). And of course, there is no acknowledgement of the fact that none of this was necessary in the first place (even if it can ever be called necessary). It was basically a large scale human experiment done for the sake of science and the "greater good", with little to no concern about the impact it would leave on the people of Oceania.

Oh, and there's also a huge crater left on Enewetak from the testing that's basically leaking nuclear waste into the soil, still contaminating the flora and fauna in area and beyond. There's so much spending by the us military in the Pacific region, especially now with the whole AUKUS agreement, but nothing has been done to properly contain this waste. Or actually address the violation of Marshallese people's human rights due to nuclear weapons testing. There has never really been any talks of reparations either, and whatever money and resources the us has spent has been woefully inadequate.

While the testing stopped decades ago, this is only a part of the ongoing militarization of Oceania by the US (and associated core and semi-periphery nations). Of course, this is all framed as selfless efforts by the us to prevent wars (which it always seems to be doing), for the greater good of humanity, to take us into further advancement and so on. Lastly, to mention a sliver of the role science has played in all of this: they were celebrating the discovery of new elements after the ivy mike detonation (1952), while people were suffering the impact of ongoing nuclear testing, and iirc, they were actually hoping to discover new elements from these nuclear reactions, so who's to say that these weapons were not made as a part of the race to discover elements, aka scientists' version of a dick measuring contest.

Sources and for more info for anyone interested:

Barbara Rose-Johnston. Nuclear Disaster: The Marshall Islands Experience and Lessons for a Post-Fukushima World [where I got the quote and most of the info from]

April L. Brown. No Promised Land: The Shared Legacy of the Castle Bravo Nuclear Test

Carl Zimmer. Nuclear Tests Marked Life in Earth with a Radioactive Spike [the sheer scope of the radioactive fallout from bravo]

Kit Chapman. Element Hunting in a Nuclear Storm

Edward Teller interview

#ty for this & for sources!#us imperialism

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corazondebeskar-reads · 3 months

Text

live to rise - chapter one

live to rise series

one: they'll find you, burn you

series masterlist | next chapter

gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader

word count: 3.7k

summary: The Last of the Mandalorians have fallen; their Mand'alor captured. Stripped of his armor, his weapons, his people. Din rises to fight another day, grasping onto the hope that his son still lives.

No fighter has won their freedom from the Empire's arena before. With the help of a servant girl, can he hope to break free?

warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, captivity, forced proximity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, prisoner of war, indentured servitude, fight to the death, au where the empire wins, discussions of genocide, discussions of war, graphic descriptions of violence, graphic descriptions of injuries, gore, brutality, religious themes, fictional religion, mand'alor!Din Djarin, major character deaths, many minor character deaths, Din has hearing loss, angst by the bucket, Din Djarin takes the helmet off (kind of)

Please heed the warnings. There will be major & minor character deaths in almost every chapter. This is not a happy story, but I hope you find it worthwhile anyway.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s morning when the news breaks.

By lunch, datapads are discarded in favor of gossip. It’s as useless as the Imperial rags parading as official broadcasts—all speculation and slander.

While the details of the Mandalorians’ final stand for their homeworld circulate above, the stiff air of the lower complex is thick with the question: to whose barracks will the fallen king be assigned?

You know the answer. Your datapad had pinged early, much before your day should have begun. Much before the news went live across the galaxy.

Cell C-5 had been scrubbed clean on your perennially bruised knees the day before when Dup, a young Gungan whose face was bruised as if he’d already gone a round, had failed to return from the arena.

He had been brought in late the previous night, shaking and weeping and not speaking a lick of Basic. Those were the hardest. There was no comfort, no preparation, no honor you could give them.

He didn’t return after his first battle.

It was the way of things. Many never saw a second sunrise.

As caretaker for Barrack Cresh, whether your fighters eat, drink, bathe, get medical attention and fresh clothing, or, well, anything, falls on you.

So you stocked C-5 with the basics, but the Mandalorian King’s file is barren when your clearance arrives. You bristle at the lack of biodata. How are you supposed to provide proper clothing or order his dinner?

It becomes obvious when he arrives that evening.

You’re not.

It’s past curfew when they bring him in, and normally, you’d be in bed. But one of yours had come back a few minutes earlier from the medbay and you know the state they usually return in, so you’re in C-2 with the door shut.

The ex-Rebel pilot, Gino, doesn’t argue as you dab the shallow cuts on his face with an alcohol swab, but he does flinch when you tug the split skin on his calf together like a stubborn bedsheet to apply suture tape. They had used just enough bacta for his serious injuries and left the rest to bleed.

“Sorry,” you hiss, but it’s lost in the pneumatics of the door.

Gino is on his feet immediately, shushing you with a finger to his lips. You can’t risk being seen through the little window, so he minds your space as you flatten to the ground and peek through the delivery slot.

At first, all you can see are boots. So many boots. And among the shiny black rubber is the oddest pair of worn brown leather. It’s been so long since you saw anyone in shoes but the guards; your stomach churns with fear.

Gino taps at your head, and you let him help you up to peek once they’re past the cell.

It’s the Mandalorian. There are five of the Moff’s personal guards in their black kits restraining him, and they still have to jab him with an electrostave in order to shut the cell door fast enough.

He’s snarling, the modulator of his helmet warping and crackling the terrible cacophony. He’s also huge, and the strip of lights shines off his dark armor like someone took a handful of the night sky and smudged it across the wall of the cell.

You brush away the errant question of how much of his bulk is the armor and how much he comes by naturally. You’ll find out tomorrow, like everyone else.

The hype alone ensures a sold-out arena. The officers and their simpering spouses and sycophants are salivating for the battle—or at least for the profits.

The headlines fill seats to a swarming mass, everyone vying to see the latest and shiniest trophy.

He won’t be shiny for long.

Not after they strip away the beskar that protects one of—if not the last of—the “galaxy’s greatest warriors” and see if he’s worth anything underneath.

They don’t expect him to survive. They don’t want him to, really. They want to crush the will of any who would still defy the Empire. A very public, humiliating execution is the Moff’s wet dream.

The Mandalorian is gone before your morning rounds, dragged up to the arena’s cage to watch his fate play out on the faces of others. Either end is the same, really.

And if he survives, it won’t matter. Sure, prisoners can earn their freedom through a percentage of the money they bring in from wagers, or they can die trying.

But no fighter has made it out alive. Not even close.

You’re close, though. Not that you’re in an arena contract. But you’re nearing the end of the third year in a five-year indentured servitude sentence, and it carries a lower fatality rate.

Which isn’t saying much, really. It would be hard to have a higher fatality rate than the fighters.

There are twelve of you and ten barracks, not counting the fluctuating number of sponsored champions who have private accommodations.

Sixty standard fighters, never more or less as the sun rises.

Sometimes, you return to six empty cells.

Only once have you found your flock all home. You fell to your knees and cried right then, bringing acrid dread to a boil as you knew it would never, ever happen again.

Just three days ago, Din Djarin had stood in the grand hall at Keldabe, knowing it would be the last time.

It was still. Silent. Not yet in the chaos of war, but just on the edge, as when rainfall is a distant specter and the uneasiness cloisters in your lungs.

He takes in the art behind the throne with quiet reverence, eyes following the sharp lines and bold colors, the stories of their ancestors dutifully and beautifully eternalized.

The shame creeps up his neck again, but he shrugs it off. It will work. He’s known for his tight and effective strategy, and his advisors had agreed to the plan.

He only hoped the Ka’ra would accept his soul into the Manda all the same. That the blood of his brethren wouldn’t deny him the peace that he ached for.

He thinks once more of Grogu, breathes through the pain, and then clears his mind.

Turning from the throne, he strides to the grand windows—to Paz. With hands clasped behind his back, he follows his general’s focus to the TIE fighters breaking through the atmosphere.

Troopers are within the walls. The Destroyers won’t be long, now.

“Vod,” Din begins, angling toward Paz.

“Do not deal me the insult of an out,” Paz snaps.

“I would never,” Din says, throat cinching around the words. “It’s an honor to have you at my side.”

Paz dips his head. “It’s been an honor to serve with you, ner Mand’alor.”

Din knows he speaks true. Though they may not have always gotten along, they were still vod. Still loyal, until death.

Death they now stood on the brink of.

Outside, the fleet falls fast. Din grimaces as their ships careen to the surface and crush the city into crumbs. Fire spreads, and he has to pretend the homes are empty. That everyone got out in time.

The Empire assumes each Kom’rk-class fighter is full of Mandalorians waiting to drop into battle. They target them with glee, thinking they’ve devastated the sky and ground teams in one fell swoop.

But each ship has only a pilot. A pilot who climbed into the cockpit knowing they would certainly die. Willing to take the place of their vod.

Mando’ad draar digu. They will live on in him until he draws his last. More importantly, they will live on in their families, who—if he’s done anything right—will live far beyond him.

“Par Manda’yaim,” Din says.

“Par Manda’yaim,” Paz echoes.

They are to be the last words spoken to one another.

Inside the palace, the fight leaves no breath for such things. Not that they need it; their movements are fluid and equal.

It takes half the platoon to take Paz down and the other to take Din.

Unlike his vod, they do not grant him a warrior’s death.

In the arena, they’ve left him in the armor as he paces the cage. Every moment with it spurns the barb deeper in his gut, the terror turning terrifying as his rage becomes a tsunami.

The fights are nothing. The Imps who thought he’d be intimidated by them have clearly never seen an average Mandalorian brawl. These ended with a little more finality and a little less bickering over the winner, but the actual fighting? Mostly pathetic.

He doesn’t look upon them with scorn, though. These are beings stripped of all dignity, underfed, and devoid of hope. The Empire has ground them into the dirt beneath their glossy boots, and he expects that for many, death is a kindness.

