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sweetsunflowerkisses · 3 years

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rest.

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff (MCU) x Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU

Warnings: Mild language, cannon divergence, reader is kind of an oblivious shy dumb-ass who avoids her problems TvT

Summary: After everything life has put you through you just want to walk through life unnoticed and unbothered, but that seems to be out of the question when you're an enhanced working for the avengers and catch the eye of a certain speedster who just so happens to be your soulmate.

Word Count: 3.1k

a/n: this is very shitty and doesn’t make much sense im sorry i haven’t written something like this in so long :’)

Sokovia. 2015.

“Glad you like the view, Romanoff. It's about to get better.” Fury said punching buttons on his data pad, “Nice, right? I pulled her out of mothballs with a couple of old friends. She's dusty, but she'll do.” Fury laughed, looking over at the small but capable team of Ex-SHIELD agents, smiling, as the old helicarrier pulled up beside the ever rising city.

You looked out of the window as the battle raged on in the city, you still weren’t sure why Fury had asked you to come with him. After all, you didn’t exactly have a useful skill set for this fight, you couldn’t operate the fancy systems that kept the helicarrier in the air, and despite being enhanced you definitely didn’t have the fighting set to help out the avengers, who were fighting in the city, saving the planet from total destruction once again.

You sighed, turning your back to the window and going to stand next to Fury, who rarely let you out of his sight.

“Sir, I’m grateful you trusted me enough to bring me along but if I could ask, why did you bring me?, My skills aren't exactly useful here.” you said with a frown.

Fury looked down at you grimly, “Just a feeling Mrs. [L/N].”

You nodded, turning your attention to your colleagues, who were diligently aiding in the rescue of the sokovian citizens, and the battle raging on outside. You watched in awe as Tony Stark- or rather Iron Man and War Machine began to destroy the bots that had begun to attack the helicarrier.

Suddenly Agent Hill’s voice rang out “INCOMING!”. You barely had time to jump out of the way as a robot crashed through the front window, Maria immediately emptying her clip into it as Fury finished it off with a piece of metal debris.

“And here I was thinking I wasn’t going to see any action”, you quipped, staring at the mess of metal and oil on the helicarrier floor.

You sighed, trying to even your breathing, absentmindedly running your fingers over the inky black words imprinted on the inside of your wrist. In this world everyone had a soulmate, all 7 billion people, and the first words they’ll say to you appear on the inside of your left wrist when your born, which turns red after you have your first kiss with your soulmate, however you don’t have any expectations to ever meet yours, and you don’t really want too, after all life moves pretty fast when your an Ex-HYDRA experiment and an Ex-SHIELD trainee, and these days you really just wanted to spend the rest of your days unnoticed and unbothered - aside from work of course.

You were broken out of your thoughts when a voice crackled over the comms, “Guys we have a problem!” It was Agent Barton, his voice was panicked and his breathing was ragged, “Pietro’s been hit, I can’t tell if he’s alive or not.”

Fury looked over at you, his face as stoic as ever, but you could see the slight bit of fear in his eyes “Showtime kid, let’s see what you can do.”

You nodded, taking off down the hall and jumping into a small craft, piloting it to the city where you could see Barton leaning over someone’s body. You landed, running over to them, it was one of the twins, a fellow enhanced experiment of HYDRA. You leaned down placing a hand on his bullet riddled chest, a small teal light eminitated from your hand as you closed your eyes and concentrated.

Suddenly your eyes snapped open, you looked up at Clint, “He’s alive,” Clint let out a sigh of relief. “but just barely, I need to get him back to the medical bay immediately.” You finished. Clint nodded, helping you get the man loaded on the craft you arrived in, he gave you a small nod of thanks before running back to the rescue transports.

Back in your lab you had him hooked up to nearly every medical machine available, while your abilities had managed to stop the blood and heal the internal damage there was still the possibility of him not making it through the night, after all he had yet to regain consciousness and enhanced powers could only do so much, bringing back the dead wasn’t really one of those.

You sighed, leaning over his resting form, brushing a stray piece of his bleach blonde hair out of his face. You studied his face, he was quite possibly one of the most handsome people you’d ever seen, and that was even with the blood and dirt caked on him.

You turned gathering a cloth and a bowl of water, deciding it would be best to at least clean what grime you could off of him. You started with his face before moving to his chest, it was still caked in blood and dirt from where the bullets had ripped through him, though the wounds were closed and healed now. You took note of how well built he was but tried to focus on that as little as possible, after all he was your patient and you hadn’t ever even spoken to him.

As you ran the wet cloth over his body your mind began to wander, however you were broken out of your thoughts when a hand grabbed your arm. It was Pietro. You let out a squeak, mildly startled by his sudden consciousness, however it was clear that he was extremely disoriented and out of it. You moved, setting the washcloth and bowl back on the counter before gathering your clipboard to write that he had regained consciousness.

“Are you an angel?” He asked weakly, you turned looking at him, shocked. Those words, the ever familiar words that had been carried with you since birth, it was him. You inhaled, pushing all that aside, shaking your head as you approached his side.

“Rest.” Was all you said, before you walked out of the room, and for the rest of the night Pietro faded in and out of consciousness, only holding on to the fading sound of your voice.

Avengers Tower. One Month Later.

It had been a month since Sokovia. One month since Pietro Maximoff had almost died. He often found himself wondering what would have happened if he had died, would Wanda have been okay? Would anyone have cared? The other question that seemed to plague his mind day and night, the thought that had burrowed it’s way into his dreams and his absent minded musings, was the thought of seeing that girl that had saved him again.

He didn’t remember much about that day after he was shot, but everytime he closed his eyes he could see her, the girl with the (y/h/c) hair and the soothing voice, he couldn’t remember her fcae or if he had said anything to her but he could remember her touch and he craved to feel it again. The word “rest” also filled his mind, the way it sounded rolling off her tongue, it was the same word that had kept him grounded over the years, and the word that he so often traced on the inside of his wrist. He found himself feeling like the prince from that old animated mermaid movie Wanda made him watch as a kid, looking for the girl that saved him. Looking for his soulmate.

He broke himself out of his thoughts when he heard Maria Hill, one of the many people that had eagerly welcomed him to the Avengers and the remnants of SHIELD calling his name.

“Agent Hill, what can I do for you?” He asked, lifting himself off of the couch, turning to face her.

“Are you doing anything around 1:30 today? I’m supposed to be giving a tour to our newest Avenger today but I have a prior obligation around that time and was wondering if you would mind running it instead, normally I would ask someone else but I feel that you would be the best option in this case due to your…” Maria trailed off trying to come up with the word “Commonalities.”

Pietro’s ears perked up, a new member? Commonalities? Needless to say it was intriguing and would definitely provide a good distraction from his thoughts. “Okay.” He said, shrugging.

Maria smiled, handing him the manilla folder that was your file. “Her name is [Y/N] [L/N], she’s talented, all the necessary information should be in there.” Maria sighed inwardly as she clasped her hands behind her as she watched Pietro speed read through the folder.

To be honest, though she’d never tell Fury, she was hesitant to let you join the Avengers. You were talented no doubt, but she worried about you, maybe it was the fact that she had been the one to rescue you all those years ago, before the fall of SHIELD, before she ever worked for Stark, but still something told her maybe it was too soon, after all you had seemed pretty shaken after the Ultron ordeal.

“Well, you’ll need to meet her at the west elevator on floor 34 in an hour. Just take her through the itinerary there and get to know her, make her feel welcome.” Maria said with a smile before leaving back the way she came.

Pietro smiled as he waved goodbye, before looking down at the picture of you, of his soulmate, the girl that saved him.

Avengers Tower Floor 34. One Hour Later.

You rocked back and forth on your heels. It had been a month since Sokovia. One month since you had saved the man who was supposedly your soulmate. After that fateful day you went back into hiding with Fury, back to training with Fury, but now, according to Fury at least, it was time for you to join the Avengers as their medic.

You walked down the long glass hall, Agent Hill had told you that your guide would meet you outside the west elevator. She had also told you that your tour guide was one of the twins, due to your “commonalities” both in being enhanced and in being the newest members. You hoped it wasn’t going to be him, after all you still hadn’t really had time to process it all. Of course, life never really listened when you asked it for things.

The elevator dinged, signaling it’s arrival, you turned your attention from your wrist to the elevator,pulling down your sleeve to cover it as the doors slid open to reveal the gray clad speedster.

“They told me we were getting a new recruit, but they failed to tell me of your beauty.” Pietro smirked leaning against the elevator wall. You blushed, looking down at your shoes before sliding past him and stepping into the elevator. “Not talking huh? It’s okay I'll get you to crack eventually.” He smiled, winking at you only causing your face to flush even more.

As the tour went on Pietro did what he could to make you talk, though you usually only answered with one or two words. He was confused to say the least, did you not know? It was as the tour came to a close that he finally asked you the question that had been plaguing his mind the whole time, wondering if you would admit to him that you knew or if you were just clueless. “So, [Y/N], they tell me you are enhanced, like us, with healing abilities.” You nodded, “Were you there in Sokovia? Last month I mean, when Ultron attacked.”

You looked up sharply. “Um yeah, yeah I was.” You sighed, fidgeting with your sleeves.

“Then you're the one who saved me that day, thank you.” He smiled, bringing your hands into his, “I’m very happy you’re with us, and I hope that you will allow me to thank you properly? Maybe dinner?” His eyes were hopeful.

Did he know? You wondered, would he bring it up then, ease into it, charm you? Or had he been too out of it to even realise and was simply trying to be nice? Either way it was too much too fast. “Um, I’ll think about it, I’m just kinda tired right now.”

“I understand, I’ll see you in the morning then beautiful, yes?” He smiled walking you down the hall to your room. You nodded, before looking down at the floor again. “Well if you need anything Wanda and I are both on this floor and if we’re not here we’re likely on the common floor.” He smiled watching you nod once again before retreating into your room.

Pietro sighed, running a hand through his hair, you had to know by now, if he hadn’t spoken to you that day what he said on the elevator should have been the words on your wrist? Why were you so hesitant? Did you not like him, was he not everything you had ever hoped for in a soulmate? He let out a short breath as he pushed the button to call the elevator, fine, he was charming right? He’d do whatever it took to convince you that he was the perfect guy for you, after all you were an angel to him.

A Stark Party at Avenger Tower. Two Months Later.

It had been two months, two months since you had joined the Avengers and you were still just as shy around Pietro as you had been on your first day. He couldn’t understand it, while you were shy around most of the other members too, save for his own sister and Sam Wilson, yet you seemed to purposefully avoid him. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had done something to make you mad or uncomfortable, he couldn’t understand why but it hurt, it hurt more than getting shot in Sokovia had, it was raw and painful but he did his best to hide it and simply be as polite and nice to you as possible.

“Hey there speedy, you seem quieter than normal and I don’t think I’ve heard one smart remark out of you today, what’s going on?” Clint Barton said, placing his hand on Pietro’s shoulder. Despite Clint’s general teasing of the younger man he did genuinely care for him and that was something Pietro was grateful for.

“I’m just lost in thought, thank you though Clint.” Pietro sighed, taking his coffee and heading to his room, after all Stark was having one of his infamous parties tonight and even if he wasn’t there with you Pietro still wanted to look nice for you.

Nearly six hours later everyone was downstairs, the floor alive with people, and Pietro found himself seated at the bar, nursing a whiskey as he watched you converse with his twin. You looked amazing, your gorgeous body clad in a gray knee length cocktail dress with gorgeous lace sleeves and accents. Despite the fact that you rarely spoke to him somehow, some way every little thing you did imprinted itself in his brain and only made himself fall harder and harder for you.

His mood quickly changed however from adoration to jealousy as he watched a group of suit clad men isolate you from his sister and begin to speak to you. Under normal circumstances he would have simply let you be, never wanting to make you uncomfortable or angry, but you were picking at your nails, something he had noticed you only did when you were uncomfortable.

So he did what any love-sick gentlemen would do, and he went to rescue you. Within seconds Pietro was by your side, snaking a hand around your waist, secretly praying to god that he wasn’t making you more uncomfortable.You tensed at the contact but relaxed with a sigh of relief as you looked up to find Pietro.

“Hello my love,” Pietro smiled looking down at you before turning back to the group of men, “Hello gentlemen, I hope you don’t mind if I steal my soulmate for a minute, it’s important Avenger business, you know?” He smirked, giving them no room to respond as he turned and led you to the balcony.

When you arrived on the balcony you sighed as you let the cool air roll over you. “Thank you for that Pietro.” You said softly. “I’m really grateful.”

Pietro smiled softly, “Of course, what are friends for.” He turned heading for the door, but stopped when your voice rang out.

“I’m sorry Pietro.” He turned back to look at you, your eyes trained on the floor, “I’ve been cold and distant and all you’ve done is try and be nice and make me feel happy and safe and welcome here and I’m just so sorry.”

Pietro sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve known this whole time haven’t you. That we were soulmates.”

You looked up meeting his eyes, they were blue and piercing and oh so gorgeous but they were filled with pain.

“Yes, I’ve known since Sokovia. When you first regained consciousness you asked if I was an angel, I couldn’t focus on the fact that we were soulmates in that moment so I pushed it away, after that I just began to wonder, I mean I’m so different compared to you, you're so handsome and kind and talented and I’m just plain and boring, I figured that the universe probably made a mistake, and that you would be better of with someone else, but I never meant to hurt you,” You looked up at him, his face filled with a mix of shock and pain “I’m so so sorry.” You said, your voice breaking as you looked down, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“You are the most oblivious girl I’ve ever met.” Pietro chuckled, your head snapping up to look at him, “For one I’ve been flirting with you since you got here, you’d think that that would be a sign that I find you attractive, No?” You chuckled, “Second, Not talented? You saved my life, I was nearly dead and would be without you. Not kind? You have made my sister feel so happy and so welcome, you’ve given her the best friend she’s always wanted. Not pretty? My Angel, you are the most beautiful girl at this party. I’ve loved you from the minute I saw you, your smile can light up a room, and your laughter can make any sadness fade away, you my darling are perfect.” He smiled softly at you, cupping your cheek as you stared up into his eyes. “I love you moy angel”

You stared up in awe at the silver haired speedster, “I- You’re so perfect, you have been so understanding and-” Your voice broke as more tears rushed down your face, Pietro simply whispered sweet nothings as he wiped away your tears. “I love you too.” You whispered smiling softly.

“Could I kiss you?” Pietro asked with an airy chuckle, you smiled,nodding before pressing your lips to his, letting the world around you melt away, as both of you reveled in the warm feeling of your marks changing from black to red.

#pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff imagine #peter maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x you #oneshot #marvel x reader #pietro deserved better #I haven't written in a while and this sucks and I'm sorry :')#pietro maximoff x fem!reader #pietro maximoff x y/n #quicksilver x you #quicksilver x reader #xmen #avengers #avengers age of ultron

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ragingpancake · 3 years

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I Will Try (To Fix You) - Part 2

It’s ten days before Carson deems Rodney “well enough” to return to his quarters. To date, this has been the longest infirmary stay that Rodney’s ever had and truthfully, he should probably stay a bit longer. His kidneys still aren’t functioning as well as they should, which means Carson’s been closely monitoring his water intake and urine output and a whole host of other things that John knows Rodney is embarrassed about. He’s also not entirely steady on his feet, courtesy of the muscle spams that wrack his calves and his thighs, bad enough sometimes to nearly bring him to tears. It’s ten days before John, Carson and Elizabeth have a very real, very difficult conversation about what a prolonged stay in the infirmary will likely do Rodney mentally, left with nothing really to occupy his time except, well, time to think about just how close he’d come to death. Carson is reluctant to release him; they haven’t yet gotten him back to solid foods and of course his kidney function is still a concern, but John knows Rodney, knows that he needs to be anywhere but here and he argues his case: Rodney can come stay in his quarters. His team is grounded for the foreseeable future, courtesy of John who is unwilling to go off-world without his entire team and while he’s offered to temporarily reassign Teyla and Ronon to Lorne, they share his line of thinking. Rodney can come stay with John, but he has his whole team who’ll be watching out for him, who will bring him for twice daily check ins, if needed, who will monitor any time spent in the lab, who just want Rodney to have some semblance of normalcy during his recovery. It must be an impassioned speech, because by the time he’s done, Elizabeth nods her consent and John finds for the first time in ten days, it’s a little easier to breath.

--- Rodney, predictably, complains about the arrangement. He’s not keen on having a babysitter and that hurts John’s stunted feelings more than he’d ever admit out loud. But when Carson makes it clear that the only option is an extended stay in the infirmary, he relents pretty easily and all that’s left is to prepare John’s quarters. Easy peasy. Right? Wrong. It turns out that the room John’s claimed for himself isn’t quite meant for two people. It’s small and while it’s fine for just him, he knows that it’s going to be too cramped, too claustrophobic and so he spends the eleventh day scouting out some of the larger quarters near the East Pier with Teyla, pretending to understand when she makes suggestions based on where the light from the rising sun falls and which room has the best view of the ocean, which she believes will aid in Rodney’s recovery. He’s never been much into new age bullshit that seems to be pretty common across two galaxies, but he’s willing to shove a couple of crystals up his own ass if it means getting Rodney better.

He enlists Ronon, Lorne and a couple of marines to help move their things. John leaves his own quarters to Wallace, Gregory and Barnes despite how uncomfortable the thought of them seeing his own personal effects makes him, and he takes Rodney’s room with Ronon and Lorne. Rodney, for his part, has a lot of stuff. It takes the better part of the afternoon to get everything moved over, including Rodney’s deceptively heavy prescription mattress, his four laptops and the whiteboard that he’d swiped from the labs within the first week of their arrival. John’s stuff, save for his own bed, mostly fits in a couple bags. By the time they’re finished, he’s tired, shoulders and back aching, reminding him just how fucking old he’s getting, but still, he trudges down to the infirmary, plastering a smile on his face for Rodney as he steps in through the paneled doors. “Hey buddy,” he greets. “Got us all set up in some new digs. Wait until you see the tub in this one,” he says, nodding as Carson comes over, Rodney’s chart in hand. “He all good to go, Doc?” “I suppose he’ll have to be, now won’t he?” He asks and there’s a scowl there that John cheerfully ignores. “I expect him back here at 10 and 2, Colonel. A minute late for either appointment and he’s back here, d’you understand?” “10 and 2, just like a steering wheel. Got it, doc. How about the food situation?” “Yeah, what he said,” Rodney frowns and John knows from previous experience just how miserable a clear liquid diet can be. “I’m alright with him startin’ on solids, but take it easy,” Carson warns. “Nothin’ too heavy,” and Rodney waves him off, but despite his lackadaisical nature, John really is taking this seriously, committing everything to memory. “Got it. We good?” Carson pauses for a moment before he sighs. “Aye. But not a moment late, Colonel!” He warns as Marie and Simpson come, pushing a wheelchair that Rodney tries to vehemently refuse. John settles a hand on his shoulder gently. “Hey, hey. C’mon. Easy. It’s a pretty long walk to the pier, alright? Let’s not push it too much on your first day.” “Traitor,” Rodney mutters under his breath and John actually does smile because it feels a little like it used to before those God damned Carneans. John steadies the wheelchair while Marie and Simpson maneuver Rodney into it and after what feels like forever, they’re finally on their way. “You did get my laptops, right?” “Yes, Rodney.” “And what about the Athosian soaps from the bathroom? Those were made specially for me by Gita and, and, and the medicinal properties-- “We got ‘em.” “My mattress?” “Of course.” Rodney harrumphs like maybe he’s expecting John to have forgotten something, as if John would ever. “What about—” “Your favorite red pen that you use to mark up all those damn physics journals? Yep. Got that too. We grabbed everything, buddy. And if there’s somethin’ you need that we don’t have, just say the word and we’ll make it happen.” Rodney falls strangely quiet at that. --- It’s easy to live with Rodney. Lorne had very nearly pissed himself from laughter when John said so after the first few days and honestly, John took a little offense to that on Rodney’s behalf. Sure, he’s messy and he’s loud and the longer he’s out, the more of his biting sarcasm is returning, but John’s all for it, especially when he considers the alternative. (And he does consider it, frequently, usually in the dead of night when he wakes up from nightmares of vomit and grey skin, of an antidote recovered too late). But honestly, save for the fact that John now has to deal with Rodney’s dirty clothes strewn across the room and the stupid whiteboard that takes up the space that John’s surf board should be occupying, not much has changed at all, a testament to just how much time the two of them had spent together even before this. John follows Carson’s instructions to a T, and okay, maybe that’s a little different too because John’s always been the one to avoid the infirmary at all costs when it comes to his own health and

well-being, but he’s not taking a chance with Rodney’s. He takes him to his appointments and at nights, when the muscle spasms seem to be the worst, John sits with him on that stupidly comfortable bed, kneading the tight muscles in his legs as he tries to distract Rodney with shitty 80s movies and random banter about anything and everything that he thinks will goad Rodney into a tirade that’ll take his mind off of the pain. He even lets Rodney have four hours a day in the labs, split into two hour segments with an hour break in between. Normalcy. That’s the goal here and Rodney’s always at his best when he’s in his element, berating scientists and defying all laws of physics. That’s where Rodney is when everything goes to hell. --- It’s been twenty days since the Carneans. Ten days of the two of them cohabitating, ten days of Rodney slowly working his way back to normal. He’s been subsisting entirely of power bars and MREs, which, while not entirely healthy has been cleared by Carson if only for the fact that they provide sustenance without being too taxing on Rodney’s still delicate system and John’s just thinking about whether or not he can try to convince Rodney to try something a little more substantial from the mess later that evening when the call comes in over the radio. “Zelenka to Colonel Sheppard, please respond.” He sounds harried and John closes the latest mission report from Lorne’s team, already on his feet and moving when he taps his comm. “Sheppard here, go ahead Doc.” “I need you in Science Lab 3 please. There is a… situation.” “What do you mean by situation, Radek?” But when Radek keys up his comm again, John can hear the panicked wheezing in the background and he picks it up to a swift jog. “I believe Rodney is having a panic attack,” he says. “I have tried to bring him around but nothing is working and I--.” “I’m on my way. Sheppard out.” He meets Ronon in the corridor and he doesn’t even have to say a word before the Satedan is altering his own course, following after John. They can hear it before they even open the door. Rodney’s on the verge of hyperventilating, the sound of his ragged breaths interspersed with pained moans and Ronon is quick to clear the lab of well meaning scientists who are gaping at the scene while Radek tries to shield Rodney from view as much as possible. “Hey, hey,” John says soothingly, trying to keep his voice calm despite the way his heart is beating against his ribcage. “I’m here, buddy. Rodney, look at me. Hey, hey,” and he reaches out, finger under Rodney’s chin as he tips his head up, wild blue eyes meeting hazel. John wants to take Rodney’s hand, but his arms are wrapped around his middle, clutching his stomach so tightly and John glances over at the toppled plate on the floor, shards of glass now mixed with what looks like not-meatloaf. “Talk to me, Doc,” John calls over his shoulder at Zelenka. “What the hell happened?” “He was out of power bars, but hungry, so Miko thought perhaps he might be enticed to eat by something from the mess, knowing that this,” he gestures, “was Rodney’s favorite. He managed a couple of bites and everything was fine until… until it was not.” “Cramps,” Rodney rasps, reaching out to grip John’s wrist painfully. “Cramps. Poison, I—I can’t--.” “Get Carson down here,” John snarls, voice softening as he turns back to Rodney. “Hey. Listen to me, buddy. Carson told us this could happen, remember? The cramps. That’s why we started light. You’re okay though. I promise, Rodney. You’re okay, I’m right here and I need you to breathe.” It takes a bit of manhandling but John manages to get Rodney up enough that he can slide behind the other, drawing Rodney back against his chest, taking a couple of deep breaths. “C’mon, buddy. Breathe with me. You’re alright. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Rodney.” That’s how Carson finds them a few moments later, Rodney trembling against the other, but thankfully no longer hyperventilating. “He’s alright,” John says, glancing up at Beckett. “Panic attack when

he tried to eat and cramped up.” “I thought—I thought--.” John pets through Rodney’s hair gently. “I know. You thought it happened again, but it didn’t, right? We’re gonna go down to the infirmary with Carson though and let him check you over so you can see for yourself.” “Easy, lad,” Carson says as Ronon comes over to help Rodney to his feet with more care than he’s shown anyone else, guiding him over to the gurney before he tugs John to his feet as well. “John—” Rodney rasps, the name catching his throat as the cramps hit again and he curls on his side, swallowing hard against the panic beginning to rise again. “I’m here,” John reminds him again, moving to take Rodney’s hand. “You’re alright, I promise.” And he is. He will be. John will be sure of that. --- The panic attacks don’t last long. He still cramps painfully when he eats, but the team is always with him at meal time to help him through it, John always, alwayseating a third of his food before switching his tray with Rodney’s for him to finish it, confident that there’s no poison. The effects of what had been done to him still linger, still present often and painfully, and sometimes, John doesn’t think what he’s doing is enough. That he should be doing more, that he should’ve done more back on that fucking planet to have saved Rodney from this entire ordeal. But Rodney’s getting better. John can see that when he goes longer and longer without a muscle spasm, or the first time he pees on his own and calls John in to see how clear it is, proof that his kidneys are finally starting to function normally. “You know,” Rodney says one night after they’ve pushed their beds close enough together that if they each scoot over to the edge, their shoulders are touching, “it probably won’t be too much longer until we can go back to our own quarters.” There’s an uncomfortable knot that twists itself up in John’s stomach at that but he swallows against the lump in his throat and says casually, “oh yeah? That’ll be cool. I guess.” “Yeah,” Rodney says and then he falls silent for a moment, as if waiting for something. Apparently, his impatience has returned full force because he doesn’t even give it a half a second before he’s speaking again. “I mean, unless we just… don’t?” Okay. That’s unexpected. “I just… this has been incredibly difficult, Colonel. Uh, John,” he corrects, “and you’ve… I know that this is probably because of some weird, misplaced guilt you’re harboring, because that’s how you are, Lieutenant Colonel Martyr, but… this has been okay… hasn’t it?” “Rodney, I--.” “I know I’m difficult. I’m messy and I’ll be going back to keeping weird hours soon enough and, and, and I know I can be annoying, but you’ve put up with that remarkably well and so I just thought--.” “I don’t want to go back to being alone,” John blurts out and he can feel the tension leaving Rodney’s body beside him. “Good. Me neither.” They fall into a comfortable silence then for a moment, the only sounds being their quiet breathing and the sound of the ocean waves through the open window. (Teyla was definitely right about picking this room.) “It’s not guilt,” John says after a moment. “I mean, not that I don’t feel guilty, because I should’ve never--.” He clears his throat and stops himself before he goes down that road. “You’re… I dunno. You’re McKay. Rodney. And I… when I found you that day, I thought you were dead,” and he can feel Rodney flinch at that, but he needs to get this out, he thinks. “I thought you’d died and I just… realized that I would’ve gone out of my fucking mind if you had, Rodney. Like, legitimately crazy because you’re… You’re you and I’m--. I’m yours. However you want me. If that means we forget this conversation ever happened and go back to how it was before all of this, I’m okay with that, but I just… I had to tell you because I came really fucking close to never getting another chance to.” Rodney is quiet, doesn’t say anything but after a moment, John can feel the other’s hand brush against his own before he

squeezes two of John’s fingers. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time in all the time we’ve known each other.” And John laugh out loud at that, an actual laugh, and as he does, he feels that knot inside of him loosen just a bit. “Which is to say,” Rodney continues, “that I… would very much like to notforget this happened. I… suppose that I’m yours too. Maybe I always have been.” John doesn’t know where they’ll go from here. He’s under no delusions that this will be easy, any of it, but when has it ever been? All that matters though is that they have time now to work through it, to figure it out together. Maybe they’ll fix each other.

#mcshep #hurt/comfort #hurt rodney mckay #whumped rodney mcay #john sheppard #rodney mckay #sga #stargate atlantis #fandom: sga #angst #poisoning #panic attack

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pretchatta · 3 years

Text

I Saw Her Tomorrow

the authors of the MayThe4th fic exchange have been revealed! I've been dying to share my gift for @ambiguityisnoonesfriend ever since I finished it, so here it is.

a huge thank you to @skitter-kitteruwu for beta reading!!

rating: general; kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 7.8k words (4 chapters, complete)

link to full work

---

Hera, 0BBY

The wind whistled in her ears and whipped her lekku as Hera wrestled with the glider. Her exhilaration at flying was tempered by her awareness of the imminent danger. They were losing altitude fast, but their forward velocity was enough that the roof of the fuel station was getting bigger with every passing second.

"This is gonna be close!" she yelled to Kanan.

"It always is!" he called back. She knew he couldn’t see the precariousness of their situation, and yet he trusted her completely to fly them through it.

The glider skimmed over the lip of the building, barely clearing it. The durasteel frame screeched as it skidded over the roof, but didn’t crumple. She just about managed to hold on. The rush of another successful landing almost made her giddy.

Kanan was no longer beside her; he hadn’t been able to brace in time and had lost his grip on impact. His momentum had carried him over the glider’s nose to roll onto the roof.

He pushed himself up with a groan. "That was one of your better crashes."

Hera gave him a scandalised look as she dismounted and wagged a finger at him. "Kanan Jarrus, you know I never crash. I have very-"

"Very exciting landings," he finished for her with a smile, grabbing the admonishing hand. "Thanks for reminding me. Come on!" He pulled her towards the middle of the roof and away from the pursuing Imperials.

After a few steps she had to stop him from running over the edge; the Empire hadn't yet finished covering the station. She was about to tell him off for not seeing it, but then she stopped herself with a giggle. He was blind; he couldn’t see anything.

His head jerked as though he suddenly sensed what was in front of them. He made an impatient noise in the back of his throat, clearly displeased with how exposed they were, and grabbed his commlink.

"Spectre-5, do you read? How are you coming with that ship?"

"Kanan! Did you get her?" Sabine's tinny voice came through from the other end. Hera hadn’t even realised she’d been worried, but she felt something unclench slightly from around her heart at the sound.

"Of course he did," she replied, leaning into Kanan slightly to reach the small device. She immediately lost her balance, but he caught her without missing a beat and nudged her back upright. Maybe those interrogation drugs weren’t out of her system quite yet.

"There’s been a change of plans," Kanan was saying into the comm. "We need a pickup–"

"At the fuel station," Sabine cut in, "I know. The Empire does too."

He grimaced. She found herself fascinated by how naked his mouth looked without his beard surrounding it. "Well, let’s hope you get to us fi–"

"Hold on, there are new orders coming through." She paused. "All ships are being ordered to maintain high altitude to allow a bombing run on the fuel station."

"What?" Kanan yelped. "They’ll blow up the whole factory if they do that!"

Sabine sounded like she was still listening to the Imperial orders. "Apparently the roof is reinforced, and can take a hit."

"The roof is unfinished! There’s a giant hole in it!" Kanan gestured towards it even though there was no visual link on the comm.

"I guess Pryce really doesn’t want us getting away," Hera muttered.

"Kanan, it doesn’t matter." There was a definite note of panic in Sabine’s voice now, and it was mirrored by a rising fear in Hera. "I’m not gonna be able to get down to you before the bomber arrives without blowing our cover and getting shot to pieces!"

"That’s not a problem. Just get directly overhead, as quickly as you can. Tell Ezra to be ready to catch us – just like we practised."

Hera heard Sabine’s shaky breath over the comm. "I’ll let you know when I’m in position."

The light blinked off.

This was bad. Adrenaline returned to Hera’s body, chasing away the drug-induced fog that had started clouding her brain since they’d landed. What was Kanan up to?

"What do you have planned?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"When they get here, I’ll jump," he said simply. "I can get pretty high, and Ezra can pull us the rest of the way from above."

Her mind conjured the image of him cradling her in his arms as they soared upwards, just like in every ridiculous superhero holo they’d watched together.

Except this one isn’t ridiculous, because he would do that.

He would always come to save her. Whatever it took, he would always be there. He’d fly into the middle of a maximum security Imperial complex on a few pieces of scrap metal and junk, cut her free of her bonds, fight off a nightmarish assassin and escape an impossible dead-end situation by calling on his supernatural powers.

She felt a wave of emotion rise within her, a surge of warmth that threatened to spill into tears. Did he even know how incredibly important he was to her? They’d been so focused on fighting for so long, they’d had to actively find time to be alone together before she’d left. She’d figure out how to break the other news later, but right now there was one thing Hera needed to say to him.

"Kanan," she started. His attention immediately focused on her; there was something in her voice, something soft and vulnerable, yet serious. "I know it’s been a while since I’ve said it, and I know this isn’t really the moment, but… I love you."

Her ungloved fingers stroked the exposed skin of his cheek. He turned his head slightly in response so that his lips brushed her palm.

"I know," he said simply. It was the best thing he could have said. "And I love you too."

Her mouth curved into a smile as she pushed herself up onto her toes to kiss him. He returned the kiss, the press of his lips against hers achingly familiar, like coming home. Less familiar was the scratch of stubble; after years of having a beard, she’d forgotten what it was like to kiss Kanan without one.

They were interrupted by the familiar scream of twin ion engines approaching.

"Sabine!" Kanan shouted frantically into the comm. "Where are you? The bomber’s here!"

Her response was drowned out by the TIE bomber.

It swept overhead, blotting out the light from both moons. Hera wrapped her arms tightly around Kanan’s torso. Throughout her capture and subsequent torture she’d never once lost faith that he would come and rescue her, but now, faced with their current situation, that hope finally flickered. Their last moments were upon them.

At least they were together.

The bomber passed, the whine of the engines deepening as it retreated, but the shadow remained. Hera looked up and saw, suspended in the air above them, the unmistakable silhouette of a baradium missile.

She relaxed her grip on Kanan and realised he had thrust his arms out towards the sky, eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration. He’d caught the missile! Her brave, brilliant Jedi.

"Kanan?" she asked tentatively. "Can you... put that down? We've got to get off this roof before they make another pass."

"I'm holding the proton charge detonator," he said through gritted teeth. She felt her stomach drop through her feet; he couldn’t let go without activating the missile. The whole station would go up with it. "Can’t jump without letting go. Or sending it up to the kids. But I can still throw you."

"But – what about you?" She knew the answer even as she asked, but her brain was refusing to accept it.

His sightless eyes locked on to her face. His expression was an unreadable mask. "I'm not making it out of this one."

No.

No, no no.

She was shaking her head, even though he couldn’t see it. "I’m not leaving without you."

"Yes, you are," he insisted. "And you’re going to be okay. Don’t ask me how I know this, but you’re going to move on, and you will be happy again. I’m certain of it. And that’s all I ever wanted."

"Kanan–"

The comm beeped again.

"We’re in position! Kanan, now!"

Sabine’s words had barely sunk in when she felt herself gripped by an unseen hand, and then she was flying through the air. She caught a glimpse of the whole station below her – the square roof framing the round hole that in turn framed gleaming stacks of construction material, the bomb hovering off-center and ruining the symmetry – before her vision went dark.

She felt the wind from the TIE bomber as it raced below her at the same time as a second invisible force grabbed her. It twisted her in midair, and now she was rushing towards an Imperial patrol transport. A single figure in a fighter pilot’s uniform stood in the troop bay with arms outstretched.

By the time Ezra had pulled her into the transport beside him and she was able to turn back around, the fuel station was an expanding ball of fire.

Kanan was gone.

---

Chapter 2 (AO3) ->

#kanera #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #star wars rebels #star wars: rebels #star wars #may the fourth be with you #maythe4thbewithyou #jedi night #jedi night fix it #fic #really hope i've got the scheduling right here #in theory the reveal should have happened 5 minutes ago #i wasn't going to stay up til 1am to post but i have been unbelievably excited to share this for the last 2 weeks #pretchwritta

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toosicktoocare · 4 years

Text

I’ve got BatFam on the mind.

Jason sinks back against his couch, humming pleasantly, and he’s just about to kick his feet atop the ottoman and open the new book he’s been eager to dig into for a month now when a quick, patterned knock on his apartment door interrupts his eased thoughts, startling him briefly before he sighs loudly.

He’s just decided to ignore it when the knocking continues, accompanied, this time, by a small voice he, unfortunately, recognizes almost immediately.

“Jason?”

He makes sure the groan that builds from the back of his throat is dramatically loud and equally as long as he drops his book on the abandonded couch behind him and starts to the door, undoing the locks and pulling the door open with a familair frown reserved specifically for the damned “family” of his.

“Replacement,” Jason bites out, fingers curled lazily around the edge of the door.

Tim’s drenched before him, shuddering slightly with his arms wrapped tightly around his too-slender frame, and his normal, calculated composure looks to be nudging the brink of breaking. He squeezes under Jason’s arm, letting himself into the apartment, and Jason drags a deep sigh out.

“I need your help.”

“Did you already forget where the door is?” Jason asks, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Because it’s right there, and I’m happy to escort you out.”

Unfazed, Tim slows his pacing down, stopping in the center of Jason’s entryway. “Dick’s been kidnapped.”

Jason rolls his eyes, a bad habit he hasn’t cared in the slightest to remedy. He drags narrow eyes up and down Tim’s uniform. “And I care because?” he draws out, arching both brows.

Tim sighs at this, and if Jason weren’t borderline dangerously annoyed, he’d be a little impressed that he’s managed to just barely get under Tim’s skin.

“Look, seeking out your help made the most sense logistically.”

“Logistically,” Jason parrots back flatly.

“You’re the closest to our location.”

“And, you came here instead of helping,” Jason points out, motioning toward Tim’s suit. “Why waste the time? You’re capable of helping him yourself.” He’s hoping, smally, that the fraction of a compliment will boost Tim’s ego up just enough to send him out the door, and yet, Tim visibly deflates before him, tugging his mask off and coughing into the crook of his arm.

“I shouldn’t be out.”

“Because you look as if you took a deep dive in the Gotham River in the dead-ass middle of winter?”

“And because I have the flu.”

Jason frowns sharply, eyes flicking from one too-flushed cheek to the other. Without thinking fully, he crosses the room and slaps a palm to Tim’s forehead, finding him alarmingly hot to the touch despite the icy water dripping off him.

“You do remember that you’re kind of missing your spleen, right?” Jason questions lowly, stepping back to further assess Tim’s condition through gaze alone.

Shuddering, Tim hugs himself tightly, eyes casting to the ground. “Dick asked me to come out and help. I told him it may not be a good idea because,” he pauses, turning to hack harshly into his fist, “well, that. But he insisted.”

“He insisted,” Jason repeats darkly, eyes flashing a brief red.

Tim meekly nods, swaying on his feet, and Jason growls in the back of his throat, guiding Tim to the bathroom. “Christ. Hot shower and change into something dry,” Jason spits out, already whipping toward his bedroom for his suit. He’s quick slipping it on, easy muscle memory, and he’s just slipped a few guns into the holsters at his sides when Tim clears his throat.

“You’re going to help?”

“Apparently,” Jason grumbles, hands adjusting the clip of rubber bullets. “The last thing I want is you keeling over in my apartment and the big, bad, Bat blaming me for it. Plus, I now have a reason to rip Dick a new one for being a fucking idiot.”

“Thanks,” Tim sighs, visibly relieved. “There’s a dock with a wooden boat house at Gotham River, east side.”

“Got it,” Jason starts, pasuing, mask only pulled over his forehead. “Hang on,” he stops his quick movement toward the door, whipping around toward Tim. “Did you actually deep-dive in the Gotham River when it’s close to the negatives outside?”

“Got dizzy,” Tim mutters, coughing. “I kind of fell.”

“Fucking hell,” Jason curses, snagging the keys to his bike before stalking out of his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

***

“Do you have a plan?”

Jason works through a colorful string of hushed curses at the sudden sound of Tim’s rough voice in his ear, forgetting that he’s never actually disconnected his comm.

“Yeah,” he whispers, eyeing the boat house from his corner cover behind a brick wall. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping or some shit?”

“I wanted to help you. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m borrowing your laptop so I can have eyes on multiple locations.”

Jason’s working through a grunt that he doesn’t mind, but his brain wraps back around unspoken details. “I have my laptop password protected.”

“’I am the Red Hood’ isn’t exactly a hard password to crack.”

Jason shakes his head, a huff slipping past his covered lips. “I’m moving far away from all of you after this,” he mutters, standing from his cover and approaching the boat house.

“Hood, what’s the plan? You’re wide open right now.”

“About that,” Jason draws out, stopping before the wooden door. He can hear multiple voices behind the rickety walls, Dick’s voice standing out loudly among the others. “I think I’ll just walk in, say a little hello.”

Tim groans in his ear, muttering how he should have ignored logistics to find someone more competent, and Jason laughs lowly before kicking the door wide open, a sly smile curling against his covered lips as multiple men with guns whip toward the door, numerous barrels aimed right at him.

Dick’s in the center of the room tied to a chair. His face is beginning to fade to blues and blacks, yet the look of pure, innocent surprise on his face completely contradicts the entire situation.

“Hood?”

“I’d say long time no see,” Jason starts, one hand slowly moving to ghost above a gun at his waist, “but you’re a little hard to make out with all the swelling and bruising.”

Dick rolls his eye that’s not swollen to hell, and Jason starts forward ignoring the rings of clicks that echo from every gun that’s pointed toward him.

“Hey, aren’t you the Red Hood?”

Jason cocks his head to the side, turning toward the voice. “Well, I do have a hood, and last I checked, it’s definitely red.”

“Watch it, smartass. What business do you have with this one?” The man speaking, some gruff, bulky blond with distasteful tattoos littering his fingers, motions toward Dick with the barrel of his gun, and Jason tenses slightly, his hand now laying fully atop the gun at his waist.

“Bird infestation,” Jason grumbles. “Gotta get this one to get rid of the other.”

“Red Robin?” Dick calls out, jerking against the ropes that have his hands tied tightly behind the chair. “Is he okay?”

“Jury’s still out on that one,” Jason mutters, and Tim crackles in his ears.

“Hood, I don’t like these odds. I’m going to call for back up.”

“No need, Replacement.” Jason drags a slow gaze back toward Dick, and though they disagree on 90% of things, they still, somehow, share this odd ability to communicate via look alone, and Dick gives a single nod to his silent question. “I have help.”

“Jason-”

Jason slips both guns out from his holsters and stretches his arms out wide and open. “Let’s go, boys.”

The next few seconds are loud, gun shots ringing out from every direction, and Jason feeds off the familair sound, adding into the mix with his rubber bullets that don’t miss. Dick, as he predicted, has broken the wooden chair he’s been tied to and has managed to wiggle his wrists free from the ropes. Jason covers him with one gun while targeting those running toward him with his other.

The fight lasts a minute and forty-three seconds, with Jason and Dick ending on top, multiple unconsious men at their feet.

“I’ve already notified Gotham PD,” Dick starts, rubbing at his wrists as he steps over a few bodies. “Where’s Tim? He was fighting outside, and one of these assholes broke my comm.” Dick’s tense, fear laced heavily in his voice, and Jason steadies his eyes into a sharp glare.

“He’s back at my apartment, sick-” is all he manages out before Dick’s racing out of the boat house. “-as fuck, no thanks to you,” Jason finishes flatly to himself. He slips his bike keys from his pocket and starts out the door when he can hear sirens in the distance.

***

Jason makes it back to his apartment a few seconds after Dick, and he’s making a very serious mental note to move far away when he slips through the open door to see Dick hovering over Tim, pressing a palm to his forehead, counting Tim’s pulse with his free hand.

“Dick, I’m fine,” Tim whines, swatting at Dick’s hands, and Jason pulls his mask off and cocks his head to the side.

“Spleenless, the flu is not ‘fine,’“ Jason gripes out, and Dick whips around to him, eyes wide, before dragging a quick gaze back to Tim.

“The flu? Tim, what the hell?”

Frowning, Jason approaches the two, eyeing Tim dangerously. “You said he knew.”

“I calculated a few scenarios,” Tim starts, coughing weakly. “I figured you’d be more likely to help Dick if you were pissed at him.”

“What kind of fucking backwards logic-”

“-Dick!”

Jason’s unable to finish his thoughts when Dick drops to a knee in front of him, one hand curled tightly around his abdomen, his face pinched in pain.

“Dick,” Tim presses again, shoving the laptop from his lap and leaning over the side of the couch to get a better look. “What’s wrong?”

Jason’s seen some shit when it comes to this twisted family he can’t quite get out of, but he can truly say that he’s never seen Dick’s stoic composure crumble under the weight of injury, and his eyes grow wide all on their own, a lump building in his throat.

“Nothing,” Dick grunts out around clenched teeth, his jaw a hard, sharp line, and Jason blinks around the muted grip of fear, groaning instead and pulling Dick to his feet despite Dick’s hiss of pain at his side.

“Alright, Dickie Bird. Since my home is now apparently the house of the hurt and helpless, let’s look you over. One bird down in my apartment would be bad, but two? No fucking way.”

He calls out for Tim to take some damn medicine as he drags Dick into the bathroom, pulling at Dick’s suit until the top half’s pulled down, revealing dark purple bruising littering Dick’s sides.

“Your ribs?” Jason guesses, and Dick nods, swallowing back a moan of pain when Jason presses lightly on Dick’s sides.

“Doesn’t seem broken, but we’ll wrap it just in case. I’m sure Alfred will personally kill me if I don’t.” Jason moves for his first aid kit, very much aware but choosing not to adress the hard eyes watching his every movement.

“Jay-”

“I don’t want to hear it, D,” Jason says, snagging some large bandages he can wrap around Dick’s torso.

“Thank you.”

Jason groans loudly, crouching down to start wrapping Dick’s ribs. “I said I didn’t want to hear it. What’s up with you birds and your piss poor hearing?”

“I really didn’t know that Tim was sick. He seemed off, but he was insistent that we go and investigate the boat house. He said he had reason to believe they were smuggling drugs underneath the floorboards.” Dick hisses sharply when Jason tightens the bandages, promptly shutting him up.

“I should have known that your mother hen instincts would have never let typhoid Timmy go out while sick.”

Dick rolls his eyes around a wince, hand ghosting across the bandages when Jason stands up and backs away to critique his work.

“Things just got a little out of hand.”

“Clearly,” Jason says dryly, and Dick frowns deeply when he stands, the pain pulling at his sides hot and overwhelming.

“I’ll call a cab-”

“-don’t,” Jason sighs loudly. “It’s late. You both can stay, but your asses are gone in the morning.”

The smile that spreads across Dick’s lips is blindingly familiar, and Jason finds he’s at ease with Dick’s boyish charm overcoming him once more.

They slip out of the bathroom, and Jason starts to his room to get a change of clothes for Dick, pausing in the doorway to see Tim passed out on his bed, his breaths loud, congested.

“I can move him to the couch,” Dick offers from behind him, and Jason only shakes his head silently, padding quietly into the room. “You both can sleep in here. He’s already infected my bed, anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Jason sighs, only faintly aware of how many times he truly sighs whenever one of the damn birds is around. He shoves clean clothes into Dick’s arms before stalking around him to change his own clothes, maybe take a hot shower to chase away the lingering chill, and finally, hopefully, start his book.

“Jay?”

Jason stops, one foot already in the bathroom. “If you look at me with those stupid, puppy eyes and say ‘thank you’ one more fucking time, I’ll make sure your ribs actually break.”

Dick smiles wide and holds a hand up in mock defense before he slips into the bedroom and nudges the door closed, and Jason shakes his head, his own breath of a smile flicking at the corners of his lips as he closes the door behind him.

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catxsnow · 4 years

Text

SAME FATE J.T.

Request: Hi, I have loved your work as of late I mean top tier work. I was wondering if you can do platonic Jason Todd imagine where the reader was the newest robin and a spitting image of him when he was robin so happy and proud to be a robin and Jason hates her because of it and one day he sort of leads her into a trap just to scare her and something wrong. She is killed by it and beyond being brought back by the pit. Sorry for the angst, I am just in an angsty mood and know that you will do it justice.

Warning: death, blood, angst.

A/N: I changed the request a little bit, hope you don’t mind. Just didn’t quite see Jason doing this but I think I envisioned enough angst in here to satisfy you.

Hope you enjoy! Requests are still open :)

GIF not mine

Word count: 2.1k

Jason Todd didn't like you. At all.

Everyone knew it: Bruce, Dick, Tim - they were all aware of how much the second Robin hated you. Even you were aware of it, even though you had done nothing to him to make him feel this way. He even hated you more than Tim and Tim was the one to take his spot as Robin. You had taken Tim's place and if anyone was to be angry it should have been him.

Instead, it was Jason.

No one knew why he hated you so much - in fact everyone thought that the two of you would have gotten along well considering how similar you were. Much like Jason, you had extremely terrible parents. Neither of them cared about you, put food on the table, and most times there wasn't even a roof of your head.

All the money that was brought in was spent on drugs and alcohol and whatever item that had value of your had to be well hidden if you wanted to keep it. All in all, when your father was sent to jail and your mom died of overdose? You didn't complain about it. Life was easier without them in it.

That was when Bruce found you. He had taken you in to live in the Manor and trained you to be the next Robin. You had learned pretty quick too, it was only months that you were there before taking Tim's mantle. The difference between the two of you and how you upheld Robin was drastic.

The first time you had tried on the suit, you had nearly screamed with excitement. Bruce watched you prance around the batcave with a grin on your face. You flipped and jump around, showing off some of the moves you had been taught.

“This is best thing that’s ever happened to me!” You were so proud to take on the mantle of Robin. When you were a kid, Batman and Robin would always bring you hope that things would be better, that they would change. Now, you got to make that happen yourself.

God, did Bruce see so much Jason in you.

You were reckless, dauntless when it came to being out in the streets beside Batman. Running towards bullets, narrowly escaping time and time again, you lived on the edge. Just like Jason. Also just like him, you were aggressive to the point that Bruce couldn't control you just like he couldn't control Jason.

Everyday he saw more and more of his second son in you. Bruce knew that he needed to keep you from making the same mistake that Jason ever did. He couldn't lose you too - even if Jason was back from the dead. No one was willing to take that same risk again, not without a Lazarus pit hidden within the batcave.

Each and every time that Jason showed up to the Manor, he had vocally expressed how he didn't like you. He was rude and undermining to you more than to anyone else. It hurt more than you thought it would. In a lot of ways, you looked up to Jason.

The way that he upheld Robin was something that you always thrived for. You wanted to be like him but, the more that you pushed to be like him, the more he seemed to hate you. He made you doubt your skill as Robin and as yourself. Jason was terrible to you, and you never knew why.

Night after night you would cry yourself to sleep. It wasn't often that someone would get to you but Jason had managed to do it. He didn't just break your walls down, he demolished them. Jason made you feel like a weak little girl, something that you hadn't felt like in years. After everything that you had gone through in life, this shouldn't have been your weakness, yet it was.

The night that you went patrolling on your own was a stormy one. Rain droplets blocked your vision and made everything twice as hard as it normally was. Bruce was busy with an event for WE and you weren't ready to call it a night. Crime didn't stop just because there was rain.

The night went as it always did. Taking out anyone you saw breaking the law and bounding across the city to find someone else to bring to justice. It was nights like those that made you wonder why Jason hated you so much - you were doing great on your own. In fact, you had to admit that you were just as good as he was.

Tim saw it in you. From what he knew about Jason, you not only had the same amount of skill, but the same kind. Bruce had confided in him about how much he saw Jason in you and how worried it made him.

He should have been more worried.

As the night seemed to get quiet, you had let your guard down. That had been the mostly costly mistake that you had ever made. You had just finished knocking out some sleeze when another figure arrived. Between the loud booms of thunder and the traffic on the street, you couldn't hear them approach you.

Before you could even turn around, you were out cold.

The second that Bruce got the picture of you he sent every resource available searching Gotham for you.