In the end, he lets them take the beskar’gam from his bound body. They hold him, scanners at the ready, the whole of the galaxy waiting to witness his final defeat in real time. The giddy grins tell him what he already knows—they are certain this will break him.

He holds eye contact with Gideon just to see the shock that strikes him at Din’s defiance. He aches to smirk or snarl or sink his teeth into the man, but he won’t give him the satisfaction.

They don’t give them weapons for this fight. At least they’re being honest about their intentions.

Hand-to-hand combat with a Wookie should be a death sentence. Should be, for a lesser being. But the Mand’alor is far sharper than their blades could ever hope to be, and he wields his mind and body as expertly as he would a blaster.

Din doesn’t speak Shyriiwook. He wishes he did, for when he asks his opponent for their name, he fails to capture the response. It slips from his grasp, slick as his hands are from the Wookie’s blood.

Bare hands that have rarely dealt such tangible death. Dust stirred up from the struggle sticks to the thick, hot carnage. He’ll feel the give of the Wookie’s eyeballs under his thumbnails for days. The crack of his skull under Din’s knee, driven like a wedge into the soft cartilage, is at least slightly more familiar.

It’s not a long fight. After all, Din has something of which his opponent has long been deprived: something to live for.

The Mandalorian isn’t back by dinner drop-off, but your captain sent the cart loaded with a tray for him, so you dutifully set it on his cot atop the folded blanket.

There’s been no clean-up call, and the roster is empty. But you don’t have to wonder over his whereabouts for long.

In the servants' barracks—which are actually barracks and not a soft word for cellblocks—the reports are already underway.

Some of the attendants get to watch the fights. Or, rather, they have to, bound as they are to a single combatant. The mandated proximity is unforgiving, and no one likes to watch.

After all, there’s very little difference between you and the fighters. Instead, the attendants take on the solemn duty of letting the rest of you know how your residents fared or fell.

“He was a berserker,” Hali says in hushed whispers. “They took all that armor off, and he just looked like a man. A pretty man, but… just a man. But when it started, he moved so fast. It was over in, like, two minutes.”

“Shut up,” says Eli, your bunkmate. “He did not take down a Wookie in two minutes.”

“No, he really kriffing did,” hissed one of the new attendants whose name you hadn’t caught. “It was brutal. The whole arena went quiet. And he just stood there, covered in blood, looking at the crowd.”

“Okay, whose block is he in?” Eli demands. “Someone needs to spill now.”

“Mine,” you say quietly.

“You haven’t said a kriffing word this whole time? What’s he like?”

“I don’t know,” you confess. “I only saw when they brought him in last night. He was still armored. And terrifying.”

“I saw him,” Hali says. “He was in the lounge.”

“They took him to the lounge after his first fight?” you say, jaw hanging open. The after-party was a grotesque performance, with sponsored fighters forced to smile pretty and play nice with their benefactors after a victory.

“No,” Hali’s face is grave. “They displayed him. They’ve chained him up next to his armor.”

You cover your mouth to stem the nausea. “No,” you hiss through your fingers. The disrespect hurts, raking through like a nexu claw to the chest, and you don’t even know the man.

Eli sets a hand on your knee from where he sits cross-legged beside you on the bottom bunk. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“I know,” you say. But he knows you, sees it written between your brows, and hears it in the crack of your voice.

It’s a weakness; you know it. It had been a strength back home. Every single being that passes through your barrack doesn’t have long. The small hall of cells is a port, and you are the ferryman. Knowing each of them for the last scant moments has only made you love harder and faster.

To try and ease a soul’s journey is a burden you have always chosen to bear.

Come morning, sure as the stars, your cells are full. The Mandalorian is not the only new face—there’s a humanoid woman in C-1, too. The Klatoonian had been gone before the noon bell prior, and his cell cleaned by your hands within the hour after. Ovesu had survived four battles over ten days, but no trace of him remains now.

You start with her, Reen Sala of Drall. She’s on the roster for early afternoon, and you want to make sure she’s got food in her.

You tell her as much.

“Today? Already?” She wraps her fingers around the window bars, peering at you.

“Yes,” you say solemnly, sliding the tray through the slit at the bottom of the door. “Eat quickly. They’ll be coming to get you any minute. They’re going to take you up and prepare you and make you watch the day’s first battles.”

She has a steadiness to her eyes and stock to her build, just enough to have a chance. When she begins to eat, her hands only shake slightly.

“Are you a farmer?” you ask, watching her broken, stubby fingernails wrap around the metal cup of water.

She nods, gulping down quickly to add, “Mostly grains. Eggs. Basics.”

You give her a wan smile, the image of her in a sun-soaked field behind your eyes. It would have to be enough. If she held on, maybe she could fill in the picture.

“Thought so. Me too. My parents have a grove on Hetzal,” you say.

You chat for a few minutes, exchanging tales of her chasing tipyip and you sneaking honeyfruit and shuula during harvest.

“Good luck,” you murmur when you finally step away.

You don’t linger with Disdraa, the Twi’lek in C-3. She took a nasty blow to the head yesterday, so you slide her tray in as quietly as possible, hoping she’ll steal some extra rest.

Which brings you to the Mandalorian. He has no other name in your database. A mistake, you wonder, or an erasure?

When you knock on his door, you keep your eyes downcast. The decision you made in the lift was impulsive, but clear. He will have this respect here, if nowhere else.

“Good morning,” you say.

It’s silent.

You slide the tray under the door. “Do you need anything?”

Nothing.

“Okay, I’ll be back this evening if you think of something.”

Din rolls his eyes in the dark room. Does the quiet, simpering little act really work on the other prisoners? He vaguely considers rejecting the tray just to irritate you.

But he’s a Mandalorian. He doesn’t give in to petty spite when survival is on the line. He has battles to win and to do so, he must eat.

The food is bland but nutritionally complex, so if he keeps up a routine, he should be able to maintain his strength. He’s already run through and decided the optimal calisthenics and body weight routines he can do in the confines of his quarters.

He’s not stupid enough to think all the fights will be so quick or easy. The only benefit, and he’s unwilling to call it that, of not having his armor is that he’s so much faster.

He’ll get out.

He has a promise to keep.

When the Death Star fell three years ago, it took nearly the entire Rebel Alliance with it. The rest were scattered in the ash. And when the Empire barely flinched, the Mandalorians knew their time was running out.

With one loss notched on their belt already, they would have to strike swift and sure.

And so Din’s life as the rebel liaison began.

When he went to Gideon’s cruiser, he had no backup. Technically, no one even knew where he was. But espionage and false diplomacy took too long, purged time they did not have. And he wasn’t going to get another chance to try.

He lost the intel in the skirmish but gained a sword he knew not how to wield, a title he knew not how to bear, and a son he knew not how to raise.

The guards come for Reen, forcing you to finish your deliveries in a tense, silent two minutes.

She doesn’t come back. You paint her picture that night while her soft face and sun-streaked sangria widow’s peak are still fresh in your mind. It, as with most of your books, is stained with errant tears.

Eli had convinced you to keep the ones you ruined with grief, when you first began, desperate not to forget.

“It’s just more proof they were alive if they were also mourned,” he said, flipping reverently through the pages.

It goes against the practice, but it’s not even the most egregious way you’ve had to compromise, so you let it go. This is not the Hall. You have no easels, no canvas, no priestess.

You wonder who’s taken over your space, who they plucked from the apprentices to take over the memorials.

The pictures are small, stacked across the page like a quilt. Most of them have a name, maybe an age, maybe a planet, inked into the corners.

It's certainly not the scale you’re accustomed to, and your colors are limited to the pigments you can press from your dinner, unblessed and unpurified, but you make do.

You never paint them while they still live, not wanting to tether their souls to the pages while they have a chance. But they are yours, and so you will take the burden of remembering from their souls.

“Tray, please,” you say after knocking on the Mandalorian’s door that evening. He’s slow to respond, but you don’t mind. It’ll be a bit before he gets accustomed to the routine, if he makes it that long.

Most don’t.

It grates against the floor when he kicks it out, and you exchange it for the full tray of dinner.

“Do you need anything?”

Silence.

“Okay, have a good night.”

You don’t have hurt feelings. It’s the way of things. Some of the beings who come through never speak a word to you. It doesn’t change your loyalty or your duties.

Din is determined to puzzle you out. Why the farce? Everyone else he’s encountered is open in their disgust and amusement. He’s a novelty, a prize, a disgrace. What purpose does your feigned care serve?

“—dining with us tonight?” calls the inmate to his right in C-3.

You make a show of rolling your eyes, taking the last two trays from the cart. You slide one to the Twi’lek who had spoken.

“Depends. Are you going to behave?” you say.

“I always behave,” the fighter lies.

You seem to laugh, just a silent huff of amusement, and sit down with your back against the wall between the two cells.

He can’t see you from here, but he can hear snippets of you making light conversation between bites.

Something you say gets a lighthearted rise from the Devaronian in C-4 across the hall.

“Old? You want to talk about being old?” he booms.

C-3 groans. “Don’t get him started, come on.”

You laugh. “—else to bitch about. I’m saving— trouble.”

“…that I should suffer your disrespect,” C-4 is trying to say over you.

“Yeah, yeah, Vrar, you’re a terrifying grumpy—,” you tease.

A pause. A murky mumble from C-2.

“—you, Mandalorian? How old—?” You ask, tearing a chunk off your bread roll and popping it in your mouth.

He doesn’t answer.

After you leave, it grows quiet. A few moments pass, as if he was just waiting for you to get out of hearing range, before Vrar speaks up.

“Mando. You holding up? Any injuries?”

Din sits silently on his cot, leaning against the wall.