It was Penguin that had captured you - why, he still didn't know. The picture that was published for all the world to see was of you completely bloody and bruised. You hung from chains by your wrists, blood dripping from your face, soaking your suit, and onto the cement. You looked terrible.

The picture was posted on every single news channel, article, papers, it was everywhere. Penguin wanted to city to know that he could capture a Robin and torture them without getting caught. He had Batman in the palm of his hand if he ever wished to see his precious Robin again.

Bruce had everyone searching for you. Even Jason Todd, the one person on this planet that seemed to hate your guts, agreed to help find you. It had been a long time since any of them had seen Bruce this worried about someone. He had every right to be, this exact situation happened to Jason only a few years ago.

At least Penguin was a little more sane.

It had been just over forty-eight hours since you had been taken. Forty-eight hours of nothing but torture and pain. Bruce couldn't imagine what you were going through right now, he didn't want to. The entire time he hadn't slept, he had only been focused on finding you. This couldn't happen to him again.

Jason Todd might have hated you, but he knew that no one ever deserved to be in the same situation that he was in. That was why he spent day and night searching for you. Penguin had hid you well, too well for anyone to find you - hell they didn't even know if you were still in Gotham or not.

It was late at night when the video broadcast on every screen in Gotham. You looked worse than before. Suit torn, more blood and bruises than skin. Your head hung low and you could barely stand any longer. Penguin had put a number on you.

"Batman..." You coughed, blood spit down your chin and onto the floor. One of the Penguin's goons lifted your head up by the hair so that you fully faced the camera. "Penguin... admits he's got the smallest dick in Gotham and not even a goat would -"

The camera shut off the moment that you got another punch to the face. As dire of a situation that this was, Jason couldn't help but chuckle at you. Even in the face of death - you were going to give them hell.

"Got them," Tim's voice echoed over the comms. Thankfully, you had been on air just long enough or him to track down the signal. "He's got her in a warehouse down on fourth and twentieth."

"I'm right there, I'll go," Jason responded. He was already starting up his bike and driving to the warehouse that you were supposedly in. God forbid that Tim was right - after the comment you made Penguin was not going to be happy.

Jason's bike barely stopped before he hopped up. The place looked empty - the only sign of life was a singular light going off in the building. Gun's out and up, he kicked open the door and was ready to shoot anyone that stood in his way. However, there was no one. For a second, he thought that Tim had gotten the place wrong until he saw a lump of red, green, and yellow lit up.

Jason holstered his guns and ran over to you. A pool of blood surrounded your limp body and as he turned you onto your back, he had seen while. Two bullet holes punctured your suit and deep into your abdomen.

"Fuck," Jason muttered. He pulled his helmet off, not wanting to scare you more than you already were. You eyes fluttered up to him and you had to use all of your strength just to keep them open. "Batman, fuck, hurry."

Jason pressed down on your fresh wounds in hope to stop the bleeding but it already looked like you had lost too much. There was no way that he could move you - not when he only had his bike with him.

"You're gonna be just fine, (Y/N)," Jason tried to comfort you. You didn't feel the need to be comforted - in fact you didn't feel anything at all. Jason'a face was blurry above you and a ringing vibrated through your ears. No pain was felt in your body, just acceptance. "Stay with me."

"Bru..." You tried to talk but nothing was able to come out. Blood stained your teeth, only the metallic taste of blood was what you could sense. "Sorry..."

This time, your eyes didn't open again. "(Y/N)," Jason called to you. Your body was completely dead weight in his arms and your chest no longer rose up. "(Y/N)," Jason tried again. He ripped off his gloves and pressed his fingers to your neck. No pulse. "No! (Y/N)!"

Jason felt an overwhelming sadness fill his chest. For years he was never fond of you. You were reckless, dangerous, even a threat to this team. You cared about the thrill of it all no matter what kind of spot that put you in. You came from a broken home, just excited that you finally had a roof over your head.

You were just like him.

That was why Jason hated you so much. You reminded him too much of himself. Too much of what he used to be before Joker had gotten to him. Every time he looked at you, all he could see was what his life used to be like. He had everything he could have wanted, just like you had.

Whatever sick people looked over you had the same kind of fate in mind. You had gotten the same terrible ending that he had gotten. The ending that he didn't want for Tim, that he didn't want for you. That was why he hated you so much.

“Fuck, (Y/N). I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Jason’s voice cracked as he held back sobs.

The sadness and grief that filled Jason's chest grew so much that he could no longer contain it. Tears slid down his cheeks as he held onto your body. Sobs echoed through the empty warehouse for the loss of Robin. Jason had reached his breaking point with you.

He was angry with himself for neglecting you all these years. After being able to see so much of himself in you, he should have known that you could have followed him down the same path, he just didn't expect it to be this one. He never expected anyone to be in this same position again, especially with someone other than the joker.

Jason could have taken you under his protection, he could have taught you everything that he knew. Bruce had told him that you looked up to him in so many ways and he denied that you ever cared about him. It was easier to look you than to see the similarities within you.

Bruce had arrived too late as well. The second that he saw your dead body in Jason's arms, he had fallen to his knees in despair. Bruce has to watch his Robin die for a second time. What broke him even more, was seeing the absolute heartbreak on Jason's face. They had all been too late.

Jason Todd had failed you, and he was going to live with that guilt for the rest of his life.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd oneshot #batfam #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #jason todd imagine #dc #dc imagine #dc one shot #angst

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votederpycausemufins · 3 years

Text

I finally know how this thing is going to end, but it might go over 30 chapters. Whoops! This chapter could also be longer, but I wanted a bit of a cliffhanger.

@petrichormeraki @helleborusangel

“That isn’t fair! I found him so you have to keep up your end of the deal!” Grifter yelled at Death, but he barely reacted.

“That wasn’t the agreement.”

“The agreement was I was supposed to find out what happened to Theseus, and I did that! He kidnapped the wels version of his admin and revived Nightmare and it backfired. He screwed up and you wanted to know how he was doing, so I brought him here so he wouldn’t fucking die without you around. So, now you know what happened, how he’s doing, and I kept him safe. That’s like, three times what you wanted. Now uncurse my husband or you won’t be death anymore.”

Death glared at Grifter. “I thought you said you weren’t after that.”

“I said I wasn’t going to try and kill you for your power because now I have Sense, but if you cursed him so I can’t easily be around him, that’s gone. If you’re not planning to reverse the curse, then I’m going to get something out of it.” Grifter smiled at then pulled out a crossbow. “Now, you’re going to uncurse Sense, or you won’t be around much longer.”

“You still need to finish your end of the bargain.”

Grifter froze, his brain trying to comprehend what had been said before he growled in anger. “We just fucking covered I already did and more! I don’t need to do anything more!”

“Part of it was making sure Theseus was safe. You haven’t done that. He may have moved to a new dimension, but he refuses to officially unlink himself from Nightmare’s world. Nightmare, in his hubris, has decided to try and claim his wels dimension world in his current revived state. I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen if he fails, and at this point, he will.”

“So I need to keep the bastards alive, sure. Is that all?” Grifter sneered, crossing his arms.

“Not quite.I would prefer Nightmare dead, but no one will take his title, so Theseus will just try again with no one stopping him.” Death explained. “Listeners are quite powerful on their own and can link worlds, so you wouldn’t lose Sense, but I’m sure your kids would love to meet their family.”

Grifter rolled his eyes. “Like they would want to meet Wile and Euro. They’re only still alive since you keep them from dying. They’re too cowardly to do anything right.” Death glared at Grifter, who scoffed. “Fine, whatever. I guess they might like Fleur and Sadie. At the very least trying setting it up for me while I’m gone. I’m gonna be busy backing up the wels world before I do anything.”

“I can agree to that.”

“Oh, and can you pause the curse while I deal with Nightmare? It might be the only chance for us to do something so fun and I don’t want to miss out on that opportunity.”

Death glared before answering. “If you stop on your job, it’ll kill him, but sure, I can do that.”

“That’s great!” Grifter smiled, bouncing a little. “I’ll just make a little stop and then I’ll start! See you soon enough!” He started to walk off, but then paused to turn back to death slightly. “Oh, and remember to warn Euro. We don’t want him exploding again!”

The moment Grian was in the SMP, he started using his Watcher magic to look around. At the very least, it didn’t look like Grifter was around. It should have been obvious with his name not on the comms list, but if he had messed with the list before, he could have done it again. Fortunately that wasn’t the case.

Next he did what he could to find Grum, which was pretty easy. Grian already had a bit of tracking for Grum on his comm, and while before it wouldn’t have been enough to really help in another world, the fact that he could also track Watcher energy made it work. He was a little concerned that it felt weak, but he hadn’t really noticed it in the past, so likely Grum didn’t have much in the first place.

Either way, he knew where Grum was now, so he started flying that way. Grian wasn’t sure exactly what he would find there, so he got his sword ready for the worst case scenario. When he landed at the quartz mansion, he tried to be as quiet as possible. Peeking through a window, he couldn’t see anyone around, which was concerning. At least the demon should have still been there. This was his home, wasn’t it?

“Hey, what are we doing at the window?” someone spoke as they stood behind Grian, making the avian’s wings puff up before he whirled around and pointed the sword at.

“Wil? Is that you?”

“Hi Xel! I haven’t seen you in ages. Though other than Phil and Techno, I haven’t really seen anyone for a while. I was sort of trapped in Te-” Wilbur started rambling before Grian clamped a hand over his mouth.

“I don’t need to hear all of that. Where is everyone?” Grian asked before slowly pulling his hand away.

“Right! Well Dream showed up again, though he’s a bit different. Dad went after him along with the others and they haven’t shown back up yet. Well, I mean, Tommy and Techno are still here.”

Grian looked at the building. “Techno’s here?! But Grum’s supposed to be here!”

“You mean the robot kid? He’s okay. I’ve barely seen him, even as a ghost.”

Grian didn’t bother to keep listening, moving into the house. Techno was supposed to be a great fighter, so the only upperhand Grian might get is taking him by surprise, which was pretty much all he had the last two times. But those two times might have been enough for the warrior to get his tells. That would make it risky and-

“I’m not his unc- did you just take a picture.”

“Yeah, say that again when I don’t have this photo.”

“Delete it before I make you delete it.”

“Whoops, too late. I already sent it to Tubbo! Maybe now you’ll be able to watch Michael.”

“Why would I want that?”

“Cause he’s a piglin too? And not like it’ll ruin your image now Technosoft.”

“Tommy…”

“Ah ah ah, you might wake Grum up!”

Grian slowly opened the door to find Tommy awake and chilling on his bed, just messing around with his comm. Techno was standing nearby with Grum asleep in his arms, plugged into the charger. Grian wanted to rush in, but his first thought was that if he did anything, it would be easy for Techno to do something to Grum.

“You think I would care about that?” Techno asked after rolling his eyes.

“Bitch, this kid might affectionately beat the anarchy out of you. You’re gonna be the favorite uncle whether you like it or not.”

Techno grumbled, but didn’t actively try to refute it, especially when Grum stirred slightly, snuggling up closer to the piglin. It made Grian hesitate. They had gone through a lot these past few days. And for Grum it had been around a month. While he wasn’t a fan of Grum being near Techno right now, he didn’t really want to disturb him while he looked so peaceful.

Tommy and Techno both looked up when Grian lightly knocked on the door. “Hey Tommy. How’d you get here before me?”

“Heeey Big G. Pretty sure Grum fixed whatever was wrong with me and that brought me here. He did the same for Wilbur and he’s outside.”

“He acts a bit more like Ghostbur did if you ask me.” Techno huffed, adjusting Grum in his arms.

Grian shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him in ages. Did see him outside though.” He then sighed and looked to Techno. “You haven’t done anything to Grum, have you?”

Techno managed not to flinch when the eyes glaring at him glinted a dangerous purple color. “Of course not. I even helped him out earlier.” He answered, kicking Tommy when he whispered another ‘Technosoft’ at that.

Grum whined a little when the piglin moved, and Grian took that as an opportunity to take Grum into his own arms. The bot stirred a little, but still stayed asleep, making Grian furrow his brows. “He’s asleep…”

“Yeah, and?” Techno asked, crossing his arms. He didn’t know what was so surprising about that, but next to him, Tommy did.

“Grum doesn’t sleep. Neither of the boys do. I mean not really. They have a sleep mode, but that’s not really like actual sleeping.” Grian explained. “Here… let me test something.” He checked Grum’s power reading before unplugging the bot. They all waited a few minutes in silence before Grian checked again, eyes widening. “He’s charging himself.”

“What the fuck?! Really?!” Tommy shouted, though not loud enough to wake Grum. “How did that happen?!”

Grian shrugged, almost at a loss for words. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t think something like this was possible. I mean… I’ll look into it more later… but now really isn’t the best time.”

“You know, I wonder if it’s got something to do with their hels versions. When I was still stuck over there with Grifter, he said their versions of the bots weren’t built.”

“How does-” “Fundy.” “Right, nevermind.” Techno huffed, finally pulling a chair over and sitting down. “Well I have no clue how that place works, so for all we know, that’s what did it.”

Grian shook his head. “No, I doubt it. Normally hels is affected by us, not the other way around. The Listeners developed after the Watchers, Helscraft has fewer seasons than us. Theseus wasn’t in Helscraft until a while after Tommy joined us.”

“Yeah, but they had their kids back when they were in their previous season.” Tommy piped up. “There was no way for them to make them after you build Grum and Jrum since Grifter was stuck in their season four. For all we know, it works both ways.” Grian rubbed his chin, thinking about it, but then he suddenly started looking around, wings flared out.

“What’s wrong?” Techno piped up, but the most he got in terms of an answer was Grum being handed to him again. The bot stirred a bit more, actually waking up this time. Before anyone could say something more, the world shuddered and a wave of green light suddenly passed through them. “What was that?”

“World backup. Watchers will do that sometimes, but it’s never noticeable.” Grian quickly explained, drawing his weapon.

“Then why the fuck did we notice that?” Tommy asked, a bit concerned.

“Because.” Grian turned around, wings shifting colors. “Green magic is what Listeners use.”

The_Grifter joined the world

PerfectSense joined the world

Grifter pulled Sense in close to him before sending out a ring of lit tnt that exploded around them. It was powerful enough it made the ground shake and rumble which just made the Listener smile more. “Oh Seesee! Look over there! A castle! Let’s go over there!”

“That sounds good to me.” Sense replied, picking Grifter up bridal style and walking towards Pride Palace. He had a little trouble getting through the newly formed rubble, but before long they were at the gates. Someone in a crown and sunglasses tried to approach them, but Sense quickly pulled out a death ray and shot them with it.

They reached the throne room and Sense set Grifter down. The Listener ran over to the throne and stood on it, a giant smile on his face. “I’m king of the castle! I’m king of the castle! Oh! Do you think there’s one just like this in the hels world?”

Sense chuckled. “Probably not exactly like this. And that’s if it isn’t rubble.”

Grifter pouted and fell down onto the throne to sit. “I guess that’s true. Well, when we leave I can throw some puzzle blocks together for this place to bring it over. Then we can make some improvements.”

“Why not start with them now?” Sense asked, shrugging with a little smile, which Grifter matched with his own grin. Sense tossed an axe to Grifter, who turned the pink metal more of a viridian. “Now, I suppose I’ll have to find someplace to sit.”

“While I would love to offer you a lovely seat up here, the throne will unfortunately have to do. I need to make sure Nightmare comes here.” And Grifter got up, summoning a communicator made entirely out of magic. “But I’m sure he won’t want to waste time, so you won’t need to wait too long.”

Sense moved to stand behind Grifter, putting his head on the Listener’s shoulder and looking at the comm. “Hmm, looks like Tommy’s here. He was the other version of Theseus, right?”

“Oh yes he was. I’m sure Nightmare would be much more convinced if we had him with us. He wouldn’t want Theseus dying by proxy, now would he? And it’s not like he knows I need bitch boy alive.”

“Have I ever told you how hot you are when you scheme like this?”

“Mmm, tell me again.” Grifter leaned back before a noise from his comm made him look back. “Hmm, seems we have a slight change of plans. Looks like Grian’s trying to interfere. Can you hold down the fort while I make a mess of things?”

“Of course. Have fun my darling.” Sense replied before letting Grifter go, the Listener using magic to quickly shift back to looking exactly like Grian, even changing the appearance of his wings. Sense held out a bucket filled with water and lined with soul sand which Grifter tossed an enderpearl into. The scientist put the bucket next to the throne before sitting down on it, watching as Grifter created an exit for himself and flew off.

#hermit!tommy au #hermit!tommy #helsmits #helscraft #hels!grian #hels!Philza #grian #watcher!grian #grian xelqua #avian!Grian #tommyinnit #technoblade #wilbur soot #ghostbur #grumbot #hels!Mumbo

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alyss01 · 3 years

Text

|[Trending]|

[Corpse Husband x GN! reader]

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Genre: fluff (kinda)

Word count: 2.5 K

Requested: no (to request send me a submission, an ask or a message) REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Synopsis: You meet Corpse for the first time after being invited by Sean to a game of Among us. The two of you make quite a good pair in the game and as soon as you close the game and start messaging Corpse privately you check your twitter.

Warnings: violence in among us

A/n: I really didn't know what to write but this seemed like a lot of fun. It was kind of awkward writing it but I hope you don't notice that when reading. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

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You were leaning back in your desk chair, you had just finished editing a video to go up on YouTube when you were disturbed by a ping on your phone.

"Are you up for a game of Among us?" Sean was the culprit of your distraction during your well earned break. Not that you minded, the Irish man a great friend of you and a seemingly infinite source of entertainment.

"Idk, are there others I know there as well?" You asked, unsure of wanting to go through the draining process of meeting a bunch of new people and having to worry about first impressions and such.

"A couple. Toast, Sykunno and Felix. Does that sound good?" He responded, you thought for a second, it had been awhile since you streamed and it could definitely be fun.

"I'll be there in 10. Keep the spot open." You messaged back as you closed your phone, and started to set up everything you needed to start the stream.

In the meantime Sean informed the group they could play a quick game with nine people before their fill would arrive.

You kept the intro to your stream quick, posting a quick post on instagram to inform people you were going live.

When you joined the call they seemed to have just finished the game, "Lud, I can't believe you vented in front of me!" You could instantly hear the different voices of your friends fill your ears as they bickered over their last game.

Your little avatar joined the spaceship as the group quieted down. You greeted them cheerfully, "Hi guys!"

Sykunno was the first to greet you as well, he perked up at the sound of your voice, "oh hi Y/n!" You chuckled, "it's been awhile Sykunno."

"Don't steal my simp away like that Y/n." You laughed at Toast's hurtful voice as Sykunno hurried back to denying it. Being more than well aware of the joke it had become it was always fun to tease them about it.

"Sykunno won't know who to simp for now." Felix chuckled as everyone laughed, you were glad to have joined the game, it was already promising to be a fun set of games today.

When you glanced at your chat you could see an arrange of comments flash over the screen, some greeting you, others joking about the comic situation from before yet most kept saying 'wait for it'.

"Hey guys why is my chat being spammed with 'wait for it'? What are you planning behind my back." You were skeptical of the group, knowing full well what they had planned for new comers when they joined in the past. You wanted them to know you wouldn't fall for it but instead of anything you just received laughs in response.

You were confused as ever when Felix spoke up as first, "you don't think they're talking about Corpse, do you?"

This just made you more confused, "Corpse?"

"Wait don't tell me you've never played with Corpse before?" Jack nearly yelled out, and it reminded you why you standardly had him turned down in volume in discord. "Why haven't I forced you to play with him before?!" He continued as the look of confusion only grew on your face. Your chat was going insane as you looked on another screen where discord was displayed, indeed seeing that one of the names in the call was this so called 'Corpse'.

"So uhm, who is Corpse?" You asked somewhat awkwardly, and a deep voice greeted you back.

You were taken by surprise to say the least, Felix comically counting to three before your own voice seemed to return, "assuming that was real, that's one heck of a voice you got there dude." A smile on your face as you continued to look at the screen.

"Yea.. uh thanks?" You could hear the awkwardness in his voice, "I'm sorry, you must get that a lot." You apologized while chuckling as he agreed, "yea, you could say that."

With that settled the game of Among us started. You walked out of cafeteria, followed by Corpse and Sykunno as you did the med scan, Sykunno checking if it was real and doing his own scan after.

Corpse followed the two of you around to cameras where he vented when both you and Sykunno were watching the cameras. His kill in electrical was fast and flawless as he vented back, just in time to see you walk down from the cameras.

You had seen him, he knew that. Yet you didn't run to the button. A devilish smile on your face as you spoke to your chat, "now I'm interested in how his going to play this." Sykunno left cams, and the three of you split from each other to do tasks.

You met up with Corpse once more in admin, as you were scanning your card. The lights went out as you stood at the admin table beside him, who was still faking the task, although it didn't do anything to convince you after what you had seen earlier.

Although you had expected him to kill you right then and there, he didn't. He stayed beside you until the body was reported.

Three people had died so far.

Corpse stayed silent, only speaking when a question was asked. "I was the entire time beside Y/n, they can vouch for me."

You raised your eyebrows as you listened along. He was testing his boundaries. He was testing you.

"He was with me the entire time yes, so that should clear me." You spoke, muting yourself for a second as you talked to your chat, "I'll keep that information for later, he can't kill me now, cause I'm clearing him."

"It doesn't clear you, three people died." Rae spoke up for the first time that meeting, but Corpse was quick to defend you, "If we would've been imposters we would've just double killed twice."

You mouth opened although no words came out. Sykunno backed you up, saying that he cleared you with the med bay scan so both you and Corpse were safe.

"This is actually hilarious." You said as you laughed loudly when the meeting ended. In the end they had skipped because you were still with seven left.

As you walked around the map Corpse trailed you like a puppy, only disappearing once. When you found a body in comms later while walking by you reported it, "it's in comms."

Five people were left. They were one person away from winning.

It wasn't needed for you to reveal your information quite yet, Toast had big brained and figured out that Rae was one of the imposters. Seeing as his evidence seemed accurate enough you voted, and the game didn't end when she was thrown into the vast emptiness of space.

During the next round Corpse disappeared from your side once more, and you left your position. Instead of waiting for him you stood at the button and waited for a few seconds to be sure Corpse had killed before pressing the emergency button.

"Good button." Corpse started and Sykunno agreed. Three people were left.

You smiled as you shifted position, leaning your head on your hand as you watched the screen. "So this button has a reason. We need to vote."

Again both males agreed. "Sykunno remember how you cleared me at med bay the first round?"

"Yes.."

"So then it's Sykunno." Corpse concluded and your confusion was obvious on your camera as you were trying to understand what Corpse was doing.

"Well you didn't check me, so it can definitely be me." Sykunno agreed thoughtfully, and you shifted in your chair, smacking your hands on your desk "Wait what? Sykunno I know it's not you!"

"You were with Corpse the entire game though, and you never cleared me!" He argued back and you failed to see the logic in his words.

"Sykunno I literally saw Corpse vent!" You yelled out, locking your vote into corpse.

This new information seemed to take Sykunno by surprise as well, "wait what? You actually saw him vent? When?"

"First round at cams. I got off earlier than you and Corpse hopped out of the vent after killing someone in electrical, after all that's where the body was found. So after that he followed me around each round." You explained as Sykunno locked in his vote as well.

Corpse didn't say anything before locking in his own vote.

He got thrown out with three votes that round.

You were practically yelled at by both Felix and Jack after not having avenged them by outing Corpse that first round.

It was the second round when the fun really started to happen. Both you and Corpse managed to land imposter this time. You were glad you were muted when you saw the screen with the red letters painted above it, the loud laughing that escaped your throat would've been a dead give away.

You managed to kill two people during that round, both when lights were off. When you shot Sykunno in his head you whispered a silent apology as you self reported his body.

"Okay so who killed my simp?" You spoke as soon as you unmuted yourself in the meeting. Immediately Corpse and Sean went wild, "who killed my best bud?!" Sean immediately followed.

"I swear whoever killed Sykunno won't get away with this." Corpse followed up. Surprisingly enough this pulled any suspicion off the three of you. No one wanted to believe any of you three would actually murder Sykunno.

They shot out Rae for whatever reason that round, although you barely noticed in your laughing fit. You didn't stop laughing after Toast had quite literally said "Y/n, Sean and Corpse have to be clear, otherwise I would've heard Sykunno cry from his room because of the betrayal."

"I'm gonna stalk Y/n. Ain't no way both my best friends are getting murdered." The words that left Sean's mouth in the last seconds of the meeting made you stop laughing.

You followed Sean around, talking to your chat in the meantime, "okay so I'm switching tactics. I'm gonna marinate Sean now."

When the next body was reported you indeed had not left Sean's side. It made the group believe that one of the killers had indeed been thrown out and it also cleared your name.

Now both you and Corpse were cleared, as he had marinated someone the first round and now you also had someone to vouch for you.

"So we got one out just now, otherwise we there probably would've been more people dead." Toast started the meeting when Felix's body was found.

"Or one of the imposters is sitting it out." Hafu continued and immediately they started to debate. With six people left you were ready for a double kill to win.

"I can only vouch for Corpse for round one." Poki spoke up, immediately drawing sus to corpse. There wasn't anything you could do against it so you let it happen, and in the end he got voted out.

His ghost followed you as you walked around. You decided to speedrun the remaining round. You killed Poki first in med bay and vented into security as you walked towards electrical.

If you played this well enough you could put Sean in a 50/50.

Next on your list was either Toast or Hafu. You sliced Toast's neck in comms and when you went to check admin table you could see both Hafu and Sean together in navigation.

You waited for a bit longer before taking the long way through cafeteria, and when you arrived your kill cool down was ready.

You sliced through Hafu's avatar as the screen faded to black and displayed your victory.

The rounds that followed that one were on your end spent as cremated, although they were still a lot of fun. You stayed with Corpse for a large part of it, vouching for each other when you could. More than once that resulted in the both of you being thrown out.

When Corpse left the group you saw that it had been a couple of hours. It was starting to get late for you as well so you too decided to end there. You closed your stream with some last words and got up from your set up as you stretched.

You grabbed your phone as you opened discord, sending a quick message to Corpse, "it was great meeting you! You're one hell of an imposter by the way." You fell backwards on your bed.

Within a minute you got a reply, "likewise, we made a great team." You chuckled aloud. This wasn't what you had planned for the day but it was a lot of fun. You were glad you had joined the game.

"Will you be joining future games as well?" You messaged back, hoping for a positive answer.

"I hope so, it isn't up to me though." You couldn't see Corpses smile through the screen, neither could he see your broad smile as you typed a reply.

"Got it. Rest assured knowing I'll message you as soon as I get the opportunity for anyone to join! No matter what, I hope to see you more often in the lobby." You clicked send as you dropped your phone on the bed. You laughed as you pressed your face in one of your pillows, you could barely believe you just send that.

"Same." The beep from your phone had you grab it as you read his reply, the smile on your face growing brighter.

When you closed discord you could see the massive amount of notifications on twitter. You opened the app, seeing your account swamped with tweets over your stream and the hashtag '#CorpseandY/n' trending.

The tweets ranged from clips from your stream mashed with clips from Corpses stream, to just messages and drawings of scenes of the stream. You recognized your little avatar turning around when corpse vented right in front of you while Corpses avatar was littered with blood splatters in one of the mini comics.

You returned to your chat with him on discord, "have you checked twitter since the start of among us?"

"No, I've gotten a lot of notifications though."

"I recommend you check it." You laughed as Corpse went offline. A couple of minutes later he returned, "we're trending."

"Yup, we are."

#corpse x reader #corpse imagines #corpse fanfic #corpse fic #corpse husband #gender neutral character #corpse x you #corpse fluff #corpse husband fluff #fluff #gender neutral mc #gender neutral reader #relaxtime #corpse husband x reader #x reader

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mobsuma · 4 years

Text

Third Time's the Charm

Summary: Ex shows Helsknight a magic trick. Helsknight learns not to underestimate Ex. Something stirs.

Short-ish, honestly there is no plan things just kind of happen, written in the dead of night, no editing we die like fools

tw: mind control/hypnosis

Xisuma was once again in the process of removing dark gray panes of glass from his storage system. He was almost certain he had unsubscribed from Shade-Es but then again, knowing some of the other hermits, they probably would have signed him up again for a laugh. He sighed, shaking his head. A fond smile played across the admin's face. Trust Etho to come up with a scam like this.

He had just finished dumping a chest worth of glass into a new home when he began to be able to make out a sound, something different to the hum of redstone or buzz of bees, it…Almost sounded like music, a familiar song that he couldn't remember the words to. He let the lid of the chest swing shut, swaying to the tune, now focused solely on the sound.

It came from all around, bouncing off the walls of the storage room and steadily, steadily growing louder. Xisuma strained to listen, not caring much to investigate where it was coming from, just to listen. There were words, certainly, each one familiar, he recognised them instantly but couldn't for the life of him tell you what those words were. But they were soothing, comforting, telling him that he was tired, that he should rest…

And perhaps he was, he vaguely realised, his whole body ached, his limbs were heavy, he was barely even standing... But he didn't want to lie down just yet. He… wanted to listen… listen to the sweet, comforting sound of the song echoing inside his head, just a little while longer… Just… a little… while...

Xisuma swayed on his feet, eyes glazing over.

The spell had been cast.

And he was under.

"And you didn't believe me!" Evil Xisuma gloated triumphantly as he hopped down from his hiding place, "Yooou didn't think I could do it. But I did. So there." He held out his hand to the figure behind him, red visor lit up with happiness.

"Quite frankly, it's surprising you're able to do anything in the first place," Helsknight replied coolly, ignoring Ex as he strode over to the admin and waved a hand in front of his visor, allowing himself a small smirk when he received no response, "I suppose we'll just have to hope he isn't stuck gawking like that permanently…"

"Hey!" Ex huffed indignantly, "That was one time! Wels wasn't supposed to- Argh- I'd like to see you do any better!" He jabbed a finger at the knight's chest, visor lights flashing.

Hels quirked an eyebrow, hand shooting up to catch Ex's wrist as a nasty sneer crossed his face, "I suggest that if you want to keep all ten of your grubby little fingers, you keep them away from me…" He gave the double's wrist a quick, but painful squeeze and watched him recoil, satisfied that his personal space would no longer be violated.

"So." He said after a moment, turning back to Xisuma, who was still completely dead to the world, "I suppose we should test it… Admin, open the control panel for me."

He received no response.

Hels scowled, "Adm- Xisuma, open the control panel."

Nothing.

There was a sharp, musical trill and before Hels had a chance to berate Ex for messing this up, Xisuma had begun tapping away on his wrist-comm. Hels gave him a look, Ex simply leaned against a chest looking smug, "And here I was thinking the Champion of Hels would know these things," He pushed past the knight to stand beside the dazed hermit, who having already opened the control panel, was awaiting his next command.

Their gazes flitted across the display as it hovered in midair. From Ex's perspective, it all made total sense, but from Hels'...

"It's all in enchanting book?!" He exclaimed, "How is anyone supposed to-"

"Standard Galactic, actually," He was interrupted once more, "Not that difficult-" Ex sniffed, "-once you learn it of course. It is the language of magic after all."

Hels' scowl only deepened, feeling his annoyance only swelling inside him at that smug worthless rat's- He took a quiet breath. This alliance was important. As irritating as Evil Xisuma was… He was valuable. A good pawn at the very least.

"Perhaps you might be willing to teach me then," He ground out.

Ex shrugged, "Why not? That's what friends are for."

Friends? Did he really think they were-

Another, deeper trill and Xisuma was typing again, the display changed to a list of the hermit's names. The pair watched as he scrolled through the list, finally stopping at Ex's.

"What are you doing?" Hels was genuinely curious, "I thought you said we were going to destroy the server, not…" He squinted at the screen as it changed again, back to galactic.

"Yeah, we are. But we wanna do it in style, don't we?"

"I really don't care about style. This should be as simple as telling him to delete the server and being done with it."

Ex sighed, "Trust me, it is waay not that simple… X, tell Helsie what happened last time you deleted the server for me." He let out a few more notes.

Xisuma was quiet for a second, "I don't remember deleting any servers."

"Oh. Right. Yeah, you wouldn't, that's fair," He trilled again as he leaned against his brother's shoulder, Xisuma typing away once more, "Basically: there was a backup which got automatically restored and it sort of… Broke my control… And revoked my privileges… And it was like nothing had happened at all. I dunno how many backups there are but good ol' Xisuma can't access any of them." He gave the admin a pat on the head.

"I see…" Hels frowned. Annoying. Very annoying. He supposed it was a little optimistic of him to think that anything in this place could be done efficiently, "Although…" A sneer spread across his face, "This might be better. Those rats are so… determined… It would be fun to see them suffer. Everytime they rebuild, we raze it again… Until there's nothing left but ashes." Nothing left but Hels.

"Yeah! See! It'll be fun! Just you, me- maybe X and- actually I should try this on some of the others too, I think Joe knows galactic and that might be a prob-"

The display dinged and Xisuma fell still once again as Ex practically vibrated with excitement.

"Haha! Yes!" He punched the air, whooping, "Privileges restored! Jimminy Cricket, it has been forever…" He looks down at his hands in awe, gazing at the sparks crackling at his fingertips like a child would a particularly large birthday present.

And there was a moment, just a brief moment, as the electricity danced across his palms, where Hels caught a glimpse of the face behind the tinted visor. It didn't surprise him that it looked just like Xisuma's, Ex was, after all, his clone… or his brother… or something… But his eyes were different all together. They burned a deep crimson, brighter than the helmet's light-up display. And unlike the happy display, those eyes watched the electricity with a very different emotion. His eyes flickered, just for an instant, sclera darkening to almost black. And then it was gone.

Hels' stomach twisted with an unfamiliar, and rather unpleasant sensation. Taking an unconscious step back, his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Ex seemed to notice this, looking up at the knight and tilting his head in puzzlement.

"You okay there?"

"Yes," He lied, hand still on the sword, "Just… Keep that magic from me until I get some less... conductive armour."

"Oh! Yeah, of course- iron-" Ex hid his hands behind his back, "Yeah. Okay… Uh. We could get X to spawn some netherite in…"

"Or we could take it from the hermits," Hels sneered. Specifically from that sorry self-righteous excuse for a knight-

Ex nodded enthusiastically, "That sounds way better! We should do that instead!" He seemed… A little more excitable than usual, already raiding Xisuma's chests for supplies, "Lemme guess… Wels?"

"How did you know?" It was sarcastic but apparently Ex needed a sharp glare to stop himself from answering.

Hels let out a long suffering sigh, donning his elytra and casting a look back at the doubles, "What about him?" He jerked a thumb at Xisuma.

Ex waved a hand dismissively, "He'll snap out of it eventually," He gave the admin a rough thump on the back, "Spell's got a range on it anyway. But he won't remember a thing."

"Right."

"Well, c'mon then, what're you standing around for? We have a server to destroy!"

Hels watched Ex take a running leap out of the base and falling out of sight. For a dull moment, he genuinely wondered if Ex had just killed himself.

That was, until Ex reappeared again, hovering in the sky without an elytra in sight.

It shouldn't surprise him, but it did.

Ex was, after all, a man of many surprising talents.

He sighed again, ignoring Ex's shouts as he walked to the edge of the tower, pulling a rocket from his inventory.

Too many surprising talents.

He rolled the rocket over in his hands for a second, then looked back at the still spellbound Xisuma.

The twisting in his stomach had not gone away, in fact it had only spread, filling his chest and throat with a painful squeezing sensation.

'It wouldn't be hard,' he thought, 'for him to do the same to me.'

But Ex was just a childish fool, too intent on their friendship to even consider that-

He yanked the rocket cord and took off into the sky, trying not to think about the dark expression that he had saw cross his face.

-At least, he hoped.

#hermitcraft #helsknight #evil xisuma #xisuma #xisumavoid #my writing #cw mind control #ah this my beloved #so many thoughts so little time #ill just leave them bouncing round my head for the forseeable future

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kelpiemist · 4 years

Text

Feat. Supreme Chancellor (AKA, the Sith Lord) VS The Negotiator (who's still a little salty about the war)

"You know.” Palpatine said finally, settling his teacup down with a hard clink. It was not a question, and they both knew it.

“I know.” Obi-Wan agreed.

“You know that I know.” The Sith-disguised-as-a-Chancellor stated, an utterly affronted look on his face.

“I know that you know that I know.” The Jedi smirked, before leaning forward and taking a deliberate, slow sip from his cup.

(The utter bastard, Palpatine raged, feeling the Force swell into filtering the poison that he had so helpfully laced the cup in. Kenobi couldn’t even have the common courtesy to fall over and die!)

There was a long pause. Both of them understood that they were at an impasse and neither really had the option of killing the other. Palpatine was the Chancellor, and Obi-Wan knew that assassinating him would not reflect well on the Jedi Order. The Senate would have a hissy fit.

On the other hand, Palpatine couldn’t kill him yet either. Because, well, Negotiator . Plus being one of the leading generals.

Plus, Anakin would be the one to have a hissy fit.

“I’ll kill you.” The Chancellor sniffed darkly. His long, spindly fingers tapped on the desk in a series of menacing thuds. Tap. Tap .

“You will try.”

Tap, tap, tap, taptaptap taptaptap.

They glared at each other.

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

The door to his office opens, and Palpatine sighs as he puts on his ‘kind face’. A smile spreads across his face, as he turns around, radiating happiness and joy into the Force. “Anakin, my bo-”

The smile slips right off his face, replaced by a dark scowl. “You.” He growls.

Kenobi grins, striding into the office with a purposeful motion. “Me.” He agrees.

The blasted Jedi settles himself comfortably into the seat. Palpatine seethes in rage, as his face contorts into murderous anger. A sudden idea comes to him, and he pulls out his comm.

“Amedda.” He snaps. “Bring us some tea. Now.”

A squeak from the other end of the comm tells him that Amedda is doing the menial task and is coming soon.

“You are too kind, Chancellor.” Kenobi purrs, and Palpatine flinches in sheer horror. Force, was this how Ventress and Grievous felt while facing this… this filth? The sheer audacity!

Jedi and Sith stare at each other silently, one glaring the power of a hundred Death Stars and the other radiating pure smugness. The door opens once more, and Amedda scurries in, fear written clearly across his face, and Palpatine relaxes fractionally, energised by the terror that his aide is leaking into the Force. The Chagrian politician places the cups on the table and flees.

Palpatine’s hand hovers over the cup, discreetly slipping another poison inside. Kenobi’s eyes very carefully focus on his own, and Palpatine resists the urge to fidget. The vial disappears as quickly as it appears, vanishing back into his robes with a quiet chink.

“Tea?” He grits out, hand actually shaking with fury as he holds out a cup of tea.

“Very well.” Kenobi sighs, accepting the cup.

They drink quietly. It irks Palpatine because the Jedi actually drinks the entire thing. The audacity! How dare he?!?

The Sith's eye twitches after several long moments of silence because the damned Jedi still does not immediately keel over and die.

“This is… very interesting tea.” Kenobi finally says after several infuriating minutes of nothing happening . “I take it that it’s made from senflax?” The Jedi chuckles. “I take it that you haven’t heard the story of how my Master made sure I was resistant to it after several rather nasty incidents where this particular neurotoxin was involved.”

Kenobi chortles quietly, shaking his head in fond remembrance. “The Cadanna mission was one of the more, ah, interesting missions.”

Palpatine’s face twisted, contorting into several varieties of a pissed-off expression before finally settling on murderous rage.

WHY WON’T KENOBI JUST DIE ?!?

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

“What sorcery is this?!?” Palpatine howled, even as he directed his Sith lightning towards the defenceless Jedi that had just walked into his office. The lightning was being absorbed into Kenobi’s clothes.

The look that Kenobi shot him was one of utter innocence. “What, haven’t you heard of electrical-proof clothes? I hear that rubber is very efficient...”

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

“Get out.”

“Tell me, Chancellor. Is tea an Anakin-only privilege or do you so kindly extend this gracious gift to people of the lesser-Midichlorian variety?”

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

“Will you stop flirting!” Palpatine shouted, slamming down his data pad with a thud.

“Chancellor,” Obi-Wan gasped in exaggeration, fake-hurt on his face. “Your accusations are unfounded, my dearest Sheev.”

Palpatine gagged.

“Shut up!” The Chancellor hissed, still retching. “I’m not even your type!”

Obi-Wan blinked, startled at the sudden change in conversation. “Why do you know my type?” He asked suspiciously.

That’s it, Palpatine decided. He was going to kill this Jedi, and he was going to enjoy dipping his hands in Kenobi's blood and painting the walls with dead Jedi and -

“What do you think my type is?” Obi-Wan asked, frowning, and breaking Palpatine's line of deliciously dark thought. “Your information may be entirely incorrect, you know.”

“Blond,” Palpatine spat, shuddering, remembering the time that Satine Kryze gave him a killer stink-eye when he nearly invaded her planet. “And crazy.”

Siri Tachi came to mind too, though… how in the galaxy had she even managed to destroy his best sculpture and then thrown him off his own balcony by accident in one night?

“Wrong.” Obi-Wan sat back gleefully, interrupting Sheev’s thoughts once again. “ Willing. And with a pulse.”

Palpatine put his head in his hands, and screamed.

—-------—- ——------

“Hello there, Chancellor.” Obi-Wan says cheerfully, waving.

Cody and Anakin stare at him in utter confusion. They both knew very well that Obi-Wan harboured some sort of disdain for politicians, and even more so for the Supreme Chancellor.

What was even more odder, was the fact that the Chancellor’s face immediately turned an alarming shade of puce.

Anakin watched with morbid fascination as his Master skipped over to the Chancellor. They exchanged a few words, Obi-Wan’s face becoming more smug while the Chancellor’s features became an increasingly agitated purple.

A beat.

The Chancellor and the Negotiator stared at each other with a look that Anakin couldn’t quite decipher.

Then:

“Arghh!” Palpatine gave up all pretence of patience. He gave a scream of frustration and tackled the Jedi.

Anakin stared in amazement while Cody’s eyes bugged out in shock. Behind them, the Senators and Aides watched in stunned confusion as their Leader and their War-Hero started re-enacting a Ubardian oil wrestling match on the marble floor.

It took half-a-second for Cody to react.

With a loud battle-cry, the clone charged forward. He dove forward, ramming straight into the Chancellor. With a quick move, he dug his heels into the Chancellor’s limbs, tightening his grasp on the elderly man’s neck as he clone-piled the man.

The end result was that he ended up clinging on to the Chancellor’s back.

For a brief second, the commander’s eyes were wide with indecision. Then, his jaw set firmly, a hard look entering his features.

Oh shit, Anakin thought faintly. The Chancellor was in deep bantha poodoo now.

Palpatine yelled in shock, as Cody started noogie-ing him, rubbing a tightly-clenched knuckle over the Chancellor’s greasy hair.

“Don’t you dare.” Cody snarled fiercely, diving in mercilessly for another attack on his campaign to destroy the Chancellor’s scalp. “Hurt my general ever again.”

Obi-Wan paused, still sprawled out on the floor. An utterly soft and adoring look passing over his face as he smiled sappily at his commander.

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

“Your thousand-year old Sith plan is incredibly stupid.” Obi-Wan drawled out. There was a solid ten beats of silence.

Palpatine paused his typing and started to breathe heavily, closing his eyes as he forced down air into his lungs.

Deep breaths, Sheev, deep breaths. That’s it.

He shoved the urge to kill the Jedi to the darkest recesses of his mind.

“Wine?” He asked, holding up a goblet.

Obi-Wan shrugged, taking the offered cup from the Chancellor’s hand. “Is it poisoned? I fear that Cody will not be pleased if I died.”

Palpatine gave him the Look, reaching down and taking a pointed sip of his own goblet. Obi-Wan sighed, and to Sith’s surprised glee, knocked it back.

“A toast.” Palpatine said, “To your death.”

“Back at you, dearest Chancellor.”

They drank. Palpatine was slightly disappointed that Kenobi didn’t show any outward signs of reaction.

"Did you know that Stewjoni’s are resistant to this particular strain of Chee Berry Poison?”

“Die. Now .”

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

Somewhere in the ethereal planes of the Force, Qui-Gon Jinn stared in horrified silence.

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

“Trust me, you don’t want Anakin as an apprentice.” Obi-Wan finally said, after Palpatine had finished highlighting his master plan to make the Jedi die ‘like the scum they are ’ and to make Anakin into a glorious Sith Lord.

“No?” Palpatine asked, arching an eyebrow condescendingly. “Tell me, Jedi. What would you know of what it takes to become a Sith?”

Obi-Wan took another gulp of poison before looking back at the Chancellor with consideration. Slowly, he nodded.

“Not much, Chancellor… But personally, I would prefer it if my newest Sith Apprentice knew how to put on both his socks by himself.”

“Hmm.” Palpatine frowned, and tapped his glass for a few minutes. “Fair point.”

There was a silence.

“He really is quite powerful in other ways.” The Chancellor finally spoke up. “Don’t think you’ll be able to stop me from stealing your apprentice.”

Obi-Wan’s lip curled up into a challenging smirk, practically daring the Sith Lord. “You will try.” He repeated fiercely.

--———— —---———

“As Supreme Chancellor, I command you to shut up.”

“Request denied, and moving on, did you know that tooka’s enjoy eating Nuna Turkey Jerky? Fun fact, the Nuna are also called Swamp Turkeys and are well-known for their inability to fly and their stupidity. By the way, the stupidity part reminds me of you, dear Chancellor. Anyway, Nunas are omnivores and an average Nuna feeds -”

“Shut up.”

“- and Ewoks are a species of tiny killer bears that live on the incredibly minuscule moon of Endor-”

“I will bisect you.”

“ - Bantha are native specifically to Tatooine although they are bred on many planets, and are used for both mount and resources blah blah blah -”

* Unintelligible noises of rage and items being destroyed *

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

“I’ll find a way to kill you.” Palpatine snarled, throwing the data-pad via Force at Kenobi’s head.

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

“I saved Anakin so many times!” Obi-Wan protested. “Are you even aware of how much stupid stuff he does?”

Palpatine sneered. “He is the most powerful Force user, you fool!”

“He thinks that nobody knows about him and Padme.” Obi-Wan told him flatly.

There was a horribly awkward pause.

“... He really thinks that?”

“Yup.” Obi-Wan sank back onto the seat tiredly. More silence.

“Ah. I see.”

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

“Dear lord, that boy is an idiot.” Palpatine muttered, watching Anakin make starry-eyes at Senator Amidala again in front of the whole Senate at their annual dinner party.

“... Can’t argue with that.” Obi-Wan groaned, having overheard the comment and was now taking a long swing from a bottle of Alderaan wine.

At the other side of the room, Cody twitched. He had just spent the last five hours of his life watching his General empty bottles faster than a clone could disassemble a rifle.

Rex had to physically restrain him from marching over there, although the poor clone looked ready to tear out his precious blond hair after watching General Skywalker make a general nuisance of himself as he gave Senator Amidala numerous cheesy pick-up lines and regaled her with tales of the tragic events of sand .

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

“Chancellor Sheev,” Mace Windu intoned dramatically, pointing his lightsaber directly at a gaping Palpatine. “You are under arrest.” Behind the Jedi Master, several other Jedi stood, lightsabers tensed and ready to make minced-Sith sauté in case things went south.

“You can’t do this!” The Sith wheezed, panicking as he hurriedly put on his old man act. “This is a conspiracy! This is clearly a Jedi plot to overthrow the Senate! This is treason !”

Nearly everyone in the room gave him the bitch, really face.

Kit Fisto held up a small holo-recorder. He pressed the play button, and a very familiar voice came out of the small device.

"I am a Sith Lord, you fools! I orchestrated the war to kill the Jedi and make my Empire! Mwahahahahahaha.”

Palpatine blanched. That was his! It was his victory day celebration speech! A gasp of horror escaped his lips before he could stop it. How the hell did the Jedi manage to bug his office without him noticing -

“This is awesome.” Obi-Wan remarked from one side, pointing a holo-cam directly at the Sith. “Nice touch on the Sheev -emphasis, Mace. Greatest day of my life, really. Say hello to your adoring public, Sheev .”

Palpatine did the only logical thing left to do.

He put his head in his hands and screamed.

#obi wan kenobi #star wars tcw #palpatine #crack #pure crack #fanfic #commander cody #anakin skywalker #mace windu #kit fisto #fix it

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trvelyans-archive · 3 years

Text

look out

a comm for @dauntless-necromancer of the detective’s daughter miss maxine spending a weekend at the warehouse with unit bravo <3 it was such a pleasure to write for you again !!! i hope you enjoy <3

When Max finishes up science club on Friday, there are three vampires waiting outside school for her.

… That sounds like the beginning of a bad YA novel.

Not that she reads those. Well… she does, just not that often. She’s too busy with homework most of the time – also, lots of them are bad. Besides, she’s glad that she hasn’t had time to read lately, because she wouldn’t want Unit Bravo to catch her flipping through some trashy teen book when they get home from… y’know, killing werewolves or demons or whatever. (Or not killing them? She doesn’t really understand what it is they do.) She hitches her backpack higher over her shoulders, pushes her glasses up her nose and clears her throat as she heads down the sidewalk towards the sleek black van they’re standing in front of.

Nice, Max thinks. Better than Dad’s car.

It nearly broke down on the way to school this morning. Max doesn’t know how she felt about him making the 45-minute drive into the city with it, but he kept changing the subject whenever she brought it up. Actually, he didn’t really say or do anything but go over a checklist of what she needed for the weekend until she was about to get out of the car and he said, “Sorry, kiddo. I’ve just been… on edge lately.”

As if he had to tell her that. She sees him every week – she knows how stressed he’s been. That’s part of the reason she went along with this plan so willingly: she wants to get to the bottom of whatever’s going on with him.

“Max!” The shortest one – Farah – practically pounces on her as she approaches their van outside the school, grinning widely. (No vampire fangs, Max notes. Maybe they only come out sometimes? She has an urge to write that down somewhere. She should definitely start taking notes.) “How are you? How was school?”

“Good,” Max says. “And I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m good,” Farah replies, grinning. “I’m excited!”

“She has quite the schedule planned for you,” Nat says, smiling softly. Max likes Nat the most out of all of them – she’s smart and nice, if a little… boring. But boring can be good, sometimes! “We’ve all been looking forward to your visit, though.”

Max looks over at Morgan, who tosses her cigarette onto the ground and stomps it under her boot, staring at the school with a frown and a furrowed brow.

Maybe not all of them, Max thinks.

“Whose car is this?” she asks, pointing at the van.

“The Agency’s!” Farah hurries to pull the door of the van open and gestures inside. “Nothing but the best for Eddie’s daughter!”

“All the vans look like this,” Morgan grumbles. Farah elbows her.

“Nothing but the best,” she repeats.

Max pokes her head inside – it’s practically spotless and smells like new-car smell (except she knows it probably isn’t). They’re probably just really particular about, like, cleaning them after they use the vans to haul back dead werewolves or whatever. (God, she hopes they don’t do that, and she especially hopes they haven’t done that with this van. She makes a mental note to ask Nat about it later.)

As if on cue, Farah grabs Max’s overnight bag from her hand and tosses it inside the car.

“What are you waiting for?” Farah asks. “Let’s go!”

At first, Max as hesitant to spend her weekend with Unit Bravo. Before her dad finished finalizing plans with them, she begged Mom to take the weekend off work until her mom was sick of her asking. As much as she’s grown to like… most of the Unit, she didn’t know how much she’d like spending three days with them. After all, she still hasn’t forgotten what happened with that freak Murphy earlier this year. She still hasn’t forgot that, whether they wanted to or not, they left her dad out to dry and he got his ass – butt – kicked because of it.