“Alright, I get it. You don’t have to talk to me. But can you be more respectful to the girl?”

If it’s bait, it works. “I don’t make a habit of being respectful to my captors.”

To his surprise, Vrar barks a hearty laugh. “Is that what you think? She’s a slave, Mando, same as the rest of us.”

Din feels hot guilt rise in his throat. “My mistake. I’ll do better.”

Vrar grunts his approval, and that’s that.

The next morning, when you ask if he needs anything, he tells you, “No, thank you,” in a soft but sure tone.

You straighten a little abruptly and try not to look shocked. “Okay. Good luck today,” you say, and move on. You’re pretty sure if you draw attention to it, he’ll never speak again.

You aren’t privy to the way things operate up top. All you know is that they take your fighters randomly, with at least one day between as a rest. Sometimes, it’s longer between fights.

But not for Mando. For the next two weeks, it’s every other day like clockwork. They’re capitalizing on his novelty, you think, but also hoping to wear him down.

Rumors tell you he’s become a quick crowd favorite. It should mean he has a shot at earning his freedom, but rumors also tell you he has the highest price on record.

They don’t want him free, and they don’t want someone to buy him.

No, they want him to die in the arena.

next chapter

thank you so much for reading! i live for your feedback, and i'm not above begging so if you have any thoughts pls let me know

*title from "Get Out Alive" by Three Days Grace

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fic #gladiator!din #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x you #fic: live to rise

125 notes · View notes

moodymisty · 2 months

Note

Mayhaps some Angron/fem reader with 7+12+54 from your kink list if you’re up for it? He seems like the kinda guy that would bite and definitely wouldn’t be gentle about anything in the slightest

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Authors’s Note: Suedo-continuation of this fic. Time to ride that massive Nucerian dick all the way to the pearly gates. Or at minimum to the infirmary. I've been beating my head on this for ages and it has dust on it, but enjoy.

Summary: Angron returns to Terra from a crusade, and finds himself wanting.

Relationships: Angron/Fem!Reader (reader from my StolenHistoritor!series)

Warnings: NSFW, Rough sex, Biting, That World Eaters dick hit different and by different I mean it rearranges your insides like a blender

Word Count: 1227

Lady of the World Eaters.

You don't like the title; But no one knows what else to call you. Simply put it was the only title that appealed to your current stature, even if it doesn't perfectly fit.

You aren't his beloved, you don't know if he can even utter such a word, but you know there is something here that he deems special. Perhaps there just isn't a word for it, in High or Low Gothic.

Angron’s Macgragge-born Historitor just doesn’t ring quite as well, either. Is a bit of a mouthful as well.

Angron's wing of the massive Imperial palace is its own world in an of itself. You could only assume that the other Primarchs have similar living quarters that are appropriately grandiose, though it's only speculation; You haven't seen them and probably will never will.

But you had just gotten out of a bath when Angron returned. The loose piece of clothing you put on simply to prevent from getting cold hit your mid thighs, shapeless and thin. It wicked up the water against your skin slowly, until you felt mostly dry.

The loud thud of boots on the stone floor had gave him away, but for a moment you had assumed it was simply the sound of patrolling Custodes; Until it continued closer and closer, and then stopped.

Angron entered, lacking the brushed and scratched bronze armor you're so used to him wearing. Instead he wore a more comfortable- at least you assume so- pair of trousers that tucked into thick, furred boots. He lacked any sort of top, as despite Terra being quite frigid currently, he had little care about it. If he's anything like his Astartes, his blood runs so hot it would take a chill beyond what Terra can produce to make him shiver.

You stood there frozen, half dressed and standing damp in the middle of a dim room. He looked down with an unreadable expression from his overwhelming height. It felt like minutes, but it was more than likely only a few moments.

But you'd never felt so small as you had then; Unable to know what he was thinking. It was always hard to, but even then it seemed like he was impossible to know where he was in his own head.

As while you've kissed him, and he's returned it, it's never gone much farther. You had assumed the Nails had taken it away; His ability to feel something as intrinsically human as desire.

But apparently, he still can.

“A-Angr-“

Your voice comes out in short gasps has he fucks you, fists clenched. It feels like he’s in your stomach, and he can only just bury himself to the hilt. You’d fear what would happen if he pushed it even farther. If he lost just a bit of restraint.

Perhaps it’s another part of the Nails’ torture. That the one person he's found that actually loves him he can’t even touch to the fullest, that they aren’t made for him and could crack under the slightest misuse.

He hasn’t said a word, other than sharp breaths and grunts, his hand on your hips bruising as he pulls you to him. You had been on your knees, but it was not long before your fell to your stomach and laid nearly flat on the massive ocean of a bed.

Your neck aches, you know he's broken skin and blood probably trickled down your neck, only now having relief that he can no longer reach it. The angle would be too severe, he stands too tall to be able to press his face into your neck while he fucks you.

It had felt good at the time, now it complains and aches, and you'll have marks serving as an easy reminder to you'll need to cover up.

Your hands grip the bed with your nails threatening to tear the fabric, intricate and expensive; Far beyond anything Angron is used to. You know he's refused most of Terra's more frivolous things. Perhaps that's yet another reason why his fellow primarchs have been so surprised by your existence, perhaps.

Your face feels hot, skin boiling as your stomach ties itself in knots, tight like it’s going to snap. You haven't looked towards him in awhile, you can see his shadow and feel his bare skin against your own, but for some reason you can't gather the will to look over your shoulder. Perhaps it's the embarrassment, as he brushes against nerves to deep inside of you that you gasp and squirm underneath him. His grip keeps you held firm however, as even though escape is the last thing on your mind, you'd never be able to do so anyways.

He is still be going to leave your battered and bruised for days, however. Even with his grip on your hip being so soft for his own strength. But his gentleness in context has left you trying to swallow moans instead of screams.

You attempt to keep most of the swears you utter under your breath as you cum, fingers tight around your one mouth as he simply continues to fuck you.

It’s so close to pain, but you’re used to teetering that knife’s edge with him. That how it feels at almost every moment you're around him. You barely notice it, anymore.

You can feel the moment he finishes inside you from the way he slows, and you hear his fist clench around the metal of the bedframe tight enough to crunch it. More restraint. He's always trying to keep the Nails held back.

You can also tell just how much; When he pulls out you can immediately feel it leak from you, slick against your thighs.

He pulls away, and you can still hear his sharp exhales through his nose. You don't know if it's because he's actually winded like yourself, with a racing heart and flushed skin, or that the Nails are biting at his mind again.

You roll, giving a soft groan in pain as you look up from underneath him.

You feel so small.

One of his hands reaches towards you and grips your jaw tilting it; You barely manage to hold in a wince as he observes your battered neck.

He’s silent. Angron is surprisingly so whenever you’re around. You always wonder what he’s thinking. He notices the bruising and droplets of blood on your neck, at minimum. That even the most gentle abused caused it. You hear him let out an exhale.

“You should go to the apothecary.” He’s blunt. You lay more comfortably in the bed underneath him, but you still feel pinned under his eyes. If he was someone else you'd think he was wanting you to leave, but from the way he's looking at you and keeping you caged, that seems to be the last thing he wants.

“It doesn’t hurt,” You say, and he hums. “I’ll wait till tomorrow.” The blood has stopped, anyhow. It'll be more painful to leave him and spend an hour there than it would be to just lay here. The entire time you've still felt his hand on your hip, skin warm. It drifts down slightly more towards your thigh.

He shifts and moves to once more press his mouth against your neck, but gives you little more than an accepted noise of understanding.

#Angron x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #Angron/Reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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oumaheroes · 3 months

Text

My submission for the @hws-anthology! Thank you so much to all of the mods for making this possible

Characters/ Ships: England, France- FrUK (But gently… softly)

Summary: The rediscovery of lost relics has a habit of awakening unwelcomed feelings. The past overlaps with the present far more than France realises.

---------‐----------------

Sunken Nostalgia

‘There you are. Hiding as usual.’

England looked over his shoulder at the sound of France’s voice. He was leant against the railings of the walkway overlooking Portsmouth harbour, wearing a light coat and stood as far as he could get away from the main crowds without missing the view. It was a busy day, unsurprisingly given the circumstances, and even where he was on the waterfront people were thronged out all along the railings and in the nearby buildings to get the best look at the happenings out at sea. It was not every day that a ship this old- a rare find indeed for how intact it was rumoured to be- was raised back to the surface. Some more eager watchers had even gone out onto the water themselves; past England, France saw a small pleasure boat packed with onlookers come in closer to shore to avoid an official navy ship, bearing down imperiously on anything in its way.

Maybe sensing his wish to be alone from just his expression, or from whatever it was that connected their people to them as they so keenly were, the onlookers nearest to England had given him as wide of a berth as they possibly could. He stood there in the crowd out of place and alone, a lone island close pressed by a sea of mortal life that dare not come closer than the five feet he mentally permitted.

‘I wondered when you’d show up.’ Was all England said as France approached.

‘You thought that I would?’

‘No, that I’m still surprised by. But I felt you arrive a few hours ago.’

‘Ah.’

‘Boat? Plane?’

‘Plane, then train. You know as well as I do that those ferries are frightful things.’

‘That’s just your delicate constitution talking.’

France didn’t bother to reply. He joined England at the railing and handed him one of the takeaway cups that he was carrying, waggling it when he hesitated.

England took it gingerly, ‘You should have told me you were coming.’

‘What on earth for.’

‘Common courtesy. It is my land you are invading.’

‘I’m invading, am I? Today’s events affecting your terminology?’

England gave him a dry look and popped open the lid of his cup, ‘You brought me tea?’

‘You like tea.’

‘I do.’ England looked suspicious. ‘You never bring me tea.’