And yet, by ten o’clock Friday night – the time she would usually be getting ready for bed – she’s pretty sure she’s gonna like spending the weekend here much more than she thought she would.

They’ve set up camp in the games room. After Max scarfed down the slightly burnt dinner that Nat made her, they spent the evening playing darts – Morgan won the first three games, to Farah’s annoyance, and then Max won the fourth game, to even more of Farah’s annoyance – and now they’re about half an hour deep into what feels like will be an incredibly prolonged game of pool.

Max’s on Farah’s team, apparently. She thinks it’s because Farah doesn’t want to lose again, but she’s going to be disappointed – Max’s only played pool a couple times before, and Dad is never an easy opponent.

(In pool, at least – she kicks his ass – butt – at chess.)

“Y’know,” Farah says, leaning on the pool table and turning to face Max with a bright smile, “I don’t know a lot about you, Max. Your dad doesn’t talk about you a lot – well, I mean, he does sometimes! But just about how proud he is of you and stuff.”

Max smiles. It never hurts to hear that the hours she spends doing homework every night always pay off. “He doesn’t tell us much of anything else, though, like…” Farah purses her lips, scanning the ceiling while she searches for a question. “What do you like to do for fun?” Her eyes widen with excitement. “We can add whatever it is to the schedule for this weekend!”

Morgan snorts and hits a striped, orange ball, sending it straight into the pocket at the corner of the table. “Not even I have enough energy to put up with all the shit you have planned for this weekend, Farah,” she says. “You think the kid does?”

“I’m not a–“ Max stops herself before she finishes the sentence. “Well, I would love to do anything you have planned, Farah,” she continues politely. Mostly because the more time they spend together, the more dirt she can try to dig up. “I can’t wait to see what else we’re going to do tonight.”

“Tonight? Oh, the rest of tonight is all about pool, baby!” Farah grabs her cue stick and turns back to the table. “We gotta get through the next three games of our tournament before we even think about doing anything else.”

Max waits until Farah’s back is turned to wince. It looks like she won’t be able to sit any of them down and have a serious discussion anytime soon, then. It’s not that she doesn’t want to play pool at all – she’d like to play pool and see if she can find any board games – but she just has more important things to tend to, as well.

She’s not exactly going to say that, though, so when she catches Morgan smirking at the look on her face, she forces herself to smile.

Saturday morning, Max creeps out of her dad’s bedroom wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts she found in his closet. She thought about having a shower but decided against it – firstly because she’s too lazy to figure out how the shower in his bathroom works, and secondly because she really wants a bowl of the cereal that she spotted on top of the fridge last night. She pads slowly through the wide, empty hallways, her socked feet thumping softly against the floor, and the kitchen door creaks open as she walks inside, yawning.

Unfortunately for her, she didn’t get a lot of sleep. It’s kind of hard to do so when you’re in some supernatural underground warehouse surrounded by vampires and one of them plays music very loud and very late at night.

“Good morning,” Nat says. She’s sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a book open in front of her – the book looks old. Looks ancient. If she has access to books that look so ancient, then how old is Nat? Max can’t ask that, right? Dad’s told her that it’s rude to ask women how old they are - does that count for vampires, too?

She clears her throat when she realizes that she hasn’t answered yet.

“Good morning,” she replies, tiptoeing over to the table and tucking her hair behind her ear before pushing her glasses higher up her nose. “Can I – uh, have some cereal?”

Nat laughs gently. “Of course,” she answers. “I bought it just for you – the others don’t eat human food very often.”

‘Human’. It feels weird to hear them refer to her as a human. She knows they aren’t humans, of course, at least not anymore, but – they look like humans and sound like humans. She hasn’t even seen a fang yet! (Though she’s not sure whether or not she wants to.) “Oh.” She nods, blushing. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Max can feel Nat watching her as she heads for the fridge, standing on her tiptoes to grab the cereal box. “Does Farah have any plans for you today?”

“She does. Well, I think she does – she said so last night, anyway, when I finally went to bed, but I think I might try and catch up some homework this morning first.” Max opens the door of the fridge and reaches for a jug of milk that looks entirely unopened – Nat really did buy everything just for her, apparently. “I have a journal to write for English, a project to work on for science, some equations to work on for math…”

“Sounds like quite a lot of work.”

As if any of her work compares to the work of top-secret agents who also happen to be vampires. Still, Max sighs and nods. “Yeah, it is a lot sometimes,” she agrees. “I don’t mind it most of the time, though. I like school. But I’d rather just… I don’t know, hang out with you guys this weekend…”

Well… she’s a bit worn out from playing pool and darts as of right now, and she doesn’t want to spend any more time with Morgan because Morgan doesn’t seem to like her very much, but she all she needs is to have some coffee and she’ll feel a lot better. (Hopefully.) (Do they even have any coffee here?)

“Who says you can’t do both?” Nat asks. “I’ll be moving to the library soon, if you want to join me.”

Max smiles. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Nat answers. “There’s plenty of room for you to do your work, and I wouldn’t mind some company.”

“Okay.” Max nods, looking down at her bowl as she pushes the dry cereal around in her milk. “Thanks, Nat. For, uh, you know…” She shrugs, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Buying me food and stuff.”

“Of course. My pleasure.”

She goes back to her reading, leaving Max alone with her thoughts and her cereal.

Miraculously, in the peace and quiet of the library, Max manages to get almost all of her work finished.

Well, she saves the last part of her science project for tomorrow, but mostly because she starts falling asleep in her chair at about three in the afternoon and heads back to her dad’s room to take a nap that ends up lasting a lot longer than she intended. Nat’s not in the library when she returns at about half past ten, which is a letdown, both because Max genuinely likes her company but mostly because she didn’t get any information about what’s going on in Wayhaven out of her earlier.

She’s hoping she can get some tomorrow. Unless they have to go into the field and kill (or not kill) some more werewolves, in which case she’ll probably be out of luck.

After scarfing down the leftovers of last night’s dinner, she decides to continue her search for Nat anyway, and while she’s leaving the kitchen she comes across Farah in the hallway. She tails Max around the Warehouse for a little while and asks her what feels like a thousand questions – what class her favourite is, what her mom’s like, what she wants to be when she grows up – and while Max wouldn’t have liked answering them a month ago, she does now without even thinking about it. Playing darts and pool with someone for six hours can really help them grow on you, apparently.

They’re on their fifth lap when Farah stops abruptly. “Alright, Max,” she says. “Think I’m gonna head to Morgan’s room and ask her if she wants to play darts!”

Max cringes – she hadn’t realized how bored Farah might be wandering around what’s basically her own house. She doesn’t seem too bothered by it, though. (Is she ever bothered by anything?) “But you can come find me later in the games room if you’re bored, alright?” she continues, smiling widely.

“Okay.” Max smiles. “Thanks, Farah.”

“No problem!” Farah pats her shoulder before she bounces away whistling, and Max considers going with her for a few seconds before she remembers the importance her mission and prepares herself for another several hours of searching for Nat.

She knows that whatever she finds out is probably going to scare the hell – heck – out of her, but she still wants to know – her dad is scared, too, and she doesn’t want him to feel like he’s alone or like he can’t talk to her about it! Which she knows is a silly thing to think, but she can’t help it. She loves her dad – besides, she’ll be much better off if he can prepare her for anything scary that might happen to her, right?

The way his mom didn’t?

She wanders around for a couple minutes before she can hear the sounds of someone grunting and yelling in the distance, and she starts running towards the sound before she can question it. She doesn’t find any rabid werewolves or anything, though, which she definitely thought she would – just an open set of double doors to her left and someone with a blonde ponytail punching mannequins inside.

Ava.

Max frowns immediately. She didn’t want to see Ava this weekend – out of all the Unit, she’s Max’s least favourite. She dislikes Ava more than Morgan, and considering that Morgan personally doesn’t like Max, either, that’s saying something. She steels herself to run back the way she came when Ava glances over at her.

“Oh.” Her eyebrows furrow slightly. “Maxine.”

Staring at her, Max nods politely. “Ava.”

And then, without thinking about it, she steps through the open doorway into the room, glancing around curiously.

It looks sort of like a school gymnasium, only with lower-hanging ceilings and an army of dummies and mannequins that they definitely, definitely don’t have at her school. The lights are brighter in here than they are in the hallway, and after nearly an hour of wandering through the Warehouse, she half-heartedly raises a hand to shield her eyes, lips pursed.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Training,” Ava answers.

Training.

Maybe she’s training so that next time some bloodthirsty freak tracks Max’s dad down, Ava won’t let him get taken again. She’s the one who was with him when Murphy snatched him, after all. Max hasn’t forgotten that.

(Dad says that Ava couldn’t have saved him, that something had happened to her before they escaped his apartment, but Max doesn’t care. Her dad matters more than anything.)

“Have you been avoiding me?” Max asks.

Ava’s eyes widen in surprise before she clears her throat and shakes her head. “I haven’t,” she answers. “I had Agency work to tend to today.”

Max toes a crack in the floor with the tip of her shoe. “You didn’t come with the others to pick me up yesterday.”

“I had work to do then, as well.”

“Mmhmm.”

Ava turns back to the dummy, shaking her bandaged hands out before curling them into fists again. “I won’t be able to entertain you, if that’s what you’re looking for,” she says, reaching out to hit the mannequin so hard that it nearly topples over. “I’m sure you could find something to do with one of the other agents.”

“Do you train a lot?”

Max doesn’t know if she’s asking to pester Ava or if she’s genuinely curious. Probably a little bit of both.

“Yes,” Ava answers. It doesn’t sound like she’s going to say any more than that, but Dad has always said that she’s not very talkative. (He says it with a smile, though, which Max doesn’t understand at all.)

“So, you’re gonna keep my dad safe from whatever it is that’s been going on lately?”

Across the room, Ava tenses. It’s visible enough for Max to notice.

“What has he told you?”

Of course, Max’s first instinct is to be honest with her and say “nothing”, but when the realization that she stopped her herself from getting any sort of information hits her, she nearly kicks herself for it.

“Good,” Ava says. “You don’t need to concern yourself with Agency business.”

Max frowns. “I do if I want to keep my dad safe.” Because you might not, she thinks, but she doesn’t say it.

“That’s not your job, Maxine.” Ava says her name like she knows her, and Max doesn’t like it one bit. “I think Ed- I think your father would agree with me on that.”

“But it’s not fair!” she says. “If I’m in danger, too, don’t I deserve to know?”

“That is not my choice.”

Max curls her hands into fists at her sides. If she were in cartoon, she knows for a fact that she’d have steam coming out of her ears. Her dad would say she’s being unreasonable for pinning what happened with Murphy on Ava, but – she got her stubbornness from him, so he’s really the one to blame. Him and Ava and whoever else in the world lets her dad get hurt.

“Fine,” Max says. “But you better keep me safe, then, too, or my dad will never forgive you.”

She swears she can hear Ava open her mouth to say something behind her, but she’s turning on her heel and stomping down the hallway before the vampire can get a word out. When she reaches her dad’s room, she nearly slams the door but stops herself at the last second and closes it slowly, taking deep breaths in and out through her nose so she doesn’t get too wound up.

All she can hope is that Ava doesn’t tell Dad about their conversation. As much as she loves him, she doesn’t love being scolded.

To Max’s relief, Ava doesn’t tell Dad. (At least she hasn’t told him yet.)

She tells Rebecca, instead.

Max is packing her stuff up at the end of the day on Sunday when she hears a knock at the door. At first she thinks it’s her dad – by now, he should be on his way to the Warehouse to pick her up – but when she hurries over to open the door, she sees her grandmother standing there on the other side, instead.

Rebecca smiles kindly. “Maxine,” she says. “May I come in?”

They’ve only seen each other once or twice since their first meeting. She’s another one of the people that Max has a grudge against for how they’ve treated her dad, except this time he seems to hold the same grudge, too.

Still, Rebecca let Max stay the whole weekend and didn’t come to see her until now. She can’t exactly say no.

Max moves to the side and opens the door even further while Rebecca steps into the room, scanning the space with sad eyes. Max guesses from the way she’s acting that she probably hasn’t been in this room much before, at least not long enough to get a good look at everything. Max feels defensive about it for her dad’s sake – this is his space, after all, and he’s not here to decide whether or not he wanted Rebecca to come inside – so she relaxes when Rebecca turns to her again.

“I’ve been meaning to come see you,” she says, her voice soft and tentative. “I’m afraid I’ve just been rather busy this weekend.”

Busy. Max nearly snorts at that, but she doesn’t.

“Agent du Mortain talked to me earlier,” Rebecca continues. “About your conversation with her yesterday.”

Max’s eyes widen in surprise. “I didn’t say anything bad to her, I promise!”

Her grandmother smiles. “I know you didn’t,” she says. “She didn’t say that you did. Only that you expressed a concern for Ed- for your father’s safety. And I wanted to assure you that the Agency is doing everything we can to keep him safe.”

“So he won’t get kidnapped again? Or get strapped to a bed by some bloodthirsty weirdo?”

“He told you that, did he?”

“Yeah. He tells me everything.” Max crosses her arms over her chest. “He doesn’t treat me like a kid the way everyone else does.”

“Well… I suppose that’s fair.” Rebecca presses her lips together. “As long as you haven’t told anyone…?”

“Of course not!” Who would she tell? The girls in her class would never believe her. Even if she came to school with a vampire bite on her neck or carrying a werewolf tooth, they would probably just say that she was faking it to impress the boys in their class.

“Good.” Rebecca nods. “In any case, Maxine, I just came by to promise you that I, personally, will do everything I can to keep your father safe, as will the Unit. Your father – as well as you and your mother – are all under our very close protection. What happened with Murphy…” She clenches her jaw the way Dad does when he’s upset. Max’s heart hurts at the sight. “It will not happen again. I promise.”

“You can’t abandon him.”

Rebecca seems surprised by how firmly Max says it, but she responds with nothing more than a tight nod. “I won’t. I would die before I let that happen.”

Despite that, Max’s first instinct is not to believe her. After everything her dad said about Rebecca, how much can they trust her, really? Even if she’s trying now, it doesn’t make up for everything she missed when Dad was a kid, nor does it make up for the fact that no one will tell Max what’s going on even though she might be in danger, too. But the determination in Rebecca’s words, in her eyes… Max’s seen the same look in her dad’s eyes a million times. Her dad, who she loves to the ends of Earth and trusts more than anyone.

So, in the end, Max can’t help but trust Rebecca, too. Her and the team, even Ava. She just hopes that none of them do anything to break that trust, because after spending eight hours playing darts this weekend, she has pretty good aim.

It’s ten o’clock when Dad and Max get back to his apartment that night.

His car stalled on his way back to Wayhaven – she knew something bad was going to happen! – but thankfully he was close enough to town that he could call someone to tow him back in. They’ve borrowed an Agency van for a couple days that he’ll drive her to school with tomorrow, and as she sits on the counter beside him and watches him put dinner together, she tells him that he should just buy it from the Agency.

“Maybe you’ll get a discount,” she muses, leaning back against the cabinet. “Or maybe if one of the werewolf corpses left a stain –“

“Max!”

“What?”

“They don’t –“ He sighs in exasperation. “That’s not what the vans are for.”

“Sure it’s not.”

Dad laughs. Max can always trust him to laugh at her jokes. She can trust him with anything. She turns to look at him and watches him pour pancake batter into the pan, gnawing on the inside of her cheek.

“Dad?”

“Mmm?”

“Don’t get kidnapped by someone like Murphy again, okay?”

He glances up at her, face softening. “I won’t,” he says. “I promise.”

She believes him. Even if she doesn’t believe anyone else, she believes him, no matter what.

#I HOPE YOU ENJOY pleading emoji #this was so fun i missed writing for you KING.....................#i love miss maxine also i hope i did her justice #my writing #my commissions

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summahsunlight · 4 years

Text

Reader Request, #35 and #37 with Poe

Title: One Last KIss

Rating: T

Word Count: 1785

Pairings: Poe x Pilot!Reader

Summary: From 50 Angsty Questions Prompt list (here), #35 “Can I have one last kiss?” and #37 “Is this how you thought your life would be?”

Warnings: Heavy angst, implied major character death

Request from anon: “35 & 37 with Poe?” Thanks for the request! This one was much longer than I had originally anticipated, but there were so many parts to this that I wanted to include. Hope you like it! Remember, comments, likes, asks, or reblogs about this work are always appreciated. Happy reading friends!❤️

Everything had happened so fast.

Poe had been joking and flirting with you over the comms while you made your final sweep on this recon mission, and then out of nowhere, you were ambushed. Bounty hunters looking to make payday. Both you and Poe managed to take care of them, but not before Poe’s fighter was badly damaged.

You were forced to watch it go down. The stars spun in front of you as you sent a panicky distress call to the Resistance. Commander Dameron was hit, you needed medical assistance--because there was no way Poe had not survived the crash. That was just what he did--survived.

Landing your own fighter close to the crash, it had barely touched the terrain when you opened the hatched and jumped out of the cockpit. You tossed your flight helmet as you ran for the wreckage of Poe’s x-wing, heart beating so fast you were sure it was going to beat right out of your chest. “Poe!”

BB-8 responded with frantic screeches. You climbed up onto the smoking wreckage and helped the little droid out of the socket. It took you a few seconds to find the emergency hatch release, but once you did, you yanked on it hard.

Nothing prepared you for the sight before you.

Poe’s blast shield was cracked, blood spattered on it. His orange flight suit. was covered in blood. Carefully, you wedged yourself into his cockpit and heard him groan in pain. Relief washed through you--he was alive. “If I’d known crashing my ship would have gotten you in my lap... I would have done it sooner.”

“Don’t joke,” you snapped at him, gently removing his helmet to inspect his head injury. “This is a serious situation, Poe. You’re hurt, badly.”

“How...how bad?” Poe asked, his eyes locking with yours. When you refused to answer, he asked again, “How bad is it, princess?”

Damn that nickname, damn him for using it in that exact moment. Tears instantly sprang to your eyes as your hands pressed down on the chest wound that was bleeding profusely. “You’re... you’re gonna be fine,” you lied to him, even as his blood stained your fingers and flight suit.

Poe gazed at you sympathetically. “I’ve been around long enough, survived enough crashes--I know it’s not good. You don’t have to lie to me, Y/N. I know...”

You cut him off before he could finish that sentence. “It’s bad, yes! But you’re going to be fine, Poe!” Please, you have to fine! I need you! BB-8 moaned nearby and you choked over your next words. “If you die, whose gonna look after BeeBee?”

“Just figured you would. He likes you.”

“Yes, well, I like him too but he isn’t going to need me. He’ll have you!”

“Is this how you thought your life would be?”

“Not even close; although I knew at some point you’d be bleeding all over me.”

He smiled, wistfully at you. Poe’s eyes were beginning to glaze over, you could see the tint of his pink lips starting to turn blue and you desperately pressed down harder on the wound. Where is that rescue transport! It had felt like hours since Poe had crashed, in reality it was probably only minutes. You had never felt time move so slow before.

It felt like there were walls pressing around you, watching the life slowly leave Poe’s body, watching the spark fade from his beautiful brown eyes--you should have told him, the morning after Snap and Karé’s wedding, the morning after Poe had kissed you at the party--you should have told him you loved him.

Now, he was lying underneath your hands, dying and there was no stopping it.

“Can I have one last kiss?” Poe whispered, drawing your attention to his ashen face. “Please.”

“Stop talking like this, you’re going to be fine, Poe,” you cried, tears streaming down your dirty cheeks. “Help is coming, okay?”

“Princess...

“No! I won’t let you die!”

Your words though couldn’t stop it; Poe’s eyes slipped shut just as you heard BB-8 squeal that the transport was here, it had arrived. They’re too late, you thought, falling against Poe’s chest and burying your face against his neck. “Poe! Please! Don’t leave me... don’t go where I can’t follow! Please.”

He said nothing. You sobbed as the world around you shattered. Hands were pulling you away from Poe’s body and someone was leading you towards the rescue transport while the others worked on getting Poe out of the x-wing.

At least there would be a burial, at least you could contact his father and let him know that he could bury his son on Yavin IV, next to his mother. That’s where Poe would want to be buried, you decided. He loved Shara. She was why he became a pilot.

It was only fitting that Poe’s final resting place was with her.

-----

After arriving back on base and watching as Poe was taken away, Jessika helped you get out of your blood soaked flight suit, into the shower, and then when you were done showering, she helped you get back into clean clothes. From there, she took you by the hand to the mess, where she insisted you needed to at least have some water.

You numbly went along, not bother to talk or look at anyone. Poe was gone. He was gone and it was your fault. You hadn’t done enough to save him. It made you wish you had died as well. Something bumped into your leg and you realized it was BB-8. You vividly remembered Poe saying that he thought you would be the one to step up and take care of his beloved droid.

Fresh tears assaulted you and you felt Jessika’s arm snake around your shoulders, pulling you closer to her. She was muttering words of comfort, letting you know that it wasn’t your fault, you’d done everything you could... Poe wouldn’t want everyone to be so upset...

...that last part was probably true. Poe would be the kind of guy that would want his friends to tell funny, embarrassing stories about him, to remember him fondly, not how he’d looked in the final moments of his life. “He asked me to kiss him.”

“What?” Jessika quipped, not sure she had heard right.

“On the planet, he asked me to kiss him one last time,” you said.

“When, when did you kiss him the first time?”

“Snap and Karé’s wedding. We were so drunk. I didn’t think he remembered.”

Jessika continued to hug you. “Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You let your tears continue to fall. “I never told him how I felt.”

She leaned her head against yours, and cried with you. “He knew; he might not have come out and said it to us, but the way he talked about you, he knew--he knew how you felt about him--he felt the same way about you.”

This hurt even more knowing that you had missed your chance to be together, even if it was only meant to be for a short period of time. Suddenly, you were glad that Jessika was only making you drink some water because you didn’t think you could stomach any food as she led you into the mess hall.

Black Squadron was sure to take care of you. They were grieving themselves, but they knew it was worse for you having been there in Poe’s final moments, knowing how you loved him. You were grateful for their companionship. Each one of them offered to walk you back to your quarters after you had some water and something to eat because Karé insisted--you declined. You had BB-8 to keep you company, you didn’t need anyone else at that moment.

So, with BB-8 rolling sadly alongside you, you headed back to your room. You already had a charging station for him--when Poe was away on missions that BB-8 couldn’t go on with him, the little droid would spend the evening in your room. It was no wonder Poe thought you would be the one to care for his droid.

Not his droid anymore; your droid.

You flopped down onto your bunk as BB-8 went to the charging station and plugged in for the night. Twenty-four hours ago your life had been so much different. There hadn’t been this pain inside of you gnawing away. Poe, I miss you.

The knock on your door started you. Jumping off the bunk you rushed to answer it. “General Organa! Ma’am...can I...do you need me for something?”

Leia smiled at you and shook her head. “No, Captain.Well, actually, yes, I do need you for something. There’s a patient down in the medical bay that keeps asking for you. Can you come down to see them?”

Confused, you nodded and agreed to go with her. You couldn’t possibly think of any patients that would be asking for you; your friends had all been fine at dinner--with the exception of feeling the large void left behind by Poe--but there was nothing in the medical bay that could help with that.

It turned out, however, there was.

Poe.

Leia placed her hand on your shoulder as you looked at him, eyes wide. “He was barely clinging to life when you arrived back on base. Medics didn’t think he was going to make it--he’s stubborn. When he woke up he kept asking if you were okay. We told him you were fine. He needed to see you.”

Swallowing your tears, you stepped inside Poe’s room. He was asleep for now, hooked up to every monitor imaginable--but he was breathing, on his own. He was alive. He hadn’t left you at all. Frozen in place for a few moments you stood there, then turned slightly to find Leia, but she was gone. When you glanced back in Poe’s direction, his eyes were open, looking at you.

Relief shown on his face, the color still not quite back in his cheeks yet. “You’re alright,” he sighed. “They told me I was the only one hurt but I...guess I needed to see it to believe it.”

“I thought...I thought you were dead,” you cried, quietly. “We all did.”

“For a while there, I thought I was dead too,” he deadpanned.

“Don’t joke, this is a serious situation, Poe,” you repeated, “You were hurt, badly.”

“Yeah, I know. Hey,” Poe said, smiling at you softly, his voice weak, “you never gave me that kiss.”

You didn’t hesitate this time; this time you moved across the room, sitting on his bed, and took his face between your hands and kissed him.

#my writing #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe x reader #poe x you #150 followers celebration #reader request

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overwatchworks · 4 years

Text

That Pretty Face:

Inspired by art done by a good pal, they always draw the Blackwatch boys for me and it keeps my sanity.

It had been weeks. Weeks and weeks and Jesse had not truly thought about him since they had picked him up in pieces back in Hanamura. He had been busy. Mind occupied with other things. Genji Shimada was not the only thing being built from the ground up again.

Red eyes, silver metal covering most of his face, white and black synth skin. The Blackwatch insignia on his chest, outlined in glowing crimson. He looked angry. He looked resigned. Jesse didn’t blame him.

"Your life in return for your services". Jesse had heard the story, knew the drill. He’d had the same talk.

Death or Blackwatch. They were basically the same thing.

Guard duty was taking up his time now. Protecting Dr. Liao while she worked tirelessly on the AI that would, as she said, save the world where she could not. Jesse had seen enough of the world to know it could not be saved, but he was not about to tell her that. This was her life’s work, and who was he to dissuade a little bit of good in a world so riddled with evil. A world where people murdered their brothers in cold blood, left them shattered, left them for dead.

Just a few perks of the job.

The only reason Genji Shimada was back on his radar was because he was standing with them for training. Red eyes, silver metal covering most of his face, white and black synth skin. The Blackwatch insignia on his chest, outlined in glowing crimson. He looked angry. He looked resigned. Jesse didn’t blame him.

Your life in return for your services. Jesse had heard the story, knew the drill. He’d had the same talk. Death or Blackwatch. They were basically the same thing.

He was a cyborg now, wires hanging off the back of his head and whirring with each movement. The only parts of him that were obviously human being his left arm and what little of his face was still showing. Even that was mutilated with scars and marred by tubing. But he was a sight to behold when training. Fast, unbelievably agile. Ruthless. Violent. Every movement calculated and striking to kill.

It was beautiful, in a terrible sense. Clearly, Genji was skilled, but clearly, he was also unhinged. Pushing his body to the breaking point, steam coming up from odd places and eyes gaining dark circles as he overworked the human parts past their limits.

The weeks passed like that, training and missions going the same way. Genji liked to rip things apart. Genji liked to rip himself apart. Coming back with sparking wires sticking out of his arm and chest, blood that was too dark and glistening dribbling from holes in his armour. Covered in it. Some of it was his. Most of it wasn’t.

Jesse was generally assigned to missions with him, and generally they went well. Genji was quiet, the comms hardly ever going off on his end besides to give a general warning or a check in. He knew Jesse’s name, though, which surprised him the first time he used it. They had been caught in a crossfire, Talon ambushing their escape route and bringing in a sniper. Jesse had heard her rifle winding up, saw the laser sight flash to his chest. A single spot of red.

“She’s on you, McCree!” Genji had called, voice sharp and accented. Concerned, even. And then, of course, he had been shot. The bullet was armour piercing, but he had managed to move out of the way enough for it to not hit anything vital. Something he could survive, something Dr. Deorain had healed fairly quickly on the ride back to base. Genji had watched her work on him for a while, gaze boring into Jesse every time he looked up at the ninja.

For the first time, he wondered what was under that mask. If anything even was under the mask.

His eyes were expressive. They were pretty, all long lashes and dark intensity. They could be soft, at times. It was rare, but it happened. Mostly when Genji thought no one was looking, when he thought no one would notice the human parts of him anymore. Jesse did. But he did not let on just yet. They were not quite close enough for that. He didn’t know if they ever could be. Not in this line of work, not with what they had to do and the promise of death at every corner, a mission always a hairsbreadth away from going in the wrong direction, a bullet always missing them by the skin of their teeth.

Jesse loved it.

Jesse hated it.

Genji did too, he had learned, was born and bred for it. Made for it when he was born a second time, unable to escape the fate of a warrior, an assassin. Jesse wondered if he was bothered by that. The fact that his life was nothing but war and blood and death. Had asked him about it when they were stuck in the med bay together, drugs in his system making his lips looser than they already were.

Surprisingly, Genji had answered.

No, I am not bothered by it. I grew up knowing it was my fate, my duty. But I do resent it, and what it has done to me. What I have lost and had stolen away from me.

Jesse had listened raptly, the sound of Genji’s voice soothing in a way. Robotic, accented. Soft. His eyes were soft in that moment too. Lost in memory, perhaps. Jesse did not look too far into it.

Genji had gone quiet again after that, shifting where he could with the wires attached to his neck linked up to a computer behind him, something pumping modified biotics into the tubes in his arms, on the ports of his stomach. Uncomfortable, but not because of everything he was hooked up to.

I don’t know if I quite understand your situation, but never bein’ a normal kid? I get that. Nothin’ was ever normal for us except a weapon in hand and aimin’ it at someone else. Bein’ told to shoot. I guess in the grand scheme of it all, makes us no better than the bad guys, huh?

Genji looked back at him, assessing for a long moment.

We are not bad, we are just doing what we have to in order to survive. Kill or be killed. Join us or die.

I wish it wasn’t like that.

Another long moment passed, Genji gripping the edge of the examination table, eyes downcast.

Me too.

It was a long time before they spoke like that again. Missions kept them busy, and then training when they were not scheduled for them, Jesse occasionally going to meetings with Reyes while Genji went to the med bay with Dr. Ziegler to continue his modifications. They would pass one another in the halls. Jesse gave a tip of his hat and then added a wink until Genji finally began to acknowledge him back with a slight nod or raise of his brows. He liked to imagine there was at least a bemused smile under that faceplate when his eyes scrunched just a bit. Maybe.

They sparred together, started to train together after Reyes saw how well they worked as a team. Genji was good at quick, agile attacks up close while Jesse took on the long distance and range targets. Genji protected Jesse, and Jesse protected Genji in return. They got closer. Near death calls tended to do that to folks.

Genji talked to him more. Jesse told him stories and would get a few in return on the rooftops where the air was crisp and the sky was clear. Genji tried on his hat. Genji laughed. Just a small, quiet chuckle, but it left Jesse staring for a little too long. Genji noticed, Jesse tried to pretend his red cheeks were attributed to the cold as he snatched his hat back and drew it low over his eyes. He did not see the way Genji’s had softened again.

The next morning had them sitting in an airship, waiting to be dropped into a volatile zone overrun by null sector forces. They started out okay, but slowly, everyone got tired. They were only human, they made mistakes, slipped up. Null sector did not.

Genji did not.

Jesse was shouting into the comms for evac after he had to watch their third agent get shot down by a bastion unit, gunfire and static the only thing he was hearing in return. Jammed signals, bad luck. He dragged the corpse of a friend behind a building and had to leave it there, or they would all be one by the end of the day.

“We gotta get to higher ground where these things can’t jam our comms!” he called, Genji turning to him and nodding once before taking off towards the highest building. Jesse did not need an explanation, not between them. He motioned to what was left of their drop team.

“Move outta this hot spot! Stay behind cover, don’t leave one another’s backs unguarded. Get down that alleyway and take the first left, it’ll take you behind that main square, got it? We can find a place to hide out there, there’s just too many of these damn things here when we don’t have a shield!”

Jesse ordered, wishing not for the first time that he had someone like Reinhardt with him. Or at least a fully outfitted team like Overwatch always sent in. That would have been nice.

As it was, they had to run, Jesse getting everyone accounted for that was left before following up on the rear, eyes peeled for any sight of Genji.

He turned, gun spinning in hand and resting at his side as he counted the omnics marching towards him. Fifteen. He could do it. Six shots went of in tandem, six perfect bullet holes steaming through the first line of omnics. Jesse reloaded and did it again. Finished off the last two and ran down the alleyway, catching up with the rest of his team, ignoring the throbbing starting up behind his eyes.

“Bought us a little time. Come on, keep movin’.”

“McCree, we need more medical personnel,” Martinez urged, setting an agent down against the wall.

“Where’d Frazier go?”

“Dead.”

“Dammit.”

“There’s too many wounded right now if we need to make a quick getaway. Did Shimada not make it...?”

“Nah, he’s callin’ in evac for us. Stay here and do your best to patch everyone up, can you do that for me?”

Martinez nodded shakily, pulling out her med kit and going to the worst of the wounded in the group. Jesse made to check on the others, then saw a flash of red above them in his periphery. Genji landed in front of him not a moment later, the sound heavy, blood dripping down his shoulder. He did not seem to notice.

“It was all static, but I was able to find what was jamming them,” he reported, pointing to a building further into the hot spot. “I can get in there and take it out.”

“You ain’t goin’ back in there alone, that’s not how we do things around here. I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t need you slowing me down,” Genji bit out.

“How about we not think about it like that and instead say, ‘wow, thanks McCree for havin’ my back for me in case I get in over my head like I always do’, yeah?”

“I can do this by myself, you will only get hurt following me!”

“And what happens if you get hurt alone and then we all get killed ‘cause you couldn’t stand havin’ to take help from someone?!”

“Hey, boys, how about instead of arguing about it, you both hurry up and get us out of here. McCree’s right about one thing; if we don’t get out of here soon, we’re all toast, alright? We have people dying!” Martinez interrupted, glaring at the two of them as Jesse sighed.

“Come on,” he grumbled, moving in the direction of the building Genji had pointed out. Genji fell in stride with him after a moment, eyes shifting to him. Crimson narrowed darkly.

“If you die, I won’t let you rest peacefully.”

Jesse snorted, gaining a devilish grin.

“Darlin’, I ain’t ever planned on anythin’ but another spot deep in Hell when I die. Peace wasn’t even on the radar.”

Genji did not offer him a reply, simply quickened his pace and took off, leaving Jesse to follow behind with a sharp eye. They slipped past the rows of null sector stationed in the plaza in front of the building quietly, Genji motioning to a window just outside of their surveillance. He climbed into it, leaning over the edge with a hand outstretched. Jesse took it. Hauled himself inside and took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Genji waited. Static was running through the comms this close to the jammer, giving Jesse a headache. It was a large structure, pulses of blue light that shimmered leaving it in intervals.

“Damn...How’re we gonna take that thing out?”

“A detonator,” Genji offered, Jesse frowning.

“You wanna lure one of them in here?”

“It’s the best option we have. I cannot get near that thing, it interferes with my cybernetics.”

“And you were plannin’ on doin’ this alone?”

Genji merely glared, then pointed again. “There are three posted just outside the entrance. It should not be hard getting them inside.”

“But this signal will jam them too, right?”

“Not if we move them manually.”

Jesse stared at the ninja, sitting back on his thighs and pushing his hat up as he faced him fully.

“Lemme get this straight. You wanna shove one of them in here, somehow push them close enough to the jammer so that when they explode, it takes it out, all the while not letting the massive amount of null sector troopers out front know that we’re here?”

“Well, actually, I was thinking we let null sector do it for us. They have more fire power than we do, and if we stay behind the detonator, they will shoot it. They are programmed to neutralize enemies, no matter what is in front of them. We can take advantage of that.”

Jesse blinked. Frowned and ran a hand over his beard, chewing on his lip.

“Is it bad that I think that might actually somehow work?”

“Only if we do it right.”

“Alright. Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

It took some finagling. Genji’s steps were stuttering as if his limbs were not synching with the rest of him when he got too close to the jammer. It was just the two of them. Jesse was sweating. But they got the detonator inside the door, and it was hell unleashed as soon as they did. Genji knocked it in with a kick, Jesse shooting at the null sector omnics running in after him.

“Go! Get behind it now!” he shouted, Jesse ducking towards the jammer. Genji deflected, stumbled, found his feet again. It was close. A lot of cover fire from Jesse’s end needed just to get him behind a wall. He was shaking his head, blinking hard. They needed to get out of there.

Jesse was taking most of the attention from the null sector troops, staying just close enough to the detonator to ensure it was being pushed towards the jammer. And it was working. The detonator’s armour was falling, bright, fiery oranges and reds being revealed, the whole thing starting to shake. Jesse ran from it, back towards the window they entered through.

“Genji! Come on, it’s gonna blow any second!”

Genji looked up, eyes widening a bit, the red in them flickering. He tried to take a step, flesh hand going to his head when his leg buckled.

“Shit...” Jesse muttered, glancing at the detonator. He had time. He could make it. Peacekeeper sang as he ran. Ran for his life, ran to Genji. There was another window by him, they could go out that way. It lasted a lifetime. It lasted a second. Jesse grabbed Genji when he got to him, tugging him back up to stand.

“Come on! Just focus for me a little longer, alright? I need you to get up to that window and help me up, okay?”

“O-okay.”

The stutter was not intentional, Genji’s voice sounding more robotic than usual. Voicebox glitching. He blinked some more, then climbed the wall, reaching down for Jesse. His hand was taken, and they jumped from the window. Jesse jumped from the window.

Genji was not behind him.

“Genji? Genji!”

The detonator went off. Rubble flying, chunks of concrete, dust, fire. Jesse was blown back, arms up to cover his face. He felt debris hit him, his armour bending and cracking. Hit the ground and curled up, covering his head, eyes squeezed shut. When the rumbling stopped and the world was no longer shattering, Jesse finally glanced up. Ears ringing, dust in his lungs. He picked up his hat, blinking hard, coughing. Shook his head and ran into the rubble, calling for Genji but not hearing himself say it. Sound slowly started to come back to him, though, it was eerily quiet. Just the crackling of flames and debris falling.

“Genji! Come on, Shimada, where are you?!”

Jesse paused when he saw Genji’s sword laying toward the centre of the blast and he ran to it. Stumbled a bit, grabbed it from the ground. And there was Genji, lying just ahead of it, cybernetics sparking, blood running off his arm. From his nose. From his lips.

Jesse stared.

Genji’s faceplate was nowhere to be seen, scars littering his cheeks and around where synthetic met human. The bottom half of his jaw was black synthskin and mesh. A bruise was forming around one eye, cuts above it bleeding down his temple. With his eyes closed like this, he could almost be sleeping. Jesse stepped closer, kneeling beside him. Rolled him over and tilted his chin to the side, shaking him gently.

Pretty. Gods, he was so pretty.

“Genji? Hey, come on, do me one last favour and don’t be dead...Come on, bud...”

Genji’s eyelids fluttered, taking a shuddering breath in.

“Oh thank god. Alright, alright I got’cha. I’ll get us outta here.”

Jesse took his arm and hauled him over his shoulders, grabbing his katana once more and standing. Genji was heavier than he looked deadweight. Limp.

“You’ll be alright, we just gotta get back to the team, okay? Just hold on.”

Jesse did not even notice his limp until he was back in the alleyway, ducking behind cover and keeping one arm over Genji’s legs so he would not fall. Eyes peeled for any sign of danger. Three detonators going off all at once, destroying a building and the jammer within it was bound to draw in swarms of null sector. They needed to get out, and fast. Jesse tapped his comm.

“This is Agent McCree callin’ for immediate evac to Blackwatch team A-1207. We got lots of wounded and this place is about to get real hot. Does anyone copy?” Static was his only answer. Genji groaned softly, Jesse glancing at him.

Head hanging just off his shoulder. So close Jesse could see the veins under his eyes, the way his cuts were beginning to tack up. How long his lashes were, the little white scars by his temple that looked too old to be something he got from his brother or the cybernetics. Jesse’s comm crackled, drawing his focus back to the present.

“McCree, this is Fio, I copy. Commander sent me in to pick you all up when comms went down, said it was too risky leaving you like that. Been having to fight my way around null sector’s anti-aircraft weapons. I’ve got your coordinates, ETA five minutes.”

“Fio! You have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice, sweetheart,” Jesse laughed breathlessly, Fio giving a chuckle back.

“Glad to hear you’re not dead, cowboy.”

“Don’t jinx me, now, I still got five minutes to survive.”

“I think you’ll manage. Hang in there.”

Jesse grinned, making it back to the team and setting Genji down gently. Something felt off about letting anyone else see his face, though, so he wrapped his scarf around Genji’s shoulders and neck, his head hanging down into it and covering what normally was hidden. It felt like a violation of privacy, in an odd way. Jesse didn’t think Genji would have wanted to be seen by anyone, not even him.

Fio landed on time as promised, taking what was left of the team back to base. Jesse’s body was beginning to hurt, adrenaline wearing off and leaving him exhausted and throbbing. His foot was messed up, and his shoulder. His armour was torn in some places, but it had done its job for the most part. Bruises were all he would be left with instead of bullet holes and a punctured lung. His nose was bleeding. It took Martinez coming over to him to tilt his head back and press some gauze beneath it for him to notice.

Jesse was too busy looking at Genji to notice much else.

He was patched up, made Martinez move on to someone else after insisting he was alright, that everything else could wait until they got back to the med bay. The ride home was long, and Jesse slept through most of it.

His scarf was returned folded neatly, Genji presenting it to him without a word. His faceplate was back, eyes shifting to look at anything but Jesse. Jesse, who grinned and took it back, leaning against the doorframe when Genji did not immediately run off.

“Lookin’ all shiny and new there, bud. Good to see you up and movin’ again. You saved us back there with that idea of yours, you know.”

Genji stood there for a moment, nodding after another.

“I could not have done it alone. I know I said otherwise, but. I needed you there.”

Jesse tisked and waved his hand goodnaturedly.

“Aw, shucks. Makin’ me feel all special now.”

“Do not get used to it,” Genji huffed, his eyes crinkling just a bit. Jesse could imagine a smile on his face now. How good it would look, how pretty he would be with it.

“But thank you. For pulling me out of there. And for that,” Genji motioned to the scarf, arms settling across his chest.

“Anytime. We’re a team, yeah? I got your back when you need me, alright?” Jesse hesitated only a moment, reaching out and placing a hand on Genji’s bicep, squeezing lightly before letting go.

Genji watched his hand drop. Eyes flicking up to his, stance shifting. He set his shoulders and nodded.

“Alright.”

“I’ll see you at trainin’, then.”

“Yes, see you then.”

Jesse slipped back into his room when Genji turned to leave. Ran a hand over the scarf. Set it on the foot of his bed and went to finish typing up a report, Genji on his mind. Jesse smiled.

#mcgenji #jesse mccree #genji shimada #blackwatch era #as if you have not been force fed enough of this already #WhiskeyWrites #that's all the tagging I'm doing I'm tired #enjoy my friends

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justheretobreakthings · 4 years

Text

Okay, we’re starting off Bad Things Happen Bingo with a bit of a throwback to the Voltron Bingo event from back in 2018. Way back then, I got a request from @familyofpaladins for my ‘Taking the Fall for Someone’ square, for Keith taking the fall for Hunk, and then the bingo ended and the prompt has just been sitting there for an eternity. But now, my BTHB card has just the square for me to finally get this prompt filled. Hope it was worth the very, very long wait!

Got Your Back

Written for @badthingshappenbingo Prompt: Taking the Blame Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Word Count: 13,198 Characters: Hunk & Keith Read on AO3

Summary:

While defending the planet of Crelxatain from attacking drones, Hunk causes what he believes to be some minor collateral damage, but what turns out to be much, much worse. And when the Crelxats needed something to blame, Keith steps in to take the fall.

I don’t even drink coffee.

It was fortunate that Hunk had gotten better with flying during the battles and flight practices he’d been through with Yellow. It might have been the Lions’ magic helping to keep their pilots stable, or the more mundane gyroscopic design of the cockpit helping with his equilibrium. Or, of course, it might just be a matter of him getting used to it. Whatever the case, he had come a long way since his Garrison days, when even a fifteen-minute run in a simulator would be more enough to empty the contents of his stomach.

It was fortunate, because if he hadn’t gotten better about keeping the nausea at bay, his cockpit would be a revolting mess right about now.

He and Keith had only been tasked with coming here to Crelxatain to negotiate for supplies, its geography home to mineral ore that Coran assured them could be top-grade fuel when Altean alchemy was in use, but just as they had approached the planet’s atmosphere, Yellow and Red both picked up a distress signal from the same city they were nearing. It seemed they had coincidentally arrived just in time for an air strike on the city from a nearby Empire ally, and the Crelxat had little in terms of defensive weaponry. So of course, that duty landed on the paladins.

If Yellow’s failed attempts to detect life in any of the little attacking cruisers was correct, they were only dealing with drones, not manned vehicles, but the maneuverability of the drones was downright amazing. They were constantly dodging strikes and blasts from Yellow, skimming near the tops of buildings and sometimes slipping between them, making sharp turns and speedy dives that left Hunk reeling.

The drones’ weapon of choice appeared to be some sort of energy pulse, and well-aimed blasts had elements of the infrastructure and sections of buildings toppling inward. These pulses were also being aimed at the Lions, and although they were made of strong enough material to resist being damaged by the force, the pulses would still send them jerking off course and blown aside.

Hunk groaned into his comm as Yellow tumbled in the air from one such blast, rolling rapidly enough that the gyroscopic cockpit couldn’t stop the blood from rushing to his head and then down again. “I swear,” he grunted, “When we’re finished with these things and back on the ground, I’m just going to spend like three days just lying on the floor, perfectly still, not moving. I’ve had enough movement.”

“You know we’re going to have to head back to the Castle eventually,” Keith replied through the comm. “That counts as movement.”

“So? Allura and Coran said we could take a few quintants.”

“Because it could take time for them to gather and refine the stuff we need, not because they expect us to conk out for days at a time.”

“I don’t care, I’m going for it. Day one, we place our order. Day whatever, we head back. Everything in between, we go comatose.” He squinted into the viewscreen and tried to get his vision to stop swirling before directing a blast toward an oncoming drone. The shot went wide, and the drone responded with a pulse that shoved Yellow backward and threatened to give Hunk whiplash.

“You hanging in there?” Keith asked.

“Yeah,” Hunk replied. At the corner of his viewscreen he spotted a beam of flame, the Red Lion’s fireblast, reducing a drone to ash. “Not as well as you are, though. Aren’t you getting dizzy too?”

“I was on the pilot track at the Garrison, I’ve been flying longer.”

“Still.” He righted Yellow as best he could and caught a drone in his sights. He sent off a cannon fire, and although he didn’t hit it head on, he managed to wing it just enough to send it spiraling. “Seems you’re taking down three of these things for every one I get.”

“We’re not keeping score, Hunk.”

“Just wish I was being a little more useful right now, is all.”

“You’ll be plenty more useful than me when we actually get around to talking to the Crelxats and making deals. You know that’s not exactly my strong suit.”

“Hmm, fair point,” Hunk said. “Your people skills are pretty abysmal, aren’t they.”

“Don’t hold back, Hunk, tell me how you really feel.”

“I’m just agreeing with you.” Yellow lurched upward, and Hunk narrowed his eyes at a drone zipping by from the bottom of his viewscreen while his stomach tried to right itself. He took aim with Yellow’s laser cannon, but just before he fired, another pulse threw the Lion to the side. The laser shot off, and he winced as it blasted through what appeared to be an enormous sculpture in a plaza below. “Crap,” he grunted.

“What is it?” asked Keith.

“I think I just took out some public art,” Hunk replied. “You don’t think that’ll come across as some weird anti-art statement, do you?”

“Let’s hope not. If the pulse things are giving you trouble, why don’t you focus on the drones that are flying higher up for now? I’ll work on the ones nearer to the buildings. Red’s got quicker reflexes, it’s easier to avoid collateral damage with her.”

“Yeah, sure,” Hunk sighed, managing to hold back a self-deprecating remark about how it was probably more to do with the pilot than the lion. For now, he set his sights on a drone careening toward the city's outskirts, and directed Yellow to go barrelling after it.

The pulses continued to give him no end of frustration, but he eventually managed to take down another three drones, and a scan informed him that the sky seemed to be clear around this elevation. He sighed with relief at the scan’s results, and reminded himself that he was this close to finally getting to touch down on flat ground and relax. His stomach was still churning, and his face was soaked in salty sweat, but it was over.

Well, almost over. The skies were clear at this elevation, but there had been more drones closer to the ground, and he wasn’t sure whether Keith had finished them all off yet. Odds were, of course, that he had, and might even be waiting impatiently on the ground wondering why it was taking Hunk such a long time to finish off his own batch. And now he was wasting more time catching his breath instead of actually finding out.

Heaving a deep breath, he grabbed the controls again and started downward, eyes peeled for signs of Keith. It didn’t take long to find him, as Red and her fire were making quite a scene above the city square, currently whipping around in a complicated air ballet while facing off against five drones at once, all focused on sending their pulses into Red from every direction.

Red was able to wing one of the drones before pulses from two of the others sent her flying back, and the Lion let out a growl that was echoed in Hunk’s comm as Keith let out one of his own. She dove back into the fray, expertly wheeling around between the drones and the building tops to send an arc of fire their way.

Hunk hovered on the outer edge of the ongoing fight, feeling the urge to help but not wanting to risk hitting Red by accident. “Uh, Keith?” he said. “There anything I can do right now?”

“Um, keep an eye out if any of these try to make a break for it,” Keith answered. “Other than that, think I got this under control.” As if to emphasize the point, a blast of Red’s fire hit one of the drone’s dead on, blasting it to ash.

“Okay…” Hunk said. He chewed at his bottom lip as he watched the drones, eyes straining as they flitted amongst their flight paths, trying to catch any sign that one of them was liable to break from the pack so he could go after it, but they all seemed to have their sights completely honed in on Red. It felt a little wrong to simply be waiting around while Keith managed the whole firefight on his own, even if Keith had sounded pretty certain of what he could handle and what he needed. He tentatively spoke up as Keith shot down another drone, “You know, um, maybe I could get a shield up and you can sort of feint toward it, see if we can draw them into - ”

He was cut off by a loud blast and a flash engulfing his viewscreen, and Yellow reeled back, sending him slamming his head into his dashboard. It seemed Red had sent out a powerful arcing blast from all to send the remaining drones careening out of the air, at the same time that the remaining drones surrounding her had all pulsed at once. Resulting in a shockwave that pushed Yellow back and, as was apparent when Hunk managed to blink his vision back into focus, leave many of the surrounding buildings with caved-in roofs. Hopefully any Crelxats inside them had had the sense to hunker down in the lower floors.

As he made sure Yellow was steady again, he glanced around for Red, and grimaced when he spotted her. She was still airborne, but the lights on her face and the tip of her tail were stuttering, while bolts of light crackled beneath her flank. “Um, Keith?” Hunk said. “Red’s not looking too hot.”

“I know, I’ve got it under - shit, hang on,” Keith grunted. Red turned around in the air, her movements jerkier than Hunk ever would have expected from Red, and starting soaring away from surrounding buildings. He followed in Yellow, and together the Lions made it to an open stretch of land. Red glided toward the ground, and as she was lowering, her lights went completely dark. She hit the ground with audible force, collapsing in a heap where she landed.

Hunk winced at the sight of the downed Lion before scanning his eyes over ground, making sure the terrain was clear for his own landing. He managed to maneuver Yellow close to the other Lion before lowering her to the ground and disembarking from her mouth. Keith was already outside of Red, standing with his arms folded and staring up at her face.

“You okay?” Hunk asked as he approached. “Looked like kind of a rough landing.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Keith said. “Managed to get nearly to the ground before she went offline. So, little abrupt, but nothing I couldn’t handle. We’re gonna have to see about getting her powered up again before we can head back to the Castle. Think it was one of those pulses throwing off the propellant tank that downed her.”

“Hmm. If that’s the case, I can probably do the repairs myself in a day or two, but we’ll need to replenish the fuel.”

“Hopefully the Crelxats will be willing to help us out for that.” Keith looked around. “Speaking of whom, see any of them coming this way yet? Battle’s over.”

Hunk frowned and joined Keith in peering about at the surrounding buildings. He had only seen a few sparse Crelxats on the ground while they had been in battle, the pale shocks of hair against skin shades of red and orange making them easy to spot, but most of them had likely fled indoors when the drones had arrived.