‘Hmm.’ France made sure the lid of his own cup of bitterly dark coffee was secure and leant his arms against the railing’s cool metal, ‘Well, your look of disgust will lose its charm if I see it too much.’

‘As long as you breathe I’ll wear it, so you don’t have to worry about it going anywhere.’ England took a tentative sip and turned back out to the water.

Portsmouth harbour spread out around them, deep docks and industrial ships on the murky grey sea. Beyond the harbour and out to the horizon were large, sturdy boats, supporting a large, odd looking white crane that rose impossibly high up into the sky. It looked something like a praying mantis, all arms and disproportionate length.

France ran a hand through his hair to tame it back, and wished that he’d remembered to bring a hairband with him. ‘Finally happening then, is it?’

‘Apparently so.’

‘It’s been talked about for long enough.’

‘They had to invent a way to raise her without damaging her.’

‘I’m still surprised there’s anything of the Mary Rose (1) left to raise. Or damage.’

England made a non-commital noise.

France gently swirled his coffee, trying to cool it. ‘You weren’t on her when she went down were you?’

England shot him a warning look, eyes going to the humans nearby. ‘No. I was moved to another one the day before. A change in gunners, or perhaps one of the captains was unwell; I can’t remember. But I should have been. He blamed me for her loss, though.’

‘Henry?’(2)

‘Hmm.’

‘I would have blamed you too. Poor thing was so heavy in the water, like a round, fat duck.’

England rolled his eyes, ‘You weren’t even there.’

‘I was on the shore.’

‘Exactly. No where near the actual danger.’

‘I’d had enough of fighting you at sea, thank you.’

‘You knew you’d lose, that’s why.’

‘My love, need I remind you whose sunken ship we are waiting to see dragged out of the mud?’

‘Which was sunk from an oversight-‘

‘Your navy’s oversight.’

‘And not from any effort on your part.’

France leant over and kissed England on the cheek, his cool skin growing warm as France stayed close to whisper in his ear, ‘Your misplaced insistence is scaring the children.'

To their left, a small child had wandered away from their family and now stood close enough to likely hear them. He stared up at them, wide-eyed and baffled until his mother clucked for him to come away.

England stepped rather rudely on France’s shoe, ‘If anyone’s scaring them, it’s you.’

They fell into silence, sinking under the general chatter of the people around them and the sound of the waves breaking against the concrete embankment below.

‘When do you leave for the Falklands?’(3) France asked after a while, risking a taste of his coffee. It was disappointingly English, ‘I assume you’re going, now that things have become serious.’

‘As soon as this is done.’

France nodded and nudged him gently with his shoulder. ‘How far you have fallen. Surely your navy isn’t quite so lacking that now they’re forced to recruit your long-fallen flagships.’

England smiled, safely hidden at the corner of France’s eye, ‘Depends on who you ask.’

‘Well, if you ask me-‘

‘I’m not.’

‘You should, you know. I’d give you the truth.’

England laughed, a sharp bark, ‘Why are you really here, Francis.’

France ignored England’s eyes on him and shrugged, ‘Just to watch.’

‘Just to watch. Why?’

‘Why not?’

England snorted, disappointment shown only in the downturn of his mouth, and turned away.

----------------------------

It didn’t happen.

Deteriorating weather, a problem with the crane, some drama between the Mary Rose Trust and the army personnel that were helping them- it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. What was one more day to her or to them, after so many centuries waiting.

That night, quiet and contemplative in England’s small hotel room, France closed his eyes to the memory of canon fire and felt for England’s familiar hand in the dark.

----------------------------

If England was still curious as to why France had stayed with him to watch the Mary Rose be raised, or why he was there in the first place, he didn’t let it show. He left for the harbour early the next morning, jangling the hotel room keys before France’s bleary eyes and placing them silently on the bedside table. France found him again later in the same spot as the day before, when the sun was actually up and thus made the goings on visible.

It was just as busy as the day before. Boats of all sizes bloomed like algae on the water and the crowds watching on the harbour grew larger every passing hour.

‘I wonder if they’ll find clothes,’ France mused before the worst of the onlookers had arrived. It was overcast and cool, the temperature made bitter by the morning, and France stood chilled next to England who was annoyingly content with it all.

‘I doubt it. Been down there for too long, most of it will have rotted away.’

‘I hope there’s still something caught up there. I like it when they find everyday items in these sorts of things: combs and clothes and such. Little reminders of what things were once like every day.’

‘They won’t find much. Far too old.’

‘It would be nice if they did. I don’t have anything from that far back. Nothing fabric, anyway.’

England watched a seagull pass overhead, screeching loudly, ‘What on earth would you do with it?’

‘Nothing.’ France shrugged, ‘Have them restored and put in a museum, most likely. Using them isn’t the point. Remembering and admiring them is, looking upon examples of who we were and how we lived.’

‘Is that why you’re really here? To steal any potential treasure they find?’

France scoffed. ‘Hardly. Damp and rotten English fabric has no value for me.’

‘Mock it, then.’

‘Far more likely.’

England shook his head and picked at his coat sleeve.

France leant his head on his elbow and watched England’s fingers, remembering fat gold rings with inlaid expensive stones which had once sat there. Smaller hands, a youth’s hands- skin stained black with gunpowder beneath torn lace. England had never been able to keep himself from ruining his clothes. He walked through delicate things like cobwebs, hardly seeing them at all, a magpie-like need for finery without understanding its function.

‘It’s strange to think about us doing that now, isn’t it?’ France mused.

England stopped and looked up, ‘Wearing those sorts of clothes?’

France nodded to the waves, ‘Us warring on the Channel. The Channel of all places. Odd, isn’t it, how that sort of thing feels like strangely like childhood.’

‘This isn’t the Channel, this is-’

‘Oh, stop it, you know that’s not what I meant.’

‘Either way, say the word,’ England’s face was serious but his eyes betrayed him, ‘It’s been far too long without practice in my opinion. You’re too close for comfort these days- quicker boats and planes and all that.’

‘There are talks of a tunnel, you know.’ (4)

‘God.’

‘One road to connect us.’

‘Abysmal.’

‘I can be here within an hour or two.’

France was surprised when all England did was give a short, quick laugh, ‘I suppose I’ll need to change my locks.’

----------------------------

Despite several signs to the contrary, eventually something notable did happen.

A rippling of the water, the line of the crane rising, and then the old wreckage of the Mary Rose slowly emerged to the modern day in her metal coffin. From the docks and the televisions, sixty million people watched the blackened ribs of her cracked belly emerge to a thunderous cheering and the cannon fire of reawakened city defences. The first breath of air she’d felt in nearly five hundred years, the old Tudor wood greeting a new Elizabethan age.

Watching her return on modern concrete embankments, her last living sailor smiled widely to see her. England’s expression softened to something younger and boyish as the old ship became visible, as if greeting an old friend after years apart.

France tried to see it through his eyes, past the dark remains and the sludge to find something beautiful or special. Something which matched the colours and the vibrancy of the period that he remembered, hopeful nostalgia given physical form.

It was a disappointment. Nothing remained of the old ship but fingers of dark wood, skeletal and misshapen. All else was lost: the once tall, straight mast, the billowing sails, and her black shiny cannons over a beautiful crafted wooden hull. She had been beautiful. What was left behind was nothing at all but a lump of something undefinable, impossible to see as a ship at all without being told so.

Yet England was still smiling, relaxed and loose as he took in the crowds and the scene on the water.

France shook his head and dug his cigarettes out of his pocket. ‘You look as if she has returned whole.’

To his regret, now aware that he was being watched, England’s easy openness vanished, face smoothing back under his usual control, ‘Shut up.’

France offered him a cigarette, ‘There is nothing wrong with that. Though I admit that I had hoped there would be more. From what the news had been saying-‘

‘This is more than they ever thought we’d get. And even fifty years ago, this wouldn’t have been possible. Humanity’s come a long way.’

‘Maybe too far.’ France cupped his hand around his lighter to protect it from the wind and held the cigarette in his lips. The smoke filled his lungs, sweet and safe. ‘I hoped to see something I recognised. All this fanfare and money and all you’ve got for your troubles is a few pieces of old wood.’

‘It’s more than I had before.’

‘But aren’t you unhappy with that? Didn’t you hope to find more; for her to be better preserved, at least?’

England thought for a moment, flicking the end of his cigarette with his thumb to scatter the ash in the breeze. ‘No,’ he said eventually, ‘I think no matter what she could have looked like, she wouldn’t live up to how I remember her.’

He paused. Then added, ‘Those ships were once everything. The fastest travel, the most powerful weapons, the only way to get safely off my land with any distance. I think that if she had come back perfectly whole, I would find her more disappointing; I’d only see how jarringly small she is against everything else.’

France considered this. ‘You are right in that this is an odd world she has come back to. Nothing is the same from when she sank, not the look of the shores nor even the language. Technology, ideas, religion-’

‘I’m still here,’ England said. A hint of his soft smile had returned, eyes back on the strange crane and its messy cargo. ‘It’s the same soil. Same air, same skies. That’s essentially what we are, isn’t it. The passing things no one thinks about which change on the surface but remain the same underneath.’

France didn’t reply and England coloured, seemingly only then aware of what he’d said. ‘Besides. Who else would know exactly what’s missing but us. I’d rather think about what’s still there.’

‘There I was, thinking you’d gone sweet.’ France flicked the end of his cigarette into the water below them and hooked one arm through England’s, ‘The Falklands ignored for this; I would never have guessed you’d favour sentimentality over current politics.’

‘I don’t.’

A lie, a lie. England young, his small hands smoothing mud over his old torc, hoping to keep it hidden and safe from harm. He could have instead given it to please Rome: new, hungry invader eager for twists of Celtic gold. A lie, a lie- England at his Plantagenet court, eyes on the windows to the sea and the unknown beyond whilst behind his back his monarchy and way of life tore itself apart, a dirty boy in fine clothes who’d have been just as happy in rags if they’d kept him warm.

A lie, a lie. Arthur after Alfred left, more heartbroken that he should have been for the loss of one colony among many.

France smiled, ‘Of course you don’t.’

They looked out to the boats and the crane in silence, listening to the crowds and the seagulls overhead. The unchanging sounds of millennia, birds and welcoming crowds watching as ships with their sailors returned to them.

Glancing down the seafront, to the people young and old clapping and shouting with the ancient city at their backs, England seemed to read France’s thoughts. He stepped closer, their arms still linked- a solid weight against France’s side. ‘It’s all the same thing, isn’t it. Just dressed differently.’

France thought of all the things he’d had and lost over the years, from delicate gold trinkets to wooden shoes, handmade woollen tunics to the finest silks. Different versions of his long life kept safe and lost somewhere in the soil. Whether they were whole or not didn’t bring the past any closer.

Maybe, merely closure was enough.

‘Yes. I suppose so.’

----------------------------

AN:

A huge thanks to the always wonderful TheDisappointedIdealist12 for kindly beta reading this more times than needed and being my creative sounding board. Thank you for your help, your friendship, and for everything else

Historical Notes:

The Mary Rose was, as touched on in this fic, an English battle ship which sailed from 1511- 1545 and was a key part of several major battles between England and France. She was sunk in July of 1545, theorised due to the reasons listed here- overfull with men and heavy, she keeled over in the water when she was turned to fire guns. Aside from this, the sinking could also have been due to gunports being left open (let all the water in as she turned), the wind hitting the sails at the wrong time, or age making her too heavy. Potentially, it was a combination of several reasons. She sank not far from the port of Portsmouth, in the Battle of the Solent. She was raised in 1982, when this fic is set. Learn more about the Mary Rose here! https://maryrose.org/about-the-mary-rose/

King Henry VIII was King of England from 22 April 1509 until his death in 1547. Henry is best known for running through wives like there was no tomorrow in a violent, unstoppable fashion, and spending lots of England’s gold. Much of this gold was stolen from looted monasteries he had decided weren’t very important any more, after he’d turned the Kingdom Protestant from the traditional Catholic just to marry his mistress (whom he later beheaded- yay!). The Mary Rose was said to be his favourite ship, and he tried to have her raised in his lifetime

Falklands War: The Falklands War, a not officially declared war between the United Kingdom and Argentina which lasted 10 weeks. It was fought over the British territory of The Falklands (Islas Malvinas) which lies off the coast of Argentina in 1982. The war spanned April to June, and the Mary Rose was raised in May with the British Army being heavily involved. As both were happening at once, many soldiers involved in the raising had friends or knew those in other units who were at that moment going off to fight. It made things somewhat tense and frustrating, according to some involved (This is the documentary I watched whilst researching this topic, I recommend giving it a watch! It has interviews with some soldiers who comment about this odd situation https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAJgKunmGdk)

Channel tunnel: The Channel Tunnel, the underground route between the south of England and the north of France connecting Dover to Callais, was only built in 1994- 12 whole years after this fic is set. Arthur has a few years of peace left

#aph england #aph france #hws england #fruk #hws france #arthur kirkland #francis bonnefoy #hws #aph #hetalia #hetalia anthology #hws anthology #hws zine

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sithlordchopper · 1 year

Text

Can I Ask You Something?

Tech x Reader (implied female, no y/n)

Tech decides to clarify something that has been on his mind as you two are stuck alone in a broken lift

18+

Word Count: 8194

Warnings: NSFW, face fucking, phone (comm channel) sex, oral sex, dirty talk, cum swallowing, slightly dom Tech, armor kink, mentions of voyeurism

"Can I ask you something?"

Your hands stilled as you took a second to comprehend what was just said to you. Reaching down to carefully put the panel still attached by it's wires against the wall of the lift, you let out a warm huff of air, scrunching down on your knees further as your head lolled down and to the side, you could feel the warmth of your breath radiate back into your face from just how close you were to the durasteel plate lining the lift wall.

"No, Tech, I haven't finished disconnecting the wires from the lift control panel, it's too dim in here and I can't quite see what I-"

"That was not the subject of my inquiry, but I do appreciate your honesty." Tech interjected, standing to your right. He did not change positions to look down at you as he attempted to clarify what he meant. His hands were still busy at work within the right side control panel located within the lift, or so you thought. From your position crouched on his lower left you couldn't really see much of what he was doing. For all you knew, the clone was elbow deep inside the walls of a broken Imperial lift, hard at work trying to fix a broken circuit. The light on the side of his goggles was still on, yet he stopped moving before reaching up to turn the light off. The small bit of illumination provided from the light now gone as the rich red glow from the emergency shut off light above, embedded in the ceiling was all that was left.

Turning to now look at your compressed form, Tech could see you without blinding you, albeit the red light did not allow for the eye to pick up much detail, especially from that distance. The sound of Tech shuffling around was enough to cause you to look up at him, instinctually turning towards the source of the sound.

"What did you want to ask me then?" You really had no idea where he was going with this. Your head was swimming with a thousand different thoughts right now, and for the first time in a long time, Tech was not one of them. Being trapped inside an inoperational Imperial Lift in a now abandoned outpost facility was the first and only thing that had your undivided attention. Yet every passing second where you and Tech were not working in tandem to get yourselves out of this situation, the realization that you and Tech were trapped together, in the tightest and most secluded place you could possibly fathom grew, until it was at the forefront of your brain. Still, you had no idea what to expect from the technician as you glanced up at him and placed the spanner grasped in your left hand onto the cool redlit durasteel floor.

Making eye contact with you, Tech blinked and then looked back into the opened control panel he had his hands inside. You couldn't extrapolate much emotion or intention from the extremely brief glance you two threw at one another, however, you knew that whatever it was, it was distracting enough to cause Tech some discomfort. He was still wearing his helmet after all, which blocked out all facial cues, except for the ones he unconsciously made with those brown eyes of his. Even so, you had no read on the trooper, but the lift was getting warm and any second longer you spent in here you swore you would begin to go stir crazy especially if Tech didn't get on with it.

"Why do you look at me so often?" Tech stated in a very flat and critical manner, his voice catching you off guard and pulling you from the false sense of comfort provided by the previous silence. By the sound of it, Tech really had no idea. Not that you expected him to, but you were thrown off by how candid he was being. Before you could reply, Tech reached back up to turn the light on his goggles on once again and he resumed tinkering around in the opened panel.

"I need some more to go off of than just that, Tech." You countered, trying to keep your cadence and tone as close to his previous delivery as possible, not wanting to sound nervous.

"Let me rephrase my question." He kept his head straight, as you decided to take a much needed break from fiddling with the panel you removed from the wall earlier and changed positions to be sitting flat on the ground, back against the wall that was adjacent to you and Tech, on the left.

"Go on, I'm ready." You added, stretching out your legs behind Tech and removing your gloves.

"The frequency of you simply glancing in my direction as often as you do is far too low of a probability to be coincidental. I was wondering why that is. I tried to ask the opinion's of Hunter and Echo but they dismissed my concerns...seemed to find it quite amusing for some reason they did not fully explain to me. " You could hear the irritation towards his brothers in his voice, something about this was bothering Tech more than he was currently displaying physically. That compounded with the swift dismissal from Hunter and Echo, Tech was sure to be feeling disregarded about the true nature of your curious behavior, like he was the only one not in on this silly little secret.

Shit, did he know? Did he figure it out, or had Hunter been noticing you all but gawking at his brother and trying to keep your composure, and divulged Tech?

"Tech, don't put too much stock into whatever your brothers told you, you had a very valid question." You hummed out, feigning ignorance to his predicament and just flat out refusing to answer his question. Closing your eyes and crossing your arms you took in the borderline serene stillness of the broken lift before Tech could notice your own inner turmoil unfolding.

"So you do know you are doing it." Tech blurted out too quickly and curtly for your comfort as your eyes snapped back open and your hands grew clammy. Without thinking you recoiled your legs, knees moving up to your chest and jaw now clenched shut. Once you stopped moving, you realized that you couldn't hear Tech clamoring around in the wires anymore.

"D-doing what, looking at you?" You could feel your heart rate steadily increasing. "I didn't realize that I wasn't allowed to look at you or your brothers." The reply you gave was not very succinct or even a real reply at all, but the increase in adrenaline from Tech's impromptu interrogation was enough to ground your wit, preventing too large of a silence from being created and hopefully preventing Tech from prying some more. "There's some sort of clone joke in there somewhere, you know, similar appearance and...h-how you all look." You chuckled, but your accidental inflection on 'look' just gave away far too much, far too quickly and Tech's mind had already begun placing the pieces together. Tech could feel his mouth curling into a slight smirk before regaining his trademark level headed composure, however he stood still and didn't dare turn to look at you even as he formulated his reply.

"And how do they...look?" He mimicked your emphasis on 'look' so well that you didn't even catch the fact that Tech said 'they' and not 'we'.

"You look like.." you were trying to pick your next words oh so carefully, "you know...Jango Fett, tan skin, dark hair, brown eyes. You know, your nice, normal features."

Tech's hand dropped the tool he was holding within the panel he was working on as soon as 'your nice, normal features' fell off your tongue.

Shit, you said 'your nice features' and Tech heard it.

"So Hunter was telling the truth." Tech clicked the light on his goggles once again, turning the bright beam off as he turned to see you balled into yourself on the floor. Wide eyed, you looked up at Tech and suddenly back down, eyes falling level to the wall across from you, red light reflecting off of the shiny surface.