He felt a tap against his shoulder, and when he turned, Keith pointed; it seemed he’d been first to spot movement, and without a word between them they started off to follow the pair of Crelxats heading away from the Lions’ landing site and deeper into the city.

It didn’t take long for them to see where the many Crelxats had ended up, since after only a couple of turns they could see a crowd gathering in a wide plaza ahead, a murmur from the assembled onlooker reaching the paladins even at this distance. Hunk glanced to Keith, eyebrows raised, and Keith only shrugged, just as unsure as to what had the crowd so enthralled.

As they moved closer, heads began to turn in their direction, some of the onlookers nudging others beside them and pointing, the chatter gradually dying down as they stepped aside to let the paladins through. No face wore the joy or relief that Hunk was used to seeing from aliens after Voltron fought off invading forces for them. Instead, they were eyeing him and Keith with apprehension and suspicion.

This, Hunk decided, was not a good sign.

The Crelxats were quick to step aside for them, so they were able to reach the front of the crowd fairly easily. And Hunk’s stomach knotted itself tightly as he realized what they were all staring at.

The sculpture. The sculpture that he had blasted with Yellow’s cannon. Or, at least, what remained of it.

From above, it had been hard to see what the sculpture had actually depicted, and here from the ground, seeing only the bottom half, it wasn’t any easier to discern. The shape seemed to be fairly complex, a tangle of angles and loops, but nothing that resembled anything Hunk had ever seen before. His best guess was that it was an abstract piece; a lot of the public sculptures that could be found in plazas like this back on Earth were abstract. There was rubble, he noticed, bits of the same material as the sculpture scattered along the ground behind it, some of it smoldered black like the top of what remained of the standing sculpture, burnt up by the cannon’s heat.

The Crelxats standing nearest to the statue turned as Keith and Hunk approached, and one stepped toward them. She was half a head shorter than most of the others gathered nearby, although she made up for it with a piece of headwear that to Hunk just looked to be a tangled pile of wires. She appeared to be unarmed, although the other Crelxats just behind her all wielded either halberds in their hands or daggers at their hips; the weapons combined with the helmets on their head and matching sashes indicated that they were security of some sort, although Hunk wasn’t sure if they were guards for the city as a whole or just the Crelxat with the wires on her head.

Allura had briefed him and Keith a bit on who they would be interacting with on Crelxatain, and she had mentioned one of the Crelxats was both the governmental and religious leader for the city. Malvet, he was pretty sure her name was.

And right now, despite her being smaller than the other Crelxats and unarmed, he was feeling much more frightened of her than of the surrounding guards. Because he had never seen that much icy fury on a person’s face before. Her narrow silver eyes fixed him and Keith with a wrathful glare that he could almost physically feel, her hands clasped together in front of her were shaking from how tightly the fingers were intertwined, and dark veins pulsed visibly beneath the skin on her forehead.

“What,” she bit out, her voice low and dark and heavy, “happened?”

Hunk gulped, though it did little to alleviate the feeling of daggers in his throat or the clawing in his stomach. He had anticipated that people may be upset about the damaged sculpture - people always had a fondness for public art, especially pieces that had been around for quite a while and been accepted as an inherent part of the landscape - but the irate looks on the faces of Malvet and her guards and the horrified silence of the surrounding crowds was far worse than he expected.

Beside him, Keith cleared his throat, making Hunk jump. “Look,” Keith said, “I understand if you’re upset. But collateral damage is basically unavoidable against a weaponized enemy like the one that was attacking just now. We’re both here representing Voltron, and we were expected today, and we’d be willing to assist with repairs to your art while we’re here if you - ”

“Our art?!” Malvet spat, her face going an even deeper shade of maroon. “You believe this monument to be simply art?!”

“Um… isn’t it?” said Keith.

Her hand shook as she pointed a clawed finger toward the sculpture’s remains. “This monument is the vessel for the Twenty Gods of Crelxatain, the channel through which they grant life and fortune. It was built as a cenotaph to the spiritual leaders who have dedicated their lives to guiding Crelxatain to the will of the Gods, and as such is the one site wherein their connection to the citizenry is most powerful. It has stood for centuries, and now… it has been destroyed.”

“...Oh,” said Keith, as a murmur began rumbling through the crowd. He had paled somewhat, and seemed to be at something of a loss for words.

Hunk was faring no better; he didn’t think he’d be able to string two coherent words together right now with his nerves the way they were. This was much worse than he could have predicted. Why the hell would something this important to them be out here in the middle of the town with no additional protection? Why wasn’t it in some sort of ultra-enforced temple and under constant watch? He could only hazard wild guesses - maybe they wanted it to be more exposed to the people, maybe they had assumed that faith in those twenty gods of theirs would keep it safe or something. Now didn’t really seem like the correct time to ask about it.

Keith was the first to speak again, keeping his voice surprisingly level. “I - I appreciate the seriousness of the damage, then. Know that we did what we could to prevent it. The drones were - ”

“No,” Malvet cut him off. “We witnessed these drones. They used force, yes, their weapons have done damage enough. But they burned nothing. The monument - it has been burned.” She swept her arm out to gesture again toward the remains, the singeing and ashes seeming somehow darker now. “We witnessed your ships too. You had cannons and flame. So tell me, representative of Voltron. What. Did. You. Do?”

“I - ”

“Which of you did it?!” Her voice rose abruptly in volume, crackling with despair. “It had to have been one of you! This callous destruction - which of you is to blame?!” She rounded on Hunk, who stepped back, swallowing down a whimper. “You’ve not spoken, have you, yellow one? And why is that? Have you nothing to say?! No words in your defense?!”

Hunk could feel an icy sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. “I - I - I, uh - ”

“Is it guilt that stays your tongue?!” Malvet continued, jabbing a gnarled finger toward him. “Is the sight of the damage you’ve done before you too much to - ”

“I’m sorry,” Keith suddenly spoke up beside him. Hunk and Malvet both turned to him, incredulous, as Keith stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest and eyes on the ground.

“You’re sorry,” Malvet repeated tonelessly.

“Yeah,” Keith said. “It was my doing. Red - you know, you saw her out there, she’s awfully fast, and, um, gets real heated in battle and stuff, so it can be easy to kinda - to lose control, see, and I wasn’t really paying attention to the, um - ” He waved his hand in the direction of the destroyed sculpture. “The scenery, and stuff, so, yeah. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry.”

Hunk bit his lip as he turned his attention back to the Malvet, who was examining Keith with narrowed, probing eyes. If she knew Keith at all, it would be obvious that he was lying. He had rambled and stumbled and refused to look even remotely in her direction and his voice had kept getting lower as he spoke. All tells of his. Not to mention that Keith was the least likely of any of the paladins to ever focus during a battle or be unable to handle his Lion’s agility and fire.

But the Crelxats didn’t know Keith, so after several ticks of silent examination, Malvet hissed out, “I see.”

She stepped back, and Keith’s eyes darted upward, looking apprehensive. Malvet let silence ring throughout the square for a couple seconds more, but just as Keith opened his mouth to speak again, she nodded.

Instantly there was an eruption of activity, and Hunk was nearly knocked to the ground by the guards rushing past him toward Keith. Half a dozen fully armored guards descended on Keith, and though Hunk saw Keith’s hand fly instinctively to his hip where his bayard was holstered, he either was too caught off guard to grab it in time or thought better of whipping it out right now, since it was still holstered when his arms were wrenched behind his back and he was brought forcefully to his knees.

“Hey!” Hunk yelped. “What are you - ?” His attempt to rush forward to help Keith was stymied by halberds crossed in front of him, and a guard took his arm to hold him back, although he was handling Hunk more gently than his fellow guards were handling Keith, whose ankles were being pinned to the ground by heavy boots on top of them and whose hair was in the tight grip of gauntlet-covered hands. “Stop it!” Hunk cried. “You’re gonna hurt him!”

“After what he has done to us, hurt only seems fair as recompense,” Malvet said, stalking over to glower down at Keith. Around him, Hunk could hear others in the crowd murmuring their agreement. “He must be made to pay penance.”

“He didn’t do anything to you!” Hunk shouted.

“He just confessed to being responsible for the destruction of our monument.”

“But it wasn’t his fault! He only - ”

“Not his fault?” Malvet finally turned to Hunk. “Are you saying that his confession was inaccurate?”

Keith shook his head, or at least gave a little twitch in the guards’ grasp that may have been meant as a head shake, but Hunk nodded at the Crelxat, relieved. “Yes, yes, that’s what I’m saying! It was my - ”

But Malvet was already turning away before Hunk could finish, making a gesture to one of the guards. “You heard him; remove it.”

“Oh thank God,” Hunk sighed. “I’m sure we can all - um - ” He faltered as he watched the guards. When Malvet had told them to ‘remove it’, he had assumed she meant removing their feet from on top of Keith’s legs or removing the weapons from where they were pointed at him, sharp tips far too close to Keith for Hunk’s liking. But they weren’t. Instead, they still held him in place despite his struggling, and one of them had moved in front of Keith and was grabbing his jaw. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“If his tongue is to be used to spew false witness before the eyes of the twenty gods,” Malvet said, “Then it is of no good to us nor to him. It shall be removed.”

Hunk’s eyes blew wide, every drop of blood in his veins turning to ice as the guard managed to force Keith’s mouth open and a dagger’s blade approached. “No! No, no, no, you can’t do that! He - he wasn’t lying, you misunderstood!”

“And pray tell, what did I misunderstand?” Malvet said.

“Just - I meant - he - it was an accident,” Hunk fumbled weakly. “He did but - but he didn’t mean to, you know? It was, like, unavoidable. So - so - so it’s not his fault.” He glanced toward Keith, trying to figure out whether that had been the right thing to say, but with the way the guards were still holding his jaw and gripping his hair, Keith couldn’t exactly make an expression to indicate one way or the other.

Malvet let out a derisive sniff. “Unavoidable? The people of Crelxatain have avoided damaging it for centuries. This one could easily have done the same.” She turned away from Hunk again, back to the guard. “How soon can we have him perform his penance.”

The guard let out a pensive hum before replying, “We’d need until overmorrow’s nightfall to prepare and deliver an oblation to the twenty gods. The penance can take place the morning after.”

“Begin preparations, then,” Malvet said with a nod.

Keith was hauled to his feet, meeting Hunk’s gaze as one of the guards behind him drew a set of shackles from somewhere within their armor to cuff his hands behind him. “Hunk,” he said, a slight rasp to his voice, no doubt from the way his mouth had been manhandled a moment ago, “It’s gonna be fine, okay?”

Hunk almost let out a laugh of sheer disbelief. Keith should be the one being reassured right now, not Hunk. “Are you insane?” Hunk said.

“Look, just get the supply stuff taken care of, I’ll figure this out, and we can - ”

“Get moving,” one of the guards said, shoving him away from Hunk as two others began wheeling him around by the arms.

“Just a sec,” said Keith. “See if you can get Red up and - ”

He grunted, his words cut off by the hilt of one of the guards’ daggers being slammed into his face. When he scowled back up at the offending guard, his nose was bleeding. “I said get moving,” the guard growled.

“Hey!” Hunk cried. He tried moving toward the retreating guards, but the ones who had held him back before intercepted him again. “Hey, you can’t treat him like that!”

It was useless. The guards ignored him, and as the crowd began surging and milling around him, they disappeared, along with Keith.

This was so, so, so bad.

For a long moment he simply stood there on shaking knees, uncertain what to do, until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He whipped around, coming face to face with a tall, narrow-faced Crelxat. “What?” he snapped.

“Your companion said you were here as a representative of Voltron,” the Crelxat said. His expression was stoic, unfazed by Hunk’s tone and by the scene that had just gone down before him.

“Yeah,” Hunk said. “And?”

“I am Kalgex? Of the Crelxatain Geological Survey Bureau and Mine Repository. I was contacted about overseeing a trade deal between your organization and our department?”

Hunk stared. “Um,” he said, “Look, I’ve kind of got other things on my mind at the moment. Keith - I - I don’t know where they’re - I have to figure this out, I have to see - ”

“I am certain a member of the security force will be in contact with you once your friend has been duly processed,” Kalgex said. “They are quite efficient in matters of communication.” He pulled something out of his pocket, a small cylinder with a screen across it that lit up like a cell phone. “Those attackers put us behind schedule. We really oughtn’t postpone negotiations any longer than necessary.”

A part of Hunk, a small but strong part, wanted to punch Kalgex in the face right then and there. He was talking about Keith being arrested and hurt and forced to pay ‘penance’ - Hunk wasn’t sure what that entailed exactly, but it didn’t sound like fun - as if it were a minor inconvenience in a normal workday. As if Hunk were being somehow unreasonable for wanting to go after him rather than worry about the stupid ore.

“No,” he said. “No, I have to go.” He turned away, scanning the crowd and spotting the array of wires that had decorated Malvet’s head. Immediately he began shoving his way through the crowd, ignoring Kalgex calling after him, and didn’t stop until he had reached her, right on the edge of the plaza with a guard at each side. “Hey!” he shouted. “Where did you people take Keith?!”

She turned, eyeing him up and down with pursed lips, like he was a stain on her floor that she was deciding how to get rid of. “To the holding cells to await penance, of course,” she answered.

“And where’s that, huh?”

Malvet’s eyes narrowed. “He will not be allowed visitors until his case has been fully processed according to our laws. Respect our criminal proceedings should be the least we could ask of Voltron, considering the disrespect your friend has shown toward our - ”

“Yeah, I know,” Hunk said, frustration turning his voice to a growl. “Fine. When will that be done so I can visit him?”

“I will see to it you are contacted when proceedings are completed,” Malvet said. It wasn’t exactly an answer, but at least it was an assurance that he would get to visit Keith before the penance took place. “And of course,” Malvet continued, “Your companion will be duly returned to you once penance has been completed.”

“Right,” Hunk sighed. “So, what is this ‘penance’ anyw- ”

But Malvet had already turned away, leaving Hunk standing uselessly, grinding his teeth and dreading what the answer would have been.

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

He tried and failed to come up with a plan.

His first thought once he finally accepted that the whole situation with Keith was out of his hands was, naturally, to contact the other paladins for help. But the reason it had only been himself and Keith coming to Crelxatain in the first place was that the others were on missions of their own. They had docked the Castle, shields in place, on a moon in a neutral zone the next star system over, and Shiro and Allura were off on Heliuruta to negotiate allowance through their blockade into the quadrant, while Coran had recruited Lance and Pidge to help him on a medical supply-gathering expedition. So Hunk couldn’t reach any of them at the Castle, didn’t know where on the planets the groups had gone and wouldn’t have time to track them down, and couldn’t contact them through just the Lions’ communications system at such a range.

Which meant that whatever happened to Keith, he was going to be the only one around to deal with it.

It also meant that he was stuck doing the negotiations for the Crelxat ores alone. Between himself and Keith, Hunk was better with numbers, but Keith was more stubborn and better at steamrolling attempts to mislead. By the time he wrapped up his meeting with Kalgex and his board, they had wound up settling on a price nearly twice as high as what Coran had told them to aim for.

Hunk couldn’t bring himself to be that put out about it, though. The main reason he’d done such a lackluster job of negotiating, after all, was that his mind was more occupied with the much more pressing matter of what the hell was happening with Keith.

He managed a grand total of less than a varga of sleep the first night on Crelxatain, despite the comfortable accommodations that had been prepared for him at a lodging house not far from the plaza where the monument had stood. He had made sure every single member of the staff there knew that they were to come get him immediately the instant anyone contacted him about getting to visit Keith, but no message came.

The Crelxats had predicted it would take them about two days to refine the ore he’d requested and prepare it for transport, so he tried to occupy his time by working on repairs for Red. He dried up nearly all the GAC they’d been given for this trip gathering tools and supplies for it - apparently the ability to fix vehicles must have been considered something of a luxury in Crelxatain, and was priced as such - and as he set to work on her dark and still form, wondered what she would be doing right now if she were up and running. If she was calm, then he’d know Keith was okay. If she was angry and trying to reach Keith by force… well, then he’d be even more worried than he was now, but at least Red would be helping to take care of the problem.

He worked on her throughout the day, still with no word about Keith, and the longer he went without answers the more nauseous he felt. He managed to eat some lunch between getting supplies and starting on Red’s repairs, and it sat like rocks in his stomach for the rest of the day. He didn’t bother with dinner.

He managed to fall asleep at some point that night, and woke tangled in his bedding after tossing and turning in his sleep, not feeling refreshed at all.

It wasn’t until later that day, when he returned from Red’s landing site back to the lodging house, promising himself that he would at least try to eat something because starving himself wasn’t going to help Keith, that he discovered a member of the security force was there waiting for him, had told the staff that he was there to escort Hunk to visit ‘the prisoner’ as requested.

Finally.

The walk to where Keith was being held wasn’t far from the plaza that had housed the monument, and the building he was led into looked from the outside a bit like a country church, long and narrow and with a vaulted roof. Hunk was led into a dim anteroom as the guard who escorted him had a muttered conversation with another who was standing watch inside, then, another door was opened, and he was ushered through and into a hall lined on each side with cells. The guard didn’t accompany him any further past the door, just told him, “You have fifteen doboshes,” before taking his leave, slamming the door shut behind him.

The hall was just as dim as the anteroom, the walls and floors a shale-like shade and narrow windows in the walls of the cells lining only one side of the hall casting sharp shadows, so it took a moment for Hunk to spot the cells’ only occupant, seated on the floor against the wall at the end of the hall. When he did, he let out an enormous breath of relief and rushed toward him, yelling out, “Keith!”

Keith looked up at the sound of his name, and Hunk grimaced at the sight of him as he got to his feet. He’d been stripped of his armor and left only in his dark undersuit, and was shackled hand and foot, maybe a foot and a half of chain between each metal cuff on his wrist, and the same around his ankles. A red and purple bruise spread from his cheek to his nose, swelling enough to make one eye squint; this was likely the result of that guard who had struck him with the dagger hilt the other day. Besides that, Keith appeared to be uninjured, just tired, a fact that the dark rings beneath his eyes could attest.

“Hunk,” he said. “So, um. So, how are you do- ?”

“Are you out of your mind?!” Hunk cried. Honestly, he had been intending to ease into that a bit more, give Keith a friendly greeting and see how he’d been being treated before moving onto the topic of what the actual quiznak Keith had been thinking, but it seemed his brain had forgotten to relay that plan to his mouth.

“Hunk,” Keith repeated, lifting his shackled hands placatingly. “You have to be calm, all right?”

“How can I - you can’t expect - what were you thinking?!” Hunk demanded. “You know as well as I do that Red didn’t - ”

“Hunk, I’m serious. They’ll hear you.”

Hunk shut his mouth, teeth coming together with a click, and looked back toward the door. Right. Apparently the Crelxats really didn’t like being lied to. As much as he hated it, their story was that Keith had been the one to ruin the monument, and that’s the story they were going to have to stick with if they wanted to get out with their tongues still intact. “Sorry,” Hunk said. His eyes roved over the rest of the hall, stopping at the sight of a lens near the ceiling in the center. “Crap, will they be able to hear - ?”

“That one’s just video, no audio,” Keith said. “They can’t hear us.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“The guards told me.”

Hunk raised a brow. “And you’re just taking their word for it?”

“Course not,” Keith replied, shaking his head. “I tested it. They didn’t care one lick about me slinging insults at them through that camera for about an hour straight. Moment I said the same while they were actually here, they got pretty thin-skinned.” He tapped lightly at the dark bruise on his face. “This, uh, this was smaller yesterday.”

Hunk winced. “Dang it, Keith,” he said. “Why did you have to go and do that, huh?”

“... You mean, why’d I have to insult them?”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

There was a long moment’s pause between them, and then Keith sighed. “I was trying to help, Hunk,” he said. “That’s all. That Malvet, she was so mad, and the guards were at the ready, and you - well, you were - ” He took a deep breath. “I dunno. Maybe if you were able to see how you looked in that plaza, you’d get why I needed to step in.”

Well, Hunk could certainly recall feeling terrified to his core, but he didn’t know how much of it had actually shown on his face. If it was enough to get Keith to take the fall for him like that, though, it was too much. “I mean, you did a heck of a lot more than ‘step in’,” he said. “Look, Keith, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but I - God, man, I really wish you hadn’t done that.”

The shadow of a sad smile played on Keith’s lips before vanishing again. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Wasn’t really expecting you to be overjoyed about it. But it’s not like they were giving us a whole lot of time to come up with a better plan to get you out of that mess than just… getting in myself.”

“Why did you decide you needed to get me out of it in the first place?”

Keith frowned at him, appearing genuinely surprised. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because - because I’m the one who caused the mess? Yeah, it was an accident, but it still was mine to own.”

Keith shrugged. “We’re teammates, right? Your mess is my mess.”

“I - ” Hunk took a long breath and blew it out slowly. “You really picked a horrible time to embrace team spirit.”

“I guess. Can’t exactly go back now, though.”

“Right, suppose not.” He let the silence linger a little longer, half-hoping that Keith would suddenly pipe up with an, ‘Unless…’ and a brilliant idea to make everything right, but of course he didn’t. “So we’re just supposed to see this out to the end, huh? Endure whatever they throw at you?”

“Don’t exactly have much choice,” Keith answered. “But, I mean - it’s just a waiting game until tomorrow morning. They’ll dole out their punishment and then it’s over. Just have to get it over with. Did you get the ore stuff taken care of?”

“Yeah,” Hunk said. “And don’t say ‘just get it over with’ like it’s just a hard test at school or something, man. They’re gonna - I don’t even know what, but they were awful mad. What are they planning to do tomorrow anyhow?” Keith didn’t answer, and Hunk’s gaze grew more intense, newly ignited worry crackling in his gut. “Keith? Do you know what’s gonna happen?”

Keith hesitated, dropping his gaze. “Okay, um, they, uh, they haven’t really given me much to go on, so I don’t know for sure.”

“But you have some idea?” Hunk prodded.

“Well, so, you know they said that I’ve got to face ‘penance’ for the monument.”

“Yeah.” Hunk fought down the anxiety that bubbled up at the mere mention of the word. “Still don’t quite know what that means, though.”

“Right.” Keith took a deep breath. “Well, uh, no one’s said anything to me directly, but I’ve overheard some chatter. From the guards here, see. They don’t seem to have any specifics either, but they’ve got a better idea of what ‘penance’ usually refers to, so they were talking, and, um…” He trailed off and began to chew at his lip.

“And what?”

Keith lifted his eyes back up to Hunk, and they were wide, brow pinched, almost appearing apologetic. “You have to promise not to freak out.”

Immediately Hunk was fully prepared to freak out. “What do you mean? What’s there to freak out about?! Keith, what’s gonna happen?!”

“Okay, look, it’s probably not as bad as - ”

“Keith, if you have to warn me not to freak out, it’s probably pretty bad!”

“That’s not what - it’s not the penance part, I just didn’t want you to feel guilty about what happens, all right? I promise, Hunk, I’m gonna be able to handle it. Okay? Whatever happens, you’ve got to keep a cool head. The last thing we need is for them to decide to detain you too. And, well - ” He let out a little cough and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m probably, um, gonna need you to help me out afterward…”

Hunk gulped. As much as he dreaded the answer, he had to know. “Keith,” he said, “What’s the penance?”

There was another second’s hesitation before Keith quietly answered, “If what those guards were saying was true, Crelxatain seems to be fond of, um… corporal punishment. A public display of it. Apparently it’s, um, they seem to think it’s an effective way to, uh, deter repeat crimes, and, like - ”

Hunk’s voice, which had frozen in his throat at some point while Keith had been talking, managed to find just enough strength for him to repeat in a squeak, “Corporal punishment?!”

Keith winced. “Yeah. Um, best as I could tell from what they were saying, flogging’s pretty common, so that’s probably the most likely, but, um, yeah… Hunk? Please don’t freak out.”

“How can I not freak out?! Keith, they’re going to - !”

“I know,” Keith snapped. “I - yeah, I know.” He huffed out a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, it’s not like I’m looking forward to it, but it’s not exactly like we can opt out. The place is under heavy guard, Red is still down… Only thing for us is to ride this out, let them take their anger out on me if they have to, then get back to the Castle as soon as we’re able so we can, um, you know.” He tightened his arms where they were crossed. “Fix anything that needs fixing.”

With a frustrated sigh, Hunk leaned against the wall, letting his shoulder rest up where the hard wall met the narrow bars of Keith’s cell. His legs were feeling leaden, like they would give out on him if he spent much longer standing on his own two feet, so he let himself slide down toward the floor. Once he was seated, Keith joined him, sitting down cross-legged on the other side of the bars, although it took some maneuvering to get settled with those chains on his ankles. “You okay?” Keith asked.

“Don’t ask me that,” said Hunk. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be in that cell right now, not you.”

“Hunk,” said Keith, “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t do anything wrong either! You know as well as I do that Yellow was the one who took down that monument. You’re too good a pilot, you’d never let something like that happen with Red.”

“It has nothing to do with who’s a better pilot. Yellow’s bigger than Red, it’s harder to avoid collateral damage with her.”

“Doesn’t matter. The damage was still mine. And you - ” His lip began to tremble, and Keith seemed to tense at the catch in Hunk’s voice. “You shouldn’t have lied to the Crelxats like that. You should’ve just let me take responsibility. What good does it do for you to have to do this stupid ‘penance’ thing instead of me?”

“Hunk, I - ”

“Either way, we’re ending up with one paladin who’s gonna wind up really, really hurt, so why did you get to decide it should be you instead of me, huh? Why would you go and complicate things like that? What the hell were you thinking?!”

Keith sighed, bringing his hands up and combing his fingers into his hair as he grabbed his head. “I was thinking, you were scared. And I just… I dunno. I wanted to fix that.”

Hunk set his jaw, hoping that that would help keep the tremor out of his voice. “And you just decided the best way to do it would be to take on all the consequences for yourself? That’s not fair to you, Keith.”