"Tech, what are you getting at?" Carefully, you stretched your legs back out in front of you trying to act as naturally and unassuming as possible as Tech stood there and observed. Moving his hand up to his mouth, he cleared his throat slightly before indulging you.

"Hunter told me that all of your glances and staring was due to the fact that you are attracted to me. I, however, did not believe him to be telling me the truth at the time." He pulled his left hand up to his helmet, fingers resting on the side of his head like he was deep in thought, right wrist resting on his hip slightly. "But that changed once you said 'you look nice' rather than 'they look nice.'"

It was far too dim in the room for you to gauge the expression of the clone standing above you. Not even sure if you did want to know, your mouth began to move before your brain had time to scrounge a comprehensive retort together. "Did you wait to ask me this until you got me alone because you're into me too?"

"Now that is an interesting extrapolation." The sound of Tech's smile was audible, causing you to swallow thickly before taking a steady breath.

"You aren't denying it." You couldn't think of any other way to get that statement out, so you just went for it. You two were already stuck in a lift so you might as well get it out in the open. At that thought, you glanced down at his codpiece, but were careful to keep your gaze moving, lest he catch you in the act of checking him out right now.

"That possibility was considered, however I did not want to corner you. Although from what I have read, that is sometimes the best way to invoke arousal with some individuals."

Did he really just say that out loud? There is no way that Tech wasn't flirting with you right now, but to be honest, you still couldn't get a good read on the clone.

"You didn't answer my question, Tech." You were trying to remain calm and keep your cool, and so far it was working. But you were still nowhere as calm as Tech seemed to be in this moment.

"I...have considered my feelings towards you and have come to the conclusion that I am attracted to you as well. Yet, I also came to the conclusion that that is irrelevant. The probability that you were attracted to my brothers was much higher than the probability of you being attracted to me; however, now that I know you do have a thing for clones, and more specifically, me, I have much more information to analyze and consider." Tech was now standing right in front of you, his arms crossed, legs apart and positioned over yours, still currently outstretched. Tech all but had you cornered in this lift, not like you could go anywhere else, it was broken, but damn was he right about being cornered creating a heightened state of arousal.

"What do you mean, a thing for clones?" You had an idea of where he was going with this, but your brain was short circuiting and you were left to think with the throbbing heat developing between your thighs instead.

Tech noticed you shift ever so slightly on the cold hard floor. He raised an eyebrow and looked down at you. Noticing a shift in his position as well, you whipped your head up to look at him, making sure to not look him up and down or stop your eyes on his body anywhere except his face.

"There are countless others on the run from the Empire and none of them are anymore wanted than we are. It is no more dangerous to travel with us than it is any other group or individual. Not to mention that statistically, you are not going to find another group of clones in the same predicament as we are currently. So why opt to travel with us?" Tech's breathing remained calm, yet you could hear the slight rasp growing in his voice as he explained his thinking to you. You opened your mouth to make a rebuttal, but nothing came out and you quickly shut it, huffing out slightly as you crossed your arms once more. He had a point but you weren't going to tell him that. He doesn't need any more ammunition against you, especially at a time like this. Tech shook his head slightly "I do not understand what is so appealing about us, sexually, I mean. We are no greater than any othe-"

"I like your armor. Brown eyes are my favorite. And you seem so stoic and hard to rouse. I want to know what makes you lose focus and let go. I want to watch you come undone." You can't help yourself as it all comes out all at once and it finally clicks once you're done telling Tech everything…well almost everything. The realization that Tech knows exactly what he's doing hits you hard and fast; a lesson you just can't seem to learn and now you are sitting in a durasteel prison of your own making knowing that Tech knows that you know exactly what he's doing, and it's getting to you far more than you or he ever thought it actually would.

"No, I did not purposely wait to get you alone to ask you if you were glancing at me intentionally." Tech finally answered your question that by now you totally forgot all about. You blinked at him before he silently chuckled to himself. "The answer to your question earlier?"

"Riiight." You nodded slowly, looking back up at Tech, trying to glean something from his eyes from behind that helmet of his. "But here we are, alone. Alone alone." You emphasized. Tech's stance remained unchanged but his blank look made you nervously reconsider your mounting proposal. You could feel the throbbing between your legs strengthen and felt your face get hot as you blushed. Good thing the light in the lift was red so it prevented any change in your cheeks from being noticed.

"What are you suggesting exactly?" Tech was quick to inquire, squinting his eyes. His curiosity was noticeable but he tried his damnedest to prevent you from also coming to the realization that he was feeling the warmth of arousal too. Tech hardly ever had to worry about others being able to tell exactly what he was thinking or feeling but the way you were looking at him made him feel as if he was a very hard puzzle that you had just solved. Noticing how much you were squirming on the floor underneath him, he hadn't even considered that standing over you like this would cause such a reaction especially between your legs, as he was also resisting displaying how turned on he really was. However, observing you wasn't enough. He needed to experiment with you a bit and wanted to see what you would do next if he stepped a fraction closer to you. He gave you no time to reply before he took a slight step towards you, his codpiece all but touching your lips, his arms were now fully crossed across his breastplate, and his eyes half lidded and glued to the very slim distance between your mouth and his codpiece. He watched as you took a tentative breath and licked your lips. I would wager that her tongue is so soft Tech thought to himself as you sat there, gritting your teeth and tensing your hands into fists by your sides, fighting every urge not to reach up and touch him.

"It seems to me that you already have it figured out." You couldn't help the slight sarcastic tone of your statement, but Tech found it amusing that you suddenly had an attitude now that he was towering over you, almost like you wanted him to do something about it to force you into admitting every salacious detail of what you wanted him to do to you; what you wanted to do to him.

"There was little doubt that I was wrong. After all, I am hardly ever wrong..."

You couldn't tell if he was being genuine or snide, but something about how he was towering over you, arm crossed, and all on display made you think the latter.

So he went into this mission knowing full well that shit would go south, thanks to that lab experiment bullshit brain of his, and decided that's how he's gonna make a move? Your thoughts were scattered, you couldn't help feeling turned on yet you were beginning to feel irritated, why did he wait so long to bring this up?

Unclenching your fists, you crossed your arms once more and glanced up at the tall clone currently standing over you in a more than suggestive manner. Your glance morphed into a glare and you exhaled forcefully, trying to think of something intelligible to say. However, Tech's expression shifted slightly derailing your train of thought. You couldn't see his mouth, but by the way his brown eyes squinted slightly, you could just tell he was smirking down at you.

"Arrogant little—" You gritted out through clenched teeth, eyes now squinting in annoyance before being cut off by the clone in front of you.

"Took you long enough to articulate yourself." Tech matter-of-factly pointed out. Despite his flat delivery you knew he was enjoying himself more than he led on.

"Very cocky but I guess that's to be expected of a clone whose brain was engineered to be bigger than his di–" You managed to snap out quickly before Tech cut you off once more, sensing where you were going before you even had time to get there.

"Oh, I think you enjoy my sense of confidence immensely by the way you are clenching your thighs and fighting the urge to do anything to me." So Tech definitely knew what he was doing to you, that asshole.

"You just said that you didn't think I returned your feelings, how does that equate to you having no doubt?" You had no idea what he was getting at or trying to prove, but it seemed like he was having too much fun playing with you for him to be sincere right now.

"Ah, I said that you returning my attraction was improbable, not impossible. I did not doubt that you had some sort of interest in me, just that it would have been worth my time to pursue," his voice remained in that typical Tech tone, drenched in rationality and only a slight amount of the condescension that kept your hands busy when you were up way too late, "evidently it is well worth my time. I just had no idea how to press this matter…" Tech couldn't help his almost giggle as he finally admitted that this was something he had considered previously, yet you noticed immediately as his voice stilled after admitting to his trepidation. You began to feel bad for giving him so much lip earlier because he really couldn't help it. He was only going off of what he most likely researched, whatever Hunter and Echo told him, and now, he could only respond and react to the information that you were providing. You took a deep breath and looked back up to Tech. He was still standing over you however his confidence in his current position and choice of action were starting to wane noticeably.

"Tech, do you trust me?" You said in a kind and steady voice, not letting your nerves get the best of you for what you were about to do.

"Of course, you have been kind to me since the day you joined us. I have no reason not to trust you fully." His reply was genuinely sweet, however you didn't let that sway you from leaning forward and placing a swift kiss on the outside of his plastoid codpiece. Pulling away from his armor, your lips created some slight suction, causing that distinct 'mwah' sound to reverberate through the small lift. Tech's face flushed and his goggles began to fog up at the slight pressure your kiss provided to his growing erection underneath his armor and the sight of you pulling your mouth away from between his legs. Tech let out a stifled grunt and stood rigid as a board, noticing your sudden shift in demeanor as well as his own. Regretfully, he wished that you retained that fiery defiance you had not long ago. Something about him watching you get aggressive over your feelings towards him was providing an ever growing stream of warmth to flow down to his center...and then some.

Looking up at the clone through your eyelashes, you licked your lips and sat back against the wall again.

"Oh, I might have miscalculated the effect your eyes have on me. The way you stare at me..." Tech trailed off as he closed his eyes and thoughtlessly palmed at his codpiece, still moist from the kiss you had just planted upon it. You watched in awe as the clone all but rutted himself against his own armor, trying desperately to soothe the excitement you instilled in him.

"Take that off and I can help you out with what's underneath." You chimed and Tech complied without hesitation. Watching as Tech unclipped his codpiece, you sat back and waited in anticipation. You wanted to watch this man come undone and you were determined to make it happen. Eyes glued to his fingers, the piece of plastoid fell to the floor of the lift with a muted clatter, but what really caught your eye was the sight of Tech's erection straining against his blacks. "Can I help you with something there, sir?" Tech let out a slight moan at the new title. You have only ever called Hunter sir out of respect, since he was technically the one in charge. However, the way it affected Tech was something neither of you expected. "You would like being called sir." You giggled as you leaned forward once again, hot breath exhaling out of your lungs and onto Tech's clothed dick.

"And you would like being cornered by a clone in a lift." Tech shot back, his voice straining as he felt the warm wetness of your breath over his now aching cock. Evidently he wasn't done trying to get you riled up either, though if he knew of the puddle you were sitting in right now... You sat thinking for a second, trying to ignore the fact that you were eye level with Tech's hard dick. Inches from your mouth, if he were to remove it from his under armor clothing you're sure that it would smack you in the face.

Oh Maker, that sounds wonderful.

You couldn't help the drool beginning to pool in your mouth at the thought of Tech this close to your face. "I would like it even more if that clone cornering me ordered me to suck his dick." A new sultry tone took over as you watched his dick throb and pulse. Damn, if you knew this was how this mission was going to go you would have pushed for it sooner.

"Is that so? And here I thought that you were one for voyeurism, as all you ever seem to do is stare at me..." Tech leaned down mid sentence and you hissed as his dick was removed from right in front of your flushed face, instead his face replacing it as he began to whisper, "and touch yourself while whimpering my name when you think everyone else is asleep."

You gasped at Tech and swung your arms up to swat at any part of him you could hit. You were able to knock that stupid bucket and visor from around his head, but he had anticipated your reaction and subsequent movements and managed to snatch both of your arms with his right hand and pin them up above your head and against the cold durasteel. You hissed once more at the sudden shift of temperature but that was soon forgotten as Tech grabbed his helmet from the ground where it fell next to your knee and abruptly smashed his lips against your own, eyes fluttering shut. He pulled away just as soon as he initiated the kiss and his eyes gleamed. "Interesting. I will need to research the effects of kissing and endorphins once we get back to the Marauder. You stopped resisting me immediately." There he was, back to his normal Tech self, albeit briefly, as he returned his gaze to you and your pinned arms, goggles fogging once again as he replaced his helmet upon his head and took a breath.

"How do you know that I-that I..."

"That you touch yourself to the thought of me? You are not as quiet as you think you are, darling. You really think I would not notice your high pitched whines and pleading. Sound carries exceptionally well along the metallic walls of the Marauder, not to mention the lewd sound of your fingers squelching in and out of yourself as you whine for me." Tech kept his voice steady, but there was a hint of arousal in there as you noticed the fog on his goggles growing once again. Too bad you couldn't see the way Tech's face was flustered, red light be damned. "It is also worth mentioning that Hunter can smell it. He can smell what I do to you as soon as he enters the room. Of course he would relay this information to me once I finally asked him about you and your wandering eyes. He does not like how…distracting it can be." Tech mused, so proud with himself over the way he got you so worked up without even trying to but he felt an uncharacteristic pang of jealousy over what Hunter told him several rotations ago.

You couldn't help but feel at a disadvantage here. Tech really did have the upper hand which was not something you expected for the type of conversation you two were having. "And what about what I do to you? Or does having your arms elbow deep in an electrical panel just really get you going, Mr. Technician, sir?" You nodded your head towards his very evident erection. The inclusion of his new pet name caused a groan to escape from his throat involuntary. You got him there and eagerly awaited his reaction.

With a sudden snap of his hips, Tech stood up straight, towering over you once more as he continued to restrain your arms overhead. "Since you have presumably been 'run through' by several other clones in the past, you know what to do." Tech was regaining that cockiness that he had at the beginning of this conversation, and finally to your anticipation, removed his throbbing cock from underneath his blacks. You let out a small sigh that sounded more akin to a moan and Tech glanced down at you. Carefully pulling his helmet up, he rested it over his head in a similar manner to how you’ve seen Wrecker wear his through downtime during missions and you watched patiently trying to piece together what he was going to do next. Before you had a chance to open your mouth and ask for more direction or question what he was doing, Tech grabbed the base of his hard cock holding it straight out from himself and spit, coating his cock, making it nice and slick. At that display of himself and his accuracy you opened your mouth and whined, tongue darting between your lips. Not only did Tech just insinuate that you had been passed around between plenty of his non-batch brothers, but he made it sound like you liked being used as a clone plaything. The mental image of that alone was enough to send you down a spiral of arousal and it was maddening that you couldn’t even touch yourself about it. You tensed your restricted wrists at the impulse to relieve some of that tension, only Tech did not let go of your arms.

“Tech!” You whined, trying your hardest to sound as desperate and needy as you possibly could, hoping to receive some pity from Tech as you watched how his dick throbbed in his hand. It worked, and Tech began pumping himself to the sight of you throwing a tantrum at being denied sexual gratification, hoping to give you something to look at.

He stopped stroking himself to put his helmet back on over his head fully and you huffed out in protest, not enjoying that your personal show was cut short for a seemingly stupid reason.

“I like your armor~!” Tech mocked you as he grabbed his dick once more, picking up on your displeasure towards something so trivial as him stopping to put his helmet back on. Tech wouldn't consider himself one for mocking others, but the way it was working on you was duly noted as he would surely remember this for later. You grunted in response to Tech and rolled your eyes, face burning much hotter than before.

Analyzing his current situation, Tech decided to do something risky, but he knew the pay off would be wonderful. Angling his hips closer towards your mouth, he glanced from your lips to your eyes back down to your lips, noticing just how much he was currently holding your undivided attention. Time to put everything his brothers implied about the true nature of your behavior to the test. “Now use that pretty mouth of yours. That is an order, do not make me repeat myself.” Tech waved his spit coated cock in your face and you leaned forward, letting him gently smack it against your cheek. It was so damn hard and so damn hot, you could feel your face being smeared with his spit and it only made you squirm against the floor even more. You looked up at him, desire and lust painted across your face, and could see that his eyes were back to their original half lidded position as you opened your mouth and made eye contact with him, sticking your tongue out and licking the head of his dick. Tech let out a moan followed by some curses in what sounded like Mando’a. You pulled away from him and grinned, noticing how Tech’s eyes were now completely shut.

He's moaning this much and I've barely touched him, no wonder he waited until we were totally alone.

Now it started to make a bit more sense as to why Tech would have waited this long to ask you what was up, he wanted to be sure he would be able to get away with this without the possibility of Hunter, or anyone for that matter, hearing him. That only increased your desire to make him lose control. Thinking about the fastest way to get this man to unravel, you started to pull your wrists from Tech’s loosening grasp once more. This time he hummed and obliged, letting your arms down and you immediately grabbed the base of his cock with both hands, causing the clone to choke out a grunt. Not giving him time to prepare himself, you positioned his cock at the opening of your mouth and then pawed at his hips, causing Tech to buck forward and push his dick down your throat. You moaned at his sudden reaction to you grabbing at his waist and felt as his dick throbbed from within your mouth.

Hearing you, Tech pulled his hips back as quickly he thrusted them forward. He wasn't sure if what he just did was okay or if it's what you even wanted, but your expression was slightly reassuring. You sat there, eyes glazed over and glued in-between Tech's legs, hands gripping the sides of his armor, drool dripping down your mouth and off your chin as it began to pool between your legs. Eyes nearly shut and face on fire you slowly looked up at Tech's concerned gaze, taking in every inch of the armor clad clone. You wanted nothing more than to reach up and drag your hands down his chest, whispering all the dirty things swirling in your mind to him.

"Was that alright, I did not mean to…" Tech wasn't even able to finish his sentence as your current demeanor was far too distracting for his brain to function for once in his life. "Oh, my, you look so…mhmm." Once he began to speak, your focus was pulled away from his dick and back up to his face, however that was short lived as your eyes travelled back down his neck, torso, and once again, on to Tech's cock. Noticing how you looked him up and down, Tech's dick twitched, which only caused you to open your mouth and lick your lips in anticipation.

"Tech, that was more than alright. Do it again. I…you—mmhmm, tastes so good." You slurred out, barely able to think straight. You didn't have to tell Tech twice and just as quickly as he thrusted into your mouth the first time he did it again with slightly more force.

The quick and sudden addition of his cock to your throat was not something you anticipated so soon and it caused you to gag slightly. The wet sound of you choking on his dick filling the lift and you could feel Tech's dick, still down your throat, throb at the sound you emitted involuntarily. "Mmm you take clone cock down your throat exceptionally well. You have done this before." Tech's voice sounded unlike it ever had before, it was lower and raspier and by the way he fucked into your mouth it was evident that he was waiting for this moment for a long time.

In order to allow you to attempt a reply, Tech steadied himself as he pulled his dick from your mouth, moaning out, as you lifted your tongue slightly, licking the underside of his dick. You rounded your lips and applied some suction before Tech fully removed himself from your mouth, creating a slight 'pop.' Eyes glazed over, you looked back up at Tech, as he slowly started stroking himself to the sight of you, saliva dripping from your mouth and chin. "A-and what if I have done this before?" You spoke as clearly as anyone could after having a dick forcefully inserted into their mouth twice in quick succession. Truth be told it was hard for you to think and it seemed to get only increasingly hard for you to formulate more than disjointed thoughts and sentences.

Tech, dick in hand, reached up to remove his helmet and tossed it to the ground carelessly. Looking you over once more he opened his mouth to reply. “I would not say that your behavior would surprise me. I have seen the way my brothers look at you, I know what they are thinking as I think it too.” Tech's jaw tensed as he huffed out a response, voice even lower, nearly whispering even though the two of you were alone in that lift shaft, almost like he was ashamed of the way he thought about you. However you knew better than that. Tech might not be the most charming or tactful out of his brothers but he was headstrong and confident to a level most would ascribe to arrogance; being ashamed of his thoughts was not something Tech was known for.