Slowly lowered his hands from his hair to cross his arms over his chest instead, and he muttered something under his breath that Hunk couldn’t quite make out. “What was that?” Hunk asked.

“I said, nothing’s ever ‘fair’,” Keith replied. “This isn’t about fairness. If things were gonna be ‘fair’, the Crelxats wouldn’t be upset with us over that monument in the first place, they’d be too busy being grateful to us for saving their asses and they’d realize that that should be much higher priority than a stupid statue. But as is, we can’t leave, we can’t get help from the others, and the Crelxats want blood. It’s not fair, but it’s happening, so all we can do now is get it over with.”

“I know, but - but - ” Hunk sighed and rested his chin on his hand. “I still say you shouldn’t have done it.”

“I know.”

“And I wasn’t that scared.”

“Okay.”

“Are you scared?”

There was a pause before Keith answered, “No.”

Hunk sighed. “You’re a really awful liar, Keith.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a long while before Hunk slowly reached through the bars of the cell and took hold of Keith’s hands, twining his fingers into Keith’s and trying not to think about how cold they were. “I’m sorry, man,” he said softly.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Keith mumbled.

“Sure. I’m just gonna go ahead and be sorry anyway, kay?” He gave his hand a squeeze. “Besides the face, have they hurt you?”

“Nah. Bit of shoving around, but that’s all.”

“They been giving you water? Food?”

“Enough, yeah.”

Hunk frowned, making a mental note to set aside some food from the lodging house to fill Keith up the moment he was released. He was just opening his mouth to ask if Keith had any requests - none of the Crelxat food was an exact match to any from Earth or any they’d encountered in space so far, but he could at least do some taste testing and see if he could find something similar to whatever Keith wanted - but he was interrupted by the door at the end of the hall slamming open.

“Time is up,” the guard grunted. “Make your leave.”

Hunk scowled at the guard, but after giving Keith’s hand one final squeeze, he rose to his feet. “I’ll be right there waiting once the penance is done,” he said. “The ore delivery should be finished early tomorrow morning, so once Red’s back up and running we can go straight back to the Castle. Get off this planet for good.”

“That’ll be nice,” Keith said, and he grimaced when the guard knocked his halberd into the doorframe, ordering Hunk to get moving. “I’ll - I’ll see you then. Better get going.”

Reluctantly Hunk complied, shuffling back down the hall of empty cells and giving Keith one last wave goodbye before the door was slammed shut again with a sickening finality.

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

Time moved at a crawl as Hunk waited. He kept himself occupied as best he could, working on Red’s repairs throughout the day, and he managed to convince a guard to let him take Keith’s confiscated armor and bayard off their hands (with the understanding that if he tried any funny business with the weaponry he would be tossed into his own cell before he could so much as blink) to have them ready for Keith when the penance was finished, and he polished the helmet three times over just for something mindless to do.

He stared at the ceiling in his room that night, trying to convince his exhausted body to sleep, but it wasn’t easy. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Keith, standing before that same crowd that had been in the plaza, and he was facing his penance, Malvet raising a whip with sadistic glee in her smile.

He always opened his eyes again before it actually made contact.

It took vargas of pacing around the room that night - ignoring the irritated knocking from whoever was staying in the room below his - to finally wear him out enough to get any amount of sleep, and then he was up again, getting the ore loaded onto Yellow in the earliest hours of morning and anxiously watching the planet’s sun creep upward into the sky, the whorling dread in his stomach growing stronger with every inch it rose.

No one came to fetch him or let him know when the penance was starting, but they didn’t have to. He could see for himself when Crelxats started to eagerly emerge from their homes and head off all in the same direction, and he overheard bits and pieces of discussion about whether they thought the twenty gods would be appeased and what they thought of the offering that had been made by the city the night before; Hunk didn’t know what that offering had been, and honestly he could not have cared less, but apparently it had been act one of this show, and Keith’s penance was the finale.

For visibility’s sake Hunk donned his full paladin armor before leaving the lodging house, hopefully for good, and he followed the flow of Crelxats past the building that housed Keith’s cell and even past the plaza featuring the statue, which, judging by the scaffolding that had been set up around the plaza, was currently under repairs. The Crelxats moved down a road veering off to the side and sloping down toward a long, solid wall, where they congregated toward a large arched entryway flanked by two guards.

He started toward the entry, but was stopped by a hand on his arm. He jumped and whipped around to find a stony-faced Crelxat guard, dressed in the same garb as the guards had been in the jail where Keith had been kept. Two other guards were hovering nearby, watching with the same stoic expression.

“If you are intending to view the penance,” the guard said, “You must remain under our watch.”

“What?” said Hunk. “Why?”

“You have made known that you hold close personal connection to the transgressor.” Ire scratched at Hunk’s throat at Keith being referred to as ‘the transgressor’, but he held his tongue and let the guard continue: “It is standard, then, to ensure that you are kept under supervision to prevent attempts at interfering with the penance.”

“Oh. Um, right,” Hunk relented. It made sense, he supposed. Any decent person witnessing their friend being publicly tortured would want to try to put a stop to it. It seemed that even if he hadn’t already promised Keith that he would let the Crelxats go through with their punishment, there wasn’t much he would be able to do under the eye of their guards.

The one who had stopped him nudged him forward as one of the others began leading the way toward the entrance, while the other approached and held out his hand. “No weapons are allowed at the viewing. Hand it over.”

Reluctantly Hunk removed his bayard from where it was holstered at his hip and dropped it into the guard’s hand. The guard nodded curtly and turned to follow the other, turning the bayard in his hand to inspect it as he went, and Hunk was nudged again, a cue to follow.

He trailed behind them, and as they passed through the entryway, he got his first view of where this penance was being held. The space seemed to be some sort of amphitheater, with rows of seats curving in a semicircle, getting lower and lower as they reached the center, where there stood a completely bare platform, high enough that the spectators sitting in the front row would probably have to crane their necks to see what happened on top of it.

Hunk wanted to go toward the front, to be as visible as possible when Keith was brought out, so he would be able to see him in the crowd, know he was there to support him and rush to his side the moment this whole mess was finally over, but the guards instead led him into a row toward the back. As they filed in, Hunk scowled at the Crelxats who were milling around the amphitheater, filling up the rows of seats in front of them. All these people, taking the time out of their lives to come and watch Keith suffer. As though this was some sort of entertainment to them. They wanted blood, they wanted it from Keith, and there was nothing about this whole situation that wasn’t disgusting.

He had to take care to clench his jaw so he wouldn’t wind up just shouting at everyone in the crowd, since that would probably only end with him being forcibly escorted out by the guards, and took his seat obediently. The other Crelxats in the crowd were gradually sitting down as well, taking their time far too casually, and every dobash of waiting felt agonizingly long.

After that wait, though, the crowd finally hushed at the sight of the guards coming through the entrance at the front of the amphitheater behind the stage, and as they did, Hunk wished they could go back to the waiting. Harrowing though it was, it was still better than watching Keith being escorted onto the stage.

His wrists and ankles were still shackled, so his gait was only a shuffle, and the guards at either side of him pushing him forward didn’t seem to be making walking any easier; he tripped on the steps leading onto the stage and, rather than pause to let him regain his balance, the guards grabbed him under the arms and began dragging him before Keith managed to find his footing again. He still wore the leg portion of his underarmor, but he’d been stripped of the top, and his bare torso looked deathly pale in the too-bright sunlight.

He also, as Hunk realized with a surge of fury as Keith shook his hair out of his face, been gagged, a strap of what looked like leather cinched tightly over his mouth and digging into the skin at the corners. Hunk wondered vaguely what he had said to the guards to warrant that addition. Or who he had bitten.

The Crelxats in the amphitheater around him had begun to jeer as Keith was escorted onto the stage, and only stopped when another figure stepped out: Malvet, the wiring of her head blindingly reflecting glints of the sunlight as she raised her hands for quiet.

“We are gathered here,” she began, her voice booming despite Hunk not seeing any sort of microphone or other audio equipment anywhere, “To offer the Twenty Gods of Crelxatain a display of our respect, our reverence, and our compunction. The offender who stands before you now has, in an act of brash disregard for our planet and its citizens - ”

She continued, but Hunk tuned her out, and not just out of anger toward the way she was talking about Keith. His focus had instead been drawn to the guards who had come forward along the stage. Where he had thought there had just been flat floorboards, they opened a hatch, and from beneath the stage they unfolded a bundle of beams that clicked into place as a solitary and stationary pole, with a hooped hook sticking out of it a good six feet up. Keith was pulled forward, and the chain between his wrists was lifted and latched onto the hook, leaving Keith standing with his arms stretched above him, back stretched out and exposed.

So Keith had been right about the flogging, and Hunk pressed his lips together, feeling nausea bubble up in his throat and wondering if he were going to start blowing chunks onto the row of Crelxats in front of him.

He kept his eyes on Keith, trying to meet his gaze, and Keith was looking out to the crowd too. It was hard to be absolutely sure from this distance, but Hunk was pretty sure that Keith spotted him, because his gaze was definitely aimed Hunk’s way, his pale face and wide eyes directed right toward him.

And no matter what Keith said, he was definitely scared.

Unlike in Hunk’s nightmarish visions from the night before, Malvet wasn’t the one to bring out a whip. Instead it was one of the guards, unfurling a length of cord from behind him as Malvet stepped toward the pole, fixing Keith with a withering glower before turning back to address the crowd once more. “To each of the twenty gods he has chosen to desecrate, he shall pay blood in penitence. Firstly, to Taelxot.”

That was all the fanfare given before the crack of the whip rang through the amphitheater, making Hunk jump at its suddenness. It seemed too soon to be starting, he needed more time, more time to emotionally ready himself and for Keith to say his own piece, but here they were. It was happening. Now.

The first lash seemed to have taken Keith off guard too, since he let out a yelp at the contact that was muffled by his gag. The crowd of Crelxats let out applause as the whip struck, and the sound seemed distant to Hunk as he watched Keith, trying to see if he was okay.

“Secondly,” Malvet continued, “To Vokrin.”

Another crack of the whip, another cheer. These names Malvet was saying, Hunk surmised, must have been the names of some of those twenty gods she kept talking about, and they must have been giving Keith one lash for each god that had been disrespected.

Which meant there were going to be twenty lashes in total. Hunk’s eyes widened as the whip dragged on the floor as the guard reeled it back, leaving a red streak on the wooden planks that Hunk could just barely see from where he was sitting.

There was no way he was going to be able to stomach eighteen more of these.

At the third lash, Keith squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, and at the fourth, the whip struck deep enough that Hunk could see blood droplets flying directly from Keith’s back. The crowd was eating it up, getting to their feet as they applauded, and at the fifth lash, Hunk stood too, because that was the only way he could still see over the heads of the cheering Crelxats in front of him.

The lashes kept coming.

Hunk’s hands hovered over the lower half of his face, threatening to move up and cover his eyes, but he resisted the admittedly powerful temptation. He owed Keith this much, at the very, very least. He owed it to Keith to be there and watch, to meet his eyes whenever Keith opened them so that the red paladin would have a face to look toward for support, for a silent message to hang on, just hang on, it will all be over soon.

Besides, closing his eyes now wouldn’t get rid of the image of those blood droplets Hunk had already seen spraying from Keith’s back, so there really was no point. That image would probably stay burned in his mind forever.

Another lash - Malvet was still counting them, but Hunk couldn’t hear her. All the sounds in the amphitheater were starting to blur together in his ears, muddling into loud and angry static as he focused only on Keith. The pain of the flogging must have been getting to be too much even for him, because an agonized shout escaped into his gag this time, much to the delight of the assembled Crelxats. At the next lash, he screamed again, and his eyes flew open, meeting Hunk’s almost immediately.

Hunk’s heart stopped at the sight of the tears gathering there, the sun sparkling off of them, and it started up again, pounding like a drum, when the whip came down again and the tears broke free and began to fall.

The specks of blood staining the platform were growing thicker with every lash. They couldn’t possibly keep this up. They were going to kill him.

On the next lash, the whip’s aim was off, and it landed over Keith’s shoulder. The barb on the tip must have caught on his skin, because it ripped a line of flesh off with it as the guard pulled it back, sending a splash of blood across his chest.

Hunk finally threw up, then, and the cries of delight coming from the Crelxat in front of him turned to ones of disgust as the sick splattered onto his back. Which did nothing to relieve Keith’s pain, but it did give Hunk just the tiniest glimmer of satisfaction before he straightened up again to watch the last of the lashes.

“And to the twentieth God of Crelxat, Skovok!”

The whipped cracked for the final time, the crowd cheered, and Keith was motionless on the stage, all his weight dangling from his wrists, his head bowed and hair covering his eyes so Hunk couldn’t tell whether they were open or closed. The floor at his feet far, far too red.

Hunk could only spot the tiniest bit of movement, just catch the way Keith’s chest shook as he breathed, and he tried to focus only on that as he waited for Malvet to give her stupid closing speech and Hunk could finally take Keith back to the Lions and try to find some way to patch up his back, which had to be a grotesque mess at this points.

“To each of the gods, a due has been paid,” Malvet was saying grandly. “So all that remains is our assurance that the transgressor can never again bring harm to the gods, or to Crelxatain itself. To that end, we offer the last of his life, that they may find solace in its removal and a better purpose for it in the world beyond our own.”

… What?

With great difficulty Hunk pulled his eyes away from Keith to see what was happening on the rest of the stage. All but one guard had moved to the other side, and another hatch, like the one from which they’d pulled the pole, had been opened, something else being unfolded from this one. They locked the pole into place, but this one kept unfolding, into a bracket that projected over the hole the open hatch left in the floor. The hatch was pulled back into place, and one of the guards hooked a loop of wire over the projection.

It took a long moment for Hunk’s brain to catch up to his eyes, for him to realize what he was looking at.

Gallows.

His heart racing, blood pounding he whipped around to face the guard next to him. “What - what is that?!” He jabbed a shaking finger toward the stage, and oh god, the guard who had stayed by Keith was taking him down and starting to drag him across the stage.

“It is a device that will allow penance to be completed,” the guard said, explaining it like he was a teacher giving a classroom lecture. “The wire is placed around the neck of the criminal, and the hatch - ”

“I know what it is!” Hunk yelled. “Why is it here?! Keith paid his penance! He got his punishment already!”

“He paid a blood penance, yes,” the guard said. “Now, they are ensuring that he can never again cause harm to the sacred - ”

“We were never gonna even come to this stupid planet again!” Hunk shouted. He ignored the surrounding Crelxats who were turning to glare at him, a couple snapping at him to be quiet. “They don’t need to ensure it! They - they - they said he’d be returned to me once the penance was done! What happened to that?!”

“He will. To be preserved or memorialized as you and your culture see fit.”

Disbelief had Hunk lost for words for a few seconds, while on the stage, he could see Keith, even in the state he was in, starting to struggle in the guards’ hold. “I don’t want his corpse!” he finally squeaked out. “I - I - oh god, I’ve got to - ” His eyes roved toward the guard holding his bayard.

A hand thumped onto his arm, holding him in place. “Consider this your only warning,” the guard said. “Any attempt to derail the proceedings will result in you joining him.”

Hunk swallowed, his legs feeling close to giving out under him as the loop of wire was wrestled over Keith’s head and around his neck. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. “Please,” he begged, tears pricking at his eyes. “There - there has to be something I can…”

Keith was shouting into his gag, and Malvet was saying something again, raising her voice to drown Keith out. The guard’s grip on Hunk tightened, and he felt dizzy. Keith was going to be hanged right in front of him. Keith shouldn’t even be the one going through this, it should have been Hunk.

Keith was going to die, and it was going to be Hunk’s fault.

There had to be something he could do. He owed it to Keith. Keith had saved him from the Crelxats’ wrath, hadn’t even thought twice about him, and Hunk needed to repay him. He couldn’t let things end this way.

If he were up on the stage right now, in that noose, and Keith were the one having to watch, what would Keith do?

Lance would probably say Keith would ‘punch his problems until they go away’.

It wasn’t much of a plan -

A thunk sounded as the hatch below Keith’s feet was dropped and the wire went taut.

- but it was all he had.

All the fury that had built in him since the moment he had been ushered into the amphitheater flooded into his fist as he whirled on the guard holding him, and it connected with the chin of his helmet. His knuckles immediately throbbed with pain, but there was a satisfying crunch of bone as the guard’s head reeled back, his grip going slack.

Hunk dove for the guard holding his bayard. The guard let out a shout and tried to jump back, but Hunk was not to be deterred, and he bodily tackled him into the next row, the Crelxats there shrieking and scampering out of the way. He clawed his way up the guard’s arm, fighting to pry his fingers off of the bayard, and when he wouldn’t give, he decided he didn’t have the time to fight clean. He hauled himself forward and bit down as hard as he could on the guard’s hand.

The bayard was dropped immediately, and Hunk snatched it up and clambered to his feet. It expanded into its miniturret launcher form as he hefted it up and aimed it toward the stage. Several Crelxats screamed, and his vision swam as he saw Keith through the optic. He was still moving, still jerking in his bonds even as the wire tightened around his neck and his face began turning blue. That meant his neck hadn’t broken when he dropped. He was still alive. There was still a chance.

Although, that chance was getting exponentially smaller with every tick that passed, and Hunk didn’t have time to reach the stage. With his vision hazy and his body shaking and his stomach doing somersaults, it would be insane to try to shoot from here. There was too much chance of hitting Keith. He was going to survive being hanged only to be killed by cannon fire instead.

But it was the only thing he could do.

He fired, praying to anything that was out there and that might be listening that the shot would hit its mark.

It didn’t. It went too high. Hunk’s heart sank, despair flooding him -

Until another shot came from behind him, the projectile this time much larger. This one took out the projection of the gallows that Hunk had been aiming for, dropping Keith’s struggling form to the ground, and burned through half the stage along with it.

He turned around.

Never in his life had he ever been so happy to see the Yellow Lion, hovering just over the amphitheater’s entrance. The buildings behind her were darkened by her enormous shadow, and her eyes blazed down on the crowd that was practically trampling itself to get out of her way.

Yellow had come. She had sensed Keith in danger and -

No, that wasn’t quite it, Hunk realized as he finally noticed Yellow’s presence in his mind, the weight trying to ground Hunk like a heavy blanket, the low rumble of her growl asking if he was okay.

She had sensed Hunk’s distress. That’s why she had come. That’s why she had flown here on her own.

Huh. It seemed Keith wasn’t the only one with an overprotective Lion.

And speaking of…

Hunk’s bayard shrank back down into its dormant form as he raced down the amphitheater steps, shoving panicking Crelxats out of the way and sliding onto his knees as he reached Keith’s crumpled form. The smell of iron from his bloodied back was so strong Hunk could taste it, and he gagged as he rolled him over. Keith’s eyes were closed, his lips gray from lack of air, and Hunk immediately set to fumbling at the wire noose, mumbling reassurances to Keith’s unconscious form as he loosened it.

Right as he pulled it up over Keith’s head, grimacing at the dark bruises it had left on the skin of his neck, the body was yanked aside by the arm, and Hunk looked up to see Malvet, both her hands locked around Keith’s forearm as she tugged at him.

“Get away!” Hunk snarled. “Haven’t you hurt him enough?!”

“He has not completed his penance!” Malvet cried. She swiveled her gaze onto Hunk, and the angry gleam in her eyes was almost manic. “The destruction he caused must be paid in kind! The twenty gods require his life, and we must - ”

Hunk let out a frustrated growl, just about at his wit’s end with Malvet’s gods. In a show of rashness that would make Keith proud, he brought his bayard back up, and it morphed into its energy minigun form as he pointed it right between Malvet’s eyes. “If you even think about hurting Keith one more time, then my gods are gonna need your life in exchange.”

Malvet narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Sure I would. I already took out your monument. I’m on a rampage. I can’t be stopped.”

Her jaw dropped, and her hands shook as her grip on Keith’s arm loosened. “You - it was you who - ”

Hunk was already hauling Keith onto his back and taking off before she could finish the thought, and he raced up the amphitheater steps in leaps to meet Yellow at the top, where she scooped the paladins into her mouth and took flight.

The sound of screams below them was cut off as her jaw shut and Hunk collapsed onto the cockpit floor, rolling Keith off of him as gently as he could before rushing to the controls, taking Yellow around in a wide arc and scanning the city below before he spotted where Red lay, still not quite fixed up to working condition. He dove toward her, and Yellow grabbed the smaller Lion up from the ground around the middle like a mother carrying her cub before rocketing upward, gaining speed until she broke the atmosphere. Then he set her autopilot to the coordinates of the Castle’s landing site and…

It was over. After all that, it was finally over. They were off Crelxatain. They were safe.

They were alive.

Well, Hunk reminded himself as he left the pilot’s seat and made his way back toward Keith’s prone form on the cockpit floor, the worst part was over, at least, but they weren’t in the clear yet. He reached to the overhead storage unit to pull out the emergency medical kit and got onto his knees next to Keith to get a closer look.

It wasn’t a pretty sight. Keith’s back had been slashed to ribbons, the gashes in varying depths with a couple cutting so deep Hunk could swear he could see vertebrae. Some of them had stopped bleeding, most had not, and the sounds of the slowly seeping blood dripping onto the floor of the cockpit rang in Hunk’s head. He’d be able to clean the wounds and get some gauze onto them for now, but the cryopods in the Castle would have to do the bulk of the work.

And his back wasn’t the only spot injured. His ankle was bent in the middle in a way it shouldn’t have been able to bend and was starting to swell; he’d probably landed on it at a bad angle when Yellow had shot down the scaffolding. A trickle of blood dripped from the edge of his mouth where the tight gag was cutting into the skin, and Hunk reached up to start working it free, relieved to hear Keith breathing when he pulled it away, even if the breaths were raspy and strained. Small wonder, considering the purpling bruises covering his neck where the noose had strangled him.

He opened the medical kit, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the extent of Keith’s injuries, and decided to pull out the bottle of disinfectant first. His back was definitely going to need it. He unscrewed the lid and held his breath against the sharp smell before lowering it toward the gashes and pouring the disinfectant in.

It let out a sizzling sound as it spread over the wounds, and Keith’s back arched as he let out a strangled yell, his swollen neck leaving his voice as nothing but a dry rasp. Hunk immediately set the disinfectant down and hurried up toward Keith’s head. “I’m sorry, man,” he said. “I know, I know, it’s gotta hurt like hell, but I have to clean it up, I’m sorry. Hang in there, bud.”

Keith let out another rasping groan, and slowly his eyelids began to peel apart. “Keith?” Hunk whispered. “You awake?”

His back rose and fell in a couple of slow, deep breaths before he finally grunted out, “Sh’ro?”

Wow. Keith may as well have just rammed his fist through Hunk’s chest, grabbed his heart, and wrung it dry. “Uh, no. No, it’s not Shiro. It’s me, it’s Hunk.”

Keith blinked slowly, his eyes working to focus on Hunk’s face, and then: “Hunk? We’re alive?”

Hunk let out a breath. “Yeah, man,” he said, giving Keith a wobbly grin. “We’re alive. We made it out of there. You did great, buddy. Just need to hang in there a little longer before we get back to the Castle.”

“I thought they - ” Keith took a rattling breath, but his voice didn’t sound any less gravelly when he continued, “They decided t’ kill me, di’n’t they.”

Hunk grimaced. “Yeah. They did. But that was a pretty stupid decision, wasn’t it?”

“You stopped th’m,” Keith said. “I saw you. In th’ crowd. You had - y’ had your bay’rd. Before I couldn’t see ‘nymore…”

“Well, I - I tried,” Hunk said. “But it was really Yellow who saved the day, you know. She’s the one who started blasting. All I did was get a little chaos going in the stands and grab you. It was nothing.”

“Nah,” Keith sighed. “It wasn’t noth’ng.”

He let his eyes drift closed, and Hunk pushed his bangs out of his face before scooting back toward the medical kit. “Once we’re in close enough range of the Castle, I’ll radio in and see if anyone’s there to get a pod ready for you. If we’re the first there, well, I’ll do it myself. Coran showed me the basics of how those things work, I can at least get you stabilized before he or Allura comes back and can get it started for the deep healing stuff. But, um, for now I’ve got to get this stuff disinfected and wrapped up. It’s definitely gonna sting.”

“‘S’okay,” Keith grunted. “Go ahead.”

“And Keith?”

“Mm.”

Hunk leaned in close. “Don’t you ever, ever scare me like that again, you got it? You’re no longer allowed to come that close to dying, I forbid it. And if you ever try to jump in and take the blame for my screw-up again, I swear to the Twenty Gods of Crelxatain I’ll bring all the wrath of the Yellow Lion raining down upon you. You hear me? Never again.”

Eyes still closed, Keith gave him a weak attempt at a smile. “We’ll see,” he rasped out.

Hunk sighed. Shiro really should have warned them right from the start how stressful it was to have Keith around. “Good enough,” he said, moving back to focus on the gashes. Keith tensed and let out a couple of whimpers as Hunk dabbed disinfectant into the wounds, but they got through it.

It wasn’t until Hunk was halfway through wrapping Keith’s torso in bandages that he opened his eyes and spoke again. “Hunk?” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Remember, when I said t’ just let them get th’ penance over with? ‘nd not to interfere?”

“Yeah…”

“Thanks for not list’ning to me.”

Hunk let out a loud laugh, more out of the hysteria still left in his system than any humor in Keith’s weak joke, but he still broke out a wide smile as he said, “Any time, buddy.”

“And for… ev’rything else.”

“Hey. You had my back from the start, right? Of course I’m gonna have yours too. That’s what teammates are for, you said it yourself.”

“So now… we’re even?”

“Not even close,” Hunk said, shaking his head. “Not until you get out of that cryopod and eat every bite of the feast I’m going to make for you the moment we get back to the Castle. I’m talking twenty dessert courses and live entertainment by the mice. Then we’ll be even.”

Keith let out a breath of laughter and let his eyes slide closed again. “Deal.”

#badthingshappenbingo #keith #hunk #vldgen #keith whump #my writing #fic: got your back

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