All things considered, not to mention the way he was standing over you, cornering you within this little isolated lift, Tech's behavior had to be calculated. Nearly everything the man did was thought out well in advance and the few occasions where he improvised, well that was also planned.

You glanced up at Tech quickly, hoping he didn't notice the quick side-eye you gave him as a smirk crept up upon your face as you listened to him, gloved hand moving up and down along his dick. “You must be so distracted by that. Thinking about me being underneath someone else…one of your brothers perhaps.” You sat forward, closer to Tech’s hand, held steady and firmly around himself. Tech, looking down at you, raised an eyebrow. He was absolutely certain he knew where you were going with that little comment about being underneath one of his brothers, but he wasn't sure what you were going to do next until he decided for you, taking a step forward forcing you to back up immediately, head making contact with the cool durasteel behind you with a light ‘thwack.’

“I must admit, that thought has crossed my mind, but not for the reason you might be inclined to believe.” Tech’s demeanor was unintelligible, not like you could ever actually tell what was going on behind those damn goggles of his, but something about this was different than before, it almost seemed like Tech was still playing with you. Hard dick still in hand, he lined it up with your mouth, smearing more of your spit across your cheeks, "Truth be told I have imagined you underneath many men, underneath many clones," and with a single motion, Tech’s cock was being shoved back into your mouth, pushing your head backwards once more into the durasteel wall, this time with a much louder 'thwack.' To keep his balance, Tech held up an arm to rest up against the wall as he fucked into your mouth again, with his other hand falling down gently onto the top of your head. You tried your best to keep it together as the clone continued to thrust into your face. Tears spilled out from the corner of your eyes as you focused all your effort on timing your breathing and movements of your tongue together so every time he pulled out you had a swift moment to drink in a much needed breath of air before he sunk his dick back down your throat.

Reaching for anything to give yourself purchase, your hand instinctively raised and grabbed for any part of Tech you could touch, which happened to be high up on his thighs right below his toolbelt. The only sounds within the lift were Tech's grunts and moans and that undeniable wet 'glck glck glck' of someone being face fucked as your solid grip on Tech turned languid and your nails began to scratch across the plastoid surface with every snap of the clone's hips as he continued to use your mouth for his own pleasure.

Tech's grip on your head softened as he slowed down to a halt and pulled himself from your mouth with a breathy moan. Down your cheeks and face, your tears continued to fall, mixing with the saliva and traces of Tech's precum from in and around your mouth. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you cleared your throat, "now who sounds like a voyeur," you all but laughed out now that you were able to talk.

"That is cute that you would believe that watching you get fucked by my brothers is what I desire." Tech leaned down, his face right in front of yours and he grabbed your arms gently. His eyes darker than before "I think we both know that I have the capability to fuck you far better than anyone else." You watched Tech's eyes closely, not able to pick up on anything other than his arousal that was rapidly devolving into aggressive arrogance. It was not like you hadn't anticipated this behavior from Tech, he was engineered to be much more intelligent than others however he always seemed to be grounded and level-headed about that. After all, his intelligence was not through effort of his own, it's just how he was.

"You are awfully arrogant for someone who couldn't tell why the pretty girl kept looking at him." Now was not the time to get mouthy, as Tech, still holding your arms lifted them up over your head at your stupidly timed remark.

"You respond well to confidence and given instructions; two things that I excel at. Not to mention that-" Before Tech could finish his sentence, his comm buzzed from within his helmet, still lying on the cool floor where Tech has nonchalantly tossed it, interrupting the moment between you to thus far.

"Signal finally seems to be going through, Tech are you two still up in that lift?"

You let out a frustrated sigh as you anticipated the release of your arms after Echo had so graciously interrupted the two of you, however that release never came. Instead, Tech casually looked down to his helmet and then back to you, his expression was extraordinarily blank considering his face fucking session was just interrupted. His expression remained blank as he took both of your wrists into his right hand once more and bent down to grab for his helmet. Placing his helmet back onto his head, he could now respond to Echo as he returned his other hand to restrain your wrists once more but not before a new idea popped into your head as you sat as cool as you possibly could in this situation, not wanting to risk giving anything away to Tech, especially since he had a tendency be steps ahead, immediately comprehending your intentions before you could act upon them.

"Yes, we are still up here." Tech said flatly, his voice now back to its normal cadence and tone as he looked you up and down, grabbing his now half hard cock and suggestively waving it in your blushed face, making sure to gently slap it across your lips and cheek as if he was saying ‘now be a good girl and keep quiet.’

"Do you two need any assistance getting the lift up and running?" Echo's voice was still audible to both of you from within Tech’s helmet in the now silent lift and you sat forward in anticipation for Tech's reply.

"That is not necessary, we have everything under cont-'' before Tech could finish his sentence you leaned forward even further and opened your mouth, taking his dick into the warm wetness once again and this time you applied more than a generous amount of suction. Enough in fact to hollow your cheeks noticeably in the dim red light. Tech clearly did not anticipate this type of behavior, or more aptly, misbehavior, from you as he instinctually bucked his hips at your sudden touch and let out a stifled moan, trying not to let his brother hear him.

"Is everything okay over there?" Echo, quick to concern, promptly replied to Tech’s incomplete sentence and to Tech's relief, nothing in the clones intonation implied curiosity or smugness as would be expected from someone who just overheard someone else getting their dick sucked.

"Yes. We are almost finished." Tech gritted out as you continued to suck and lick at him while he tried his hardest not to moan out, lest you actually bring him to orgasm as he speaks to one of his brothers in real time.

"Okay, well, be sure to hurry up. Oh, and don’t mess with anything else. We don’t need to be signaling the Empire of another breach of security.” This time it was Hunter’s voice coming through. You two must have been up here for much longer than expected if he was contacting Tech.

“Copy that, Hunter. I estimate that we will be finishing up momentarily.” Tech all but spat out, trying to keep his voice as even as he could but obviously trying to wrap up the conversation in record time. Once the comm channel was quiet Tech reached up to turn his comm off before he spoke as he shot you a look brimming with disbelief, irritation, and arousal. However, to his annoyance you played coy, making sure to swiftly pull your head back without breaking the seal of your suction, creating a loud, wet ‘pop.’

"You are absolutely unbelievable!" As rarely as it happened, Tech had no words for what you just did. That was something he had not calculated for during his own mental playthrough of this mission beforehand, yet it did not go unnoticed. He would definitely be using this against you at a later date you were sure of it. But for the time being, you wanted to have a little fun with it. You watched as Tech reached again for his comm, turning it back on before Echo or Hunter decided to come looking for the both of you after your brief bout of dead air. You glanced at Tech through your lashes as you blinked seductively and once again took him into your mouth and started sucking with enthusiasm. With each swipe of your tongue, each bob of your head, Tech grew closer and closer to his climax. He was now thrusting his hips into your mouth and clenching his jaw, trying so damn hard to not let any sound escape from his mouth.

"Alright, let us know when you g-." Echo’s voice crackled over the comm for the last time as Tech abruptly reached for his comm switch, fingers rapping against his helmet urgently.

“I, Oh Maker, going to--Ahh!” Tech moaned out unexpectedly and loudly, his face burning red hot with a mix of unchecked lust and a dash of shame, breathing ragged as he hit the comm switch turning it off just in time to prevent anyone from overhearing his climax as he slammed his hips into your face, cock throbbing as his cum spilled into your mouth and down your throat. You gagged, followed by a muffled moan at the sudden warm liquid, not expecting Tech to full on orgasm from you pleasuring him as he talked to his brothers. Making sure to swallow every drop so as to not raise Hunter’s suspicions on your return, you sat back and relaxed your sore neck and shoulders as best as you could considering Tech still had a hold on your arms.

"I think we should really get this lift fixed so we can get back to the Marauder before Hunter starts to put the pieces together." You spoke as you let Tech's now softening dick fall from your mouth. You didn't feel the need to remark about the specificities of how Tech came just now but you were going to tease him with that information another time, after all the ammunition you just provided him sexually about yourself…you're going to need something to retaliate with.

"Do not worry about that, I had finished repairing the controls before you mentioned my nice features." Tech smirked as he recalled your words from earlier. "We will be out of here and back on board the Marauder in no time. Maybe we can continue this later as I imagine you are considerably lubricated for penetration.” Your face flushed at how clinical Tech's correct assumption of just how wet you were sounded, back to typical technical Tech…the man came once and he’s already back to normal.

“...And finish momentarily he did.” You couldn’t help yourself at pointing out the irony of Tech’s words to Hunter, trying to brush over what Tech just said to you.

Tech shook his head and rolled his eyes, opting to ignore your own silly little comment about him orgasming while being addressed by his sergeant, but he would most definitely be revisiting that with you later, as you so eagerly anticipated. Lowering your arms, he helped you stand back up, letting you rest your weight on him to steady yourself. Once you were standing, you retrieved your gloves from the floor and grabbed Tech's spanner that he had lent you as Tech got himself together and redressed, retrieving his codpiece from the floor and positioning it back between his legs. "Oh, and one last thing." Tech didn't give you time to process his words as he lifted his helmet slightly and pulled you into his chest and tilted your chin up gingerly, kissing you. "Was I too rough with you?" Any arrogance or lust from before was long gone and replaced with concern as the clone held your face in front of his.

"No, in fact you could have been a lot rougher, sir." You giggled as you placed the spanner back into a pouch on Tech's toolbelt. The technician rolled his eyes at you playfully as he turned back to the fixed control panel and fiddled with it some more, returning it within the wall causing the red emergency lights to shut off as they were replaced with the normal white ones as the lift returned to its original operational state and started descending.

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